Change.

That's what seems to be in the air - restlessness. Maybe it means we're all ready for spring. Maybe it's a rut. I'm not sure what else to say about that.


So I'll talk about food for a bit. Even though it's not Friday.


There have been some great food posts lately - ok, there are always great food posts. But they've got me thinking more about lifestyle changes, which are a good thing.


After reading an awesome endorsement of Mark Bittman's new cookbook over on HowChow, I ordered it. I have Bittman's How To Cook Everything, and I've found it to be an essential resource. Unlike many books in my collection, HTCE is rather battle-worn. The hazard of being in the kitchen while I'm at work, flinging ingredients across the cutting board and occasionally setting things on fire (you would think having a Fire Marshal around would help with this, but not really).

(You're welcome.)


We cracked open Food Matters the other night, and it's gotten some wear already, although I'm trying to keep it nice. Oh well.

Over the weekend we made a stop at Harris Teeter, which had wild caught Alaskan salmon for 6.99/lb. It looked really good, so I picked some up, and after flipping through the book for a recipe we made a quick meal with spinach, soba, fish, and sesame seeds.

What I liked:

• The recipe was simple - I had every ingredient on hand already.
• About half a pound of fish was stretched to four servings - although I could see this serving two if we were really hungry, or not serving the meal with other items
• A simple sear of the fish with salt and pepper made for fish that, as Matt noted, tasted like salmon, not a thick sauce or heavy seasoning.
• Also, this recipe gave me a chance to really sear something. I used to be more timid, until I read a criticism in Heat that home cooks can be just that. Scared. So I jacked up the heat, seasoned the fish, and tossed it in with NO FEAR. The result was a win - no stickage, just a beautiful color and crust.
• The flavors were clean ("delicate"?) But...

What I didn't like:

• I did think this was missing something - I'm not sure if it's scallion, ginger, a little chile, etc, but the flavor was almost too mild. Maybe I feel this way because I tend to make spicy food.
• The fish broke up into smaller flakes and separated from the skin, which in turn got a bit soggy when I added the cooking water. I think I would add the salmon last, to the top, or add the crispy skin separately next time.
• A "My Own Fault" item... I didn't really have myself totally set up when I started cooking. Fail. Definitely prep every item beforehand to avoid a scramble.

This recipe was really nice, though, and can be done with tofu as well - something I'm likely to try, given my recent habit of tossing several cartons of extra firm in the cart every time I'm at H-mart or the local TJ's.. 

What appeals most to me about this book is that it seems to tout a different way of eating - meat as a flavoring or smaller portion of the meal. I've been wanting to limit consumption of meat to local sources for a while, but honestly... this isn't a trivial thing on a student's budget. So maybe recipes in this book will help me make compromises to accomplish local/seasonal eating more effectively than I have in the past.

Either way, I think this type of change will be pretty tasty.

List: Go-To Recipes

Happy Ground Hog Day!




Here's a list of the five+one go-to recipes I like to make when I hit the lull in the middle of the week - they might be in the list because they're easy, or fun, or comfort food. Either way, I think they're all tasty, and they're listed in no particular order.

1. Cacio e Pepe (Pasta with Pepper and cheese) - Magic in a pan, this recipe is quick, easy, and illustrates the magic that can be accomplished with starchy pasta-water.
2. Roasted Tofu and Asparagus - the original recipe uses a soy-miso-orange dressing, but I've also made this with a ginger balsamic vinaigrette, and I've used other veg. like broccoli since Asparagus has a narrow growing season.
3. Bun Ga Nuong - Vietnamese noodle salad with chicken. Quick, simple, refreshing.
4. Pizza - homemade with dough purchased from Trader Joe's, or made with this fast recipe (I toss in a few tsps of bread-dipping seasonings like tomato-basil or garlic and cheese if making it myself). Top with whatever's in the fridge.
5. Brats and mustard-caraway-sauerkraut - for the recipe page, just focus on the sauerkraut recipe. I add julienned apples (pref Granny Smith) when Matt's not looking. Cook the brats however you prefer - I like searing, then finishing in beer, personally.

Mussels.

BONUS RECIPE: Mussels - Provençal style, saute onion until soft in olive oil, add garlic and fresh thyme (can leave whole) for last 1-2 minutes. Add 1 can of tomatoes, drained. Cook 2-3 minutes. Add 1 c white wine, (or half wine, water), bring to boil, add cleaned mussels. Remove when done, jack up the heat, reduce the sauce by 1/2-1/3. Add a few pats of butter, swirl, to make the broth glossy. Taste, adjust salt, serve with bread.

Food Physics and Freakonomics

The Freakonomics Podcast has a two-part series in the making called "Waiter, there's a physicist in my soup." The first half is on the Freakonomics blog on the NYT now and covers the topic of Molecular Gastronomy.

Physicist Nathan Myhrvold is releasing a self-published reference work called "Modernist Cuisine: the Art and Science of Cooking."  I call it a "work" because Amazon clocks it at 2400 pages.  It's gotten a strong endorsement from Harold McGee, and sounds absolutely fantastic.

Intrigued? It lists for $625, but you can score it on Amazon for $467.62. AND it's Prime-eligible.

I will stick to On Food And Cooking.

The discussion in the podcast is pretty interesting, but when they interjected Alice Waters as a counterpoint, I thought the whole "face off" on each side felt forced.

Waters points out that she doesn't personally think the Molecular Gastronomy movement is the way she wants to eat.  She says: 

"In my view it’s to, you know, make it into something you can’t imagine. You know, surprise you.  That’s not to say that I haven’t been delightfully surprised.  It’s not that.  It’s that I am so hungry for the taste of the real that I’m just not able to get into that which doesn’t feel real to me. It’s a kind of scientific experiment, and I think that there are good scientists and crazy old scientists that can be very amazing. But it’s more like a museum to me. It’s not a kind of way of eating that we need to really live on this planet together."

As the counterpoint (offered by Dubner), Myhrvold says he loves Waters' restaurant, but then he goes off on this point:

"Well like it or not, physics happens, OK? So it turns out when you heat a piece of meat there’s a set of physical principles that are at work. Wishing doesn’t make the food hot, it’s the way molecules bump into each other that makes it hot. And if you are going to understand that in a reasonable way, I think it informs how you do cooking.  Now is it possible to cook without understanding? Of course it is.  For people that want to just, in a rote way, to repeat exactly what they were told to do without understanding why it works, hey go for it!  You don’t need me.  If all you want to do is repeat the recipes of the past and you have no curiosity about how or why it works, then you don’t need to have this physical understanding. On the other hand, why does it ruin the experience to understand how and why it works? You drive over a bridge, don’t you hope the civil engineer knows why bridges stand up? Or you go up to the ninth floor of a building here, don’t you hope that all those floors below us were designed by a guy who knows how buildings stand up? I think that informing people, whether it’s chefs, or foodies, or the average person, informing them on some of the ways that stuff actually works, I don’t see how that is a problematic notion."

He sounds as if he's answering/defending against a different point.


I'm assuming that this is the result of two separate interviews, spliced together to make a neat piece.  But I don't think it addresses Waters' comment - is this how we should be eating?

Does Molecular Gastronomy offer a more healthful or sustainable cuisine? Does it promote appreciation of resources or the whole animal?

Does it add to our food identity, the lack of which is in part driving morbid obesity, foodborne pathogens, and a drop in food IQ?

Something I take more issue with... you don't have to be an advocate of Molecular Gastronomy to appreciate that cooking is science, and to know the science behind cooking. 

With a little work, you can learn the science in your favorite recipes, whether they're handed down or cut from a magazine. Following a traditional recipe doesn't necessarily mean a surrender to ignorance, particularly when you have learned the techniques and skills that allow execution of that dish.


I'm sure Myhrvold's 6 volume work goes layer-by-layer through those basic techniques of cooking. It's probably phenomenal (even if it exceeds the price range or storage ability of many home cooks).

But I'm not convinced - from this interview at least - that learning how to make watermelon chips or baked potato foam or deep fried carrot juice will help me to appreciate how food works. It might be that I'm just inexperienced or lack the appreciation or palate. 

For something as visceral and personal and compelling as food can and should be.... should that matter?

Crunch Crunch Crunch

I am a snacker: crunchy, salty, crispy, you name it, I like it.


Keeping potato chips, etc, in the house is a problem.


Recently I've been coming across a lot of healthy-alternative snack recipes, including one that's stood out for Kale Chips.


You heard it right. Kale. Chips.


I had to give this a try. 


When I took a look at the recipes, I noticed a huge amount of variation in cooking times, oven temperature, seasonings, etc. I needed something easy. Loosely following the recipe above, I took a few handfuls of kale pieces (I used the environment-un-friendly pre-bagged stuff. *guilt*) and dried the leaves as best I could.


Oh, yeah, I set the oven to 300 degrees, F. Then I went back to drying.


Salad spins. Paper towel blotting. Real towel blotting. Air drying. 


When they were dry enough, I tossed them in a bowl and added a few glugs of extra virgin olive oil. If I'd had regular olive oil, I would have used that. It's a little better for roasting, IMO.


At one point, Matt asked, "Aren't they just going to come out mushy?"


"Of course not," I scoffed, confidently tossing green leaves about the place. Of course, I had no idea. I only knew that there were many recipes online, and none of them said the kale got mushy. Unless they were all covering up the truth.


Oh, the paranoia.


I carefully put the leaves on two baking sheets in a single layer, and then added a liberal dusting of kosher salt.


Since I'm all sciencey from time to time, I used two kinds of baking sheets - my stone one, and a standard cookie sheet.  I just wanted to see if they'd come out different.


Spoiler: Other than the finish time (the cheap sheet cooked a little faster) they did not.


Within about 10 minutes, I could smell... something. I still can't describe exactly what it was, but it was good.


I pulled them out around 20 minutes - probably a tad too long, to be honest.

I couldn't get a picture to come out right that really showed these at their best.
I promise, they looked a little weird but not gross.

Gone was the pretty bright green.  I picked up a leaf, cautiously.  It was stiff, still a pleasant dark green (going to brown toward the edges).


I took a bite. Salty. Crispy. Oily (in a good way). The well-done ones tasted browned, like the deep brown of homemade potato chips or the tiny slivers in a batch of hand-cut fries that inevitably get overdone. 


The chips were really crumbly. One recipe suggested crumbling them and using them as a popcorn topper.


I can definitely see it.


I'll make these again, they were an interesting, different sort of snack. I wouldn't call them healthy - not for the amount of oil that went into them, or salt (I will cut back on the amount of salt) - but they were good. I can already see them dusted with old bay. Maybe even sugar for a salty-sweet thing?






Have you ever had Kale chips?  What's your favorite snack recipe?

9 steps to Chicken Rice.

I've already mentioned this, but sometimes I need to de-stress.

I have a few strategies for this.  Write.  Make lists.  Go to the gym.  Come home and cook.

It's satisfying to come home at the end of a long day and make a meal.  The repetitive chopping.  The pleasure at making something new.  The simple joy of actually clearing some space on the shelves in the fridge.

No idea what I mean?  Well... here's a guide.

Step 1: Heat a few squirts of canola oil and a dash of sesame oil in a pan of your choice (make sure it has a lid).  I used my superly great hard-anodized pan that I got for Christmas.

Tip: heat pan, then add and heat oil.  Make sure to remove the meat from the fridge ahead of cooking, so you're not adding cold meat to the hot pan.

Step 2: Establish that superly is in fact a legitimate adverb. I don't care what the internet says.

Step 3: Trim up chicken thighs and season liberally with salt, pepper, and Chinese five spice powder. Carefully place in hot oil.

Step 4:  When chicken releases (4-5 minutes, or brown on one side), flip and brown the other side. In the mean time, assemble other ingredients.

You need: 2 cups of rice, more sesame oil, and leftover chicken stock (or water, but add salt)
You also need baby carrots for snacking and an ice cold Dogfishhead 60-minute IPA.  
Trust me on this one.

Step 5: Remove chicken from pan (it's ok if there are bits stuck) and add another teaspoon or two of sesame oil.  At this point, you could jack the heat, add aromatics - chopped onion, garlic, and ginger would be nice - and sauté until tender.  I didn't have any of those things.  Either way, add rice and cook, stirring, for 3-4 minutes, until the rice is coated in all that flavor and has a nice sheen.  

Step 6: Add 1 cup of broth and stir to remove all the good bits from the bottom of the pan.  Then add the remaining 3 cups of broth (I used a combo of broth and water because I only had about 2c of leftover broth), stir, and bring to a boil.

Step 7: Add the chicken and any juices back into the pan.  Cover and cook on low approximately 25 minutes (keep a low simmer), or until the liquid is evaporated.  I have yet to master this without peeking once.  So if you peek, I forgive you.  


You could also throw chopped and/or frozen veg on top in the last few minutes of cooking to make a more complete meal.

Step 7.5: Keep eating the carrots.  Or make a salad.  Or both.  Veggies are good!

Step 8: Remove from the heat (keep covered) and let stand another five to ten minutes.

Step 9: Uncover, fluff the rice, and serve with reduced sodium soy sauce and Srichacha (chili sauce).  

There was more chicken... we just sorta jumped in before I took the picture. :)

Best consumed with back episodes of The Office or another favorite comedy.

One fish.. two fish... seven fish??

Don't be fooled by the Irish name; my mother's side of the family is Italian.  Extremely Italian.  Italian enough that I wish I remembered my grandparents, because I'm sure I would have loved them. 

Periodically I try to get in touch with my Italian roots.  I took an Italian class at HCC, but one evening a week after work is a really difficult way to learn a language.  I sometimes cook Italian - not just pasta and sauce, but regional favorites that usually end up just... amazing.  

And my family has some Italian traditions.

One of those is the Feast of the Seven Fishes, on Christmas Eve.

Cookbook or Nookbook?

This morning, WYPR ran the last segment of a series that examines the future of books and publishing - a very relevant topic given the growing popularity of Ebooks.

This program looked at cookbooks, which is interesting.  I'd never really thought about cookbooks when considering the publishing industry.  You can read (or listen to) the story here.

As I was listening to the program in my parked car, I also took a moment to savor the warmth check my Twitter feed. I noticed Mark Bittman, one of my favorite food writers and Runners World blogger, had posted about the conversation just a few minutes before - he has a successful app based on his How To Cook Everything, which is a go-to book in my own kitchen.  Check out his comments section, where a similar discussion is underway.

The story brings up some really interesting points.  It mentions that cookbooks are considered a mainstay of the publishing industry, although this is somewhat debateable in recent times. Lynn Neary interviews several people who point out that they're not always used for their intended purpose. 

Cold winter days, Colds, and... yeah.

I can't quite deal with the cold.

It's always like this.  I'm not a winter person, even though I like snow.  It's not actually the driving, I can handle my car in the snow. It's not the shoveling.  

It's the cold, the feeling that I'm not going to be warm again until May.

My strategy for dealing with the cold has evolved and grown.  I used to layer.  I still layer. For the last week at work, I've taken to wearing fingerless gloves (for the sitting at the computer part, not the Science part), a scarf, and even a poofy vest (thanks Target).  At home, things get more intricate.

For example, I own a Slanket.

Full Disclosure: I ceaselessly mock the Snuggie commercials.  I do this for two reasons.  The one time I wore a Snuggie, I didn't really want to move.  The material was so cheap I was convinced a spark of static would ignite the fabric and turn me into the human torch.  But mostly, I mock the Snuggie for the commercials and spinoff products.

My Slanket is a nice, heavy fleece.  I like to wrap myself up in it, and then crawl beneath another blanket.  That's item number two, a down throw blanket from Target.  I twist around until I've got a personal cocoon.

Other items in my anti-winter arsenal include down socks (sorta like these - they're amazing) and an electric blanket.

I am a native Marylander, by the way.  

For all these things, though, the most effective way to combat the cold this week has been through food.  I don't mean prepping to hibernate.  I mean good, cold weather food.  It's been a really busy few days and I wasn't feeling well for most of them.  Last week, Matt threw together some crockpot chili.  It was awesome to walk in the door after a long day and smell slow-cooked chili.  He did a great job.

To the right, chili with sour cream and cheese, over rice. To the left, bulldog that wants to know where his chili is.

Caramel Cream ale - Homebrew, courtesy of our dwindling stores.  Look how clear it is!

Oooo. Shiny.

And of course, I can't forget the baking.  There are big plans in the works to do a day of cookies this weekend, but tonight I couldn't resist starting pumpkin bread with chocolate chips.  Here's a picture through the oven door, about half-way through.

The whole house smells like pumpkin bread!

How are you staying warm?  Or are you glad the cold is here?  Tell me all about it in the comments below.

Why this blog can't be a food blog...

A tornado has descended upon our house.  Really.


Apparently, it stopped by a vineyard and a chicken fat factory en route.  And it drowned out the sound of the timer on the toaster oven.


Good news: the house is still standing.


Yet, this is what happens when I cook.


Don't get me wrong, I love cooking.  After a rough day, it's actually relaxing to come home and create something out of a pile of ingredients.  Fall is the time for soup, one of my favorite things to make for sentimental reasons (and its forgiving nature).  I turn on the radio, snack on baby carrots, and dance around the kitchen while I chop, saute, simmer, roast, etc.


I do get distracted from time to time, though.  Even carried away.


This evening was a great example.  The goal: make Asian Coq au Vin for book club tomorrow, 16 or 17 people.  The recipe prepares enough chicken for 4 people.  Some quick math was in order.


I decided to buy some bulk chicken thighs from BJs (cheap and tasty), up the number to 20, double the vegetables, and adjust the liquid as required.  There was no math to this (home =/= lab).  I just took my biggest pot and tried to make it work.


Ladies and gentlemen, it was a little messy.  Browning the chicken in batches, without getting raw chicken juice all over the kitchen, was no joke.  The pot was too heavy to lift and drain the grease, so I spooned it.  Splash.  I was unable to find fermented black beans, so I substituted black bean sauce, which threatened to char on the bottom of the dutch oven.  Fortunately I simmered the aromatics in a few splashes of wine, preventing the scramble to get the rest of the ingredients in the pot.


When I finally returned the chicken to the pot, added the herbs, and covered it all with wine, I was proud of myself.  I also realized it was going to take about ten years to simmer on the stovetop.  So I improvised.  A few months ago I made braised beef ribs, which simmered in the oven for hours to become a rich, succulent mass of awesome.  So I cranked the oven and heaved the pot, covered, inside.  It's bubbling away as I type, and smelling awesome.


But Mo, I hear you thinking.  This sounds awfully like a food blog,  Aren't you making the case otherwise?  


Well, good reader...


Feeling pleased with myself, and rather hungry, I moved on to actual dinner: pita pizza (aka, Pita + handfuls of cheese + turkey pepperoni.  No sauce.  It was all the way down stairs).  I piled the toppings on the pita, popped it in the toaster oven, set the oven to 350', and sat down to blog.


Formatting with this custom template is really easy.  (EDIT: ...not so easy)


I got carried away. And then I wondered what that smell was.


For the record, twenty minutes was actually the perfect time to cook the pizza.


However, this attention to culinary detail - or lack of it - shows me I can't do a food blog.  I admire the people who can, and I love to follow their blogs.  But taking pictures of my cooking (and trying not to drop my phone into the pot while I do so) isn't really fun for me.  Once the food is ready, I want to enjoy it and move on.  And unless I'm baking, I often stray so far from the recipe that I can't recall what I did or why the next day.


So while I may talk about food, and cooking, I will do so because they're things I love to do.  MoWrites, however, will have to find a different blog genre (blogre?).


Though the Coq au Vin really does smell amazing.