Inspiration.

Inspiration can lie anywhere, even in the most unassuming places: from things you hold hostility towards to the ones you love, ideas can flourish. It’s a really simple concept that is easily forgotten. Life consumes us generally to the point where we don’t think about inspiration, we think just about surviving. Surviving, judging, eventually being bitter (if not a bit jaded) and losing the spring in our step.

Working the way I do, living the way I live, I was surprised I was inspired for dinner at all the other day. But my parent’s have just moved into town, so I figured I could whip something up. The idea for dinner came from two unassuming places like the ones aforementioned. At work one day, I watched my chef created a very nice guinea hen dish utilizing blended grapes. Earlier in the year, I ate at Vandaag (http://vandaagnyc.com/), where I had a killer sweetbreads appetizer composed of concord grapes, concord grape mayonnaise and blistering hot red chilies. I needed to practice my duck breaking down skills, so here I went.

After the duck was broken down and the fat rendered (save everything, use everything!), I sweated off some sliced shallots in a casserole dish on the stove. I then added some garlic, marjoram, and the duck legs to be browned. As the legs were gaining color, I blended up a cup and a half of red grapes until as ‘juicy’ as possible. I then deglazed the casserole dish with half a bottle of semi-sweet wine (I used a nice, non-oaky, Chardonnay my father had recently bought). Next came the grapes and two red Serrano chilies cut in half. Into a 400 degrees oven the dish went, and about an hour later (or until tender) we had dinner. Garnish the dish with marjoram leaves. The picture may not have come out that well, but the meal sure was damn tasty:

Tis the season, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

The holiday season (or Christmas, to appease my brother-in-law), is a time of traditions. I’m not trying to be sappy here. My sappyness has slowly been drained from me anyways. But I was surprised by how comforting driving to NJ was, even at one in the morning, seeing friendly faces, drinking eggnog, going to bed, and waking up to my family. It was even this part though that made me realize the importance of traditions. My life has driven me down a new path, one that I am very content with. Cooking our traditional 7 rib, rib roast however, made me realize how much I love the part of my life that will never change.

You don’t want to upstage what is the NATURAL beauty of a piece of meat like this. So, I cooked the roast on top of garlic and rosemary. Half way through the cooking process I made a mixture of roasted garlic, butter, rosemary and salt; then I kept placing it on top of the roast, about every thirty minutes. Watching the butter drip down this thing was stunning. Once the roast was cooked, I made a quick sauce from the juices on the bottom of the pan.

Babe Ruth was a dick but baseball’s still a beautiful game

It’s funny how something you love, someone you love, a general concept that you can’t get enough of, all of these things can be radically different in reality than the perceived thought of them. For example, baseball is a beautiful game, the stoic figure of Babe Ruth was worshiped, and apparently yet he wasn’t always that nice of a fella.

Working in the restaurant industry, there’s a fear that this general principle could somehow apply to eating out. Being in love with the concept of cooking, but faced with the daily realities of it, the whole charade could come crashing down in front of your eyes. Yet I’m lucky, as much as my prism has been tainted, I still love dining out.

So on my only day off of the week, out to the restaurants I go. I’ve been lucky. I have great friends and a great family, and therefore have been to Corton, Vandaag and Cafe Boulud on my days off, just to name a few. But the shout outs I want to make here towards eating out don’t come from these big names. No they come from the littler places I know, or have been introduced to, that still manage to put a smile on my face. For it’s these places that I find the most impressive. With a kitchen smaller than my own, or less classically trained chefs, or a smaller not quite as rich clientele, they still do fun things with food.

First up, Tia Pol (205 10th Ave). I’ve been coming to this place for five or so years now. When they opened, there was a bit of hype, and quickly they opened up a few other restaurants. This generally spells disaster for the flagship restaurant, where the food or the service or the decor or all three tend to dwindle. This is not the case with Tia Pol, not only are the founding dishes still good, but the newbies are pretty damn tasty too. Take the seared chicken liver with pickled red onions on toast for example. And their cheese plate, something so common, is not only well presented but reasonably priced. Never skip out on the sangria.

Second up, Bar-Bo-Ne (186 Avenue B). If you go, you must try the 5 course tasting menu. In comparison to all others in town, and with quality taken into consideration, it’s a steal. Highlights from this meal would be the duck ravioli, the sauce was bangin’, the swiss chard and ricotta malfatti, and the duck special they had running that night. The owner is also a highlight, he brought two additional pasta dishes to our table, and although me and my dining companions rolled out of there, we were very appreciative of them.

With a lot of things tainted in my life at the moment, I’m glad my one consistent guilty pleasure has been left unscathed. I’m ecstatic I still love to dine out.

Prime Meats

To put it bluntly, i’m disenchanted. Fine, disenchanted is a harsh word- but the syllables un-in-spi-red, do seem to be rushing in and out of my head on a much more frequent basis. I wish there was a story to weave here, out of the very few free moments I have away from my job and the daily acts of life. Not much springs to mind though. The only consistent craving, feeling, sentiment, I’ve been having (well, food related craving that is) has to do with meat. So let’s take it from there.

Meat: there’s protein, combined with fat. And with these two miraculous elements, beautiful things can happen.

I recently thawed some ox tails from my freezer.

I love the less used/less loved cuts of meats. One, they’re generally cheaper, and two, the recipes that spring forth from them generally seem to be more original. For example, Blue Ribbons makes a marmalade out of their ox tails that they serve with their bone marrow.

I was craving it. I was craving creating a dish from start to finish. I was craving being responsible (creating the dish versus paying for it out). I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I had recently picked up some japanese eggplant and shallots from the greenmarket in Union Square. There was something to be had here.

Once seasoned well with salt and pepper, I seared off the ox tails.

Next came the eggplants and the shallots. I wanted to slowly caramelize them. Shallots, obviously, can become very sweet, but eggplant (especially japanese eggplant) holds the same potential if cooked the right way. Once there, the ox tails went back into the pot, with some cherry wheat beer and broth. I let it cook for about 4 (ish) hours.

Once the meat was tender, I removed it from the bone and shredded it into slightly smaller pieces.

Then the meat and bones went back into the pot. Then tomatoes, worscheter sauce, soy sauce, and maple syrup were added and I let the thing reduce down again for a few more hours, adjusting the seasoning here and there. I was going for an almost scum-like texture, or as Blue Ribbon calls is: marmalade. Towards the end of this whole process, something flavour wise didn’t seem quite right. I saw a bottle of sherry sitting on my counter. I added a splash, and well, liked what I got.

A dish like this can be used many ways: as an accompaniment for bone marrow, on top of polenta or mashed potatoes, on its own as a ragu, or for the late night fix, a topper for nachos (sooo good, especially after a harsh, late, day at work).

As for getting GOOD cuts or “WEIRD” cuts of meat, there are many places in the city. My personal favorite, however, is Dickson Farmstand Meats. For more information on them go to their store in Chelsea Market or visit their website: http://dicksonsfarmstand.com/.

Last of the summer: Jersey Tomatoes

The idea of writing loses its appeal to me when it is 1 am in the morning and not only have I just finished worked, but i have had to fight with all public transportation options to get home. Something that used to be so sensual, so exciting, and so stimulating, just seems like a chore. But then, like showing up to my job, the amount of angst and protest I’ve put up along the way slowly fades when I hear the ticking of my key pad and I see my words, in front of my eyes, on the screen, (and to continue on with the work analogy, the rhythmic pace of being in service, most of the times relaxes my worried heart).

So here we are folks- after nine something hours in a kitchen, I am sitting at my kitchen counter, drinking a blue moon. This is my daily (nightly, morningly…!!?) routine. And what do I have to say about food folks? The same mantras almost always do: enjoy, revel in its simplicity, take advantage of the fact that you have a medium in front of you that can bind so many different people together, transcend so many different cultures.

Today I go for the revel in its simplicity.

I was at my sister’s house two nights ago- a break was needed from the city and my life. She has a killer garden, and the last of her jersey tomatoes (the best out there I might add) needed to be picked. So snatched they were…

…. and quickly enough they were turned into the base for one of our pizzas.

I don’t like to cook my tomato sauces for pizzas. If the pizza is going in the oven, it’s going to get enough heat there, or so I believe. What we did then was this: we hand crushed the tomatoes, then mixed them with salt, pepper, some tomato paste, olive oil and fresh basil.

With the summer winding down and fall staring me directly in the face, at least my taste buds could be convinced that I do not need to pull out my big old, made for Scottish weather, sweaters, yet.

Where I’ve been…

I’ve started cooking, professionally. (And, a quick side note here, therein lies one of the many reasons why I have not posted ANY blogs in the last month or so).

God knows why I have. The faces I elicit from myself, my executive chefs (not to mention my sous chefs), parents, friends, co-workers and just the general audience of my life- I’m surprised I haven’t thrown my hands up in the air in complete resignation, and resigned myself to the fact that I do not possess the ability to produce a decent meal.

Then I remember that this is a high pace, testosterone driven world, which I might never fully fit in with. But, “gosh darn it”, do I like it. And bully, patronize, sexualize and belittle me as much as you like, for the up and coming future I’m staying.

So, here’s what I have to say. When in doubt of your natural abilities  (be it related to taste buds, confidence, beauty, smarts, wits, knifeskills, etc), stick two fingers up in the air and go with what you know. The last time I did this I produced a dish that made my parents more than content, and me a happy, “wanna-be”, chef.

Until I can learn to upload photos from my spankin’ new phone, here are a few restaurants to check out (if you’re state, and new york, side):

1. Char No. 4- Bourbon, wow. Food, almost as good as their bourbon (and if you know me, you know that’s saying a lot).
2. Toloache- grasshopper tacos, enough said!
3. Inside Park at St Barts- Get the falafel!
4. Dovetail- If you’ve got the money…
5. Ripe- drive up to Mount Vernon and get the goat!
6. Kings County- ok, this is a bar, but if you’re ever there, call me, we’re close!

as for the next blog, expect recipes again- and not to long of a hiatus. (I promise).

Existential blueberry pie

The observant reader, or the trained eye, will have noticed that the tittle of this blog has changed. Having finished my masters in International Relations, I really had no choice but to up and leave my bubble, it was either that or get permanently caught in the throngs of student life. Thrown back into the real world of city life, city prices and worst of all city spacial distribution of my friends, fun no longer seemed a stone throwing distance away. I can no longer walk five minutes and find everyone I would ever need. No, I must sit of the F train for a minimum of three Matt and Kim songs, or a chapter in my book, to even get started on where I want to go.

Through all of this emotional, physical and psychological turmoil I’ve been reading Jean-Paul Satre- and let me emphasizes this, never read Satre when you, yourself, are in limbo.

“I for my part have had some real adventures. I can’t remember a single detail, but I can see the rigerous succession of circumstances. I have crossed the seas, I have left cities behind me, and I have followed the course of rivers towards their source or else plunged ito forests, always making for other cities. I have had women, I have fought with men; and I could never turn back, any more than a record can spin in reverse. And all that was leading me where? To this very moment, to this bench, in this bubble of light humming with music.”

As I question the meaning of life, as a free agent caught in a world that, at the moment, feels devoid of meaning, a world where I must find my own purspose and hold whole responsibility for my choices, I realize that where all of this has lead me to is blueberry pie. For when you feel lost, tell me one way pie can’t sooth your worried mind.

Blueberry Pie, adapted from Cooks Illustrated.

• 2-2.5 packages/pints of fresh blueberries
• 1 large Granny Smith apple, peeled and grated on large holes of a cheese grater
• Grated lemon zest of 1 lemon
• Fresh lemon juice of 1/2 a lemon
• ¾ c sugar (or to taste)
• 2 Tbs quick-cook (minute) tapioca, ground
• Pinch table salt
• Pie Dough for a double crust pie.

1. Roll half the pie dough into a large round disk and place carefully in a deep dish pie plate. Let the extra hang over the edge.
2. Place half of the blue berries in a medium saucepan and set over medium heat. Using potato masher, mash berries several times to release juices. Cook until most of berries have broken down and mixture is thickened and reduced, about 8 minutes. Let cool slightly.
3. Grate apple and squeeze out its juices. Transfer apple to large bowl. Add cooked berries, remaining uncooked berries, lemon zest, juice, sugar, tapioca, and salt; toss to combine. Transfer mixture to the dough-lined pie plate.
4. Roll out the other half of the pie dough to 1/8 inch thickness. Cut into 1/2 inch strips and make a lattice pattern. Make the lattice on a cutting board or cookie sheet. Once done, flip on top of the filled blueberry pie. Crimp the edges. If desired, brush pie dough with eggwash (egg and water) mixture.
5. Place pie in the oven and bake until juices bubble and crust is deep golden brown, 45-55 minutes. Transfer pie to wire rack; cool to room temperature, at least 4 hours. Cut into wedges and serve.

Chapatis

I am moving to India in September, if only temporarily. As well, I just finished the 614 page book, A Fine Balance, on India in the 1970′s. And although I had to take twenty minutes to stare at a wall and recover upon the books conclusion, its incessant chatter about making chapatis inspired me. If I’m moving to India, and am inspired by all things Indian at the moment, then I better get a few Indian basics mastered and placed within my cooking arsenal.

I consider myself fluent in bread. Therefore the unleavened chapatis would not prove my demise. But to be able to utter words, “I’m the chapati champion of the world”, like Om, a character in the book, does, a bit of thought, or at least tender loving care, was going to have to be put into this bread. And so it was.

There’s many recipes available online for Chapatis, all you have to do is google for them. And most, truthfully say the same thing, if only playing around with the percentages and hydration, ever so slightly. My advice? Don’t rush the dough. Knead it thoroughly, and take your time. Once done, let it rest, refrigerated, for at least an hour. And when you set upon cooking them, use a neutral oil and make sure the pan is hot. Roll the dough thin and even, place in the pan, and press down with a spatula or dishtowel. This will force the bread to bubble and give it a little texture, if not character.

Serve the Chapatis with whatever you like. It does not have to be just Indian food. I’ve had mine with salsa, humus, even turkish meatballs. Although, a nice dal is always desirable…

Chapatis, (source: http://www.ivcooking.com/p269_76.php)

Ingredients:

• 2 cups whole wheat flour
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
• About 3/4 cup of lukewarm water (enough for a kneadable dough)

Directions:

1. Knead the dough (without the oil), cover, and leave aside for at least 1/2 hour or, ideally, up to 2 hours. After about 1 hour (or right before rolling out), punch the dough and knead again without any more water (I skipped this process, and so can you, if you’re in a rush).
2. Make 10-12 1 1/2″ balls; dip each one into dry whole wheat flour, and roll out into thin, 6″ circles. Place a flat, ungreased griddle on the stove at medium-high heat. When hot, place a rolled-out chapati “right side” down on the griddle. (The “right side” is the one facing you when you roll it.) When bubbles are visible, turn over and cook until tiny brown spots appear on the side facing the griddle.
3. If you have a gas stove, hold the chapati with a pair of tongs, and place it directly over the burner flame for a few seconds, until the chapati puffs up. Turn and repeat on the other side
4. If you have an electric stove, keep the chapati on the griddle. With a wadded up paper towel to protect your fingers, press gently all around the chapati. Flip the chapati and press gently around the other side. This procedure should make the chapati puff up. (If you press too hard, the chapati will become too crunchy.)
5. Remove the chapati from the heat, and buter with ghee on the “right side.”

Over 18: Truffle Honey

Food, and its consumption, has been known to cause just as pleasurable of a sensation as any other activity. Actually, in fact, it can top them all. I’ve known more girls to moan over a dinner party than a night out. The reasons for this are plentiful; the most blatently obvious being that quality of food is just more readily guaranteed.

While I might be doing the opposite sex (or same sex for a matter of fact, this blog makes no judgments and swings both ways) a disjustice, one thing readily makes its self apparent from the vapidly over-simplistic antagonistic sentences just presented. Food sometimes encourages the words: “oh my god that is orgasmic!”

Now I have strict rules regarding the relationship between food and sex. If we draw our attention back to the post ‘Love Your Food- But Only Figuratively Please’, I beg the reader to keep perishables out of the bed room. But it’s funny to me how even if we can leave food out of the bedroom, we cannot always, necessarily, leave the bedroom out of food. Certain acts are raw, primal, guttural and elicit very hedonistic expressions like the one previously uttered. It annoys me greatly but food, at times, can leave me lost for words. Yet then again, it puts a big old smile on my face when I realize this chatty New Yorker has nothing to say, and the magical object that made such a feat possible, is something I revel in: food.

The latest ingredient to get such a response was presented to me by a fellow foodie over a pot luck dinner. The magical item: truffle honey. Now truffle honey, while noteworthy and spectacular, is even more magnificent once it has found its proper partner (I’m avoiding all temptations here to make a heinously inappropriate comment). Naturally honey and parmesan pair well together, so my first bite of truffle honey with cheese was a combination of the two. But the combination, however, that really got my juices flowing was truffle honey with goats cheese.

My thoughts started to wander… If my first inclination for the appropriate paring of truffle honey and cheese was wrong, maybe my whole take on cheese parings could stand to be revamped?

The outcome of all of these revelations is such: six foodies, one sunny day, five different cheeses, bread, wind, ginger apple juice and AN AMAZING POT OF TRUFFLE HONEY (please order from this website if you so desire: https://secure.thegoodfoodnetwork.co.uk). I asked the girls to rise to the challenge and bring an open mind with them.

The task was to taste the truffle honey with the following dairy products- blue cheese, cheddar, mimolette, manchango and parmesan (the goats had been left out of my bag, but I still had the sensation stuck in my head, and so did a few other foodies who had been present at the potluck dinner. The experiment, and subsequent hypotheses, had not been made null and void).

After all of the cheese was gone, the opinions came out.

And the surprising thing was, not that there was a tie for first (a girls heart can go more than one way), but what that tie was. Ignoring my memory (and dreams) about the goat cheese combo, I was pretty sure that my personal favorite was going to reign supreme. Manchango and honey is just a classic combination. When in Spain, give me both, plus a glass of wine, and I’m a happy girl. But the second opponent in this two-way tie caught me completely off guard. If anything I thought cheddar would have paired better with truffle honey then BLUE CHEESE. But low and behold that’s how the cards were dealt. The votes were cast and final. And believe me, I’ll be back to Mellis to pick up some stunningly stinky blue cheese and try it again soon.

How did the other cheese fare in this dairy laden olympics? Cheddar and truffle just don’t go together. Parmesan and t-honey is boring, tried, true and tested. Mimolette then you ask? Well, for such a superb cheese, it gets overpowered by the strength found in truffles.

Still not convinced by my need to combine cheese and dirty pillow talk? Well, first, order yourself a pot of truffle honey, eat it with goats cheese (and not that cheep crap from Tesco) and get back to me. Second, maybe  these other quotes, formed on that day, can leave you with something about the relationship between food, truffle honey and cheese to revel in:

• ” We could talk about cheese. Or feelings?”
• “Oh. I have truffle honey in my hair. Is it weird if I eat it?”
• “Cheese (pause, wait, giggle), cheese.”

Mad Men, Martinis and Goose Fat

Pete Campbell from Mad Men infamously said “adding money and education doesn’t take the rude edge out of people.” This is most likely true, pretentious Thursdays doesn’t come out of thin air, but money and education can, however, every once and a while, give you an edge in the kitchen…

Putzing around town with a few extra coins in our pocket, me and my fellow chef and food enthusiast, slowly added some beautiful ingredients to our bags: two legs of lamb of the ‘best quality money can buy’ (or so the South Street butcher said), goose fat (which the fish mongers at Keracher told me would also be amazing for chips, if i’m not watching my cholesterol), Millers gin (so smooth, you can barely notice it, or so it goes at Luvians), blocks of stilton cheese (Mellis, enough said), purple sprouting brocoli (from the UK!), homemade profiteroles (my hands and the 4 Hope Street kitchen), and cheesecake pops (a la Kim).

Staying in character I let my fellow, male, counterpart handle the meat (I hid my disdain well) and the gin martinis.  I myself, donned in heals and pearls, roasted the potatoes, made the profiteroles and helped served the meal. Who knew I could be so docile?

Now let me explain a secret to you: decadence is easy (if you have a few key ingredients)! Take goose fat for example. To make the perfect roasted potato the only other ingredients you need are good quality roasting potatoes, semolina and boiled water. Then:

1. Get a pot of water boiling. Cut the potatoes so that as many edges are exposed as possible. Par boil them until almost cooked (the tip of a knife enters the potato but with slight resistance).
2. While they’re boiling, place A LOT of goose fat in a roasting tray (1/2 – 1 inch deep) and place in an oven on high heat. Get the oil HOT.
3. Once cooked, drain the potatoes and sprinkle with semolina until thoroughly coated.
4. Place the potatoes in the hot goose fat, turn every 10-15 minutes or so. Take out of the oven once golden brown on all sides.
5. Sprinkle with good quality sea salt.

Another easy decadence, pate aux choux, the basis for gougers, profiteroles, eclairs, etc. It has a fancy name, but an easy method. The best recipe I’ve found so far is from Gourmet:

Profiteroles with Coffee Ice Cream

Ingredients for profiteroles:
1 quart coffee ice cream
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces
3/4 cup water
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
3 large eggs

Ingredients for chocolate sauce:
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup heavy cream
7 ounce fine-quality bittersweet chocolate (no more than 60% cacao if marked), finely chopped
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 tablespoon Cognac or brandy (optional)

Make profiteroles:

Chill a small metal baking pan in freezer. Form 18 ice cream balls with scoop and freeze in chilled pan at least 1 hour (this will make serving faster). Preheat oven to 425°F with rack in middle. Butter a large baking sheet. Bring butter, water, and salt to a boil in a small heavy saucepan, stirring until butter is melted. Reduce heat to medium, then add flour all at once and cook, beating with a wooden spoon, until mixture pulls away from side of pan and forms a ball, about 30 seconds. Transfer mixture to a bowl and cool slightly, 2 to 3 minutes. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well with an electric mixer after each addition. Transfer warm mixture to pastry bag and pipe 18 mounds (about 1 1/4 inches wide and 1 inch high) 1 inch apart on baking sheet. Bake until puffed and golden brown, 20 to 25 minutes total. Prick each profiterole once with a skewer, then return to oven to dry, propping oven door slightly ajar, 3 minutes. Cool on sheet on a rack.

Directions chocolate sauce:

Heat sugar in a 2-quart heavy saucepan over medium heat, stirring with a fork to heat sugar evenly, until it starts to melt, then stop stirring and cook, swirling pan occasionally so sugar melts evenly, until it is dark amber. Remove from heat, then add cream and a pinch of salt (mixture will bubble and steam). Return to heat and cook, stirring, until caramel has dissolved. Remove from heat and add chocolate, whisking until melted, then whisk in vanilla and Cognac (if using). Keep warm, covered.

Serve profiteroles:

Halve profiteroles horizontally, then fill each with a ball of ice cream. Put 3 profiteroles on each plate and drizzle generously with warm chocolate sauce.

Read More http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/printerfriendly/Profiteroles-with-Coffee-Ice-Cream-241770#ixzz0nL0gKdXc

Live life. Eat life. Love life.