I get it--Delicious!

Having spent fours in LA as a grad student, I became aware of all that the city had to offer the culinary world. With visitors and residents from almost every world port, it is no wonder that the cuisine is forward looking and at the same time redolent of all sorts of cultures and traditions. Jeffrey Steingarten in his It Must Have Been Something I Ate wrote that the Los Angeles Times has the best food section in the country--pretty strong words coming from a New Yorker. I am sure if I had been reading that section, and free to dine out more and sample the wonderful food of the city, I would have dropped out of SCI-Arc and applied to the CIA.
There are lots of reasons to love the LAT food section—the beautiful photos, the crisp and lively writing, the great recipes. But here are a few other reasons that I am beginning to prize it over the NY Times:
1. recipes stay online for months, free of charge, even years, under the Print Edition;
2. the entire article is on a single "page" along with the recipes, unlike the NYT, which puts them on separate links;
3. the best recipes of the past year are listed in a “Best of” at years end;
4. the recipe always concludes with the listing of the nutritional value with a breakdown of calories; protein; carbohydrates; fiber; fat; saturated fat; cholesterol; and sodium.


Yet, for such an image conscious city, the graphics of the online food section are TERRIBLE. Honestly, I have seen websites established by families that look better. In no particular order, here are ways that the layout can be improved.

1. Bold the recipe title. Let it be one of the first things that catches your eye, either scrolling ore reviewing printed matter.
2. Reduce the line spacing: too much line spacing needlessly spreads out the recipes, wastes paper, and lets pages get out of order.
3. Be consistent with vertical spacing
4. Move the photos to the left. Certain IE windows may be sized that these bits of eye candy aren’t seen. A photographer went to a lot of work to create that image—don’t waste it.
5. Include links to other related articles or make sure that the other articles are at least recorded (guilty article). A side note: Russ Parsons emailed me the main article after I contacted him. The book is now on my Amazon wish list.
6. Offset or box-in tips rather than having “(INFO BOX BELOW)”
7. Include it as a section available for wireless-web enabled devices. My firm is paying good money for me to read the LA Times food section on my BlackBerry while I wait in line at REI.
8. In the Print View, let the photographs be included.

OK, now onto some food:
Amy Scattergood in her Ridiculously simple and crazy good article compares certain dishes to one-liner jokes, quotations, . She imagines “simple sentences that could transmit everything you need to know to make a perfect dish”. For the Halibut Provencal, she writes: “Film a frying pan with olive oil, sear halibut fillets on one side, then flip and add a can of diced tomatoes, minced garlic and shallots, capers, olives and a dash of balsamic vinegar.” The ease of the recipe is summed up quickly and concisely without need for Wickipedia, fancy equipment, or exotic ingredients.

I made the halibut, and it was pretty simple. I did use an enameled cast-iron pan, though, but otherwise followed it to the T. I thought it quite delicious but Dale was making funny faces and looking to the side as if there was someone else there that he hoped would spit it out first. I mentioned that I thought the capers were a bit overwhelming, and even the taste of halibut (at $12.99/#) was overwhelmed. He admitted he found it too briny, and acidic, and the olives weren't as tasty as the nicoise or the oil-cured olives. We figured that the pre-pitted olives sucked up too much brine to be with the capers. Not wanting to add pitting time, we tried it again with oil-cured olives and reducing the capers by half with far better results. I also cooked the shallots a little longer to develop their flavor before adding the garlic; of course, I kept all the heat and basil.

Quick halibut Provençal (Adapted from Amy Scattergood)

Total time: About 15 minutes
Servings: 2
2 tablespoons olive oil
3/4 pound halibut fillets or cheeks rinsed and patted dry
Salt
1 clove garlic, minced
1 shallots, minced
1 cup canned diced tomatoes, drained
1/2 cup pitted oil-cured olives
2 tablespoon capers
1/8 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
Freshly ground black pepper6 to 8 basil leaves, torn

1. Heat the oil in a large sauté pan over medium-high heat. Lightly season the fish with salt. Add the fillets to the pan and sear until they have good color, about 4 minutes.
2. Turn over the fillets, reduce the heat to low and cook 1 minute. Remove the fish to a plate and keep warm.
3. Add shallots to the pan and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Add the garlic and cook, stirring, for an additional minute. Add the tomatoes, olives, capers, pepper flakes, vinegar and one-half teaspoon salt. Sauté 1 minute. Increase the heat to medium and simmer for about 2 to 3 minutes, until the vegetables are cooked through and the sauce is bubbly. Add the fish back into the sauce during the final minute of cooking.
4. Transfer the fillets to a platter, spoon the sauce over and sprinkle with freshly ground pepper and the torn basil. Serve immediately.

Scent of White Chocolate

For the past week, I have been picking up the mail and smelling white chocoloate. Now whether you are such a culinary snob that you disdain white chocolate or just an Atkins maniac, you can't help but be enveloped and captivated by the rich scent of the tiny, undistinguished yellow flowers of Azara microphylla. It blooms in late winter here in the great Pacific Northwest, right after the honeysuckle, about the same time as the crocus, and before the hydrangea leaves form. Its beautiful, evergreen foliage is composed of tiny lacy green leaves that almost glisten in the winter sun. No wonder that I felt inspired to try Shirley Corriher’s Chocolate Soufflé with White Chocolate from her amazing Cookwise.

Despite the subtitle No More Failed Recipes, the first time I tried this recipe, it failed. She hadn’t specified the size of ramekin, and I assumed that mine were a standard size, since I see them all the time at stores, thrifts and restaurants. The first sign that something was going awry was the fourteen ramekins of soufflé on my countertop instead of 8. The second sign, of course, was sticking my spoon into the soufflé, and encountering resistance instead of parting, billowy clouds of hot moist soufflé with dollops of white chocolate at the bottom. They were weird cupcakes, but Dale and I ate about a half dozen, and I took the rest to the office (where they were snatched up by the time I got back from the plot machine).

So I emailed Ms Corriher, asking what gives. I had continuous problems with another recipe of hers, the Tunnel of Fudge Cake, and wanted to get to the bottom of why I only have problems with her recipes. Was the oven temperature off? Were the ramekins too small as I thought? Did I use the wrong ingredients? Well, what do you know, but she called me the next day at work. I felt like some housewife on Martha when Martha calls, or worse, that closeted queen she dug up around Halloween—OK, not that bad. She suggested a remote digital thermometer to track my oven temperature, and using a pizza stone to maintain an even temperature. Luckily I have both, but used neither: I forgot I had lent out the stone, and my two thermometers had different temperatures, which will require buying a third to figure out which is correct.

This second batch came out fine, mainly because I left them in for a lot shorter of time. I scooped up spoon after spoon of warm billowy clouds of moist chocolate soufflé and chunks of molten white chocolate as I looked out onto my front yard, and wondered what other flavors could be coaxed to grow in my garden.

BlackBerry Thumb and Hairy Palms

Several months ago, I had to stand on a crowded bus. I found myself standing behind a seated man huddled in the corner, playing with his BlackBerry. With its colorful, large screen and bright backlighting, I couldn’t help but notice the images. He was surfing porn. On his BlackBerry. On the bus. A crowded bus. One thumb was obviously on the device itself, but I glanced to see where the other hand was (it was clutching his briefcase). Oblivious to my amusement (and others’), he continued to view hardcore material and stories before I exited at my stop.

I somehow doubt that food was on his mind when he stepped into his home that evening. And although my BlackBerry comes in handy for travel (“I am on a crowded plane—can you hear me now? NOW CAN YOU HEAR ME?”) and for reserving a spot at a Gypsy dinner, I felt like it should be more rewarding for me since, after all, the office wants me to be accessible 24/7. This is when I realized the potential of placing all my recipes online so I could look up ingredients from the grocery, check a recipe that I am trying to do from memory, run a pantry check, but most of all, not have to use the archaic search engine of the New York Times. (A big Special Ed cheer on that!) But then again, if you have ever had your DSL go down, or tried to retrieve a recipe from Cooks when its service is offline, you’ll know that a recipe in hand is worth 15,000 links online.

Salmon with Pinot Noir

Few meaty items are so naturally good as fresh wild salmon. It doesn't need aging, brining, curing, or drying. After a quick turn on the grill, maybe a squirt of lemon juice, a pat of butter, and a dash of salt and a grind of pepper, and you are set. I take salmon adulteration very seriously, but count the Mark Bittner’s salmon with pinot noir as one of the best preparations. His NYT column, The Minimalist, has inspired culinary gems like this one, to certain travesties--usually Asian dishes of lethal salinity-- that I have expunged from my memory. Of course, how could he possibly go wrong with fresh salmon and a sauce based on caramelized sugar and pinot noir, especially when he is pulling the base recipe from Seattle's Brasa.

Unlike many sauces and stocks, which require hours of roasting bones, chopping vegetables and meats, and more hours of simmering, this sauce is made in minutes due the miracle of caramelization. Bittner's recipe calls for the dry method of making caramel, which can be a bit trickier and less forgiving than the wet method I described in an earlier blog, the Marriage of Heat and Sugar. But it only calls for a 1/2 cup of sugar, so give it a whirl. Wine is added to the darkened liquified sugar, which will solidify from the cool wine, before dissolving. To this is added some rosemary, a complex vinegar such as balsamic, and a pat of butter. The acid and the fat in the butter should also help the sauce from forming crystals. The resulting rich thick, red-black sauce verges on opaque. He preferred the pinot noir, which is fruitier and more complex than most red wines, and suggests Joseph Drouhin's La Foret. But I have tried it with some cabernet with sirloin cuts and had wonderful results. Both sauces are great to keep on hand for a simple, after-work dinner that will rival most restaurants.

The pan-roasted salmon steaks also is a nice change of pace from firing up the Weber. But Bittman calls for non-stick pans both for the sauce and the salmon. This is laziness at its silliest. First, you can't gauge the color transformation during the caramelization process with the dark finish of non-stick coatings, and second, caramel, being only sugar, is one of the easiest items to clean. Third, in my experience, you will trash a non-stick pan by putting it in the oven like this, and fourth, there are cheaper and safer alternatives for pan roasting, like a good old fashioned cast iron skillet.

ROAST SALMON STEAKS WITH PINOT NOIR Adapted from Mark Bittner
Total time: 30 minutes
1/2 cup sugar 2 cups pinot noir
1 3" sprig rosemary, plus 1 teaspoon chopped rosemary
4 wild salmon steaks, each about 1/2 pound
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon butter.

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Place sugar in heavy-bottomed saucepan, preferably stainless steel and with rounded sides, and turn heat to medium. Cook without stirring (just shake the pan occasionally to redistribute sugar) until sugar liquefies and begins to turn brown, about 10 minutes. Turn off heat and carefully add wine. Turn heat to high and cook, stirring, until caramel dissolves again. Add rosemary sprig and cook over high heat, stirring occasionally, until mixture is syrupy and reduced to just over 1/2 cup, 10 to 15 minutes.

2. As liquid reduces, heat a cast-iron skillet over high heat until it begins to smoke. Season salmon on both sides with salt and pepper, then place in pan and immediately transfer to oven. Cook 3 minutes, then turn salmon and cook another 3 minutes. Remove salmon when medium-rare or thereabouts (or cook another minute or two if you like it more done) and keep warm.

3. When sauce is reduced, stir in balsamic vinegar and butter and turn heat to medium-low. Cook until butter melts. Season with salt and pepper and remove rosemary sprig. Taste and adjust seasoning, then serve over salmon, garnished with chopped rosemary.
Yield: 4 servings.

*Even back in the mid-nineties, I had stopped using non-stick pans for anything but scrambled eggs after I had heard about pet birds developing respiratory problems (Actually, they'll develop respiratory problems from sauteed butter, but that weakens my point). Even the non-stick industry warns about heating a pan over 500, and independent tests show that most pans heated above this in everyday cooking, albeit momentarily. But listen: if a person heats an empty non-stick skillet till it begins to smoke, what do you think is smoking? It’s the Teflon, now in aerosol form! And maybe its growing up with Watergate, exploding Pintos, and Silkwood, but do you really think that industrialists would tell us the truth or release all of their test results?! The tobacco industry still tries to deny the risks of smoking. Anyway, try a good cast iron pan, seasoned well. Look for used American-made pans at Goodwill or other thrifts, like the Salvation Army. Not only will you save your lungs, and have a pan in which you can use as many sharp metal objects as you desire, but you'll be creating an heirloom-quality item.

Playing chicken

On my first date with Dale, it seemed we moved in completely different circles. But we realized oddly enough that the two guys who reached out to him when he first moved here, were none other than my closest friends Larry and Tom. The apartment-share that he had lined up just wasn't working out, and after they heard his story of the couch of terror, they promptly offered him their spare room until he landed a place of his own.

So for this reason, and so many others--Larry and I run on similar culinary tracks and Tom's display of appreciation by licking the plate of an especially good dish-- I tend to push my cooking when they are coming to dinner. They are great comapny with lots of laughter shared, from Tom's channeling of Golum's scream"It burns!" when Larry makes him put on a sweater to Larry's ancedotes about eating bacon in front of his Jewish parents.

Pork is now out of the question, though as is my suggestion of sacridelicious trafe appetizers for his Passover dinner (where did I read that word!?!?) I turned instead to Cooks and made the Chicken Kiev, which was the secondary main course. It had several good ideas, like slicing the breast thickness in half. The butter mixture was taken up a notch, too, from the usual butter/chives mixture. Then it used toasted bread crumbs and oven roasting instead of frying--what, no potato chips? It is much easier to prepare for a dinner party than deep frying while guests are milling about. And although Larry, who chose the largest breast*, had piece that lost most of its molten butter, the other three were delicious.

I varied the recipe a bit, using lemon zest when the juice kept leaching out, and sauteeing the shallots to bring out a bit of sweetness. I also used my patented method of pounding the breasts in cereal bags that I saved. Most plastic will disintegrate when pounded, but not the world's most indestructible material, the plastic cereal bag.

While I love Chicken Kiev, which I first made in high school from Mom's Betty Crocker cookbook, but sadly before I understood the concept that oil got cooler the more items that you added to it, and the buttery crumbs in the pan were delicious in themselves, I'll probably pass next time in favor of Cooks Ultimate Stuffed Chicken Breasts.

*When will I learn to simply buy two uniform chickens and bone them myself--the four breasts in the package, although they each looked the same size, varied considerably when removed.

Cooking for the earth

How is that for a title that smacks of grandiosity and touchy-feely seventies back-to-earth movements?
Perhaps its having been raised in Seattle, and surrounded by so much majestic and sublime scenery that I take a few extra steps in not just protecting our environment but nurturing it. Or perhaps its because I seek out penance for the millions of square feet of good earth that I have helped develop and pave into more retail space and parking lots. Or perhaps its because I enjoy the substantial savings on my garbage and water/sewer bill when I recycle and compost.

Either way, my old housemate, Joe, got the household into some heavy composting. But when I moved into my own house, composting wasn't happening fast enough--probably because it wasn't the proper mixture of green (grass clippings, kitchen produce scraps) and brown (raked leaves). As my neighbors will testily attest I neither mow my grass nor rake my leaves.

Anyway, I solved the matter by making a worm bin. These little guys chew through everything, fast. In just a few months they'll turn the veggie scraps, burnt croutons, espresso pods, forgotten and now sprouting potatoes, etc into the rich, dark organic compost matter known as humus, soil's "life force". (Do not put meat or pet/human secretions into your bin--it will attract vermin, smell, and it is just gross. Chicken and rabbit coop clean up seems to be ok.) When Dale and his rabbits move in, we'll dump their hutch droppings in as well. I have even begun to throw my cardboard Ben and Jerry's lids into the mix, reserving the container itself for grease. In fact, Seattle's sanitation department now picks up food and yard waster separately, and you can throw food-stained cardboard containers into the bins.

Composting itself is very simple. I have even seen it done well in apartment units with a porch or fire escape and condominiums. A worm bin is much simpler and smaller than a compost bin. Get a plastic garbage can, drill air and drainage holes, throw in your kitchen produce waste, a bag of earthworms, some liquid, and replace the top. Make sure that it stays moist, but not sopping. I keep a slop bucket (top left) by my porch into which I'll occasionally pour pasta water, coffee-pot clean up, and salad-cleaning water. this will get dumped into the bin along with the vegetable matter that has accumulated over the week. During the rainy season--oh, wait this is Seattle--I'll leave the lid partially off. But the bigger bin (top right) just looks too nasty to leave the lid off, and it leaves a lot to be desired as a landscaping feature.

I'd say the life of a worm in an compost bin safe from predators, all the food you could want, and of course, lots of asexual reproduction--must be pretty sweet.

Climbing a kumquat tree

A detergent commercial from the early 80's featured two women lamenting the dirt covering their offspring's clothing after they had climbed a kumquat tree. We had no idea what this strange sounding tree was, and the description of a sour orange did not sound appealing. Still, when the opportunity to taste one finally presented itself when I lived in Australia, I gave them a try. I have been hooked ever since.

The Pike Place Market is my favorite place to buy them on my lunch hour, and a small bag will give me a few days of a nutritious and refreshing snack. The tart pulp and the sweet skin, which is all zest and no pith, tease and cleanse the palate in a way that apples and bananas just can't come near. And they aren't near the mess of other citrus fruit; even the plump, sweet clementines that showed up this winter need to be peeled. One week they were so sweet, so delicious that I ate over a pound in one sitting at my desk. Well, whatever else I ate at lunch caused me to have gas in the elevator. And wouldn't you know it, the next person who walked in remarked about fresh oranges.

If overcooked brussel sprouts are "little balls of hell", as one roomate called them, then kumquats are little balls of sunshine. Still most people are reluctant to try them, and usually won't try a second one. So I read Ms Hesser's Sunday article on kumquats with glee on an otherwise glum morning. (The stacks of dishes and wine glasses from last night's fondue party of 12 people put a big damper on the AM.) Her recipes called for duck(!), dates (!), arugala(!), sugar(!), Parmesean (!) and of course, kumquats (!!!).

Tom and Larry came over for dinner, and I prepared the following to go with the Chicken Kiev featured in Cooks. Its so much fun cooking for or with them. Once, when I made the Pan-Roasted Chicken, Tom risked Larry's Look of Judgement to lick his plate, which I always do when I am alone. But we all made pigs of ourselves when I served a whole molten chocolate cake, and the three of us ate it all in one sitting. No wonder none of my pants fit.)

















Salad of Kumquats, Dates and Shaved Parmesan (adapted from Amanda Hesser)
5 kumquats
4 handfuls baby arugula
½ cup parsley leaves
2 Medjool dates, pitted and diced
¼ cup Parmesan shavings (made with a vegetable peeler or truffle slicer)
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste.
Slice the kumquats into thin rounds, discarding the seeds. Combine the arugula, parsley, dates, kumquats and Parmesan in a large bowl. Whisk together the lemon juice and olive oil; season with salt and pepper. Pour over the salad and toss. Serves 4.

And if that is not sweet enough for you, check out this recipe which she adapted.














Candied Kumkuats (adapted from Dinners at Lucques," by Suzanne Goin)
1 cup sugar
2 cups water
1/2 pound kumquats
1. In a medium saucepan, bring the sugar and water to a boil, stirring until dissolved.
2. Add the kumquats, cover the fruit with a piece of parchment paper and a small plate or lid to keep them submerged. 3. Simmer over low heat until the kumquats are translucent, about 25 minutes.
4. Drain the fruit and reserve the syrup. Serve with cheese or ice cream. The syrup may also be reduced and drizzled on toast spread with butter. Makes 1/2 pound.

The Bell Tolls for Thee at Lunch Hour

Cooks Illustrated sent out an email promoting Parents Against Junk Food (its effort to improve school lunches around the country), which is being launched April 1. The site will offer a variety of ways for you to get involved (including contacting your representatives in Congress). But the very next paragraph promotes its sister publication, Cook's Country--which verges on just this side of white trash, albeit tasty--and its recipe for onion rings using ground potato chips. Apparently junk food is OK for dinner, just not school lunches.
Alice Waters, proprietor of Chez Panisse, the restaurant often credited with bringing the emphasis on fresh, local ingredients to the US, last week proposed in the New York Times to improve not just the 1 hour of a school lunch but “engaging them [children] in interactive education that brings them into a new relationship with food.” She writes: “Not only are our children eating this unhealthy food, they're digesting the values that go with it: the idea that food has to be fast, cheap and easy; that abundance is permanent and effortless; that it doesn't matter where food actually comes from. These values are changing us. As a nation, we need to take back responsibility for the health of not just our children, but also our culture.”
She proposes a core curriculum for all students from kindergarten through high school on the study and understanding of food; only through growing, production, and eating will children begin to think critically about what they eat, and begin to shape long-term behavior. Based on her experience with the Edible Schoolyard program, she says “When children grow and prepare good, healthy food themselves, they want to eat it, and, what's more, they like this way of learning.” And anyone who has watched children germinate corn kernels on the window sill, plant the sprouts in spring, and anticipate the corn, knows she is onto something.
We know this will not be cheap, but with the costs of treating obesity and the catastrophically rising rate of Type 2 Diabetes and their side effects (blindness, amputation, critical and emergency care), she correctly points out that escalating national healthcare costs will far exceed the cost of raising well-fed, healthy children.

OK, no more words. Tomorrow, we’ll get back to eating, period. Some buddies are coming over for dinner, and I am planning on some food from Ms. Hesser and Cooks Illustrated.

Peeling appeal

Although we have finally realized that yes, you can be too rich or too thin, most people feel they can never have too many kitchen gadgets. I am not one of those people: with remorse I have watched my cupboards and drawers slowly fill with thermometers, whisks, timers, 6 wine openers, crushers, peelers, choppers, and measuring utinsels. So it is with skepticism that I purchased—get this—a German asparagus peeler. (I am still trying to burn through the masses of Williams Sonoma gift cards I have received over the years, through either gifts or returns of useless gadgets or silly bottles of laundry spray, which you can easily and more economically make yourself.) Cooks Illustrated wrote that there was no reason for such a gadget, since you just buy thinner spears, or break off the woody ends of thicker spears. But breaking off the woody can be pretty wasteful in some cases, and let’s face it, thin spears of asparagus not only are not always in the store, and thin is not always the best. In fact, the thicker spears have more tender volume in proportion to the skin. Julia Child swore by peeled asparagus, and I have increasingly entrusted myself to her wisdom. And when I have prepared her dishes, or the Balthazar salad, the peeled asparagus not only looks beautiful but is perfectly edible all the way to the so-called woody end.
But last night was my own empirical test. I went to three stores to look for thick spears. I peeled half and left the other intact including the woody ends, but cutting off the slightly-concave end. I steamed them over hot water (include the peels in the cooking water to prevent flavor loss), and plated them with nothing but sea salt and pepper. They never made it the table. I sampled both, but devoured the peeled asparagus—so tender, so bright green. Even the woody end was edible. The unpeeled were another story. Tough and stringy, I cooked them a little bit longer with a few of the peeled as a control. But after a few minutes, the overcooked peeled asparagus was still edible (albeit as a puree); the unpeeled were paste in a still resilient fibrous shell.

So it looks like the peeler will stay, and whenever I want to take the easy way out, I look at my reflection in the window and my WWJD necklace, and the light above (dimmed MR-16s, actually) tells me that no, Julia would peel.