Cook Without a Kitchen

Quick Salt Pickles

2011-07-01T19:39:00.000-07:00

I am usually the one who is out at night. A play, a drink with a friend, a late night of work, or a weekend out of town, and when this happens, despite Chris' sweet calls wondering how soon I'll be home, I know that he secretly relishes the time alone. Our room becomes slightly less claustrophobic, he can spread out on the bed, leave dirty socks on the floor and watch whatever he wants on TV, without the nagging, tickling, squirming, dirty dish making wife around.

But tonight the roles have reversed. Chris is off with a friend at a baseball game and everyone is out of town for the July Fourth holiday. So I shut the windows, turned on the AC and hooked my laptop up to the TV.

You see, I recently discovered (like two days ago) that you can instantly watch Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations on Netflix. Not an episode or two, not a bunch of clips, but 9 full seasons of badass, international, food-porn.

I'm staying in tonight. A poor man's (woman's) vacation.

My lack of desire to cook has not gone away so after a trip to the farmer's market, I decided to quick pickle some cucumbers and radishes and toss them into a salad of leftover odds and ends from the refrigerator.

About half way through an episode in India, I started to get a craving. At this point I'd already eaten a large salad with peaches, goat feta, pickles and red onion, with some good crusty slices of sourdough. But I thought to myself, "If I were in a restaurant, that would have just been the appetizer!" I learned this sort of gluttinous justification from my mother, "a cupcake is really like only one layer of a two-layer cake, so why not eat two!"

So I paused Anthony, put on a pair of pants and flip-flopped over to the Pakistani Tea House on Church Street. It's open all night and frequented by cabbies and hardcore locals who don't need white linen napkins at every meal. The food resembles what you might find in an Indian restaurant and it's fresh, it's cheap and really, really good.

I got a little curry chicken, some saag and some lentils. Now I needed a beer to go with meal number two, so, warm paper bag in hand, I flip-flopped down to the neighborhood bodega, and picked up an additional box of cereal and carton of milk, to justify using my debit card for a bottle of beer. New York is great sometimes.

When back at home, I gobbled down my take-out, as Tony gobbled down his. Discovered the food-porn episode, grabbed my beer, spread out on the bed and while admiring the sock-free floor, pondered which episode to watch next.

Heaven.

David Chang's Quick Salt Pickles (Master Recipe) (makes about 2 cups)

2 meaty Kirby cucumbers, cut into 1/8" thick disks

1 bunch radishes, well scrubbed and cut into wedges through the root end

1 large or 3 small daikon radishes, peeled and cut into very, very thin slices

1 tbs. sugar

1 tsp. salt

1. Combine the vegetable with the sugar and salt in a small mixing bowl and toss to coat with the sugar and salt. Let sit for 5 to 10 minutes.

2. Taste: If the pickles are too sweet or too salty, put them into a colander, rinse off the seasoning, and dry in a kitchen towel. Taste again and add more sugar or salt as needed. Serve after 5 to 10 minutes, or refrigerate for up to 4 hours.

Green and Purple Salad

2011-06-19T17:41:00.000-07:00

I have not felt like cooking lately.

Could you tell?

I've been busy. Started dancing again, working, reading, auditioning, running around the city. Warm weather has set in and I'm counting down the days to my summer vacation in August, and for some reason, spending an hour or more making an elaborate meal every night has not been appealing.

Anyone else feel that way?

I am into assembling. For now.

Getting really good ingredients, that don't need much work, doing a little rinsing, a little chopping, perhaps some warming up in the toaster oven, and leaving it at that.

What I love right now? Rotisserie chickens, sardines packed in olive oil, 9-minute boiled eggs, chopped greens and veggies of any kind, humus, olives, goat cheese feta, vinaigrette with shallots, French mustard, garlic, red wine vinegar and olive oil, good bread, fresh pasta and sauce, and Greek yogurt with organic fruit, or honey and walnuts.

Any of the above with a crisp, dry glass of white wine, and I'm in heaven.

Tonight I made a salad of bitter greens, the kind that puts hair on your chest, and wolfed it down with a good crusty sour dough, slathered in bright yellow pastured butter.

This is what I want. Greens, greens, greens. A slice of bread. A glass of wine.

It's nice to be back.

I promise I will cook something again, eventually.

It is pie season after all.

Green and Purple Salad for two

1/2 bunch of dandelion greens, washed well and chopped

1/2 head of radicchio leaves, rinsed and chopped

1/2 fennel bulb, thinly sliced and chopped

1/8 cup fennel tops, finely chopped (looks like dill)

1/4 red onion, thinly sliced and chopped

1/2 cup goat feta cheese, cubed into 1/2" pieces

1/4 cup good green olives

balsamic vinegar

olive oil

salt and pepper

crusty loaf of sour dough bread + good salty butter

Toss together the dandelion greens and radicchio in your salad bowl, layer with fennel, onion, feta and olives and splash a little balsamic and olive oil on top. Give a nice grind of black pepper and pinch of flaky salt. That's it.

This salad would also be great with frisee or escarole, and a little cucumber, some radishes and a couple sliced cherry tomatoes. And if you need something more substantial, cook up some bacon or boil an egg, and serve on top.

Kim Boyce's Focaccia and Easy Steamed Artichokes

2011-04-11T08:10:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago, as I entered the restroom at Movement Research for the first time, before settling onto a handmade cotton mat and letting all my bones and muscles drop into the creaky wooden floor for an hour and a half long Alexander Technique class, I saw a poster hanging on the wall that, as if by divine inspiration, had flown in through the cracked window and adhered itself to the opposing wall the moment I turned the knob.

The poster appeared to be a block print, black and red ink on a rectangle of pure white, with roughly four images printed at the bottom. First, a bowl of cherries with stems intact, second, a bowl of pits and stems, third, a bowl of pitted cherries ready for a pie, and above the bowls, a set of hands were engaged in de-stemming a single cherry. At the top of the poster was written: Process.

Not only was it a reminder to engage in the process of the class I was about to take, but it also rang out as a message for the year, a message for life. Take it one step at a time. Don't get ahead of yourself. Engage in the process of things, the result will follow. There is joy in work.

I have been wanting to bake bread in my toaster oven for over a year now and I keep chickening out at the last minute. I attempted a loaf several years ago in my Brooklyn apartment and it came out a heavy brick of whole wheat flour that dropped like a rock into the trash can, so I wasn't so sure baking bread without a kitchen would be any more successful.

But Saturday afternoon, determined to get over my fear, I went to the market, bough a packet of yeast and some spelt flour, smoothed open Kim Boyce's cultish new cookbook, Good to the Grain, carefully read and re-read the recipe and got to work.

My first packet of yeast didn't bubble like it should so I started another bowl, with slightly warmer water and a fresh packet, and now able to compare two attempts, noticed a delicate bubbling on the surface of the second bowl indicating activity. Step one done. Then I added the dry ingredients and olive oil which came together almost effortlessly into a soft, scraggy ball and then kneaded it for ten divine minutes like the recipe says. Soft, yeasted dough, gently pressed under the palms is like taking a long, mind-clearing stroll by the beach. I'm not exaggerating. Nice and elastic, I nestled my dough into an oiled bowl, covered it with a clean dish cloth and two hours later discovered a plump, doubled mound ready for a punch and the next step. Cut into thirds, two of them reserved in the fridge for later, and pressed into a 9 inch, oiled cake pan, I gave it one more rise, then a glug of olive oil and into the oven. Twenty minutes later Chris and I sat down to a supper of steamed artichokes, garlicy greens, sardines in tomato sauce, calamata olives and hot, crusty focaccia.

I did it. And so can you.

Making focaccia from scratch may seem like too much work but one days work yields three days of bread. So, on night two I stretched my dough into a rectangle, topped it with sauce, chopped broccoli rabe, mushrooms, goat cheese and olives, and we had homemade pizza in under half an hour. I think I'll do the same tonight.

It's all about the process.

Kim Boyce's Focaccia from Good to the Grain, 2010

Olive oil for the bowl and pans

1 package active dry yeast

pinch of sugar

11/2 cups spelt flour

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus additional for kneading

1 tbs. kosher salt

1/4 cup plus 2 tbs. olive oil

Herbs, spices or other toppings of choice

1. Lightly rub a large bowl with olive oil. Add 1 1/4 cups warm water, the yeast and sugar to another large bowl. Stir, and allow the yeast to bloom for about 5 minutes, until it begins to bubble. (If it doesn't, it may be inactive; throw it out and start over with a new package).

2. Add the flours, salt, and 2 tablespoons olive oil to the yeast mixture and stir to combine. Pour the dough onto a lightly floured surface and begin to knead together, adding 1/2 cup of flour to the dough as necessary to keep it from sticking. Knead the dough for about 10 minutes, or until it is supple and elastic.

3. For the first rise, put the dough into the oiled bowl, turning it so that the top of the dough is coated with oil. Cover with a towel and leave for about 2 hours, or until doubled in size. (A dough is proofed once it has fully risen. How can you tell if a dough is proofed? Gently push a floured finger into the dough. If it springs back the dough needs to proof longer. If a dimple remains, move on to the next step.

4. Generously oil a baking sheet or 3 9-inch round pans with olive oil.

5. For the second rise, place the dough on the baking sheet or divide the dough into 3 pieces and put one piece in each of the oiled pans. Stretch the dough out with your hands so that it covers the surface of the baking sheet or pans, and dimple it with your fingers. Cover with a towel or plastic wrap and leave to rise for 1 hour.

6. Position two racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven (or put a single rack in the middle if you're using one baking sheet) and preheat to 400 degrees F.

7. After the dough has completed it's second rise and has puffed up on the sheet or in the pans, top it with 1/4 cup of olive oil and sprinkle it with salt, herbs or spices, or the toppings of your choice.

8. Bake for 22 to 25 minutes, until golden brown. Allow the bread to cool slightly in the pan before slicing and serving. Focaccia is best eaten the day it's made.

9. If you wish to store the focaccia dough for future use, after the first rise is complete, wrap the dough tightly in plastic and and store in the refrigerator for up to 5 days. Pull all or part of the dough out when you wish to use it; bring it to room temperature before shaping the dough and continuing with the recipe.

Easy Steamed Artichokes

Cut off the tops and stems of your artichokes (large). Fill a large pan with an inch of water and either rest your artichokes on a steamer basket or on their stems sliced in half lengthwise. Cover with a lid and steam for forty minutes. Melt some butter or just eat them plain. When you get to the heart, scrape off the fuzzy part, drown in butter and enjoy.

Yogurt Parfaits

2011-04-07T12:21:00.000-07:00

When I was little I wasn't allowed to have sugar. And so I obsessed about it.

During the first few years of my life, my mother made recordings of me talking at various ages, using her 1980's plastic tape recorder. Several of the tracks are of me telling stories about candy, a little lady in particular who, when she went out shopping, only bought candy and it was always red.

This was my ultimate fantasy. A pantry full of cherry flavored suckers and candy bars. But at my house sweets were for ultra special occasions, like angel food cake for a birthday, and for several years I thought that rice cakes were indeed cake and that a sundae was plain yogurt layered with honey and wheat germ. A parfait my mother called it, served elegantly in a wine glass.

Every now and then my father would slip me a candy bar followed by, "now don't tell your mother", but I always did. How could I hide my exuberance over such divine confections!

I am still obsessed with sweets, so is my mother, but I have to say that yogurt parfaits are still among one of my favorite snacks. For breakfast, an afternoon snack or after dinner, rather than satisfy a gnarly sweet tooth, they divert it to something better.

Sunday morning we had one cup of yogurt left, one banana, a couple tablespoons of shredded coconut at the bottom of the bag, some leftover canned apricots in the fridge and some toasted pecan bits left from the night before. Not very impressive on their own but gently layered in a glass and served with a cup of coffee and some popovers, which only require eggs, milk, flour and butter, we had a splendid Sunday brunch.

Next time I'll even break out the wine glasses.

Elizabeth is blowing out her candles, but I'm sizing up my first slice.

Coffee

2011-04-03T19:10:00.000-07:00

Chris, my wonderful husband, has a tendency to overdo things.

He once dumped a half a bottle of eucalyptus oil in his bath water producing a toxic cloud of eye watering, cough breeding eucalyptus fumes that filled our small room and gave him hours of tingly skin despite numerous showers. He applies giant mountains of pimple cream on his chin and forehead at bedtime which crack and fall off before the lights go out. He eats too fast at dinner a couple nights a week which predictably turns into a fit of rage inducing hiccups. And he once insisted I remove my red nail polish before going to a Yankees/Indians ALCS game after we'd already locked up and started towards the subway because the Indians have the color red in their logo.

But I was aware of these tendencies from the start.

When I first met Chris he was mostly subsisting on cans of Progresso soup, turkey sandwiches from the 24-hour bodega across the street, free beer and wine at art openings, cereal and coffee. His coffee pot was a small, stained Mr. Coffee that had traveled with him through undergrad, into grad school and down to NYC. It was the saddest, dirtiest little coffee pot you have ever seen, and beside it always sat a stack of limp paper filters and a can of Chock Full O'Nuts surrounded by a light dusting of coffee grinds.

During the first year we were dating, Chris was working part time out in Queens, giving him time to work on his art, so there were days when he just stayed home, writing, reading and sketching.

On one particular day I came to meet him for dinner in the early evening and when he answered the door, I was met with a sheepish look.

"I'm a little jittery," he apologized.

"Oh no, why?" I said, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, but I think I may have had too much coffee."

"Oh, how many cups did you drink?"

"Eight."

I don't think Chris slept very well that night.

This happened more than once but over the years Chris has cut back. He now drinks mostly tea and I stick to my one cup in the morning. His Mr. Coffee didn't last very long either, I think Santa brought him a Cuisinart programable coffee maker that Christmas. But when I got rid of my Brooklyn apartment we decided a hot water boiler was more useful so I switched to a Chemex coffee carafe, which I now think makes the best coffee period. No wires, no settings or programs, no filters and pots and lids to wash or moldy hidden corners, just a clean hourglass shape with a paper filter to toss when you're done.

About a month ago a high school friend of Chris', Keith Hamrick, sent us a variety box of his freshly roasted coffee. He and his wife, started Northbound Coffee Roasters up in Northern California and now we're spoiled for life. Chock Full O'Nuts was the choice all through college, cheap and okay, but now that I have a little more money in my pocket, I've become a fan of Irving Farm, Stumptown and other New York roasters. But I have to say, Northbound is awesome. Chris and I discuss what cup we'll have in the morning like we're selecting a fine wine. The Kintamani from Bali and the Yirgacheffe are my favorites. Spoonbender is a delicious classic French Roast and the Shakiso and Sibereon Bourbon, light and complex, are perfect afternoon roasts.

I must say though, for all of Chris' overdoing, I am equal parts klutz and this morning after a lovely breakfast of popovers, as I raised my mug of northbound coffee to my lips (it was room temperature by now), I let out a little cough and didn't spill but dumped coffee all over myself. My pajama bottoms were soaked, coffee was dripping down my front and after the initial shock I scanned the floor and was relieved to discover I hadn't gotten any on the carpet.

"How did you do that?" Chris asked "You just threw coffee all over yourself."

"I have no idea. No idea." I said laughing as I shuffled to the bathroom.

Bent over the bathtub washing out my pajamas in a dish bin, Chris called from the other room, "How about another pot of coffee?"

What Keith Sent us:

Spoonbender

Inspired by the powerful forces around

the mountain that get us all bent, this

blend is roasted on the dark side to bring

the fruit and earthiness of the cup to light.

A classic Northern California French roast.

Siberia Estate Bourbon, El Salvador

Four Generations of the Silva Family have

tended this farm since 1870. Bourbon refers

to the cultivator, named for the Island of

Bourbon (now called Reunion) where it was

originally cultivated. Creamy nut tones with

ripe orange underneath, and cinnamon

accent highlight this light roast.

Shakiso, Ethiopia

A wet processed coffee that is grown in the

Guji district of South-Eastern Ethiopia. The

cup has a clean and clear sweetness, like

a light brown sugar taste with a mild citrus

accent.

Yirgacheffe, Ethiopia

Produced by the Oromia Coffee Farmers

Cooperative Union, the largest fair trade

coffee producer in Ethiopia. This washed

coffee is prized for its rich floral acidity and

deep chocolate undertones. Medium Roast.

Kintamani, Bali

This coffee is a unique one. Bright, wild fruits

rule this cup. Berry-Like aromatics and flavor

hit the senses like a fruit bomb. Earthy and

Spicy flavors create a backbeat of body. Take

a chance on this one. You will be left wanting

more. Medium Dark Roast.

Mr. Bones BBQ

2011-03-08T07:44:00.000-08:00

It was BBQ chicken that finally did me in. In fact it was just the smell of BBQ chicken that got my mouth watering and an itch to roll my sleeves up.

When I was a child I ate meat. Chicken liver, fish, corned beef hash, pork chops, chicken skins, meatloaf. We ate lots of vegetables and fruit as well, but for a while there was a time when ordering the steak tips at Hoss' was my all-time favorite carnivorous indulgence. My mother, as I've written before, is a fantastic cook, but there is something about an all-you-can-eat buffet that trumps fish poached in parchment and a perfect roulade, especially when you're in elementary school. At Hoss' the waitress would take your order, steak tips and a baked potato, and then you were free to cruise the salad bar for garlic bread, chocolate pudding and mandarin oranges. With my plate of disparate treasures followed by a hot cast-iron skillet sizzling with bite size beef tips placed neatly in front of me, I was in heaven.

Then 7th grade rolled around and I went from the public school system, to a private school across the street from a biodynamic dairy farm, where gardening is part of the curriculum and where, during the final hot weeks of June, if we played our cards right, and pleaded with enough faintness in our voices, we could run down to the creek for final period and jump in with our clothes on.

I was vegetarian in a matter of weeks, and handing out home-made anti-vivisection leaflets with my vegan friend Dev in The Body Shop at the King of Prussia Mall. I got a pair of Doc Martins, ripped holes in my jeans and stopped brushing my hair, and from then on my mother made two meals at dinnertime.

But time passed and college came. A new set of friends with a new set of eating habits, and I started craving meat again. I think I'd been craving meat for a while, I'd been eating fish for over a year already, and then on a visit back home, perhaps it was summer vacation, I remember going with my parents to a church that was having a BBQ chicken dinner. I probably ate potato salad, carrot sticks and pie for dinner but that was the last time I turned down a drumstick. There is something absolutely irresistible about a local firehouse or church stoking up huge BBQ pits and serving plates of fall off the bone BBQ with homemade cole slaw, sweet corn on the cob and chewy white rolls. Years of careful questioning, "is there meat in that?" ended.

I was converted.

Then I discovered that a love of BBQ was not just in my bones but my family's as well. My mother's cousin Charlotte has been running Mr. Bones BBQ on Anna Maria Island in Florida since 1992. They are an award winning ribs joint with an international menu and friendly kitchy dining room, complete with a beer coffin where you can grab a cold one at your leisure. My kind of place. A couple weeks ago Charlotte sent up a box of Mr. Bones sauces and their rub, and I got out my electric skillet, heated up my toaster oven and tried them all. The Classic sauce is sweet, smoky and tangy (from the tamarind), the Hot BBQ Sauce is fiery without wiping you out, and the rub is a spicy salty mix that is great on meat but also good mixed with a little olive oil for bread dipping, and stir-fried with rice. It's easy to taste why they're award winning. If you're curious, call them up and they'll have Mr. Bones on your doorstep in a matter of days.

As I was making BBQ chicken in my toaster oven on a cold, early March night, I wondered if perhaps my timing was off. It's not exactly the season for such things. But then I thought about my last post and the fact that a good handful of the restaurants people recommended as do-not-miss were BBQ joints here in New York. BBQ is actually season-less I've discovered. There is nothing about the sauce that has to do with what's available at the farmer's market, a good baked potato isn't hard to find year-round and as for vegetables, any will do, especially a nice crunchy cole slaw.

So here is a mid-winter BBQ dinner, and, if you want to fly South to Mr. Bones for a bone suckin' Spring Break, last time I checked (which was yesterday), flights are about a hundred and fifty bucks.

Thank heaven for BBQ chicken.

BBQ Chicken

For BBQ without a BBQ I washed and patted dry four chicken thighs, covered them in sauce and put them uncovered in a glass casserole dish in my toaster oven at 350. I cooked them for about 50 minutes basting frequently and adding more sauce along the way. During the last 10 minutes I turned the oven up to 400 for a final sizzle of the skins. And that's it!

Homemade Buttermilk Cole Slaw

3 cups shredded cabbage

1 grated carrot

1 tbs. chopped parsley

1 tbs. chopped tarragon

Mix everything together. If you have a mandolin (not the musical instrument, the slicer), that gives the cabbage a nice even shred, but you can also cut the cabbage head into quarters and then along one of the chopped sides, thinly slice the cabbage with a knife.

Buttermilk Dressing

1/4 cup mayonnaise (not miracle whip), homemade if you're feeling fancy (I was not)

1/2 cup buttermilk

1 1/2 tbs. apple cider vinegar

1 tsp. granulated sugar

1 minced garlic clove

pinch of salt and a good grind of pepper

Mix everything together and pour over your slaw. Give a final mix and refrigerate while the chicken cooks.

Steamed green beans and some crusty French Bread or a baked potato round out the meal.

New York: Eat & Stay and Momofuku Shortcakes

2011-02-28T08:26:00.000-08:00

My dear friend Joanne has great ideas. Earlier this week some friends visiting from out of town asked Jo for eating and lodging recommendations in NYC, not too expensive, but not necessarily budget. So, being the great organizer that she is, she sent out an email to all her New York friends asking for a favorite affordable hotel and handful of restaurants we think should not be missed. She has generously allowed me to publish them here and in return, I've attached as many links as possible for easy browsing.

And on the cooking front, I never intended to post heavily on dessert, the heart of this blog is really dinner, however last night Chris and I went to our friends apartment in Greenpoint again and had a stellar, very classy, pot luck sort of meal. I was in charge of dessert so here is a sweet treat from the Momofuku Cookbook.

And if you have any favorite places to eat and stay in New York, please leave a comment with link!

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We love going to yakiniku west in east village (not my hood) on
Sundays and Wednesdays for discount kobe specials and Mondays for
discount short ribs. It's Japanese-style Korean BBQ, meaning
basically less sauce, more refined cuts of meat. On those nights,
those dishes are half off, making for a pretty inexpensive night of
gorging.

Bonchon is amazing to try for Korean fried chicken - this is a new
discovery of mine.

Tanoreen down in Bay Ridge is great Lebanese food.

Can't think of any places in Greenpoint that I'd be dying to
recommend. Oh, but also, Daisy Mae's on far west side, 50's, in
Manhattan for really good ribs - recommend the Memphis dry rub.

I could go on and on and on....

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In my neighborhood of Chinatown I recommend the following places to
eat, which are safe, clean, delicious:

New Chao Chow -- 111 Mott St - get the wide noodle soup w/ Chicken
Xi'an Famous Noodles -- 88 E Broadway - tiny tiny place - 3 seats, get
the lamb noodles.

Hotel - This place is clean and very inexpensive, like around
$200/night, Its in Tribeca http://www.cosmohotel.com/

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Gotta say I'm partial to the Cosmopolitan Hotel in Tribeca, it's
clean, affordable and downtown. My family always stays here when they
come to ny. As for restaurants, Blau Gans in Tribeca, Emilio's Ballato
on Houston, Gahm Mi Oak for bib bim bop in Korea Town and Angelica Kitchen
in the East Village. Spain is a great, weird, old Spanish
restaurant on 13th street where you get a free tapas with every drink
you order at the bar. City Bakery and Grandaisy Bakery (on Sullivan
street) for sweets, bread and lunchy things.

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The Jane Hotel is the hot spot these days, perfectly located on the
WSH and very affordable ($70/night). It's got a kinda mariner theme
but not in a cheesy pirate's way. I think each room looks like a
cabin...

What are the dates? If Andrew and I happen to be out of town, our
apartment could be a possibility.

For food- my favorites still are Freeman's Alley, Smith & Mills,
Ruby's for Australian burgers, Park Meridian burgers (there's a
theme), La Esquina tacos, Peasant or Bacaro for Italian.

For fun- Bar 119 for dive bar dancing on Saturday nights.

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Westville on West 18th Street. Here is a B&B I have passed many times --www.innon23rd.com. Veneiros, 10th Street between 1st & 2nd Aves.;
Bergamote, 9th Ave. & 20th Street.

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-(cheap!) Vanessa's Dumplings *for sure* on Eldridge between Broome and Grand.
- (not as cheap) the Fried Chicken at Buttermilk Channel in Carroll
Gardens (http://www.buttermilkchannelnyc.com/)
- (not so cheap) Beauty and Essex on Essex between Rivington and Delance

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there is this amazin place to stay, it is a hostel sort of at this
women's house. She devided her huge loft into sections and then also
has tents in her backyard. My friend from Israel stayed there I will
find out the name.

*Erica here: I think this might be it: New York Loft Hostel

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In Cobble Hill/Carroll Gardens:
Prime Meats for dinner/drinks
Brooklyn Inn for drinks (where my party was)
Fairway Steakhouse (for cheap dinner prix fixe and cheap wine, or brunch)

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ok, a few suggestions:

in korea town, there is a rooftop bar on top of a hotel (drawing a
blank on name, will try and figure out). it's awesome and cheap. did
you come there with me and bjorn after we went to new jersey that one
time?? somewhere in the 30s, easy to find with a google search!

*Erica here: I think this might be it: Me Bar

the burger joint is an amazing burger place in the meridian hotel on
57th b/w 6th and 7th. it has the best burgers and is a VERY odd place,
hidden by a thick red velour curtain and then there's a neon sign.
have you been? very awesome.

westville is so yummy, as we all know.....

oh man, brooklyn is a WHOLE other story!!

Now on bberry. Hmm...cheap lodgings? That's tough. Though if they're
looking for dirt cheap I know of a few hostels in bklyn and I think
the 92nd street y has rooms or beds.....in terms of hotels, I know a
couple places on upper west that run around 250/night which is super
cheap for that neighborhood! There is a holiday inn in the park slope
area but its not super cheap or anything.

There are so many places to recommend for eating in bklyn! Can you
give me a sense of their style? Do they want total dive or something
lovely or cozy or just delicious? What are they into?

Am I taking this task seriously enough!!??

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Hey darlin! The only b&b's I know of are in Brooklyn south slope area.
I don't know the names of these places but I know they exist:) good
luck!

*Erica here: Here is one I found: South Slope Green B&B

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small older guest house in west village_ Abington Guest House. Quiet
- not trendy.

beautiful, near Central Part on West Side - hotel but not cheap on
upper west side: Excelsior House across from Museum of Natural
History on 81st.

No leads on the B&B's, but as far as eats:

-(cheap!) Vanessa's Dumplings *for sure* on Eldridge between Broome and Grand.
- (not as cheap) the Fried Chicken at Buttermilk Channel in Carroll
Gardens (http://www.buttermilkchannelnyc.com/)
- (not so cheap) Beauty and Essex on Essex between Rivington and Delancey

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-Burger Joint in the Lobby of the Parker Meridian on 57th

-Shun Lee Cafe

That's all for now.

Cheers

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yo yo jo

back at the beginning of law school, instead of doing my summer job, I
used their computer to make this
http://gotham.bnegross.com/

it's kind of broken (cuisine colors don't work), but the basic idea is
there: just click different regions on the map to reveal restaurants
placed by me and some of my colleagues at the US attorney's office.

downside: some of those places have since closed (but not that many I
don't think...maybe i should update it)

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Love the idea - can I get a copy when it's over? My territories cover
mostly Williamsburg and Soho/Nolita.

HOTELS:
West Village - The Jane Hotel has these crazy, $70 /night (I believe)
little bunks - CHEAP for NYC, and with Cafe Gitane just below it. I've
had many meetings in the cafe.

RESTAURANTS:

Williamsburg - The Commodore has an incredible "Adult Cheese"
sandwich, Garden Salad and Mild Chicken Sandwich. Atmosphere professes
a kind of abandoned beach bar - but a great place to jump into and
dine, along with -

Pies and Thighs - the most incredible pulled pork sandwich and chicken
biscuit this side of the Mason Dixon.

Fatty Cue in lower Williamsburg has the most amazing (and the only)
"Polynesian street food" I've ever had.

Pates et Traditions has AMAZING crepes (esp. the savory ones) and has
become a favorite brunch place of mine. Try the La Socca appitizer and
the chicken curry crepe...hard to explain how good it all is.

Mother's Bar - a pretty great/cheap hamburger that legitimately feels
like your mother made it for you.

Grand Morelos - the best cheap Mexican in NYC...maybe the only good
cheap Mexican in NYC. Try the Tortas and Cemitas. Always ask for
quacamole.

Diner - Great bizarro gourmet brunch in antiquated diner car.

COCKTAIL BAR: Hotel Delmano - my favorite cocktail bar in Williamsburg.

COFFEE SHOP: Roebling Tea Room - the best couches in Williamsburg for meetings.

Bushwick - Il Passitore - is amazing and cheap Italian food.

Manhattan - Bianca - really cheap Italian food. Try the chicken liver
appetizer (seriously).

Via De La Paca - slightly less cheap but still cheap Italian food. The
bruschetta plates are great and the Mama Mundo platter amazes me.

Frank - is even less cheap, and has little legroom - but is divine.

Ruby Rosa - has the best Vodka slice in Nolita...NOT Palmadoros.

COFFEE SHOP: Ceci Cela - great little place with a hidden back-room
worth discussing screenplays within.

Gotta run, but hope that helps.

```````````````````````````````````````````````````

So I think they most affordable hotel in the city in the Ace when it
comes to something hip and centrally located.
In my hood there is a great tapas place that has the sickest happy
hour around and really great beer. It's called Sip on Amsterdam
between 109 and 110.
Two of my fave bars downtown are DBA which is great for Sunday
afternoons and No Malice Palace which is great late night bar that
plays great hip hop and has couches.
O and a good bar for tourists cause it's in the middle of soho (and a
personal fav daytime drinking spot cause the rad people watching) is
Spring Lounge on Spring and Prince. I
Fave affordable ish restaurant is Westville in the west village.
Fave mid range breakfast is Little Giant in LES.
Best bagels in my opinion are Absolute Bagels on Broadway between 107 and 108.
Lastly, in my hood people MUST check out St. John the Divine.

---------------------------------------------------

The Jane Hotel has rooms for 99$ a night. Little tiny rooms with
shared bathrooms but they are cute.

Also there is an apartment on like jane or 12th and 8th avenue has a
great view of the city- its high up. it was about 250 a night i think?
but has a kitchen and was really special. the email for the owner is :
Clifford Hart <seehart@aol.com> My parents stayed there and LOVED IT

also the b & b on 8th ave is really cute, next to bon bonniere-
abingdon guest house: http://www.abingdonguesthouse.com/ my parents
stayed there once and liked it

there is also one across the street : Incentra Village House
32 8th Avenue, New York, NY (212) 206-0007

looks good- haven't had anyone stay there.

Bars- the rusty knot on the west side highway while its still light
out- sunset (good view of the sunset from the bar plus small foods and
great drink specials)

Food-
A slice of pizza at Bleecker Street Pizza the "nona maria" is divine
Noodles at the "noodle bar" on carmine sitting at the counter
breakfast at shopsins in the essex market wed-sunday, they close by 2,
cheap and good pasta at pepe verde
jamaican infuses small Japanese place "AKI"
If they wander to williamsburg- "5 leaves" has great brunch and dinner

all my suggestions are economical fun and delicious!

-------------------------------------------------

Esperanto
145 Avenue C, New York, NY 10009 (212) 505-6559 ‎
There's a cool whiskey bar next door called Louis'
Chez Oskar in Fort Greene is nice
211 Dekalb Avenue, New York -(718) 852-6250
My favorite dive bar in all New York, maybe ever, it's really, really divey,
is Nancy's Whiskey Pub in Tribeca 1 Lispenard St New York,
10013 - (212) 226-9943

-----------------------------------------------
Bozu- Williamsburg BEST Sushi tell them they have to order the sushi Bombs.
Little Korea for Korean BBQ or Yaki NIku West which is on 9 between 2 and 3 for Korean BBQ. It's a cute place.
Brooklyn Bowl, If there is a good show, the line up is on their website.

momofuku shortcakes

1 large egg
About 1/2 cup heavy cream
1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1 tablespoon kosher salt (I only used two teaspoons and it was very salty)
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
8 tablespoons (one stick) butter, cut into pieces, chilled
1/4 cup vegetable shortening, at room temperature
About 1/2 cup confectioners sugar

1. Crack the egg into a small graduated measuring cup and whisk it to thoroughly mix the white and yolk. Decant or spoon off half of it )you can discard this part of the egg or use it for another use). Add enough cream to the egg in the measuring cup to make 1/2 cup. Stir briefly, then put the mixture in the refrigerator to chill.

2. Combine the flour, granulated sugar, brown sugar, salt and baking powder in the bowl of a stand mixer outfitted with the paddle attachment and stir them together. Add the butter and shortening and turn the mixer on to it's lowest setting. Mix the fat in until the batter is gravelly, with pea-sized lumps everywhere, which shouldn't take much more than 4 minutes. (I don't have a stand mixer so I combine the ingredients with my hands as I would a pie crust, breaking the butter into the flour mixture.)

3. Once you've got the sandy, lumpy, dryish, short batter together, grab the cream mixture from the refrigerator and stream it into the batter, stirring it in with the machine still on its lowest speed. Do this for as short a time as humanly possible, just until the liquid is barely absorbed; do not overmix. Let the dough rest in the mixer bowl 10 minutes.

4. Scoop the batter into little balls, using about 2 tablespoons for each (you can assist their shaping lightly with your hands) and line them up on a baking sheet. You should have 8 balls (I got 14 using two heaping tablespoons for each). Chill in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes, and as long as overnight.

5. Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a couple of baking sheets with parchment or silpats.

6. Pour confectioners sugar into a wide shallow bowl. Roll each of the shortcakes through the the sugar to coat very lightly, tap off the excess. and place the dusted cakes on prepared baking sheets, with enough room between them to allow them to double their footprint while baking.

7. Bake for 9 to 10 minutes (mine needed 15-20). The cakes will spread and then rise-the baking powder in it will give them the final poofy kick and the confectioners sugar on the outside should crackle when they're ready. Overbaked is preferable to underbaked with these cakes. If their centers fall after you pull them from the oven, bake them for another 60-90 seconds. Transfer to a wrack and let cool.

8. Serve with either rhubarb or strawberries (I used both) and a generous dollop of whipped cream.

momofuku poached rhubarb

1 1/2 pounds peeled rhubarb (I think you could even use 3 pounds with the same amount of liquid) peeled and cut into 1/2 inch pieces (4 cups)
1 750 ml bottle of elderflower syrup, 3 cups (I used one cup as the syrup is expensive and more lychee juice)
the juice strained from 2 or 3 cans of lychees (save the lychees for another use or just eat them)
2 cups sugar (don't cut down on this)

1. Heat the oven to 225 degrees (I turned it up to 250)

2. Combine the rhubarb, elderflower syrup, lychee juice and sugar in a medium oven-safe saucepan and cover with a lid. Poach the rhubarb in the over for 35 minutes until tender.

3. Remove the pan from the oven and let the rhubarb cool almost to room temperature with the lid on.

4. Remove the rhubarb from the poaching syrup with a slotted spoon and serve at once (figure about 1/2 cup per serving, and make sure to use some of the poaching syrup as part of the dish--drizzle it over the shortcakes and rhubarb), or store the rhubarb in the syrup in the refrigerator for up to 1 week.

macerated strawberries

4 cups strawberries, preferably a naturally sweet and not-too-big variety like Tri-Star, hulled
1/4 cup sugar

One to two hours before you serve them them, gently toss the strawberries with the sugar; the sugar will draw out the juices from the strawberries. Serve cold or at room temperature allotting about 1/2 cup per serving . Use the macerating liquid as part of the dish--pour it over the shortcakes and strawberries.

whipped cream

1 1/2 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup sour cream
1/4 cup confectioners sugar
pinch of kosher salt

Combine the heavy cream, sour cream, confectioners sugar and salt in a large bowl and whisk with an electric mixer or by hand until medium peaks form. The whipped cream can be made ahead of time and kept in the refrigerator for up to a few hours. Rewhisk before serving.

And the Winner is..........

2011-02-07T19:26:00.000-08:00

Sharon!

Thank you to everyone who posted such wonderful recipes and stories, I can't wait to try them all. I hope that everyone has a sweet Valentine's Day filled with chocolate, white chocolate (Anna, I'm also a fan) and all the lemon bars you desire.

ps
Sharon, will you email me your address to cookwithoutakitchen@gmail.com and I'll send you something sweet!

Valentine Giveaway and Chocolate Cake

2011-01-31T07:53:00.000-08:00

Several years ago, some friends from Philadelphia were visiting NY with their daughter and I babysat for an afternoon. Scouring the paper for something Sarah and I could do I stumbled upon New York City's annual Chocolate Convention. Sarah let me know that she was allergic to chocolate and then without skipping a beat sighed, "I wish it was a vanilla convention". Me too. We would have been dressed and out the door faster than you can say Madagascar.

While I'm not allergic to chocolate, it's not my preference. Show me a brownie and a lemon bar, and the lemon bar is mine.

But this month, as is every February, the food magazines are filled with chocolate; molten chocolate cake, fudgey brownies, chocolate ice cream, spicy hot chocolate, chocolate body paint and of course, heart shaped boxes filled with pretty little chocolates. So I'm jumping on the bandwagon.

Chris has, at times, accused me of having 'fancy' taste in food. But really, he's just as bad as I am. Living in New York and knowing where to get good food is like knowing all the players on your favorite football team. And even though I could name several bakeries with great chocolate cake, and most likely find recipes for them, I have to say my all time favorite chocolate dessert, and the one my mother always made, is the chocolate cake recipe on the back of the Hershey's Cocoa box. It is perfect and definitely not fancy.

And I have a little Valentine giveaway for you. If you leave a comment, perhaps with your favorite chocolate recipe or story, I'll put your name in a hat and on February 7th Chris will draw a winner. Whoever is picked will receive the lovely little basket from the Chelsea Market shown above, filled with three different heart shaped cookie cutters and close to a half pound each of Valhrona milk and dark chocolate bars, just in time for Valentines Day. I'll contact you for shipping details, mailing addresses in the US and Canada only please.

It makes sense to eat chocolate in February if you think about it. For one thing not much fruit is in season, and more importantly, in dealing with the winter blues, couldn't we all use a little chocolate buzz?

Hershey's Chocolate Cake, halved (for the full two layers, click on the Hershey's cocoa link above)

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup + 1/4 cup + 2 tbs. all-purpose flour

1/4 cup + 2 tbs. cocoa powder

1/2 tsp. + 1/4 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. + 1/4 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. salt

1 egg

1/2 cup milk

1/4 cup vegetable oil

1 tsp. vanilla extract

1/2 cup boiling water

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour on 9" round baking pan. I like to cut out a piece of wax paper to fit in the bottom of the pan for easy removal.

Stir together sugar, flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt into large bowl. Add eggs, milk, oil and vanilla; beat on medium speed of mixer 2 minutes (or by hand). Stir in boiling water (batter will be very thin). Pour batter into prepared pan.

Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool 10 minutes; remove from pans to wire racks. Cool Completely.

*note

some people complained their cakes dripped over their cake pans in the oven. If you're worried about this, invest in some high sided cake pans sold in professional baking shops or from Williams Sonoma.

Hershey's "Perfectly Chocolate" Chocolate Frosting (halved)

1/2 stick butter or margarine

1/3 cup Hershey's Cocoa

1 1/2 cups powdered sugar

1/6 cup (2 tbs.+ 2 tsp.) milk

1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

Melt butter. Stir in cocoa. Alternately add powdered sugar and milk, beating ti spreading consistency. Add small amount additional milk, if needed. Stir in vanilla. About 1 cup frosting.

*note

sift the cocoa and powdered sugar into the bowl to avoid lumps like mine.

or if you want something special and low-fat.......

Maida Heatter's Fluffy White Icing (for two layers)

4 egg whites

1 1/2 cups sugar

1/4 cup plus 1 tbs. cold water

1 tsp. cream of tartar

1/8 tsp. salt

1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

Mix everything except the vanilla in the top of a large double boiler; it must have at least 8-10 cup capacity. Place over hot water on moderate heat. Beat with an electric mixer at high speed for 5 minutes until mixture stands in peaks when beaters are withdrawn. Immediately, in order to stop the cooking, transfer mixture to large bowl of electric mixer. Add vanilla. Beat at high speed until mixture is smooth and stiff. Use immediately.

Lemon Meringue Pie

2011-01-28T08:45:00.000-08:00

The G train.

Familiar with it?

If not, let me make a comparison. Imagine where you live and then think about a road which is always under construction, a road that floods after only a few drops of rain, a road that is always bumper to bumper, narrow, potholed, a road with frequent accidents and fallen trees, a road you avoid at all costs, unless it is the last possible option.

This is the G train.

The G train is like the forgotten second cousin to the New York subway system running only between Brooklyn and Queens, never gracing the depths of the Manhattan grid. And because it goes through some nice and some not so nice areas of the outer boroughs, the city could really care less about whether it runs or not. Think of it as a little gift if you get to work on time, not a promise, and the fare hike, a kind donation.

Last week Chris and I were invited to a dinner party at the home of two very dear friends who happen to live off the G train. They were making boeuf a la bourguignon and I offered to make a lemon meringue pie. Now it is also possible to get to their house by taxi or the L (if you walk a little further), but it was a bitter cold night and we felt like saving a few dollars so we took the A train from lower Manhattan into Brooklyn and transfered to the G.

A piece of foil whipped off my pie as the A train approached but other than that, we were off to a good start. After transferring to the G, we were having a lovely time, smiling, laughing. It was Friday night with a wonderful meal ahead of us. Then the train began to climb and all of a sudden we were outside. Red Hook. Wrong way. S*%t. Greenpoint, where we were headed was in the opposite direction, almost on the opposite end of the line. I won't get into the details of why it is easy to go the wrong direction on the G train when you haven't been on it in a while, it just is. The other unfortunate thing was that we were now stuck at a stop which is outdoors and as we exited the train a blast of frigid air body slammed us and then, as if in slow motion, we gazed at the opposite tracks, and saw a G train rumble by.

We waited for the next train for a very long time, twenty minutes? twenty five? I did all kinds of dances, the foot stomp, the shimmy and the bounce all while holding an increasingly heavy lemon meringue pie in an aluminum turkey roaster. Two F trains rolled by without stopping. When the G finally approached and inched to a stop so slow I swear a turtle laughed, we hopped onto the train. It stayed in the station with the doors wide open for a good ten minutes. We were going to be late. Very late.

At this point in the story it might be good to get up and stretch your legs, use the bathroom or get a cup of tea.

Still sitting on the G train, with the doors wide open, the clock ticking, and freezing air twirling around the subway poles, lets just say the mood shifted. Chris and I were now muttering to ourselves continuously, incanting the many atrocities we wished upon on the MTA, and I even watched the train operator get off the train and start running around on the tracks. Then suddenly the doors slid shut and we began to move. About ten feet. And then stop. Again. For five minutes. I could see Chris' blood pressure rising. Announcements informed us that the train was having signal problems and could we please be patient.

Then the fun really started. As we inched and stopped for the next twenty minutes two teenage girls sitting adjacent to us, dressed up in scribbled on sneakers, striped tights with denim shorts, mismatched colorful socks, heavy eyeliner and pigtails tied with multi-colored plastic bobbles proceeded to shout in thick Long Island accents how they were going to bug out if they got to the club late and had to pay a $20 cover instead of the $10 cover for showing up before nine. They made a very loud phone call trying to get someone to pick them up even though they had no idea where they were. And then they listed every drug they had ever used excluding crack because one of the girls fathers had OD'ed on it. After about fifteen minutes when it seemed we might be spending the night on the train, one of the girls threatened to down the Klonopin she had stuffed in her bra because she was in fact really starting to bug out.

And by this point Chris and I were in the middle of our own little argument as to whether we should ride out the train from hell all the way to Greenpoint or get off at the next stop in Carroll Gardens and get in a cab. For about 5 minutes I was in the cab camp and Chris was either going to just go home, explode into a million pieces or stay on the train and arrive at our friends' house in time for breakfast.

Finally making it to the next stop, the doors flew open and on an impulse Chris and I ran out of the train bolting for the exit. Climbing the steps to the street, carrying my now nicely chilled pie, I prayed to God there would be a taxi. Then I was in the street, my arm shooting skyward and a cab pulled up. We leapt inside, gave our directions and collapsed into the warm, incensy back seat. We were now almost an hour late for dinner. We did breathing exercises most of the ride.

When we arrived at our friends house, it was cozy, relaxed and smelling divine. Dinner wasn't even ready yet. I was handed a chilled martini with chopped mint leaves and rose water. A gorgeous plate of cheese and crackers was laid out, candles were lit and a very good point was made, you're not divorced!

Traumatized, perhaps, divorced no. The rest of the evening was splendid. We had a salad with blood oranges, beets, walnuts and shaved goat cheese, a sublime boeuf a la bourguignon with potatoes and chives (with seconds) and red wine followed by lemon meringue pie and tea. Just as we were about to leave the phone rang. One of the other guests who had had to leave right after pie had been waiting on the G train platform for thirty minutes when finally an announcement was made that the G train would be shut down for the night.

Chris and I bundled up and hailed a taxi home.

Lemon Meringue Pie

9" Pie 8" Pie

Mix in 1 1/2 cups sugar 3/4 c.

Sauce} 5 1/3 tbs. cornstarch 4 tbs.

Pan

Stir in 1 1/2 c. hot water 1 1/8 c.

grad.

Cook mixture over moderate heat stirring constantly until mixture thickens and boils. Boil 1 minute. Beat the hot mixture into:

3 large egg yolks 2 yolks

Then beat the egg mixture into hot mixture in the saucepan. Boil 1 minute longer, stirring until smooth.

Blend in:

3 tbs. butter 2 1/4 tbs.

4 tbs. lemon juice 3 tbs.

1 1/2 tbs. grated lemon rind 1 tbs.

Pour into a baked pie shell. Cover with Meringue:

4 egg whites

1/4 tsp. cream of tartar

4 tbs. sugar

Beat meringue ingredients together until peaks form. Smooth meringue on top of the lemon filling pressing it into the crust a little to seal the edges, otherwise your meringue will pull away from the edges and shrink while it bakes and you'll have a floating island.

Bake until delicate brown 8-10 minutes at 400 degrees. Serve cool.

I did not think baking a lemon meringue pie in a toaster oven was possible but I've proven myself wrong.

Crust

6 tbs. non-hydrogenated vegetable shortening

6 tbs. sweet butter

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour

1/2 tsp. salt

2-3 tbs. ice water

Measure out the flour and salt into a bowl. Cut in the butter and shortening with knives, the back of a fork or a pastry blender (or mix in a food processor) until small crumbs for. Then stir in the ice water to bind. If it's dry add one more tbs. water. You should then wrap the dough in wax paper and refrigerate for an hour but I usually skip this step and just roll out my crust. Lay in a pie plate, trim and crimp the edges. Cut out a circle of parchment paper or foil, lay on top of the crust and cover with beans or pie weights. bake crust at 350 degrees for 15 minutes. Remove the parchment or foil and beans, pierce the bottom of the crust with a fork several times and bake another 10-15 minutes. Remove and let cool.

*note

the woman at the checkout counter asked me what I was making when she saw all my eggs, butter and lemons. "Oh, a lemon meringue pie! That's hard to make isn't it?" she said. "No, I said, it's not too hard." Then when I got home I thought, she's right. It's not a hard pie but it's not a beginner pie. But it can be easy when you do one thing at a time. First make your crust. Get it baked and let it cool. Then get all your ingredients ready. Grate the lemon rind then juice them. Cut up your butter into small 1 tbs. size pieces and separate your eggs. Make the filling, then pour it into your cooled pie shell. Finally make the meringue and pop it in the oven. Take your time with it. Make sure the lemon filling is nice and thick. Seal the edges of your meringue. And keep and eye on the final baking so the meringue doesn't burn. Lemon meringue pie is not expensive to make and once you get the hang of it, pretty easy. Best of all it's perfect on it's own needing no whipped cream or ice cream. Great for a dinner party.

Waiting in the cold for the G train.

Chiles and Pork Tenderloin

2011-01-23T18:30:00.000-08:00

I think I might be the only person who read Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals and increased my meat consumption. Yes, the book is gruesome and gory, I was vegetarian for almost ten years because of animal cruelty, but it also highlights the many ways in which farmers are raising happy, healthy animals on small, bucolic farms. For some reason the thought of eating a happy animal makes me happy, whereas eating sad animals makes me feel guilty and regretful. I'd rather stick with tofu.

I don't often attempt pork. My reintroduction to it was over the summer in the form of leaf lard, rather than jumping into the lake, I thought I'd stick my toe in first. I'd pass by the Flying Pigs Farm stand at the Union Square farmers market (they have pictures of the most gleefully happy hogs on their website, who could resist!) eyeing their offerings, bacon, tenderloin, shoulder, pork belly and leaf lard, I'd swerve close enough to peruse the table, then pass by.

But with summer comes pie and it wasn't long before I was cutting soft white tablespoons of lard into flour and salt. I could feel the happiness of the flying pigs as I crimped my crusts. Like a gateway drug, then came bacon, a failed attempt at pork chops, and the good fortune of eating a few tenderloins at dinner parties. I wanted more.

Last week, while flipping through my cookbooks, I came across another David Tanis recipe that sounded perfect for a cold, Sunday evening with a football game on. It was for pork shoulder baked in a spicy sauce of chilies and garlic accompanied by hominy and fresh citrus and vegetables to cool your tongue.

I knew I couldn't fit a pork shoulder in my toaster oven but after eating a few tenderloins I thought it might make a nice substitution. I also couldn't find dried Mexican Chiles and replaced them with chipotle chiles, which were HOT! The bathroom became a spicy sauna for nearly six hours. My eyes burned, I developed a persistent cough, and I made the mistake of removing the chile seeds with my bare hands. Even after many laps in the pool I couldn't cool my burning fingers. My advice, protect your hands, dish gloves, ziplock bags, anything non-porous.

Still interested?

The sauce for this pork is intense but so delicious. The hominy turned out eh, and the vegetables and citrus were gorgeous with the meat. I would say it's worth the effort.

And when you're at the meat counter, when the butcher asks, "What'll it be?" You're response will be, "One happy pig please!"

David Tanis' Slow Cooked Carne Adovada from Heart of the Artichoke

6 ounces dried New Mexico red chiles (I used chipotle)

2 tbs. lard or vegetable oil

1 large onion, finely diced

salt and pepper

6 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

1 teaspoon coriander seeds, toasted and ground

1 teaspoon cumin seeds, toasted and ground

1 bay leaf

3 lbs. boneless pork shoulder, left whole or cut into large chunks (or I used one good sized tenderloin 2 would work as well)

Rinse and dry the chiles, then toast them in a dry cast-iron pan (I toasted them in my toaster oven) over medium heat until the puff up a bit and become fragrant, 2 to 3 minutes. Cut the chiles lengthwise in half and remove the stems and seeds.

Put the chiles in a small pot of water and bring to a boil. Simmer for about 5 minutes. Let the chiles cool in the liquid. Puree the chiles with a cup of their cooking liquid in a blender until smooth (I used my immersion blender).

Heat the lard or oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion, season with salt and pepper, and cook for about 5 minutes. No color, no browning. Add the garlic, coriander, cumin and bay leaf, then add the chile puree and a little salt and simmer for another 5 minutes. Cool the mixture. (You can do this well ahead if you wish)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Put the pork in a low roasting pan or a heavy bottomed ovenproof pot and season generously with salt and pepper. Pour the chile sauce over the pork and mix well to coat. Cover tightly with a lid or foil.

Bake the pork for 1 1/2 to 2 hours (45-50 minutes for a tenderloin), until the meat is quite tender and falling apart. (This dish can be made a day or many hours ahead and reheated.)

My hominy didn't turn out very well so if you have a recipe of your own, go for it and serve the pork on top. If you want an alternative, peeled and boiled potatoes would also be delicious.

Platter of Jicama, Avocado, Radishes and Oranges

1 small jicama, peeled and thinly sliced

2 avocados, peeled and pitted

1 large bunch of radishes, trimmed

3 navel oranges, sliced into thick rounds

2 small cucumbers, peeled and quartered lengthwise

a few mexican or key limes

Salt

Good-quality red chile powder

Arrange all the fruits and vegetables beautifully on a huge platter (or on a banana leaf if you happen to have one handy), and surround with halved limes.

In a small serving bowl, mix equal parts salt and chile powder. Or do this to taste-you can make the mix saltier or spicier. Dip a lime half in the chile mix, rub on the spices, and squeeze the lime juice over the fruit and vegetables.

*note

the pork was so spicy I omitted the chile and salt mix. And the lime is also good squeezed over your pork.

Ambrosia

2011-01-13T09:59:00.000-08:00

I'm alive! I'm alive!

My goodness. I thought I'd have at least banged out a handful of posts by now. But with all the eating during the holidays, and then watching show after show of people eating (what seemed like mostly massive amounts of meat and grease) on TV, I got a little numb to it all. And then upon returning to the city, my computer made several trips to the Apple store and is now basically brand new inside, but left me internet-less for over a week. The horror.

All this to say, I'm back, full steam ahead.

So last night Chris and I watched Obama's eulogy/sermon/inspirational speech and it was so nice to hear him speak when he wasn't on the defense. I found it quite moving. And it seemed to tie in with a post I've been writing in my head for weeks now.

A couple months ago a friend of mine packed her bags for another country to get out of the city for six months, shake things up, stir the pot, keep pursuing her dreams. Before she left New York, she made up a list of things she'd never done but had always wanted to, and went around town crossing things off. I was delighted to join her for the New York City Burlesque Festival, my first time too, which was a raucous good time filled with lots of sequins, buxom busts and be-donk-a-donk rear-ends shaking at speeds that could power Brooklyn. (Did I mention this before?)

It's not like my friend is never coming back to New York. I'm sure there will be plenty more opportunities to see girls twirling their pasties, but why wait? At least I think that was her thinking. You only live once right?

Then the holidays came upon us and with age, gift giving seems to have lost it's luster. I know what's under the tree for the most part. And that's fine. In fact that's great! Because who needs more stuff? Especially stuff you don't need.

I want experiences.

Obama spoke a lot about the little girl who was killed over the weekend and encouraged the nation to look at the world through a child's eyes in pursuit of a more perfect union.

Be adventurous, be kind, work towards the common good. Sparkle.

Last year was rough, my grandmother passed away, a mentor of mine died of pancreatic cancer and lots of doors seemed to be closing in my life and in the lives of those around me. So many good, bright people struggling.

So, when my mother came for a visit just before the holidays we decided our gift to each other would be to experience as much of the city as we could. Maybe banish some of the hardships of the year in pursuit of time spent together, doing the things we love.

We went to the circus and laughed at clowns, we pampered ourselves a little, we slurped down gorgeous, briny oysters and martinis (which could have been a little splashier) at The John Dory Oyster Bar, we ate plates of bright, delicately plated vegetables at Le Verdure in Eataly. We sampled salty sea urchin and squid tentacles at Hasaki in the East Village. Ate what I think are the best cupcakes in New York from Dean and Deluca, devils food with chocolate peanut-butter-frosting dusted in gold, classic red velvet and a delicate, citrusy, creamsicle garnished with orange zest. And finally, on a cold, unusually busy Wednesday night we squeezed our way to the back bar of Hung Ry to eat big brothy bowls of hand pulled organic noodles with tender duck, and the best fried calamari served with a rich, earthy pumpkin seed and chili pesto.

With each adventure and flavor, the struggles of the past year softened and we could for the first time in ages really catch up. Mother and daughter. And maybe even sparkle a little by the end. Food is healing in so many ways. A gift for which I am very thankful.

Here is a recipe from David Tanis' A Platter of Figs. It's a classic, old fashioned Ambrosia. A little zinger for the new year.

May you all sparkle.

Ambrosia

4 pink grapefruits

6 navel oranges

8 blood oranges

one 6-ounce can of crushed pineapple or one cup fresh

8 cumquats

sugar if necessary

1 cup organic coconut flakes (sweetened or not)

With a sharp serrated knife, cut off the top and bottom of the grapefruits, navel oranges, and blood oranges, then peel, making sure to remove the white pith. Working over a bowl, section the grapefruits into wedges, cutting between the membranes. Before discarding the grapefruit carcasses, squeeze them over the wedges-they will yield a cup or two of juice. Slice the navel oranges and blood oranges crosswise into 1/4 inch disks and add them to the bowl. I add the crushed pineapple mostly for nostalgia's sake. If you wish, use chunks of sweet fresh pineapple.

Slice the kumquats into the thinnest possible rounds, then mix them with the other citrus, to avoid breaking the fruit. Taste the juice, adding sugar only if it seems too tart. Transfer the compote to a serving bowl, cover and refrigerate for up to several hours.

Just before serving, sprinkle the coconut over. Sweetened flaked coconut is traditional, but it's nice to use unsweetened too.

*note

I took this recipe and did my own thing with it, throwing in some tangerines, left the pineapple and cumquats out because I forgot them, used shredded coconut. And I think it would be good with a splash of Champagne right before serving. Whatever combination you choose, it's delicious and refreshing.

Deborah Madison's Lentil Soup

2010-12-09T11:36:00.000-08:00

This is getting serious.

Our bathroom has smelled like a hot Italian sausage for almost a week now. And I am guessing I'm alone in this problem.

Several days ago, I didn't feel much like cooking so I got a bunch of broccoli rabe, some dried pasta, a jar of Rao's marinara sauce (the best jarred pasta sauce ever), and one hot chicken Italian sausage. I boiled water in my rice cooker for the pasta, and set up the electric skillet by the bathroom sink. While the rigatoni plumped in salted water, I cooked the sausage in the skillet and then steamed the greens in their juices. It was a lovely, easy, spicy meal.

The next morning as I made coffee, I noticed that in addition to the familiar smell of nutty, bitter coffee grinds giving off steam in my Chemex coffee pot, that there was also the very strong smell of pork casing, garlic and oil. Yuk.

So I flung open the window, despite this weeks freezing temperatures, and aimed to air the smell out. Well, that did not work and I was left with a freezing cold pot of coffee and a runny nose.

I have tried scented candles, eucalyptus oil, scrubbing down all surfaces, hot showers to steam it out, the window is permanently agape and several batches of chocolate chip cookies baked in the toaster oven. It lingers on.

I am at the end of my rope. As of now, there is an indefinite ban on any sausages or stinky foods, and in order to combat the cold air constantly circulating in the bathroom, a pot of lentil soup was called for. Rich, spicy and warming, never smelly.

This afternoon, if you're wondering what I might be up to? I'll be furiously scrubbing the walls and tiles wearing a pair of hot pink latex gloves. Because you can hide, but you can't run.

I'll get you yet.

Deborah Madison's Hearty Lentil Soup from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone

2 tbs. olive oil

2 cups finely diced onion

3 large garlic cloves

salt and freshly milled pepper

3 tbs. tomato paste

1/3 cup finely diced celery

1/3 cup finely diced carrot

2 bay leaves

1/2 cup chopped parsley

1 1/2 cups French green or brown lentils, sorted and rinsed

1 tbs. Dijon mustard

1 tbs. sherry vinegar or red wine vinegar

Chopped celery leaves and parsley

Heat the oil in a soup pot over high heat. Add the onion and saute until it begins to color around the edges, 5 to 7 minutes. Meanwhile mince or pound the garlic in a mortar with 1 tsp. salt. Work the tomato paste into the onion, then add garlic, celery, carrot, bay leaves, and parsley and cook for 3 minutes. Add the lentils, 2 quarts water, and 1/2 tsp. salt and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer, partially covered, until the lentils are tender, 25 to 35 minutes.

Stir in the mustard and vinegar. Taste and add more of either as needed. Check the salt, season with plenty of pepper, remove the bay leaves and serve, garnished with the celery leaves and parsley. The longer the soup sits before serving the better it will taste.

Molly Wizenberg's Buckwheat Pancakes

2010-12-04T09:50:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when embarking upon a recipe I have more than one goal in mind.

This morning my objective was to both, make Molly' Wizenberg's superbly delicious buckwheat pancakes, and, avoid going out in the cold by using up what seems to be a hundred, nearly empty jars and boxes of food that keep falling off shelves and out of the refrigerator.

For example. Earlier this week, I opened the fridge and a can of ginger ale fell painfully on my foot. Then five minutes later Chris opened the fridge and that same can fell on his foot. Also painfully. So today instead of buying buttermilk and milk, and using very small amounts of both, and then shoving the cartons in an already crowded mini-fridge, I used the remains of some powdered buttermilk and the last of the Greek yogurt. And instead of buying a new bag of all-purpose flour, I used cake flour instead.

I am going to post Molly's original recipe, which is the lightest and most-moist-buckwheat-pancake-recipe I have come across, and then my "leftovers" version of her recipe, which by accident became a low-fat version of the former.

My thought for today is this. Before you brush your teeth and put on cold jeans, a scarf, jacket, mittens and a hat, and count your change, and make a grocery list, and head out into the cold while someone else is still cozy in bed, look a little harder at what you've already got.

It may be just as good.

Molly Wizenberg's Buckwheat Pancakes

2/3 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

1/3 cup buckwheat flour

2 tsp. sugar

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. baking soda

3/4 cup buttermilk

1/4 cup plus 2 tbs. milk (preferably not low-fat or non-fat)

1 large egg, separated

2 tbs. (1 oz.) unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly

vegetable oil, for brushing griddle

pure maple syrup, for serving

In a large bowl, whisk together the flours, sugar, salt, baking powder, and baking soda.

Pour the buttermilk and milk into a medium bowl. (A 2-cup Pyrex measuring cup also works well; you can measure right into it.) Whisk the egg white into the the milk mixture. In a small bowl, use a fork to beat the yolk with the melted butter. Whisk the yolk mixture into the milk mixture. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients all at once, and whisk until just combined. Do not overmix. The batter will be somewhat thick.

Meanwhile, heat a large non-stick skillet or griddle over medium heat. Brush the skillet with oil. To make sure it's hot enough, wet your fingers and sprinkle a few droplets of water onto the pan. If they sizzle it's ready to go.

Ladle the batter in scant 1/4 cupfuls into the skillet, taking care not to crowd them. When the underside of the pancakes is nicely browned and the the top starts to bubble and look set around the edges, 2 to 3 minutes, flip them. Cook until the second side has browned, 1 to 2 minutes more.

Re-oil the skillet and repeat with more batter. If you find that the pancakes are browning too quickly in subsequent batches, dial the heat back to medium.

Serve warm with maple syrup.

Yields: 8 to 10 pancakes

Erica's "leftover" low-fat version

2/3 cup unbleached cake or all-purpose flour

1/3 cup buckwheat flour

2 tsp. sugar

1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. baking soda

3/4 cup water plus 3/4 cup dried buttermilk (3/4 milk would be a fine substitute if you don't have powdered buttermilk)

1/4 cup plus 2 tbs. 0% fat Fage yogurt

1 large egg

2 tbs. grapeseed oil (or neutral oil like canola or vegetable)

Coconut oil, for brushing on the griddle

Jam and yogurt, for serving

Whisk together all the dry ingredients including the powdered buttermilk, if you have it. Then measure the water (or milk) into a Pyrex measuring cup, add the egg and grapeseed oil, whisk together and slowly mix into the dry ingredients. Then fold in the yogurt until fully incorporated. Get a skillet hot and use about 1 tbs. coconut oil per batch. Cook the pancakes per Molly's instructions above. Serve hot with whatever you've got left in the fridge. Jam and yogurt or maple syrup is good. Or if you have some apples, peel, core and slice them, throw them in a pot with a little cinnamon and a couple tbs. water. Cover and cook until soft. Spoon hot over pancakes.

Thanksgiving

2010-11-30T06:58:00.000-08:00

My pants are tight.

My pants are already tight, as most are these days, 98% cotton and 2% spandex, denim masquerading as leggings. But this is different. And I'm not referring to the tightness of freshly washed jeans either.

Last year, the seat on my favorite pair of black pants split. Not from Thanksgiving stuffing but rather years and years of sitting and standing, sitting and standing, day in, day out. So, after months of slumming it in the bottom of my drawer, narrowly escaping the thrift store, into my suitcase they went for a little trip to my mother's sewing machine.

In the days leading up to Thanksgiving my pants hung out upstairs over a chair back so as not to be forgotten. If they only knew what was going on downstairs.

When my friend Allison saw my mother's to-do list hanging over the calendar in the kitchen, beginning with 'Monday', she said a chill ran through her. In fact, my mother began preparing for Thanksgiving long before Monday. Over the summer she cuts sweet corn off the cob and freezes it for the corn pudding, and this year she decided to bake her own bread for the stuffing, she may have ground some of the grain herself too. I'm not kidding. But this is all done with joy, and everyone who comes to dinner brings many gifts as well, sweet potatoes, braised cabbage, wild rice pilaf, pickled watermelon rind, champagne, cheese, etc. It's only in the last half hour or so that there's a mad dash to get the salads plated, corn pudding and stuffing in the oven and turkey carved.

All the while my pants hung around upstairs, bored? Lonely? Or perhaps on edge? Maybe they could smell the metal and plastic sewing machine shrouded in a floral cover only several feet away.

They should have run.

On the last day of our visit, when most of the leftovers had been eaten. My mother and I ascended the stairs to the sewing table and got to work. It was a quick procedure, find the black thread, load the bobbin, set the stitch, smooth the fabric. It was done in a flash and a half. And suddenly there they were again, good as new. My mother left and I slipped them on. Or rather, tugged them on. They used to be a little loose as I recall. They now groaned and stretched, hugging my hips with a fierce determination.

Since returning to the city, Chris and I have been on a strict diet of greens and lentils with a little chicken thrown in, and I immediately pulled out my mother's old, wood handled jump rope. If I stand in our tiny room on an angle, I can just make a full rotation.

Lets just hope I don't one day lasso the flat screen and have some explaining to do.

Thomas Keller's Pearl Onions

Green Beans with Smoked Paprika and Almonds

Almond Slivers

Turkey

Table

My Grandmother's Classroom Bell

Applesauce

2010-11-22T07:37:00.000-08:00

The dog days of summer being long gone, I now turn on my toaster oven and electric skillet with reckless abandon. An open window whisks steam out into the cold night air, my hair no longer goes curly every time I cook, and at eight or nine at night whipping up some banana bread or applesauce seems like a natural way to end the day. I welcome the warmth.

Growing up in a log house only amplified the glory of fall and on chilly nights, there was nothing better than popping open a jar of my mom's homemade applesauce and getting to work with nutmeg and a grater.

When it comes to store bought applesauce vs. homemade there is no comparison. One tastes like mealy, sugar-water and the other a rich sweet-tart snack. Applesauce is the easiest thing to make, it will impress your friends and is the perfect way to use up apples that have lost their crunch. I eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but it's best still warm, straight out of the pot.

Applesauce

7 or 8 apples (smokehouse, winesap, macintosh or any good baking apple)
1/4 to 1/2 cup of water
a colander, strainer or food mill

Quarter and core the apples discarding all seeds but leaving the skins on (they add color and flavor). Put them in a pot (I used my rice cooker on the slow cook setting) add the water, cover and gently cook over a medium-low flame for anywhere between half an hour and an hour until the apples cook down and the skins begin to melt. Stir every now and then, you don't want the apples to burn. I like my applesauce a little thick so towards the end of your cooking time, uncover the pot to let some of the water cook out. Then, rest a colander or strainer or food mill over a large bowl and pour in the cooked apples. With the back of a ladle or a wooden spoon, begin to stir and push the apples through until only the skins are left. And now you have applesauce! It's delicious warm with a little grated nutmeg on top.

Fresh Pasta from The Splendid Table

2010-11-07T10:10:00.000-08:00

Last week, perhaps you watched it, Stephen Colbert did a pithy piece on Food Insurance. The Company's idea is this, if you find yourself to have survived the apocalypse, or some man-made or natural disaster, in which all sources of food and most of humanity and the animal kingdom are wiped out, you could have enough freeze dried food (depending on how wealthy you are) neatly packed into an emergency rucksack to last you and your family three weeks or up to a year! And after this freeze dried period is up, I guess the apocalypse will be over and nature reborn, so congratulations, you can resume your life as normal! Or you will just starve a long slow death wondering why you weren't just wiped out with everyone else. Anyone seen or read The Road?

And just in case you have any doubts, Glenn Beck endorsed it!

Forgive me for sounding morose but I think this is hilarious. After watching the segment in which Colbert quoted the Food Insurance website as saying, "While your neighbors are starving, you'll be dining on boef a la borgoignon," Chris and I were left reeling, and wondering what we might do in such a situation.

It's clear that Food Insurance is all about capitalism and nothing about survival. What if your rucksack of food blows up in this apocalyptic disaster but you don't? Can you get insurance on your food insurance? Will there be a claims center open during the apocalypse? Shouldn't we be more concerned with clean drinking water anyway? And if your freeze dried food survives, won't the rest of your food? Looking at my shelves, I think Chris and I have enough to keep us alive for three weeks.

There is a shocking but somewhat true claim on the Food Insurance website which states "Also, some people believe that storing buckets of wheat and beans makes them prepared to live through an emergency. However, most people today don't know how to grind wheat let alone do anything with raw flour. Food insurance comes ready to eat. All you have to do is add water."

In some ways this is true. There are food banks that won't accept bags of flour because they claim noone knows what to do with it, and I think something must be done about that. We have fire and flood Insurance, car insurance and health insurance because it would be unreasonable to expect people to be able to perform the services provided by these companies, themselves. I'm sure there are very few people who can perform surgery on themselves, rebuild a water damaged house or repair a totaled car. But I don't think it's unreasonable to learn how to boil some beans or bake a loaf of bread.

Which is exactly what I'll be doing if a cataclysmic event strikes. If you are truly worried about how you will eat during such an event, educate yourself. You can check books out of the library on how to cook just about everything, and wilderness survival books that can teach what and what not to eat in nature. Lets give more jobs to librarians and less to CEO's. And if you've got some rice or a few carrots, come on over and we'll have a pot-luck. Just leave the freeze dried food at home.

Because during the apocalypse, I'll be eating pasta till the eggs run out.

Egg Pasta from The Splendid Table by Lynne Rossetto Kasper

4 jumbo eggs

3 1/2 cups (14 ounces) all-purpose unbleached flour (organic stone-ground preferred)

Directions adapted from The Splendid Table

Making pasta is quite easy but if you're really interested in making it, I suggest picking up a good Italian cookbook and reading up on it. For now, I'll give some abbreviated directions below.

Since I don't have a lot of room, I halved the recipe and I mixed my eggs and flour with my fingers, in a bowl rather than on a large flat surface. To get started, pour your flour into a bowl or onto a clean countertop, make a well in the middle and crack your eggs into it. slowly start to mix the eggs with two fingers, gradually incorporating the rest of the flour until you have a mass of shaggy dough. Begin to form the dough into a cohesive ball and knead for 3 minutes. If the dough is too sticky add a little more flour. Then continue to knead for another 10 minutes until the dough becomes elastic and satiny smooth as Lynne describes. Then let the dough relax for 30 minutes to 3 hours wrapped in plastic wrap or, I just covered it with a bowl. You can skip this step if you're in a hurry. Then quarter the dough with a knife, keep three quarters covered and begin to roll out one quarter at a time.

If you have a pasta machine, follow the instructions on the machine for rolling it out and cutting it. If you don't, you can use a rolling pin to slowly roll and stretch out your dough and then cut it by hand. This is where an expert comes in, and any books by Lynne Rossetto Kasper or Marcela Hazan are great.

When your pasta is cut and shaped you can dry it out and it will last up to a week or you can toss it into boiling water while it's still fresh and in a few minutes you'll have delicious pasta. To prevent the pasta from sticking together after you've cut it, you can drape it over a chair back that's been covered with a clean dish cloth or lay it flat on a dish cloth.

Maida Heatter's Buttermilk Spice Cake

2010-11-01T19:24:00.000-07:00

Maida Heatter didn't get her Book of Great Desserts inducted into the Cookbook Hall of Fame for nothing. While there is a time and a place for pulling recipes from the internet, when I'm looking for traditional recipes, I turn to the books.

Maida Heatter reminds me of my grandmother and her desserts do too. Her cookbook is filled with classic recipes for devil's food cake, linzer torte, cream puffs, tea cakes, gingerbread and creme brulee as well as recipes that are very much of her generation like Irish coffee jelly, pineapple custard pudding, cream cheese and yoghurt pie, peace and plenty, caraway seed cake and Palm Beach Chocolate Tube Cake.

Why don't we have desserts like these anymore?!

Since I got her cookbook, I've been dying to make her buttermilk spice cake. So, over the weekend I got all the ingredients together, halved the recipe and when I removed it from my toaster oven realized I had forgotten to halve the butter. Ooops. Let's just say it was very buttery.

So, still having some buttermilk, I decided to make it again this afternoon. I cut down on the sugar a little, correctly measured the butter and then forgot the lemon zest. Ai yai yai. So instead, I stirred it into the cream cheese frosting and I think I like it even better.

When Chris took a bite this evening he said it tasted just like fall. Yes it does.

Go out and vote tomorrow and then have a piece of cake!

Maida Heatter's Buttermilk Spice Cake (Maida Heatter's Book of Great Desserts, 1965)

To make your own buttermilk, warm 1 1/2 cups of regular (sweet) milk over low heat to room temperature (about 70 degrees). Place 1 1/2 tablespoons of lemon juice in a 2-cup glass measuring cup. Then fill it to the 1 1/2 cup line with the room temperature milk, stir, and let stand 10 minutes. Now you have 1 1/2 cups buttermilk.

3 cups sifted cake flour (I use King Arthur cake flour)

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

3/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon powdered cloves

6 ounces butter

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 1/4 cups firmly packed light brown sugar

1 cup granulated sugar

3 eggs

1 1/2 cups buttermilk

finely grated rind of 1 lemon

Adjust rack one-third up from the bottom of the oven. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 13 X 9X 2-inch pan and dust it all lightly with fine, dry bread crumbs (I just used flour).

Sift together flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. Set aside. In a large bowl of electric mixer beat the butter to soften it a bit. Add the vanilla and then, gradually, both sugars and beat for 1 to 2 minutes. Add the eggs individually, scraping the bowl as necessary with a rubber spatula and beating well after each. On lowest speed alternately add sifted dry ingredients in three additions and buttermilk in two additions, scraping the bowl with the spatula and beating only until smooth after each addition. Remove from mixer and stir in lemon rind.

Turn into pan and spread top level.

Bake 50 to 55 minutes or until the top springs back when lightly touched and cake begins to come away from the sides of the pan.

Let cake cook in the pan on a rack for about 15 minutes. Cut around sides to release. Cover with a rack or a cookie sheet and invert. Remove pan. Cover with a rack and invert again to finish cooling.

*notes

I halved this recipe to make one, 9 inch round cake and it turned out great (I'm guessing you could make the full recipe and divide the batter into two 9 inch round pans for a layer cake). It baked about 30-35 minutes at 350 degrees. I didn't have a mixer so I beat everything by hand and I made up a cream cheese frosting instead of the Brown Sugar icing recommended. And of course, I baked it in my toaster oven. I just kept an eye on it and after about 25 minutes of baking put a layer of foil on top to prevent burning. Also, I like to cut out a round of waxed paper to fit in the bottom of my cake pans after buttering and flouring.

Brown Sugar Icing

1 cup firmly packed brown sugar

1/3 cup heavy cream

2 tbs. butter

Pinch salt

1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

In a medium size saucepan, over moderately low heat, stir the sugar and cream to slowly dissolve the sugar, brushing down the sides occasionally with a wet brush to remove any sugar granules. Stirring constantly, slowly bring the syrup to a boil and let it boil for exactly one minute. Transfer to a small bowl of electric mixer. Add butter and stir to melt. Add salt and vanilla and beat until creamy and slightly thickened. It will still be warm. Immediately pour over the cake and, with a long, narrow metal spatula, spread to cover.

Note: Do not freeze this cake after it has been iced-the icing will become wet when thawed.

Blue Hill at Stone Barns

2010-10-29T08:13:00.000-07:00

Last week I turned thirty.

I have always looked forward to getting older but there was something about this particular birthday that depressed me. Not the number, I love that I'm through with my twenties. The problem was, I couldn't throw a party. Two is a party in the room Chris and I live in so there was no way I could spend a few days cooking wonderful little dishes and invite people over for food and a good time unless we did it in shifts, and that's no fun. And every restaurant or bar I thought of had so many restrictions, weird owners or expensive drinks, I couldn't be bothered. So over the course of the week I celebrated here and there with family and friends, was thoroughly spoiled with kitchen related items, and that was that.

However, Chris being the wonderful husband that he is, had picked up on a little hint I'd dropped a few months earlier, that wouldn't it be nice to have a meal at Blue Hill at Stone Barns.

Holy Shit.

If you have never been, you should go, and if you've been, how long did you wait before you went again?

Blue Hill at Stone Barns is Dan Barber's restaurant located right on the Stone Barns farm, a sprawling 80 acre farm 25 miles north of Manhattan. The farm provides educational outreach and a farmers market to the public, and the restaurant sources all of it's ingredients from Stone Barns farm, Blue Hill farm (Dan Barber's farm up in Massachusetts) and other local, Hudson Valley farms. This place is a locavore's dream.

I didn't take pictures of the food because I find that to be a little like texting while driving. This is the kind of meal you save up for and only have every few years, if that, so I snapped as many pictures as I could right before the first amuse bouche arrived and then let myself be whisked away into a food wonderland.

I will try to describe the whole meal we had. But it's almost impossible. So I'll breeze through in hopes of whetting your appetite because if you like food, and I'm guessing you do, you just have to go experience the restaurant for yourself.

I think my thirties are off to a good start.

There is no menu at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, instead you get to choose between a six course or an eight course Farmer's Feast of local and seasonal ingredients. Chris and I chose the eight course meal and told our waiter we had no restrictions, meaning we would eat whatever they put in front of us.

We were very hungry when we were seated at 5pm and I'm not sure if the wait staff picked up on that but we were presented, one by one, with seven or eight different amuses bouches; fennel soup, vegetables on a fence, salsify with panchetta, pork terrine with chocolate, thinly sliced cured pork with parmesan crisps, grilled snow peas, kale chips, veal bone marrow with bread crumbs and I know I'm forgetting a few more. Halfway through, Chris wondered if we were already on the fourth or fifth course and would we still be hungry after the meal? I gently pointed out that they had not even begun the courses. This was just the seduction.

Because Stone Barns is foremost about education, the staff at Blue Hill at Stone Barns incorporates that into the meal. So in between courses someone would arrive with a basket of eggs and talk about the chickens, or a platter of charcoal made from pork and veal bones, corn cobs and wood from felled trees, and describe how their flavors had infused the soup we just ate. There was never a dull moment and I mean that in the best possible way.

Our first course was a plate of thinly sliced beets, briefly pickled in herb infused vinegars, sprinkled with toasted pine nuts and grated with egg yolks that had been cured with salt and sugar. The second course was a smoked tomato soup that was poured over a bowl, cradling small spoonfuls of caviar, wild mushrooms, plums, a parmesan crisp and something else. By this point I gave up trying to remember everything. The soup was heaven. The third course was the most flavorful piece of wild sea bass I've ever had, nestled in a bowl of pea shoot puree.

Everyone gets an egg at BHSB and the fourth course was a slow poached egg, rolled in bread crumbs and lightly deep fried, resting pastorally on a bed of slivered beans with a smear of sweet potato puree on the side of the bowl with a finely sliced chicken heart on top. Before the next course arrived we were presented with a basket of piping hot potato and onion bread, perhaps some of the best bread I've ever had in my life, with a small stick of fresh butter and two flavored salts, one shitake and one tomato to accompany it.

The fifth course was a butternut squash pasta with a smear of balsamic reduction. We were getting quite full. And the sixth course, which just about killed both of us, was a piece of fatty lamb's neck on a bed of vegetables. Dan Barber wrote a wonderful article about cleaning your plate, which I had done with every course up until now. I wanted to eat that lamb's neck like nobody's business but my body was saying, no more! And so I left half on my plate.

And then came dessert.

The seventh course, which was quite refreshing, was a trio of small glass cups. One cup had a spoon of greek yogurt sitting on blueberry compote, sprinkled with granola. The center cup was utterly divine, a pear sorbet with a honey and eucalyptus granita on top, and the third was a barely sweet concord grape jelly with a spoon of fromage blanc ice cream. Finally, the eighth and last course was an apple cake with a soft meringue on top for each of us and a slice of dark bitter chocolate cake with a spoon of apricot sorbet to share. We could only taste the final course we were so full. And then they brought a plate of maple fudge and dark chocolate, and after that a plate of concord grapes, honeycomb and more fudge and dark chocolate. Throughout the meal we had wine and some coffee to finish.

Chris and I were giddy the whole time, I felt utterly spoiled and now I'm dreaming of what spring must taste like on the farm. Thanks hon, I'll have to take you next time.

Bright Vegetarian Chili

2010-10-19T09:04:00.000-07:00

I think food should look as good as it tastes. And if it doesn't taste good it might as well look good. But food that looks awful and tastes wonderful is a crying shame. And food that looks awful and tastes awful is unfortunitley in the majority.

This is how I feel about most bowls of chili. I can respect a beef chili that requires ample stove time, allowing the meat to fall apart and melt between your teeth but when it comes to vegetarian chili most bowls I come across are a uniform brown with barely recognizable, mushy vegetables.

I was in a friends home last week and noticed a pot of chili he had made that was bright, cheerful and delicious, an autumnal burst of color in a bowl, probably the result of needing to get dinner on the table fast, and it was absolutely brilliant. It flipped my idea of chili upside down.

So, with the constant sound of baseball and football crowds cheering in the background and a briskness in the air, this past weekend I threw a few things in a pot, and about half an hour later had a mean chili that is as pretty as it is good. Let it refrigerate overnight and it gets even better. Tortilla Chips, some nice orange cheddar, sliced avocado and a cold beer and I almost don't care who wins the game. Almost.

We are in Chili season after all, which I'd say starts with October Baseball and ends sometime after the Super Bowl, and if you live in the city like me and are dying to jump in a pile of leaves, this gets pretty close.

Bright Vegetarian Chili

2 tbs. olive oil
1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tbs. tomato paste
1 tsp. cayenne
2 tsp. paprika
1/2 tsp. ground chipotle chili
small pinch bhut jolokia (optional)
2 tsp. whole cumin seeds
1 large carrot, quartered lengthwise and sliced into 1/8" pieces
1 red pepper, sliced into 1/2" strips and chopped into 1/2" pieces
1 14.5 oz. can of crushed tomatoes with liquid
3/4 cup vegetable broth
1 eight oz. can organic kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 eight oz. can organic barlotti beans or pinto beans, drained and rinsed
salt

Heat the olive oil over medium heat, add the onions and saute for about five minutes. Add the garlic and cumin seeds, cook a few more minutes until fragrant. Then add the tomato paste and evenly coat the onion and garlic. Add the cayenne, paprika, chipotle and bhut jolokia, continue to stir until well combined and then add the carrots and peppers, saute for 10 minutes. Then add the tomatoes with their liquid, the beans and about 1/2 cup of vegetable broth. Cover and cook another 10-15 minutes just until the carrots are tender but still have a little bite. Add more broth if too dry and a pinch of salt if needed. Serve immediately.

*note
I didn't actually measure any of the spices as I made this so I've approximated them in my recipe. Feel free to tinker, this version has quite a kick.

Padma Lakshmi's Spiced Candied Pecans

2010-10-16T15:46:00.000-07:00

There is a dog I know. A beautiful golden retriever who will stop traffic as she lays flat on the sidewalk in submissive longing for a belly rub or a sniff. Hearts soften, small yappy dogs grow quiet and entranced children gently stroke her silky coat until I grow impatient and tug her to her feet.

But this dog also has an insatiable appetite. Food: her reason to live. She has eaten my entire sandwich, dragged leftovers from the garbage, pulled cookies off the counter, and stared me down at every meal. And once we engaged in an epic and rather loud struggle over a giant, rotten chicken bone as I knealed on the filthy curb, my fingers slick with dog slobber, trying to pry chicken bits from her clenched teeth. Oh yes, people stopped and stared. Even the jaws of life would have been useless, Maggie was victorious from the start, and all I could do was sigh as she swallowed a huge mouthful of gristle and bone, completely oblivious to what I knew would be a rough morning for her the next day. She was immensely pleased.

These spiced maple pecans are like Maggie's chicken bones to me. I will eat them until I get sick and just try to pry them from my fingers. Make them but don't tell anyone, or if you do, make double. Slice a good apple, pour some good whiskey and If you have a dog, you'll definitely want to tie them up.

Spiced Candied Pecans from Padma Lakshmi's Tangy, Tart, Hot and Sweet

One cup whole pecans

1/4 cup maple syrup (I like grade A dark amber)

1/4 tsp. chili powder

Preheat the oven to 375 (a toaster oven works great). Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil. Arrange the pecans on a baking sheet in a single layer. Try to keep the individual nuts from touching each other. In a small bowl whisk the chili powder and maple syrup together with a fork. Now drizzle the syrup over the pecans. Try to coat the nuts completely by sliding them around on the baking sheet so all the syrup is used. Place in the oven. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, until the syrup has just begun to brown or blacken; don't let the nuts burn. Remove and immediately arrange the pecans on a dish, making sure they do not touch one another; if you leave them in a pile they will cool into a brittle.

*note

I just mix the pecans, syrup and cayenne in a bowl and turn out onto the baking sheet, and I cool the nuts on a Silpat by an open window.

Denise's Kale, Beans and Pasta

2010-10-15T08:36:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the best recipes are the ones you learn in a friend's kitchen. Maybe they made the dish up, maybe it was torn from the pages of a magazine or perhaps it's from a famous cookbook, but in the end it doesn't really matter. Their taste and temperament has turned out a dish that almost seems an extension of themselves, and years later even after you've made the dish enough times that you could call it your own, that particular combination of ingredients still takes you back to their kitchen.

For me, there is nothing more relaxing than watching someone else cook, making note of measurements and seasoning, exchanging perhaps painful or wearying stories from the day that can now be laughed at, and feeling the kitchen windows get steamy as dinner time approaches.

The above dish is a simple meal I learned to make at my friend Denise's house. When I was in college, I'd babysit for her boys and look forward to her home cooked meals. She and her husband have a beautiful apartment right by metro north with a thin buffer of trees separating the kitchen window from the train tracks, so in the evenings as Denise cooks, the soft whoosh of commuter trains rumble by reminding you how nice it is to be cozy and at home.

This recipe is so easy and delicious anyone could make it. You could certainly take the more laborious route and soak and cook dried beans, chop fresh tomatoes and make your own pasta and stock, but if you're in a rush opening a few cans and bags is just as good, and what I do.

Sometimes when I find my own cooking situation immensely frustrating, especially at the end of a long day, it's the recipes from my mother and friends that bring a little of their kitchens into mine, and the rumbling subway or clanging garbage trucks outside my window could almost be mistaken for a speeding train on a cold fall night.

Denise's Kale, Beans and Pasta

1 yellow onion finely, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 bunch kale, stems removed, washed and chopped

1 14.5 oz. can of chopped tomatoes, drained

2 carrots, halved and sliced into quarter inch thick rounds

2 cups vegetable or chicken broth

1 15 oz. can of navy beans

2 cups dried pasta like orchetta, bowties or fussile

salt + pepper

olive oil

Heat a pot of salted water for the pasta and cook until al dente, drain and set aside (rinse with cool water to prevent it sticking together and to stop the cooking process). Meanwhile, heat the olive oil over medium heat and saute the onion until translucent, add the garlic and carrots, saute about five minutes more. Add the tomatoes and chicken broth, cover and cook about ten minutes. Then add the kale and beans and cook covered until the kale has wilted and the carrots are tender. Season with salt and pepper. To serve spoon some pasta into a bowl and ladle the kale and beans on top. Grate some fresh parmesan on top.

*note

it has been a while since I've watched Denise make this and she may have added about a one tbs. of tomato paste to the onions right before adding the garlic and carrots and if you have a bottle of wine on hand it couldn't hurt to add a splash. There may have been a bay leaf thrown in the mix or some chopped parsley at the end but the above recipe will make a very nice dish. After you've tried it, feel free to make it your own.

Mixed Vegetable and Farro Soup

2010-10-11T10:00:00.000-07:00

Perhaps I've given the wrong impression.

Over the past few months people have asked me, do you really cook every day? How do you do it?!

Well, let me clear this up, I do not cook every day, and in fact the past few weeks have been like this: I run around the city all day, my eating habits deteriorating with every panini and piece of cake I pass, skipping meals, gorging myself on sweets, forgetting to drink water, and then arriving home around eight to a fridge filled with half rotten vegetables, and a computer whose only use-of-late is looking up take-out menus. This all leads me to feel depressed, tired and cranky.

So, I have to ask myself, what happened? I know where to buy good food and I know how to make it but why don't I do it?

Several weeks ago I was in Philadelphia eating Thai food with my friend Liz and she was lamenting her own eating habits. She's in the process of training for a marathon and even though she knows a slice of pizza is not a decent meal, it still winds up on her dinner plate far too often.

Then, the other day I was watching the Dr.'s, which always seems like a ridiculous show to me because the doctors all look like models and sell a colonoscopy like it was oxiclean, and they were each sitting with their favorite "bad food" in front of them, pasta, ice cream sundae, cake, etc. And while they were talking about how sugar has the same effect on the brain as crack, they were eating away, flirting and batting heavily made-up eyelashes.

After rolling my eyes at their tans and four inch heals, I have to agree that sugar is a powerful substance. Usually when I notice I'm cooking less, it's because during the day I'm eating a lot of white flour and sugar in all sorts of combinations and then at night I just crave more. As a result I feel lethargic and fall into all kinds of unhelpful behavior, including not wanting to cook.

I have read a lot about food and everyone has their own idea of a healthy diet. Eat all organic, eat real foods, eat local, eat low fat, eat low carb, eat raw, re-alkaline your body, reduce candida, count calories, count fat, eat on a smaller dinner plate, don't eat after dinner, drink only juice for a week, eat macro, eat vegan, eat only what you grow and on and on. But the most helpful idea for me, when I'm feeling out of whack and I start getting sick and lose interest in my cookbooks is, eat mostly plants.

Somehow this simple little mantra, shakes up my eating habits, guides me back to the kitchen and gets me feeling better. For me this does not mean eat salad for every meal, or that if you go out to a fabulous restaurant pick at a side dish of broccoli rabe all night, but it does make me think before I eat. And before I know it, I've got fresh vegetables in the fridge, I'm stopping by Angelica Kitchen for lunch rather then eating a piece of pound cake from Starbucks, or I'm getting a cocktail of green juice from the health food store that I've forgotten is right around the corner.

There is a lot I can do in my bathroom with regards to cooking but the one thing I envy about people with kitchens is their freezer space. I think that freezers are little miracles to the working, stressed out people of today who wish they had more time to cook but lets face it, just don't. So Liz, I know you don't have a lot of time, but I do know you have a fantastic new knife perfect for chopping vegetables and a decent freezer. So here is my suggestion to eating better, in addition to eating more plants, on a Sunday or whenever you have a couple of hours, make a pot of soup or two or some chili or a stew, buy some single or double serving Tupperware, fill them up and freeze the hell out of them. That way when you come home tired and hungry with only condiments and sludgy containers of take-out in your fridge, all you need to do is look up, pull a frosty hunk of homemade soup from your freezer and warm it up.

You don't need to cook every day in order to eat home-made food.

Mixed Vegetable and Farro Soup (Food + Wine, October 2010)

3 tbs. extra-virgin olive oil

2 celery ribs

1 medium onion, thinly sliced

1 medium leek, white and pale green parts only, thinly sliced

1 cup farro or wheat berries

1 tbs. tomato paste

2 quarts water

1 fifteen ounce can borlotti or pinto beans, drained and rinsed

2 large carrots halved lengthwise and sliced crosswise 1/4 inch thick

1 1/2 cup frozen peas

Salt and freshly ground pepper

2 tbs. thinly sliced basil

In an enameled cast-iron casserole, heat the oil. Add the celery, onion and leek and cook over moderately high heat, stirring a few times, until softened, 5 minutes. Add the farro and tomato paste and cook, stirring until the grains are coated and shiny, 30 seconds. Add 1 quart of water and the beans and bring to a boil. Simmer over low heat for thirty minutes. Add the carrots and the remaining 1 quart of water. Cover and cook over low heat until the carrots are tender, 30 minutes. Add the peas, cover and cook until tender, 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper, top with basil (and I grated some good Parmesan cheese on top).

*note

the above photos are of cranberry beans also known as borlotti beans, canned or fresh work equally well.

Chicken, Fava Beans and Other Odds and Ends

2010-09-17T07:30:00.000-07:00

Over the past few weeks, I've noticed how other food bloggers seem to have at least one entry re-capping their summers. They take a break from food for a day, and share images of sailboats, hammocks and laughing children, a little postcard to themselves and us, to help make the transition into a busy fall schedule less painful.

But now that it's September, mid September, doing that would be a little like putting on a pair of white pants and drinking a beer at ten in the morning.

So, instead, I would like to look back at all the god awful things I made (and some pretty good things) that didn't make it into this blog. Because while I love to cook, and think I'm not all that bad at it, there are times when Chris looks at me, very tenderly, and says, "you're not going to write about this one are you?" And then lovingly eats what I've put forth. There are also other meals, splendid meals, that I was either too tired and uninspired to write about, didn't photograph well, or both.

Thank you for reading, thank you for your wonderful comments. They help keep me going when the shortcakes dry out, the greens get over cooked and the chicken would rather fling itself out the window than be subject to my Canon Power Shot camera.

No matter how many kitchen disasters you may have, keep cooking because I sure do!

The above photo is of a meal that was quite successful. I marinated the chicken in plain yogurt, paprika, salt and garlic and broiled it until just cooked through. The potato salad was made with cilantro, red onion, celery, lemon juice, dijon mustard, olive oil, salt and pepper. These are so easy to make, and leftovers the next day, superb.

This was probably one of the worst pork chops ever cooked. It was tough and rubbery and what I had hoped would be a sauce, was instead a garlic oil spill. The peas were gently boiled and tossed with butter and chopped mint. I think they were trying to push the pork chop off the plate. The lighting is just unfortunate.

Here's an example of a meal that was almost good. My mother passed on a wonderful recipe for brick pressed chicken which I proceeded to screw up. I couldn't get the chicken done in the middle, the sauce was greasy, and although the skin looks crispy, that's in fact an optical illusion. The fava bean spread on the other hand was wonderful and came from, In the Green Kitchen with Alice Waters and the recipe is from the wonderful David Tanis.

This was a last minute, I was so hungry I could only growl kind of meal. The zucchini pancakes were from Laurie Colwin's Home Cooking which is a wonderful book with great recipes, but these were a little bland and gummy (I'm sure this was mostly my fault). I have no memory of making mashed potatoes, and I broiled the red peppers in our toaster oven until the skin blackened, and then peeled the skin off before serving.

Cabbage and potatoes in mustard sauce from Short-Cut Vegan by Lorna Sass is delicious and I'm not sure why I didn't write about it. You chop one cup of leeks, saute in 1tbs. olive oil, add 1 1/2 cups water and stir in 1tbs. dijon mustard (I use about 4tbs.), 2 tsp. vegetable stock powder, and salt. Bring to a boil, then add 3/4 lb. red potatoes cut into 1-inch pieces and boil for 5 minutes. Meanwhile cut 1 head of cabbage into small wedges (remove the core) and add to the potatoes with 1/3 cup water if dry (I also threw in some sliced carrots). Cook until potatoes and cabbage are tender. Add more mustard if needed and pepper to taste.

This was also delicious and something I threw together last minute with some white rice. Saute a few cloves of garlic in a little olive oil and butter until fragrant, then add sliced mushrooms, sliced zucchini and or squash with a dash of white wine and one or two chopped tomatoes and cook until vegetables are just tender. Season with salt and pepper and some chopped basil, cook a minute longer and serve.

Omelettes are one of the easiest meals ever but I totally overcooked this one. It's hard to regulate the heat in my electric skillet (I know, excuses, excuses) and cooking delicate things like eggs is almost impossible (I will keep trying). Inside is grated gruyere cheese, with chopped chives on top, a lovely combination. A little salad and a glass of wine and you've got dinner.

These shortcakes were HORRIBLE! I won't share where they're from and will instead pledge to find a better recipe and post that. These were dry, flavorless hockey pucks which the strawberries and whipped cream even had a hard time saving. And recently I made a gingerbread cake in my rice cooker (which has a cake setting) that took one and a half hours to bake, tasted like salt licorice, and was both dry and gummy at the same time. I didn't even bother taking a photo. I think I'll stick to my toaster oven when it comes to baking.

And to end, a quote from Beckett :

"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."

Padma Lakshmi's Yellow Velvet Lentil Soup with Cumin and Dried Plums

2010-09-06T08:56:00.000-07:00

There has been a lot of hate in the air lately, especially in New York City.

Intolerance, violence, and protests of a harsh nature, combined with record breaking heat waves have made this a difficult and tense August to say the least. Especially in lower Manhattan, and I think everyone is happy to return to a fall routine and give their air conditioners a rest.

For the past few weeks it has been too hot too cook and I've been making a lot of salads, or simple meals out of rotisserie chickens, some fresh bread and sliced tomatoes or greens sauteed with garlic and olive oil. It is all I've been able to manage. But this Labor Day weekend has brought with it a hint of fall and a craving for soup. And a desire to, well, labor over a meal again.

But what kind of soup?

Soups, like the cuisines they come from, are all good for different needs. There are rich, decadent soups like creamy clam chowder when you want to indulge, celebration soups like delicate homemade tortellini, nourishing soups like chicken noodle and miso, everyday soups like barley and lentil, ramen for winter nights, and sweet and sour for a pick-me-up, and then there are stews, cold soups, fruit soups, purees and the list goes on.

But what to eat when you're in need of some spiritual healing? Maybe you had to work all summer? Your vacation was too brief? Or you had too much time off and are worried about getting back to work? Or maybe you're still looking for a job? Or politics have got you down and it seems like the world grows more divided by the minute.

In times like this, I am drawn to Indian and Middle Eastern Flavors. I want something, cleansing but full of healing spices, meatless, but rich and satisfying, and a soup that is easy to make and tastes even better the day after.

During my last visit to my parents house, I went through the many boxes of my things that used to be the contents of my old apartment and threw half of it out, books, old shampoo bottles, birthday cards, shoes, yellowed curtains, broken ceramics and all the little odds and ends that once meant something, but now, I no longer cling to. The one box I couldn't wait to open though was my cookbook box. When I packed it two and a half years ago, I thought it would be opened within six months, my books perched on a shelf in our new kitchen. But months went by and they waited patiently until a couple of weeks ago when I stuck a pair of scissors into the packing tape and sliced it open.

I don't think I ever imagined I'd be cooking in my bathroom, but my cookbooks don't seem to mind and I'm so happy to have these old friends on my shelves again, even if it's not over a four range gas top stove. One cookbook I've barely used and am looking forward to exploring is Tangy, Tart, Hot and Sweet by Padma Lakshmi. Yesterday I made her Yellow Velvet Lentil Soup with Cumin and Dried Plums and it was just what I was craving. Cleansing, spicy, soothing and a perfect way to transition out of the final weeks of flip flops and shorts, into sweaters and boots. Along with a loaf of sprouted bread and her chili honey butter it made a perfect lunch. If I were to make this for dinner, I might add a side of steamed greens like swiss chard, kale or spinach, with some sliced garlic, salt and olive oil for added flavor.

Here's to a spring in your step and a peaceful fall.

Yellow Velvet Lentil Soup with Cumin and Dried Plums
3 cups orange (masoor) lentils, washed well with warm water and drained
1 bay leaf
1 tsp. salt
2 tbs. olive oil (I used coconut oil)
1 tsp. cumin seeds
1/2 cup chopped shallots
1 1/2 tbs. minced ginger
2 1/2 tbs. shredded unsweetened coconut
1 cup grape or cherry tomatoes, halved lengthwise
3 plum tomatoes, quartered
2 tsp. curry powder
juice of one lemon
10 dried plums, pitted, chopped to bits (I used prunes and I think golden raisins would be nice too)
1 cup freshly chopped cilantro leaves

Fill a deep stew pot with the lentils, bay leaf, salt, and enough water to cover the ingredients by 1 inch. Simmer on very low heat for 1 hour. (I covered the pot and stirred every now and then adding water as needed).

Heat the oil in a skillet and add the cumin seeds. After 2 minutes, add the shallots and ginger, and cook until the shallots are glassy. Add the coconut and stir until the coconut is golden brown. Add all the tomatoes and curry powder, and saute on medium heat for about five minutes until the tomatoes start to wilt and lose their shape. (I had to add a few tbs. of water and cover in order to get the tomatoes to break down). When the mixture forms a cohesive paste, add it to the lentils, stirring over low heat until nicely combined. Remove the bay leaf. With an immersion blender, pulverize the lentils so that the whole mixture is roughly blended but not totally liquified.

Remove the soup from the heat and add the lemon juice, chopped plums, and cilantro. Stir and serve hot. Serves 8.

*note
if you want to make this all in one pot like I did, you can cook the shallots, spices and tomatoes in your soup pot first, and then set this paste aside while you cook the lentils. no need to clean out the pot in between steps either.

Chili Honey Butter
8 tbs. unsalted butter at room temperature
1 1/2 tbs. honey
1 tsp. cayenne
pinch of salt

Combine all the ingredients until smooth and well blended. Store in a container in the fridge.

Rice Cooker Greens
To make greens in your rice cooker, slice a few cloves of garlic and throw them in, give a little splash of olive oil, toss a few handfuls of washed greens in, chopped if you like, add a pinch of salt, a few tbs. of water, close and cook until wilted, stirring once. My cooker has a steamer setting which I use but you could turn it to any setting.

Jamie Oliver's Whole Baked Cauliflower

2010-08-21T11:03:00.000-07:00

I hate to be wasteful with food.

And I think Chris hates it even more.

I just finished reading Sharks Fin Soup and Sichuan Pepper by Fuchsia Dunlop and after a long love affair with chinese cuisine, towards the end of the book, she describes her growing lack of appetite for extravagantly wasteful banquets that no group of people could ever finish. A lot has changed in China since it's years of poverty and starvation during the Cultural Revolution, but Dunlop also points out, what's the difference between a lavish Shanghai feast and the mass amounts of food that get thrown out by the British and Americans every day. Why pick on China?

I cringe to write it but yesterday I threw out a whole yellow squash. I had bought three, the two best went into dinner but the third was a little spongy and past it's prime, I had peeled it already, thinking I may use it but instead I turned my cheek and tossed it into the plastic garbage sac hanging from the door nob. Then later that night I did the same with three mealy apricots. It was kind of like taking an old dog to the curb and saying, "sorry, you just don't bark like you used to, so long"!

As a child these things would have at least made it into the compost pile but I do not have a backyard and there's no way I'm starting an urban compost bin in our bathroom. I'm usually pretty good when it comes to not over-shopping, or re-arranging the contents of the mini fridge for the third time that day in order to fit the leftovers in, but sometimes I miscalculate and perfectly good food goes to waste. I can be picky and lazy which are not qualities I'm proud to admit. I'm sure I could have done something with the squash and apricots, but I didn't.

It is for this reason that I did not buy cauliflower for a long, long time. About a year ago I bought a gigantic head of cauliflower and I can't begin to tell you how impossible it is to fit one in a refrigerator the size of a small television. Chris and I maybe ate a third of it, and then the rest sat out, went bad and got tossed. So, when I came across Jamie Oliver's recipe where you cook the whole thing, I got excited. It's easy, delicious and a nice break from pasta. You can eat it as a side dish or like Chris and me, split it in half and down the whole thing.

For a side dish we had a little tin of octopus, with fresh lemon juice squeezed on top. I thought they were delicious but Chris couldn't seem to get over the fact they came out of a sardine tin. The purple outer layer of the octopus slid off on your tongue which he found a little weird and asked, "are you sure these are okay"? I was sure, but the more he asked, the more I wondered. At the end of dinner, there were four pieces left in the dish and we were full. With Chris' question bouncing around my head, on my way to do some dishes, I considered covering them with foil to eat for lunch the next day but instead I popped open the garbage can, slid the remaining octopus in, and the lid slammed shut.

I'm so sorry little octopus, it's not you, it' me.

Jamie Oliver's Whole Baked Cauliflower with Tomato and Olive Sauce

1 red onion, peeled and sliced
5 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
1 large head of cauliflower, outer green leaves discarded, stalk chopped
olive oil
a good handful of black olives, pitted
4 good-quality anchovy fillets packed in oil, drained and sliced
a handful of fresh flat-leaf parsley, leaves roughly chopped, stalks finely chopped
2 14 oz. cans of chopped plum tomatoes
red wine vinegar
a pot with a lid large enough to cook a whole cauliflower in

Add the onion, garlic and chopped cauliflower stalk to some olive oil and fry for ten minutes until softened with a little color. Add the olives, anchovies and parsley stalks and fry another couple minutes. Add the tomatoes, then half fill a can with water and add to the pot along with a good swig of red wine vinegar. Stir and break up tomatoes into small bits, bring to a boil.

Gently push the cauliflower into the sauce, half in half out, drizzle with olive oil, cover and cook on low heat for 50 minutes. (I cooked it about 30 which almost seemed too much so use your judgement.) Serve and sprinkle with parsley leaves.

North Carolina and Banana Pudding

2010-08-16T08:50:00.000-07:00

I wonder if it would one day be possible to detach Manhattan from its river beds and, like a giant cruise ship float it up and down the East Coast according to the seasons. In the fall we could coast up to Vermont for cider and maple festivals. In February, after we've had enough of winter, we could bob down to Florida for a little sun. In April we could return to New York for spring. July we set sail for Maine and enjoy cooler weather and fresh lobsters. And as I've recently discovered, August is the perfect time for North Carolina.

I just returned from a whole week in the Outer Banks and it was bliss. We ate vegetables, grass fed beef and pork sausages from my husband's, uncle's, sister's 6th generation farm that she and her husband run in Virginia. We dripped peach and watermelon juice off our chins almost every day, became ice cream connoisseurs, searching for the best scoop until my mother in law and her husband came across a pizza and ice cream shop that makes their own, and declared it the winner. We ate fried oysters, plump scallops cooked in butter, and spicy shrimp in their shells.

We ate till we cried out, "no more"! And then had dessert, banana pudding, peach pie, s'mores, lemon bars, and more ice cream.

One night Chris and I decided to go out, on a date, and after a little research found a place that prepared only local seafood. Just what we were looking for. If you are ever in Nags Head you must go try Basnight's Lone Cedar Cafe. They use only fresh and local seafood and produce, and organic local chickens and beef. And they make some of the best, most moist and flavorful cornbread I've ever had. First Chris and I sucked down a dozen clams and a plate of fried green tomatoes stacked with goat cheese, a little mint/pepper jelly, and garnished with a large sprig of fresh basil, followed by the broiled seafood platter (to split) of crab cakes, flounder, clams casino, shrimp, and scallops. It was refreshing to be in a setting where "local" didn't mean pretentious or elitist, and came with an unobstructed panoramic view of the sound, along with a large birds' nest housing osprey, Ricky and Lucy, who also seemed quite pleased with the ample fresh seafood and excellent view. You can't get this in Manhattan no matter how talented the chef or creative the interior designer.

The week ambled on with tomato sandwiches, putt putt, boogie boarding, and bike rides until it came time to turn in the keys and Chris and I found ourselves back on Amtrak, annoyed by the chatty ladies who should not be sitting in a quiet car.

Why must vacations end? And why must our room feel so small and noisy upon return? We will go back to NC, I'm sure of it. But since we are back in the Big Apple, maybe it's time to go to that Tapas restaurant Chris has been talking about. Oh, and my favorite pizza place sounds so good right about now! And I think I'll make that Indian dish for dinner tonight. And by the way, what's new at the farmer's market!? I've been gone a whole week.

Maybe New York isn't so bad after all. But if anyone out there has experience in moving giant land masses, say, the size of Manhattan, feel free to get in touch-it would be nice to float down the coast for one last hurrah before the leaves start changing and we all start thinking about pumpkin pies and stuffing.

Our first dessert of the week was banana pudding because it's the south, after all. I'd never made it before and after reading a few recipes decided to go at it my own way, which turned out to be pretty great. It's so easy and so comforting, just like a nice shady seat at the beach with a whole week of freedom ahead of you.

Banana Pudding (serves 13 people)

Make three packages of Dr. Oetickers Organic banana pudding mix with whole milk. Pour into a glass dish and cool in the refrigerator for about two hours. When cool, whisk the pudding smooth and whip two pints, unsweetened, heavy whipping cream until firm and then gently fold into the pudding until it is completely incorporated. Then, arrange one layer of Nilla wafers on the bottom of a large bowl, layer on top of that sliced bananas and then about two and a half to three inches of the banana cream. Repeat the layering process, Nilla wafers, bananas, cream, until you end with a layer of cream. Garnish any way you like, with crushed Nilla wafers or bananas or nothing. Refrigerate for about four or five hours or overnight. Yum.

*note
my mother kindly pointed out to me that maple festivals take place in the spring in Vermont. So scratch that idea. When I was a child however, I do remember going to a big farm in the fall and eating a giant pancake breakfast on wooden picnic tables under colorful maples, and there was lots of pure maple syrup to go around. This is what I was aiming for.

Fairytale Eggplant with Summer Squash

2010-08-04T11:08:00.000-07:00

Last night as I handed over my name and phone number to a very tall and thin host at Barrio Chino, agreeing to a one and a half hour wait for a table, maybe just two seats at the bar, I realized it has been a long time since I've "gone out" in New York.

The last time my friend Ciara and I got together we went to Don Hills, a nighttime relic of the eighties clinging to it's punk rocker history, that is now, as scenes go, dead as a doornail. Just like I like it. Ciara, her friend Brian, and I danced to British Pop on an empty dance floor drinking $3 PBR's all night. It was great. No standing in line, no strange men rubbing up against you, and everyone got their own disco ball to hop and spin to.

Yesterday was different. Normally I would never wait an hour and a half for a table but Barrio Chino came with recommendations, I was craving a good margarita, and since it was just Ciara and me, we decided to grab a drink somewhere else until the call came that we were finally worthy of a seat. The night was young.

Turning the corner onto Orchard, wondering where to go, a bright and uncharacteristically cheery glow spilled out onto the dirty sidewalk. A new tequila bar! Perfect! We sat ourselves down and ordered two margaritas on the rocks. The bartender was strangely nice and even after we'd ordered, lingered, smiling at us a little more before happily getting to his mixing and shaking. Weird. Why is a Lower East Side bartender smiling? He must have moved to New York yesterday. Whatever. The service was speedy. He brought us two large, globe-like glasses filled to the top with ice, followed by another lingering smile. Looking down at our drinks we wondered if maybe we should have ordered them neat. Hello? Any Margarita in there? Ciara and I slurped and splashed our way through this never ending slushy of ice, which actually had a decent amount of booze after all, laughing and having a good time. The clock ticked on.

An hour and a half passed without a phone call and our patience for a pretentious wait list on a Tuesday night had passed, we paid our bill and decided walk back to Barrio. If they couldn't seat us we'd move on. Tequila and lime was sloshing around in our empty bellies and the evening could go South very soon without some food. "Oh", the host said, "I was just about to call you! I have two bar seats but if you want to wait just a few more minutes a table is about to open up."

We read the menu taped to the window from the sidewalk, and tried not to faint.

Finally seated we ordered immediately. Two more margaritas, guacamole and chips, the Cornish hen rubbed with lime, jalapeno and cilantro for Ci, and the pulled lamb with green rice for me.

The clock ticked on but you couldn't hear it from all the noise.

Twenty minutes later our drinks arrived. They were good but not worth the wait, and then about ten minutes later the guacamole appeared. The chips were delicious, thick, freshly made and lightly salted but the guacamole was more like chopped onions with a little avocado. It was very strange. So far, in the past two hours, Ciara and I had mostly eaten ice and onions. We were cranky, hoarse, and dared them to turn out a good meal.

About forty five minutes later, nearly dead, our food finally arrived. We inspected it, poked at it, and exchanged a glance that said, "if this isn't the best meal I've ever had we're walking out of here and getting ice cream".

I have to say, it was delicious. The lamb was tender and rich, filled with spicy flavor and Ciara's Cornish Hens were succulent and perfectly cooked. We softened a little. Don't get me wrong, we would never come back here, but we would go home full and a little tipsy.

What happened next was like a scene out of a horror film. It's the moment that the hot young girl, locks herself in a bathroom with the phone, 911 on the line, thinking that she's safe, and has averted danger. It's the moment when the audience tightens, sees the flash of a knife in the medicine cabinet, and can't help but scream, "Look behind you!"

Smiling and at last blissfully happy with my meal I put a big forkful of rice into my mouth. My eyes widened. Tears began to stream down my cheeks, drool spilled out of my mouth, and a flash of heat traveled from the top of my head to my gut in a matter of seconds clearing everything in it's path. Those little orange slivers garnishing the rice were not pickled onions. They were habaneros. I must have put four or five in my mouth at once. I couldn't speak. I just stared at Ciara, mouth agape, in disbelief, my nose running like a drunk fleeing a fire. Check please!

Eating at Barrio Chino reminds me why eating at home can be so great. There is no wait, and you never have to blast your head off unless you want to! Last week I bought some fairytale eggplants from the farmers market, because who wouldn't? And made up a dish with what I had. Some eggplant, some summer squash, brown rice and a little radicchio, which in my opinion, is the dinosaur of lettuces. They last forever in the fridge.

And as for Barrio Chino, can't say I didn't warn you.

Fairytale Eggplant with Summer Squash

20 or so fairytale eggplants (or any eggplant)
1 ripe tomato, seeded and chopped
2 shallots, finely chopped
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1/4 cup pine nuts
2 tbs. Parmesan cheese
1 cup uncooked brown rice
eight or so radicchio leaves
five or six leaves of fresh basil, chopped
salt + pepper
Olive Oil

Cook the brown rice according to the instructions on the package. Wash and remove the tops of the eggplant, slice in half, lay in a colander and sprinkle with salt. Let sit for about half and hour to draw out some of the water. Blot the eggplant dry with a paper towel. Add the garlic and shallots to a frying pan or skillet and saute over medium heat in a few tablespoons of olive oil until soft. Add the eggplant, summer squash and tomato. Cook about fifteen minutes covered, or until everything is nice and soft and cooked all the way through. Salt if needed and toss with the basil just before serving. Meanwhile, in a toaster oven, toast the pine nuts until golden. To serve, lay a few radicchio leaves down on a plate. Spoon a little brown rice in the center, about 1/2 a cup. Then lay a good amount of the eggplant and squash over the rice, sprinkle a few tablespoons of pine nuts on top and a few pinches of Parmesan cheese.

Summer Salad

2010-07-24T11:59:00.000-07:00

Chris said he would like to eat this forever.

It is too hot to write anything else.

Make this and go take a nap.

Summer Salad inspired by Heirloom Tomato Salad from Sunday Suppers at Luques by Suzzane Goin

2 heirloom tomatoes

2 potatoes

2 small summer squash

loaf of good bread (day old is perfect)

fresh basil

garlic

balsamic vinegar

red wine or sherry vinegar

salt + pepper

olive oil

fresh mozzarella

Boil, steam, roast or grill the potatoes and squash, whatever your fancy, until tender, and slice into 1 inch bites. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Remove the crust from about 1/4 loaf of bread, tear into rough 1 inch pieces douse with olive oil until coated and soaked through, you can squeeze the bread to help. Sprinkle with sea salt, lay on a baking sheet and toast in the oven about 12-15 minutes. Meanwhile, mash the the garlic in a mortar and pestle or with the back of a spoon, add about three tablespoons balsamic and one tablespoon red wine vinegar. Slice the tomatoes and mozzarella, and wash and tear up five or six basil leaves. Layer everything in a bowl, however you like, drizzle a little olive oil and spoon a good amount of vinegar and garlic on top. Sprinkle with a little sea salt and few grinds of fresh pepper.

Alice Water's Eggplant Caviar

2010-07-22T09:12:00.000-07:00

I was a water baby. Not born into a tub of water but rather swimming with my mother at a very early age, way before teeth or words or long hair came into the picture. There are photographs of me in my birthday suit, held by my mother in her one piece at the Philadelphia YMCA pool, dark from the low lighting, except for the rippling aquamarine water.

Later we were members of the Lombard Swim Club, and their colorful kiddie pool with a wall of spouting water and flowers, was pure magic. I can still taste their sweet and tangy fruit cup with wedges of peeled grapefruit, and smell the air perfumed with chlorine and suntan lotion.

In my camp years we had swimming lessons every day in a cold, spring fed pool out in Chester County, learning the crawl, side stroke, breast stroke, and attempting the butterfly. Then when I was too old to go, swimming for me pretty much stopped. I'd go to the neighbors for a dip or to the beach with a friend, but for the most part swimming became a childhood memory.

Until about a month ago. Chris and I discovered a pool nearby that we can actually afford, and with a swipe of my credit card, we were members. I was a swimmer again. It's an indoor pool that requires swim caps so on our first day there we giggled at our get-ups. Getting over the initial ridiculousness of our smooth shiny noggens, there is actually a wonderful anonymity that comes from being in a room where everyone has on a suit, swim cap and goggles, heads down, except to come up for air.

The other day as I was crawling out to the deep-end, where the floor of the pool suddenly drops several feet, and you feel a little like you're flying, I meditated on dinner. What should we have? I saw the answer in the little bubbles of air all around me, eggplant caviar. Chris had recently bought me Chez Panisse Vegetables by Alice Waters, and a nice dinner of bread, eggplant caviar, and sardines sounded good as I turned to complete a lap.

The recipe advises letting the caviar cool, and serving on grilled toast but I couldn't wait that long, and served it hot with fresh bread, it was still delicious. I did notice however, that after a night in the fridge the flavors improved, and grew more rich, so use your judgement.

I hope that wherever you may be this summer, that in the heat of an afternoon, you can find a nice pool or lake, and take a refreshing dip, the answer to "What's for dinner?" may be swimming all around. And if you happen to be a member of the Lombard Swim Club, you are one lucky duck.

Alice Water's Eggplant Caviar

1 large globe eggplant

salt + pepper

olive oil

2 shallots

balsamic or red wine vinegar

1 clove garlic

1/4 cup chopped parsley or cilantro

Pre-heat oven to 375 degrees.

Peel the eggplant and cut into 1-inch cubes. Put the eggplant in a baking dish, season liberally with salt and pepper, and toss with a generous amount of olive oil. Sprinkle with a few tablespoons water, cover tightly, and bake in the oven (or toaster oven) for 30 to 40 minutes, until very soft.

While the eggplant is baking, peel and dice the shallots very fine. Let them macerate for about 10 minutes in about 2 tablespoons of the vinegar. Peel and mash the garlic and add it to the shallots and vinegar. When the eggplant is done, add it to the shallot and garlic mixture, mashing with a fork, and let it cool to room temperature.

Stir in the chopped parsley or cilantro (or a combination of both) and adjust seasoning. Add additional olive oil and vinegar to taste. Serve on grilled bread.

Serves 4.

For a meal serve with salad, sardines and a few good cheeses.

Pie #3: Deconstructed Berry

2010-07-19T14:31:00.000-07:00

Did I mention I like pie?

Oh right I did. But it bears repeating. I love pie. Pie for breakfast, pie for lunch, pie before bed, sweet pies, savory pies, fruit pies, rustic pies. There is nothing better than pie.

There are cold, soggy diner pies with canned filling that I don't care for, but give me a slice of flaky, salty crust with a sultry fruit filling and I'm yours.

I was even paid in pie once.

When I was an undergrad at Sarah Lawrence, my friend Emilie and I, on a New York City excursion, got chatted up by a recently divorced mother of two who needed help packing up her Chanel suits and Hermes china for a swiftly approaching move to a more modest Upper East Side Apartment. She offered to pay us and we had nothing better to do so she gave us her address and the following weekend we showed up at her front door with an overnight bag and our sleeves rolled up.

Before beginning to pack she gave us a lengthy and totally unnecessary tour of her apartment, including the many closets where all her Chanel, Dior and Yves Saint Laurent garments hung protected by silk hangers and plastic garment bags. Then sitting on the floor of her living room Emilie and I began to wrap and stack what seemed like hundreds of Hermes cups, saucers, gravy boats, soup tureens and plates, with pages from the New York Times, George Bush's face disappearing into a soup bowl and Donald Trumps hair whisping across a salad plate. She retreated into the kitchen and we were left to pack until dinner.

Dinner was unmemorable but afterwards, when all the dishes were clean, crumbs swept into the proper receptacle, and we'd done a little more packing, she emerged from the kitchen with a homemade pecan pie still warm from the oven.

This was and is the best pecan pie I ever ate. The crust was perfect, a slightly dark, flaky, buttery crust crimped to perfection, and the filling, oh my God the filling, the pecans were toasty and brittle drowned in a gooey, chewy filling and laced with deep dark bittersweet chocolate that melted in your mouth. She confessed to mixing caramels into the filling but would not divulge the secret family recipe and promised we could have a slice for breakfast before getting back to packing.

Emilie and I could not sleep that night. Our main concern was, what will she pay us?!! We naively had not sorted that out in advance. But the thing that kept us up was, what was in that pie?!! Should we raid the kitchen and flee in the middle of the night? Start a pecan pie business and become millionaires?

The next day we worked until our fingers were black with newsprint and it was time to go, we held up our end of the bargain and figured it would be better to graduate from college than wind up in the slammer. We exchanged many thank yous with this woman, back and forth until it became ridiculous and then she pressed $100 into Emilie's hand. What? Two days of work and we were to split $100! Did she think she was doing us a favor? Our blood pressure rose as we stared at her smiling and saying a final thank you through clenched teeth. "Wait, I almost forgot!" she said and ran back into the kitchen. What did she forget? Three hundred dollars still sitting on the counter? She emerged carrying an aluminum pie plate covered in foil and we could guess what was inside.

We dashed as fast as we could to Grand Central Station and when finally aboard the train back to Bronxville, ate the entire pie with our bare hands, licking each finger clean, one by one.

I will one day try to recreate this pie but not today. In my quest for more and more pie I remembered the delicious little pie crust cookies my mother would make with the scraps, sprinkling them with cinnamon sugar, making a tasty little snack to eat while the pie was still baking.

If you don't want to go to all the trouble of baking a pie, this is totally satisfying and a quick fix. I think it would even make a nice end to a dinner party.

And if you have any pie stories, I'd love to hear them. You can never have enough.

Deconstructed Pie

Filling: assorted summer fruit, washed and sliced if necessary (I used peaches, raspberries and blueberries), a few tablespoons grand marnier or wine if you like, and or a little grated nutmeg and a little confectioners sugar if you like. Mix everything together and let sit.

Topping: one 8 oz. container creme fraiche, combined with the zest of one lemon and 1 tbs. confectioners sugar. Stir till smooth and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Flaky Pie Crust: Cut 8 tablespoons of fat (any combination of lard, butter or non-hydrogenated margarine) into 1 1/2 cups flour (all purpose, whole wheat pastry or a combination) and a good pinch of salt until small crumbs form. Mix in two or three tablespoons of ice water to bind together, but still crumbly, roll out to 1/8" on a floured surface, cut into whatever shape you like. Mix together 2 parts granulated sugar to one part cinnamon, sprinkle and bake in a 400 degree oven until brown and toasty. Let cool.

To assemble, place fruit in a bowl, spoon a little creme fraiche on top and stick a few pastry crust cookies in the side.

Mango with Cayenne

2010-07-18T09:42:00.000-07:00

Friday Afternoon when Anna and I returned to the city via the Long Island Railroad, arriving in Penn Station, I felt like a country bumpkin visiting New York for the first time, look at all these people! Hoards of them moving down the long corridor crissing and crossing like a slow and steady stampede. I pointed my body in the direction of the subway, eyes glazed over and joined the rush. Why did we leave Fire Island again?

It always amazes me how many people come to visit the city in July and August because all of us New Yorkers are just trying to get out. Oh, your parents in Connecticut will be gone for the weekend and we can use the neighbors pool? I'm there. Your friend has a shack in the Catskills with a functioning sprinkler? Bathing suit packed. A job offer to make a hundred bucks for a week of work in Poughkipsee? Who needs money? We are all just leap frogs, hopping from one green lily pad to the next until September rolls around.

Yesterday I had to run errands all over the city and my final stop was SoHo. Coming up out of the dutch oven that was the Prince Street subway station was like arriving at a sold out Justin Bieber concert taking place in an even larger Dutch Oven, a sea of candy colored teenagers and their parents clogging up the street moving at a zombie pace, flipping their hair around and screaming in a dehydrated stupor. I wanted to scream back, why are you here?!!! Go home and come back in September! You cannot be having fun! As I elbowed my way through the crowd I once again wondered, why had I come back from Fire Island? Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a little cart of sunshine. Two women, skillfully peeling and slicing mangos, packaging them in zip lock bags and chilling them on ice, a bottle of lime juice and cayenne pepper tucked nearby. Two please!

Finally at home, Chris and I slurped down the sweet sticky mango in silence. There are some things worth staying in New York for.

Mangos with Cayenne

ripe mangos

cayenne pepper

fresh lime juice

Peel the mangos, slice, cube or eat right off the pit and season with as much cayenne and lime as you like.

Fire Island