The REturn

I have decided to start writing again, although it is not going to be any of this recipe gobbledygook like before with this blog. I miss my OLD blog, started it in 2004. Malted Milk. I had to add a "The" in front of it when I started this ol' thing, because the original one is/was attached to an old email I can no longer access.

So who is looking at this thing here? How censored do I have to be?

stupid florida

Dear Miami (yeah, you all the way down there),

Please return my friends from your sweaty and impatient grip. They are a kind folk, of mellow stock, and they deserve to be treated with caresses as tender as a baby kitten's toe pads. Compared to your 'tude, MIAMI, a New England winter can induce more feelings of warmth.

Let my people go.

Go to hell, Miami.

xsoxox heart, unicorn, flower,
A!

curses

Maybe people don't visit my blog anymore and that means I can say things like shit and fuck and ass rot and not worry about the professional implications it may have. 

Shit.
Fuck.
Ass rot.

That felt pretty good.

sleeping "in" as if i had an infant...

Today was my only day off in a while, so I decided it would be a good idea to: sleep in, drink coffee in bed, snuggle, go to the industry brunch at Trina's Starlite Lounge and then go grocery shopping. Followed by more snuggling/lounging.

Instead, I woke up at 7am. I trudged through the thick, heavy, wet snow to get some coffee. I made 7 pints of grapefruit marmalade. THEN I went to brunch, followed by the grocery store. It's 4:43pm and I am ready to go to sleep. Sad how "sleeping in" is now 'til 7.

What isn't sad is grapefruit marmalade, though. It's not hard to make and you can do it without canning if you want to eat it within a few weeks or use it for marinade or sauce for pork or chicken. If you have an abundance of red grapefruit, and I'm looking at you Arizona and Florida, try this out.

Grapefruit Marmalade

Stupidly easy, it makes people think you know how to make stuff that's hard. 

5 red grapefruit
2 cups water
3 cups sugar
3/4 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon baking soda

Wash, then cut the grapefruit into quarters. Remove the fruit from the rind, and save it in a bowl. Scrape or cut off as much of the pith (the white part of the rind) as you can. Thinly slice the rind and place it into a large pot.

Add the water, sugar, vanilla and baking soda to the pot. Put the heat onto medium-high and allow it to come to a simmer. Meanwhile, remove the seeds from the fruit and chop it into large chunks. Add the fruit and any juice to the pot.

Boil for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from the heat and either can it or place it into jars, uncovered, to cool off and set.

Viola. You will now make people jealous.

chowder

So far, so good. I lost way more than I would like to admit in my first week of WW (5#, which is too much in one week), but it's great. I stayed with it. Except...I work at Petsi's on the weekends and those freaking baby scones cry to me like little pieces of flaky, melty orphans that will never be sold due to ther small stature.

I know, I can't take responsibility for them. They are who they are: small, unsellable scones. That's how they came into the world through no fault of their own. But, much like my urge to choose the crooked and sparse Christmas tree or the pumpkin with weird bumps and gashes, I have to do something about them, something to make them feel included and part of society. The society of fat cells that are squatting on my thighs. So I eat them, telling myself "maybe just one...".

And because of my love for inclusion, scones and all, I am sure I will revisit some of those lost pounds. Maybe just one.

Here's a recipe for fish chowder I made up. It's pretty light, not stick to the spoon thick, so I assume I could call it a bouillabaisse if I wanted to.

There are no scones in it and 1.5 cups of soup is 6 points.

Fish Chowder

Serves 4

1 teaspoon canola oil
1 teaspoon butter
4 shallots, diced
4 cloves garlic, diced
1 tablespoon flour
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika (optional)
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)1 bay leaf
4 cups lobster, fish or vegetable stock
1 jar clam juice
1 cup fat free evaporated milk
1 teaspoon salt
1 medium potato, small dice
3/4 cup frozen corn
1 pound haddock, pollack or tilapia, cut into large chunks
1 pound steamer clams, cleaned (or 1 small can of chopped clams, with liquid)
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped

In a large pot, heat butter and oil over medium high heat. Add shallots and half of the garlic. Saute until the shallots are translucent, about 7 minutes.  Add the flour, paprika and cayenne, if using, stir to combine. Cook it for another minute or so. Add the bay leaf, stock, clam juice, evaporated milk and salt. Bring the liquid to a boil.

Add the potatoes and allow the liquid to return to a boil. Add the corn and fish, stir to combine. When the liquid begins to simmer, add the clams. Cover the pot and cook until the steamers open or, if using chopped clams, until the soup is heated through. Ladle the soup into 4 bowls and garnish each with parsley.

MMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmm. I like this with toasted sourdough bread to sop up the ocean goodness.

chunk

I have become that stereotypical overweight woman.

I saw my pictures of myself at a recent wedding, and ran, did not walk, to Weight Watchers. So, here I am in week one (a new week one, which follows several other week ones in years past, but I am not going to dwell on it). I am not going to meetings because I find meetings kind of annoying. They are great for so many people. For me, they are a bugaboo. Plus the leaders give out nutrition advice that I don't always agree with and I have a hard time staying quiet and not stepping on toes. So, in order to save some women from chronically bruised toes, I follow the program online. It isn't bad - I actually like it. I get 24 points a day, and that's plenty. I am toying with the idea of turning this blog into a weight loss blog. Who reads weight loss blogs? I don't. Not that there are a lot of people who read this blog in the first place, but when the hoards do arrive, I'd like it if the archives didn't splay out my numbers and wax poetic about struggle. I started. I will finish. I will also tell you about great recipes.

Two other items of note.
1. I broke my camera the week after I fixed it. I slipped on ice and landed on it. I was soooo upset, but as my girl Pequena Cocina said, at least I didn't break a wrist.
2. I quit drinking. The has been a long time coming and I won't regale you with the sordid(-ish) details. I remind myself of the calorie count on drinks whenever I feel like having one...I am really hoping it keeps me on track. And I know it will - I am determined to do this.

So that's that. A new year and new goals. Wooot! Next post: Resolutions for 2010 and the soup that made me decide them.

snap

Dear Amazon,

Thank you for selling me a new camera battery.

Now, hurry up and ship it.

Regards,

A

spice cakes

Spice cakes are probably the coolest things in the world, and are the closest thing to an open bag of salt and pepper potato chips (aka: crack) to my non-sweet tooth. When made well, they are lightly scented with a balanced blend of spices and are tender to the tooth. When made poorly, they are borderline bitter and please-soak-me-in-milk dense. For the record, I'd like to say: if I made a bitter, dense cake, I would be really disappointed in myself and write a blog all about taking my penance like a woman and eating it anyway.
Again, from Gourmet (RIP), I found a recipe for a spice cake with caramelized pears and maple buttercream frosting. Just saying that whole thing, let alone typing it and, no need to mention, making it, is work. Phew, I'm tired already.
So, what do I do than what I know how to do best? I changed the recipe around. I made the cake batter exactly as it was written, but: caramelized apples instead of pears, used my mini bundt cake pans instead of making 3 8" rounds and doused them with rum syrup I infused with orange zest instead of making the buttercream. I also baked the apples into the bottom of the bundts. Mmm hmmm. Totally.
(those chunks there? apples.)

For caramelized apples:

• 2 1/4 pounds Granny Smith and Gala apples (about 5)
• 1/2 stick unsalted butter
• 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons brandy

Caramelize apples:
Peel and core apples, then coarsely chop.
Heat butter in a 12-inch heavy skillet over medium-high heat until foam subsides, then sauté apples, stirring occasionally, until just beginning to brown, 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in sugar, lemon juice, and brandy and cook over high heat, stirring, until juices are deep golden and apples are tender, about 5 minutes.


For spice cake:

• 2 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 teaspoons cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1 cup whole milk
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
• 2/3 cup granulated sugar
• 2/3 cup packed dark brown sugar
• 5 large eggs 
  

Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle. Butter and flour cake pans.
Whisk together flour, baking powder, salt, and spices in a large bowl. Stir together milk and vanilla in a small bowl.
Beat butter and sugars with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, 3 to 5 minutes. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. At low speed, mix in flour mixture in 3 batches, alternating with milk mixture (begin and end with flour mixture) and mixing until just combined.
Here, you can either add the apples to the batter or save them as a filler if you choose to make the cakes round. Divide batter among pans, smoothing tops, then rap pans once or twice on counter to eliminate any air bubbles. Bake until pale golden and a wooden pick inserted into center of cakes comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes. Cool in pans on racks 10 minutes. Run a thin knife around edge of pans, then invert cakes onto racks. Reinvert and cool completely.

For rum syrup:

• 1/4 cup sugar
• 3/4 cup rum
• 1/4 cup orange juice
• 1/2 teaspoon orange zest

Place the ingredients in a small saucepan over low heat. Allow to simmer one minute, cover and simmer an additional 3 minutes.
When the cake comes out of the oven, immediately poke holes throughout the bottom with a toothpick or skewer. Brush half of the syrup onto the cake and allow it to cool for 10 minutes. Invert the cake onto a greased cooling rack and poke holes in the top side, then brush it with the remaining syrup. After they cool, you can wrap the cakes and serve them 24 hours later if you like.

I wanted to make a simple icing for them, like a cream cheese gooey mess that would pour over the sides...but I didn't have the ingredients. Not one, tiny smattering of confectioner's sugar in the house. HARUMPH!! But, alone, they were still pretty tasty. Especially with a Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale.

Stay tuned for the next making of this cake...I have some incredibly festive ideas you won't want to miss - especially if they fail as failure makes my writing hilarious.

eat right

The American Dietetic Association has a new website: WOW

It's actually EASY TO FOLLOW AND SLOG THROUGH!! You don't get lost going back and forth and searching for half a(n?) hour for a one sentence answer.

A miracle. A holiday miracle.

...and bring it right here

I just can't seem to get enough baking into my life these days. I like to think it's the weather; the cold is seeping into the small spaces between my knuckles and I long for fireside hot toddys, a warm chocolate brioche and a book I can fall into. (Too bad for me I have no fireplace and don't make brioche. There is a brand new Cambridge main library, though.)
I am unemployed, have actual *time* and, luckily, stumbled upon some work in an actual pie and pastry bakery. So, yeah, even though the icy knife of New England winter is beginning to slice through the outdoors, it is my daily situation that inspires me to oven-hover for hours on end.
I searched my recipe savings account, a mish-mash of newspaper and magazine clippings I keep in a legal file folder, for something fun to bide my time with. There was nothing that really drew me in. I don't know if I am disappointed because the Me who clipped those recipes has never met the Me who is looking at them now or happy because the two Mes have never met. The unemployed, free time Me has never existed before, so I am going to go with happy.
And to keep the emotion on a roll, I get happy when I look through a new cooking magazine (drawn in as if held in a trance of planning and hope kind of happy). Last month's Gourmet (RIP) had a cool article about pumpkin pie alternatives to make for Thanksgiving desserts. A Fig Crostata caught my eye, and the rest of the story follows as this:

Wait. First off, I don' have my new camera battery yet. You will have to view this via my crappy phone pictures, and I apologize for that. But I did take a picture of the picture in the magazine so at least you can see what my final goal was:

 Is that really cheesy? That I went there? Okay, well, sure.

The crust really stood out here, it was almost, if not totally, a butter cookie. Crispy and flaky, it didn't brown as much as I thought it would even though I added sugar on top. I may try egg white next time, too. The filling wasn't too sweet with a good pinch of orange flavor, but not enough to linger too long and overpower the mellow figs. Walnuts were a meaty addition but, to me, biting into a raw walnut might be the closest thing to biting into a tree grub. I don't know if that's a true analogy, but it's what I think of when I bite. I prefer my nuts a little crunchier: next time, toasted. Texturally, it was a thick pudding...perhaps a figgy pudding? A go for Christmas in AZ, I recommend you give it a try.

My comments on the recipe look like this. 

Fig Crostata

Gourmet  | November 2009

by Gina Marie Miraglia Eriquez

For pastry dough:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar plus additional for sprinkling
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 sticks cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 2 large egg yolks
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1 tablespoon cold water

For fig filling:

• 12 ounces soft dried figs (preferably Calmyrna), stemmed and coarsely chopped
• 1 1/4 cups water
• 1 cup fresh orange juice
• 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
• 1 stick unsalted butter, melted and cooled
• 3 large eggs, lightly beaten
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1 teaspoon grated orange zest
• 1 1/2 cups walnuts (6 ounces), coarsely chopped

• Equipment: a 9-inch springform pan

• Accompaniment: mascarpone 

Make pastry dough:
Blend together flour, sugar, salt, and butter in a bowl with your fingertips or a pastry blender (or pulse in a food processor) just until mixture resembles coarse meal with some roughly pea-size butter lumps. I like using the food processor, but I can be lazy like that. Add yolks, vanilla, and water and gently stir with a fork (or pulse) until incorporated and dough begins to form large clumps.
Turn out dough onto a lightly floured surface and divide into 4 portions. It really looks like cornmeal at this point with a food processored dough, but stick with it; it will come together if you work it. With heel of your hand, smear each portion once or twice in a forward motion to help distribute fat. Gather all dough together (using a pastry scraper if you have one), then divide dough in half and form each half into a 5- to 6-inch disk. Chill, wrapped in plastic wrap, until firm, at least 1 hour.

Make fig filling while dough chills:
Simmer figs, water, orange juice, and brown sugar in a medium saucepan, covered, stirring occasionally, until figs are soft and mixture is reduced to about 2 cups, 15 to 20 minutes. Pulse in a food processor (see how useful food processors can be?) until finely chopped (mixture should not be smooth). Transfer to a large bowl and cool slightly. Stir in butter, eggs, vanilla, zest, and walnuts. The pics actually looked kind of gross, so I didn't add them. Just didn't want you to judge it yet.
Make tart shell:
Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle. Generously butter springform pan. Roll out 1 portion of dough between 2 sheets of parchment paper into a 12-inch round (dough will be soft; chill or freeze briefly if it becomes difficult to work with oh, and it will...). Peel off top sheet of parchment and carefully invert dough into pan. (Dough will tear easily but can be patched together with your fingers.) Press dough onto bottom and 1 inch up side of pan, then trim excess. Chill tart shell until ready to assemble crostata

Roll out remaining dough between 2 sheets of parchment paper into a 12-inch round. Peel off top sheet of parchment, then cut dough into 10 (1-inch-wide) strips and slide (still on parchment) onto a tray. Chill until firm, about 10 minutes.
Assemble crostata:
Spread fig filling in shell. Arrange 5 strips of dough 1 inch apart on filling. Arrange remaining 5 strips 1 inch apart across first strips to form a lattice. Trim edges of strips flush with edge of shell. Sprinkle crostata with sugar.
Bake until filling is slightly puffed and pastry is pale golden, about 30 minutes. Cool completely, then remove side of pan. Serve crostata with mascarpone.

Okay, here it was:

I like the soft lighting in this shot. It reminds me of mid-1960's Betty Crocker print advertising that was specifically created to tug at the heartstrings of the country's early adults, reminding them how good it was to go home and visit Mom. Remember how she liked to bake you pie?

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?

assignment

Sometimes, writing assignments stump me. One says describe eating your favorite fruit in a paragraph, use all 5 senses, a simile and a metaphor. I end up writing about how awesome it is to stand under the grapefruit tree in AZ in the winter in short sleeves and smell the fruit skin and not freeze.
But I don't write about eating it. Maybe because I don't like fruit?
Do as I say, not as I do. Thanks.