camera shy

You know, it would probably help my cause here if I actually remembered to take pics as I was making food. I'm going to work on that.

pie guts

Ahhhh work. I love working on (1) team projects that leave a sense of (2) accomplishment when finished. Last Sunday, I went to Petsi Pies to lend a hand in their pie production for Thanksgiving and spent 6 hours making pie tarts. There's a cool machine, a heated die caster, where all you have to do is:
1. Measure out 9oz. of dough.
2. Put it on a pie tin.
3. Put the tin under the die.
4. Push a lever down. Hold for 10 seconds.
5. Pie crust.

Sounds tedious, but it really wasn't. I know that without pie crust, there is no pie and therefore it was uber important to do. Sense of teamwork.

Yesterday I pulled a 13 hour shift where I:
1. Spent 8 hours making over a thousand pounds of apple pie filling.
2. One hour on pie crusts.
3. Three hours rotating pies in and out of the oven (mmmm pumpkin and apple!)
4. One hour scrubbing sheet pans free of caramelized apple filling that spilled over. Nasty bastard, burnt sugar is.

Two burns, a bizarre steel scrubber rash and a little bit of back pain later and I am totally happy and feeling fulfilled. Sense of accomplishment.

Tonight is the final push, the last of them will be picked up by 3pm tomorrow. It's been really exciting and fun helping two thousand pies grow from ingredients to treats. Although, I get the feeling that when T-Day finally arrives, I am going to pass on the desserts. Being surrounded by it for 3 days can kill anyone's sweet tooth. (Except for Mr. Bacon's. His is unbreakable.)

petsi pie sunday

I am going in to Petsi Pies this afternoon to lend a hand in their bakery. I'm excited, it's been nine years sine I have worked in any form of bakery production. I might just peel apples and wash dishes for them, who knows. I'll keep you posted!

mexicans in beacon hill?

I really need to get a new battery and charger for my camera. The camera on my new phone just ain't cutting the mustard. But I will soldier on until I actually make that purchase...

There is a gas station right at the bottom of Beacon Hill in Boston, kind of diagonal to Mass. General Hospital. It's name is Grampy's. See those brick buildings in back? That's Beacon Hill, for those of you reading this from afar.

This is kind of a weird spot for a gas station since the area is really mostly storefronts and restaurants, backed up by multi-million dollar two bedroom cubicles. But, I suppose people need gas for their cars to get to the Cape on the weekends.

And tacos. Everyone needs tacos! Even those without a car, am I right? Grampy's gas stop has a hidden a taco stand. For reals. I had heard of it before, but I actually was strolling by, hungry, and decided, what the hell. A taco sounds pretty good. (Who am I kidding here, a taco always sounds good to me.)

Villa Mexico Cafe is literally a tiny counter tucked in the corner of the mini mart. The flat top where everything is heated is literally the size of a three subject spiral notebook, and there's kitsch and glitter all around it. I opted for two beef tacos, to go. The beef was shredded, not the carne asada I am used to but I was happy it wasn't ground. It had flavor, was well salted and not dry at all. And there were plenty of tiny diced tomatoes on top. The salsa won me over, though - a mildly spicy roasted poblano, which you can see dumped on top of the tacos here. My only two beefs: there were no onions on it and the two tacos were $4.75, a little pricey for my AZ standards. Still, worthy tacos for a good lunch.

                                  

foodies who date

Do you date?
Do you loooooove food? And I mean love food, not just gee, that tastes pretty okay.
Have you ever been on a date when you suddenly realize that the person you are with has zero appreciation for food in general? Everything is going well, then suddenly you realize...this person will never try kimchee with me.
I'm not saying you are looking for a culinary mastermind, but if you like food as I like food (and as many of my single friends like food) you know what a huge turnoff a lack of interest in it is. 
Jamie Oliver may have come to your rescue.
He's formed a foodie dating thing with Match that can help you weed through the Ramen and get to the Pho. Or choose a truffle in a land of buttons. Or wade through the American slices and get to the rochetta.
You get it.

smackdown!

The first, and hopefully annual, Southern Smackdown took place last Monday night at East Coast Grill. Three chefs go head to head to see who reigns as the Southern Food King of Cambridge. The line-up:

 ~ Chef Rembs Layman from Tupelo

~ Chef Jason Heard from East Coast Grill

~ Chef Barry Maiden from Hungry Mother

Now, I am privileged to live so near to these three fine establishments that, if need be, I can stumble home. Which has happened. Only if need be!! When I first read about Smackdown, I squealed and dialed the reservation line so quickly it was as if I was 13 again, calling KZZP for free tickets to The Cure. Reservation made for six, I sat back and waited on pins, needles and extra squats at the gym for the night to arrive.

And, arrive it did. With fervor. Nine courses. Nine.

Two appetizers and an entree per chef appeared before us on a blue menu which also acted as a scorecard. Each course, or round, had a specific designation. There was a lot of food coming our way, good thing I was hungry. Also, good thing they served us an amuse-bouche as my table-mates and I were 2.5 drinks down by this point.

The amuse-bouche , which is usually quite small by nature, was a plate of appetizers in itself. But, hey, the theme is Southern - do you really think that anyone there would let us go hungry for long? Cubes of fried grits, house-made (which house? no idea) cheddar cheese sticks, deviled eggs with whipped chicken liver and a thick, tender Ritz-cracker-like thing topped with pimento cheese each made their way over my tongue and into infamy. Those cheese sticks were so flaky, like Butterfinger flaky. They were what Cheez-its aspire to when they are born.

Round 1: The South of the Past

She-Crab Soup with Sherry & Roe

Chunky, sea-sweet crab and the pop of roe permeated the buttery soup. Think New England Chowdah thick...but I was actually really surprised by how the texture of the broth, while heavy and creamy when I first put it in my mouth, left a clean palate when I swallowed. Almost as if it completely disappeared. This was, by far, my favorite in the entire round. I resisted the urge to lick the bowl. Really, I really did.

BBQ Rib with Pickled Watermelon & Hush Puppy

The meat on the rib was okay. The sauce on the rib was okay. Independently, okay. Together, relatively disappointing. I wasn't expecting to jump up on the table and do a tap dance with delight, but I was expecting a memorable rib, at the least. Well, it was memorable: I remember it was boring. The pickled watermelon rind was a hit at the table, with my co-judges chomping happily away. For me? It tasted too cinnamon-y. I commend the use of cinnamon. I do. But, well, this wasn't working for me. The plate's highlight was the hush puppy: lightly packed and crumbly on the inside, a dense and dark crust on the outside, it fell apart, in a good way, like a bubble when I tapped it with my fork.

Baked Stuffed Clam with Andouille & Cornbread

                         

Holy quahog, Dixie! What do we have here? I had a sizable piece of clam in every bite, and by sizable I mean about a quarter inch of bivalve flesh in every bite. The cornbread was coarse and didn't mush-out under the sauce or the lemon I squirted onto it while sweet piccalilli added a crisp and tart flavor that cut through the mellow, slow burn of the andouille. I ate the whole thing.

(before I ate the remnants)

Round 2: Down South Today

BBQ Beef over Jalepeno-Cheddar Grits & House Pickled Onions

 

When I think BBQ Beef, I think Texas. I think sweet, thick sauce that sticks to everything and takes a week to wash out from underneath my fingernails. That doesn't mean I like it, but I think of that scene when I read BBQ Beef. Thank God I was gladly proven wrong when this pile of tenderness was placed in front of me. The beef wasn't terribly sweet at all (score!) and the onions added an acidic punch that enhanced the gaminess of the meat. The grits were creamy, a little too creamy for my taste, but the watercress was a fine and crunchy accompaniment. Everyone at our table was quiet, a compliment to the chef as we are known to be loud.

Whole Roasted Smithfield Ham with Sweet Potato-Buttermilk Biscuits & Preserved Fig Jam

                          

'Samiches! Biscuit 'samiches! House-cured ham on a tender sweet-potato-y biscuit, who can go wrong with that?  Usually a favorite of mine (okay, yes, I have had this before and therefore totally knew which chef this was from), with a meat that shreds in my mouth and a fig jam that brings out the smoky flavor - this time the ham was salty. Yeah, I know, ham is supposed to be salty. But this? I felt like running into the kitchen and yelling "Chef X, do I look like a deer? Do you think I need a salt lick?" But of course, I didn't. I wrote it on my scorecard instead.

Pork Sausage with Sea Island Red Peas & Sunchoke Pickle   

The sausage had  a cool, mellow allspice flavor to it and the meat wasn't too packed in and dense, giving it a light feeling when I bit. The red peas had a flavor to themselves and were cooked to the point of holding their form; when eaten separately, both stood out as quite good. Put both in a bowl together, though, and I hated the product. The combined textures were off, with the peas being slightly too hard for a stew and the sausage being slightly too soft.

Round 3: The Future of Southern Food

(the FUTURE!!!)

Sous Vide Colonial Fried Chicken with Gravy and Biscuit

Anyone who knows me probably knows at least one thing: I LOVE FRIED CHICKEN. Freaking LOVE FRIED CHICKEN. So much, in fact, I ate a half of one after I ran a half marathon this fall. It was a prize for myself, okay? This fried chicken was sad. It was crying in my mouth. Actually, I wish it had started to cry in my mouth, it would have added a little welcome salt to an otherwise bland, crunchy breast. Fried chicken without salt or pepper in the breading or on the meat? That isn't Colonial, that's Communist. The biscuit was perfect, it flaked off in long, round pulls. But that doesn't make up for the Red Threat of that chicken. An American to the core, I gave it back.

(At this point in the evening, my arteries are in revolt. K is taking a power nap. J looks like he has "gone inside" his own mind, taking deep breaths and mumbling to his stomach to hurry up and digest, there's more coming. C is asking the waiter for toothpicks - for her eyes. Mr. Bacon is his normal self.)

Smoked & Braised Pork Belly with Cranberry-Hot Pepper Jelly & Buttermilk Grits

                                    

I love it when my food moves when it's placed on the table. This time, the jelly on top went one way and the pork belly jiggled in a completely opposite direction. Jelly Belly, to the fullest. The belly was quite fatty, but I ate the small amount of meat along the bottom and was happy with the smoky flavor. The jelly added sweet heat, and the grits...oh those grits! Separating in my mouth, they left a creamy and buttery feel without being mushy at all. I was sad I couldn't eat the rest of the belly due to fattiness factor (read: all fat).

Roasted Duck Gumbo with Sweet Potatoes and Wild Rice

                                    

Here's how you can tell I am not a Southern belle: I don't like gumbo. Not the file, not the dark roux, not much of it at all. But this gumbo, well, it was different. Each and every component of it was dead-spot-on  how it should be: the roux was deep and flavorful without overpowering the rest of the ingredients, the sweet potatoes were firm without being mushy or hard, the rice held up in the broth without sogging out and the duck held it's roasted flavor, which in turn made the whole bowl gamey without being fatty. It still wasn't my favorite, but I voted for it by sheer execution alone. If I liked gumbo, I know I would have licked THIS bowl.

After the scorecards were tallied, the results were in: Chef Rembs of Tupelo swept all three categories! His Baked Stuffed Clam, BBQ Beef and Roasted Duck Gumbo were the unanimous winners. Way to go Rembs!!

I still need a nap from it.

maine report

Maine was just what I needed to realign my senses and chill out. Who knew a state,  far up there in U.S. geography, would be so serotonin-inducing? I'd like to think that the fresh air and quiet sounds of nature and ocean had the most effect on me but I truly, in my heart and in my FUPA, know...it was the food.

The Chicken Pot Pie

The Hand-made Pita

                                                                                       

The Pannenkoken

I take no responsibility for any of these things, because I didn't make any of them. Well, I made the crust on the pie. And it wasn't anywhere near as amazing as I had hoped it would be, the bottom layer kind of slid down and got all hard during baking. Too warm into the oven? Just a shoddy dough to begin with? Fortunately, my friends are kind enough to let me redeem myself in the near future by baking for them again. I'm so lucky!

We, meaning PC and I, spent a good part of Saturday prepping and cooking for a Non-Defined Mediterranean Dinner. This means it did not hail from one part of the Med, but really was a mish-mash of all things Med. It was at a friend's gorgeous home, another actual cook, and he is hilarious and perverted and quite talented behind the stove.

The Non-Defined Mediterranean Dinner

  

• hand-made lemony tapenade • crudite • feta whipped with roasted red peppers • pita (see above)        
• tzatziki • house-ground lamb and beef kibbeh • lentil and brown rice salad with roasted garlic dressing • sumac and yogurt infused grilled chicken • baklavah 

Good times, good times my friend. And you know what? The only thing I actually overate was the beer (and probably the pie). The portions were perfect and the conversation was so good, it was a real treat to sit and truly enjoy these meals in unparalleled company.

All photo credits go to my partner in culinary crime, Pequena Cocina (aka PC).

downeaster

I am going to Maine this weekend, and I can't WAIT to get out of the city. I am going to replace the sound of cars honking and the smell of urine and tar with the sound of goats and the smell of the North Atlantic making out with the beach. Or maybe the smell of goats and the sound of the mighty Atlantic. Whichever smell and sound, it's going to be country and not city and that's the whole point.

My companion, Pequena Cocina, and I are going to tag team a chicken pot pie for our hostess. PC is responsible for the guts and I am responsible for the pretty, flaky, buttery crust that will bring all who taste it to their knees. I know, I said it: To their knees. What can I say, I expect great things from my crust.

You may be thinking...but, Malted, that doesn't sound very healthy at all! And you are exactly right for thinking that - it totally is not a healthy dinner choice. At all. And I think that's one of the main reasons, aside from the crazy awesome flavor, we are so drawn to making it.

PC and I bust our asses (literally) all week long by eating well, exercising regularly, drinking a LOT of water and getting plenty of sleep. Maybe not *plenty* of sleep, becuase who ever really gets plenty of sleep anyway. My 3 cats, maybe Mr. Bacon. But other then that, who?

So, becuase we diligently pass on bourbon cocktails and roasted bone marrow on a regular basis, we feel justified in cooking and eating chicken pot pie. I know, I know - thinking this way derails healthy living. It does. I'm not in denial. Don't get me wrong; there will be at least two long runs involved in the eating and drinking Vacationland has to offer us.

I mean, we have to work off the Mrs. Dunster's Donuts we plan on soaking up all the red wine with somehow.

Halloween

Who doesn't love food-themed costumes?