Scary Dinner http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/ Lydia Clowney's Scary Dinner en Copyright 2012 Wed, 08 Sep 2010 17:41:52 -0500 http://www.sixapart.com/movabletype/ http://www.rssboard.org/rss-specification On Bread It is so cold! I have managed to wrestle all but one overpainted window shut, and have nearly enough cats and blankets around, and it is Time To Bake Bread. Time To Bake Bread (like Time To Boil Vegetable Stock, or Time To Mull Wine)  is also sometimes known as An Excuse To Run The Oven, Thus Heating The House, While Not Feeling Guilty About One's Carbon Footprint. Because while putting on a sweater is a good alternative to turning up the thermostat, you just can't wrap bread dough in wool.
If you need a better excuse to bake, you can run some cost analysis on bought bread vs. homemade, or you can stand in Meijers for a bit until you despair of all the sandwich loaves, but on a day like today I really think the weather says it all. Besides, there are few better smells than those involved in the bread process. It starts like a brewery and ends like a bakery. Lovely all around. Now I know that really delicious bread can be had from commercial bakeries around town, but often you are subject to just a couple of styles, which may or may not be what you particularly want to be eating (I am looking at you, Nantucket.) There are times when artisinal, rustic loaves are not what you need, and maybe you don't care for gobs of cheese running through your crumb. (We shall gloss over the sad fact that a toast habit like mine can bankrupt if given half a chance.) But worry not, as bread baking requires little more than a commitment of time, time spent mostly ignoring the main project, time which is a great excuse to read a nice book with one's cats.
I do know that bread can be very intimidating. It can seem impossible that your mass of yeast and flour turn into a golden and perfect loaf. Remember that bread is a very broad category, and some types are more difficult to wangle than others. The following recipe is from James Beard, filtered through my mother, and it has made some picture-perfect bread for me many times. It is different from the rustic Italian and French breads I buy at the bakery, which typically contain only flour, salt, water and yeast. This bread has a much longer list of ingredients, is more tender, and keeps longer. But really they are two different beasts, each suited to different uses. This is a part-wheat sandwich loaf. It is wonderful plain with butter, toasted with a poached egg on top, and in concert with bacon and tomato (see many of my earlier posts.)

Wheat-ish Sandwich Bread, with thanks to James Beard and my mama.

1/2 C cracked wheat or bulgar (med/fine grind)
1 1/2 C water
1 T yeast
1/3 C warm water
1/4 C soft butter
1 1/2 t salt
2 T molasses or honey
1 C milk
1 C whole wheat flour
4 C regular flour

Boil the water in a small saucepan, throw in the bulgar and cook about 10 minutes, stirring, until the water is absorbed. Proof the yeast with warm water and a teaspoon of sugar (this just means mix the yeast with warm, not hot, tap water to see if it bubbles after a few minutes. If it does, the yeast is good and lively, if not, yeast is dead and useless. You can skip this step if you use instant yeast.) Stir the butter, salt, molasses and milk into the wheat. Cool the mixture to lukewarm and add the yeast mixture. If you add the yeast to a hot porridge, you could kill the yeast. Stir in the flour cup by cup.

Knead!! for about 10 minutes. The whole kneading thing is meant to develop gluten and this can get very complicated because you aren't supposed to do it too much or too little. Forget all about that for this, though. Just knead the damn thing, adding flour as you need it to keep the dough from sticking to your hands or the table. After about 10 minutes it should be smooth, elastic and no longer sticky.

All right, now butter a large bowl just a little and put in your dough. Cover it with a damp towel and put it somewhere nice. Somewhere a cat would like to hang out. Cats and bread dough have a lot in common in terms of where they like to be. Find someplace warm-ish, out of any drafts. Let it sit for an hour to an hour and a half, the bread should double in size. If it doubles in like, 20 minutes, the spot you picked was too warm! If it takes 2 1/2 hours the spot was too cold! The latter is only a problem in terms of time, but the shorter the rising, the less flavorful the bread. You do not want hyperactive yeasts! When the rising has been accomplished, "punch down" the dough. Don't really punch it though! Just sink your fist into it gently to deflate. Then cut the wad in half, shape each into an oval, and put into two greased loaf pans. Preheat your oven to 375 F. Let the loaves rise in your nice, non-drafty spot, covered with the towel, until they puff up over the tops of the pans. Now bake them! For about 30-35 minutes. They will look done. Pop them from the pans, and give each a tap on its bottom. It should sound hollow (this is very satisfying.) Turn your oven off, but pop the loaves back in for 5 minutes to crisp up the bottoms a bit.

Ta-da! Try to wait for the bread to cool a little before you slice it, but I understand if you cannot. The last wonderful trick? Freeze the second loaf! Seriously! It will come out fine! Just wrap it in foil and maybe a zipper bag, and it will be as good as new when you take it out! The whole thing sounds daunting, maybe, but once you are done you will feel so accomplished! And though I am told that this feeling does not mean you "deserve" a beer, I bet no one will look askance if you have one- they will be too busy eating your wonderful bread!
]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2010/09/on-bread.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2010/09/on-bread.php Wed, 08 Sep 2010 17:41:52 -0500 On the Market
OK, I do love the market. I love the goat man, the old guy with the herbs, the beautiful peppers and lettuces, cheap seconds of produce. Things I do not love, however, are myriad. I hate the idiots selling jewelry/photos/baby hats. I hate the giant J. Dykestra truck with their Georgia peaches and California garlic. Today marked a new low however; in a disgusting mash-up of non-food, non-homegrown product was a booth stocked with UglyDolls (TM.) What exactly do these people think they are doing?! It would seem that they are trying to horn in on the fetishization of local, sustainable agriculture. Lovely! I happen to be the sort of person who gets angry for nebulous moralistic reasons, so this really pisses me off. I am also the sort of person who gets angry at being inconvenienced, so yeah, the giant strollers and people who stop in the middle of the aisle blocking the one artery of traffic flow also kinda steam me, but I try not to complain about that 'cause it makes me sound like a crazy old man (You kids get off my lawn! You are not gettin' that frisbee back, punk!) The parking situation is even worse! Unless you park on Fountain, you are signing up for a 10 minute crawl around the perimeter behind cars whose drivers insist on sitting and waiting for marker-goers to pack up groceries and leave, instead of driving to the end of the row where, invariably, there are free spots waiting. 

Whoo. That felt good. Anyway, to make a really superlative BLT, you need homemade mayonnaise. I would suggest getting some delicious free-range-local-organic farm market eggs for this, cause this shit is raw! Watch out! Salmonella a tasty possibility! Isn't it fun living on the edge?

Mayo!
1 egg
1 cup oil (can use all olive for a really strong flavor, I usually use 1 part olive to 3 parts neutral or half and half)
dash dry mustard
dash paprika
salt+pepper
garlic (1-4 cloves? Ted likes some seriously garliky mayo, but be careful)
2 Tbs. lemon juice (you can use vinegar, but if its strong, cut it with 1 T. water. Rice and cider vin. don't usually need cutting)

All right- everything but 3/4 cup of the oil go into a blender or food processor (immersion blender is the best option, if you have one) Whir until blended. Now slowly (slowly) dribble the reserved oil into the whirring machine. Slow! This mix should get gradually thicker as the oil is absorbed. Once you're down to the last 1/4 cup or so, you can increase the speed of the pouring. Ta-da! You're done! Covered tightly this lasts a week or more.

BLT TIME!!

Edited to add: Putting cheese on this sandwich is a small crime.
]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2010/08/on-the-market.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2010/08/on-the-market.php Fri, 20 Aug 2010 12:50:00 -0500 On Sunday Goodness, but yesterday was a red-letter food day. Lunchtime saw me at Wei-Wei Palace for dim sum with Miss Veronica, and boyfriend Ted. Dim sum is one of those things that I have always wanted to eat, can describe accurately, and yet I somehow never had the actual experience. UNTIL NOW. 

Dim sum is a little bit like tapas- small, shared plates, and a boisterous, relaxed environment. Unlike tapas the dishes in dim sum are pre-made, set onto little carts, and rolled between tables for you to pick and choose from. This is a great boon if, like me, you are unfamiliar with the food. You are released from the burden of ordering! There is no wondering whether descriptions are misleading you into picking the wrong thing- instead just pick the dumplings that look the most delicious. Or pick all the dumplings, like we did!

Highlights include shrimp-cilantro dumplings, pork rib niblets (watch out for bone, also- how the hell do you eat those with chopsticks without resorting to picking with greasy fingers??) chinese broccoli with oyster sauce, and deep-fried rice dough dumplings filled with an indeterminate meat.  Stuffed to the gills, the tab was about $10 a person. A most wonderful lunch, and then you are right there at the market to pick up more dried fish which your cat will just eat in the middle of the night anyway! A perfect day!

Fat and happy, Ted and I went back home to finish the preparations for Dinner Party. I went a little nuts at the farmers market and came back with a dozen ears of corn. I'm still not entirely sure why. This was kind of a good thing, though, as it forced me to figure out ways to use all the damn stuff. 

Item 1: Corn soup. This one was easy enough, as it was in the Times last week, has about 4 ingredients, and just sounded awesome. It was a thin corn stock with 1/2 pulverized, 1/2 chunky corn bits with just a bit of heavy cream. I served it cold, with chives. 

Item 2: Corn popovers. These were a bit intimidating, I'll admit. Basically, you make a thin batter, pour it into heated muffin tins or custard cups, and pray that it balloons up perfectly into crispy-skinned, ethereal little poufs. These treats are how I realized that my oven runs at least 25 degrees hotter than set. 

Non-Corn Items 1&2: I am still not the meat-cooker in the household; when Ted is away up North I tend back towards vegetarianism. So, it was not I who made grilled jerk chicken, and I couldn't replicate it if I tried. We are quite fair though: Ted does not bake, so Peach Cake fell on my shoulders. This Peach Cake is a Silver Palate recipe that my mom makes in the summer. It is so easy and good! You make it in a cast iron  frying pan so the bottom gets caramelized and crunchy, and you top it with sugar/butter crumblies so the top is too! 

Ing:
4 Tbs butter
1/4 C sugar
1 egg
1 C flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt (if using salted butter, omit)
1/4 C milk
3 good peaches, peeled + sliced

Topping:
1/2 C sugar
4 Tbs butter
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg

Preheat oven to 350 (or 325 if your oven sucks like mine.) Grease a 9" cast iron skillet. Cream butter and sugar. Beat in egg. Mix dry ingredients and beat half into butter/sugar/egg. Beat in half of milk. Repeat with rest of dry ing./milk. Pour into skillet, top with peaches, bake 25 min. 

Moosh topping ing. together with your fingers. Crumble on top of cake and return to oven for 8 min. (If your oven sucks, like mine, and the bottom is getting too dark, run the cake under the broiler CAREFULLY to melt/crunchify the topping. But if you go this route do NOT leave your oven's side. I mean it. 

Eat this with ice cream!




]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2010/08/on-sunday.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2010/08/on-sunday.php Wed, 18 Aug 2010 10:49:47 -0500 On Spirits Yes, AWOL again. Sorry darlings, but I've been otherwise occupied mixing antique cocktails for the more and less appreciative and attempting an education in the production side of the liquor biz. 

What production, you ask? Well, I am apprenticing at New Holland Artisan Spirits for the summer, learning the fine craft of distillation. (Though as my ex-chemist boss would say, "Distilling is easy. The hard part is making it taste good.") I have found that the great majority of the job consists of piping booze from one tank to another. (Of course, my ex-chemist boss would never say "booze," but "ethanol" as in, "I've got about 110 gallons of ethanol to bottle today," and nevermind whether it's whisky or rum or gin.) Anyway, there are great piles of different hosing, clamps, gaskets, and nozzels; holding tanks of massive proportion which put one in mind of overgrown kegs or underweight corn silos; and bins and buckets and casks and barrels of every size, shape and material available. 

The process goes a little like this: a truck shows up mid-morning and it is already late. There are 2 300 gallon roughly cubical plastic tanks on the truck. Hosing is unwound from a pump in the still room to the truck. The proper spouts are fitted and clamped and the pump (attached at the other end to a hose connecting to one of the aforementioned giant kegs connected to the hip bone, connected to the thigh bone...) is switched on. Ethanol (or "wash" at this stage of the process: really beer, just high-proof, unhopped beer) fails to traverse the system, wash is walked down the 40 yard length of hose, to try to prime the pump and rid it of air bubbles which muck up the process. Wash starts to flow fitfully. Wash ceases to flow, repeat priming. This goes on for the hour and a half or so that it takes to fill the holding kegs. Everyone is swearing that this will never happen again, that usually it goes much smoother, that the pump is having a bad day, and that they swore that handle was in the off position when they unhooked that hose. 

But finally, the wash is in the tanks. Immediately, find other hosing, another pump, and a whole new slew of gaskets and clamps, and pump 40 gallons or so of wash into the still. The steam goes on immediately, thought the still takes a half-hour to fill. Turn the water on in the top condenser, and off in the bottom. Watch the thermometers, answer some emails. Wait for reflux and wait for distillate. Fresh distillate gets pumped (again, gaskets, hoses, clamps) into another tank to wait for its second run, the still gets emptied (another hose,) and more wash goes in the still. Repeat. 

The same script applies, more or less, to bottling, so I won't go into that, but I will say how satisfying it is to be wearing safety goggles and work shoes in a concrete pit, climbing onto tanks and fitting clamps and hosing machinery down. I only wish I got one of those cool mechanic-y work shirts with my name embroidered on a patch. Ah, well, a girl can dream... ]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2010/07/on-spirits.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2010/07/on-spirits.php Mon, 19 Jul 2010 08:10:00 -0500 On the West Side

Rah! After being flattered/shamed into writing by someone who is NOT EVEN A FAMILY MEMBER, here I am, returning to type. I come before you a New Lydia: new job, new apartment, new willingness to ride my bike. Welcome to Scary Dinner Goes to the West Side! Now as long as y'all promise not to up and move over to my side of the river forcing my rent skyward, I will share with you the Glory and Majesty of food on the other side of the Grand. 


Oh My God, The Meat:
Here is where the West Side truly shines. Forget what you know about vacuum-sealed steak, wrapped to within an inch of its life to a styrofoam tray, bloody pad in the middle soaking up wayward juices like the most environmentally unfriendly of feminine products. Just 4 blocks from my new house is Frank's Meat Market, where young men wrap my fresh (and freshly cut) sirloin-tri-tips in white paper, and the bacon is house-cured. Ground beef here comes from chuck, not from mystery scraps and goo from the packinghouse floor- which means you can actually eat a burger medium-rare and not wake up in the middle of the night having yet another nightmare about Creuzfeldt-Jacobs liquifying your brain. Note: while you are there, pick up some Country Dairy milk. It is so incredibly delicious, it has ruined me on the supermarket variety. 

Parkside Foods looks like just another tiny grocery, but they have a fully functioning butcher in the back. Sure, you can get your homemade kielbasa and bratwurst, bulk breakfast sausage and bacon, but more importantly they make Hot Sticks. These long, skinny, ready-to-eat sausages can be found at just about every West Side meat market (though at Frank's & 20th Century they are called "Hotshots") but Parkside Foods is the only place to get God's Own Hot Sticks. They are a lovely snack with a banana or an apple, and the salt rush really perks up a cold Stroh's.

Ice Cream Trucks
Two of them seem to patrol my neighborhood. I had forgotten how the sound changes after the trucks go by, and what else could be as evocotive of summer? One distressing detail? The number of ice-cream-treats defiled by television characters. Perhaps it was always this way and I am just not used to seeing DoratheExplora/SquarePantsMcSponge in creamsicle form, but what is wrong with the push-pops and chocolate eclairs of yesteryear? Why must everything have a face on it?

And Oh Yeah, More Meat
Sometimes lately, I get home too hungry to cook. This is the perfect time for hors d'oevers hot dogs! The Monarch's Club used to be a speakeasy, and now it is the nicest bar near my house. The room is so sunny and pretty you don't feel bad about spending a daylight hour there with the New Yorker and a Chicago Dog, gathering strength for the culinary endeavor ahead. (The beer doesn't hurt.)

Thanks again to everyone, family and not(!), who helped start writing again- sorry about the move from G-rad, but I just cannot seem to get into my account! 
Love
Lydia

]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2010/05/on-the-west-side.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2010/05/on-the-west-side.php Mon, 24 May 2010 11:05:00 -0500 On Bitters
Bitters, a class of alcoholic flavorings, were originally sold as medicines. The botanicals they were infused with purportedly cured all sorts of things, though most likely the only thing making buyers feel better was the high alcohol content. Commercial bitters today top out at 90 proof, or 45% alcohol by volume. They are used mainly in very small quantities to add zest to mixed drinks like Manhattans and Sazeracs. Pre-prohibition they were quite fashionable, with hundreds of different brands on the market. Today only a couple are easily available: Christmas-spiced Agnostura, and lighter Peychaud's.

Bitters' unpopularity has resulted in a dearth of references. Even on the internet, recipes are unavailable or archaic, with so many variables and unknowns they satisfy only one's historical interest. Still, the basic method is simple: an infusion, or soaking the flavorings in alcohol. The liquor must have quite a high alcohol content both to speed the infusion process and insure a shelf-stable product. Vodka, rye and brandy are all possibilities. To ensure balance, infuse the bittering agent and the flavoring agent separately. In my house, that means a line-up of mason jars in various stages of murkiness and color.

There are three great variables in bitters-making; liquor, flavor, and bitter. The liquor was an easy choice. For simplicity, Everclear was a winner. I decided to make a straightforward orange bitters, the most common kind available, so I might accurately judge my bootleg against a commercial product. My flavoring compound was a combination of orange zest, dried bitter orange, fennel seed and honey.

Many flora are bitter, but I was looking not only for flavor, but intrigue. Few plants have a more mystical aura than wormwood. Used to make absinthe, wormwood has been blamed for craziness since before Van Gogh cut off an ear. It was so shrouded in myth that absinthe was only recently legalized in the U.S.

After over two weeks of shaking mason jars, I strained both tinctures through coffee filters. The wormwood mixture was acid green and evil looking, the orange oddly viscous. Mixed to taste and diluted, my bitters had a powerful aroma of orange and upon tasting, just a hint of anise. Though overall a winner, I may be more exited about the pomegranate-ginger-cardamom mix currently steeping deep within my cupboards. ]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/12/on-bitters.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/12/on-bitters.php Wed, 23 Dec 2009 21:20:00 -0500 Dumplings, Revisited
Dough:
2 cups flour
teaspoon salt
1/2 stick butter (cold)
2 tb. plain yogu or buttermilk
1/2 cup ice water, will not use all

Put flour and salt in food processor. Cut butter into bits and add to flour mix. Pulse a bit. Add the yogu and with the machine running  add the water a tablespoon at a time until dough forms a ball. Done!

The filling can be as easy as boiling some potato, frying some onion, and mashing it all together with salt and pepper. A thoughtfully chosen herb would not be amiss here.

To fill, make thin circles of dough, putting filling on half of each circle, and closing them up. It is nice here to have a little bowl of warm water and a brush to wet the edges before you close them. Seal by pressing the tines of a fork around the circle edge.

Cook these by first boiling in batches in a large pot of water. Each pierogi needs a few minutes, but don't stress out about cooking time. Like homemade pasta, these can stand some overcooking. Let them dry on a rack, and saute them in butter right before serving. They freeze brilliantly;  boil them before freezing and let thaw before sauteing. You'll pretty much have to do this, as the dough recipe makes, like, a million dumplings. Dumplings!!


Pierogi 4.JPGPierogi 1.JPG
Pierogi 2.JPG

]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/11/dumplings-revisited.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/11/dumplings-revisited.php Wed, 11 Nov 2009 13:35:00 -0500 On School
My first aid class, a requirement of the culinary program (known to students as "The Program,") is its own headache, prompted not by ledgers, credits and debits, but by the squarest-necked gym teacher ever to slither from beneath the bleachers. I tend to think his entry into teaching was a result of his desire for a captive audience more than anything. His lectures range widely, but generally fall into categories: insulting jokes (see rape, the holocaust, homeless people, those who die in fiery car crashes, AIDS, religions other than protestant Christianity, public schools, homosexuals,) misogynistic pronouncements, and personal anecdotes regarding his cleverness/ability to freak out squares.

Spanish is really not bad enough to joke about, less 6 teenagers talking about their "sweet tatts" which is only funny because I am old and lame.

To be honest, my greatest culinary achievement of the past few weeks has been packing myself lunches on my busiest days. Oddly, given my disdain for food-pyramid style "balance" in meals, these boxes have always included raw vegetable pieces. Of course, those same vegetables are in the fridge now, as I decided mid-day that my body would be better nourished by pecan schnecken from Wealthy Street Bakery. Conspicuously absent in my lunch today was last nights bizzaro seafood stew, but it lived on anyhow.

This stew was a sort of scraped together dish, part fridge-emptier, part pantry-staple-amalgamation. We had 5 little squids and some shrimp from the Asian market in the freezer, but were a little stir-fried out, so I thought of a sort of Mediterranean-style dish with tomatoes, olive oil and lots of garlic. Ted went out for beer (necessary) and I started cleaning squid.

-a side note. This is another reason my Mark Bittman cookbook is the first one I ever pull from the shelf. Not only does he cover squid, there is a 6 sketch series covering how to clean whole specimens. A very special thanks to my aunt Nan, without whose fabulous birthday prezzies I would still be standing over the sink, wondering what the hell that long, hard plastic-y thing was, and how do you get the beak out anyway?-

Squid cleaned, shrimp de-poop-veined (I know I am just supposed to just say deveined, but there are two, and and I have forgotten which is which enough times. And yes, I had removed half of the "other" veins by the time Ted got home and corrected me. For all y'all who are like me, the icky vein is the one on the top, the other on the underside,) we sauteed some onions and garlic in olive oil, deglazed that with sherry, and threw in a can of tomatoes, a diced potato, and the squid, which we cut into rings. That got stewed for an hour maybe. We added the shrimp to the pot and at the same time put some bread to toast.

I ate mine with a dollop of homemade mayo on top and it was delicious! So why didn't I bring it for lunch????? Well. I got up that morning and while making/drinking coffee I kept smelling something gross and fishy. I figured it was just the trash from last night and didn't think much of it, but the smell was enough to make me rethink bringing fish stew in an uninsulated lunch bag. Waiting in line for treats at the bakery I smelled fish too, but wrote that off as a bizarre sensory anomaly brought on by my imaginary brain tumor. It wasn't until halfway through Spanish class that I realized that the smell was me, a result of spilled squid juice on my sweater. I shoved it into my backpack with a couple of shudders and shivered the rest of the day. My bag still smells like squid. I think its fair to say I am just not going to be popular this year.
]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/09/on-school.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/09/on-school.php Thu, 24 Sep 2009 10:25:00 -0500 On Food and Art living, as long as it was done "artistically," could be called art. I think that was the point when I stopped listening to her.

My older sister, during her existential crisis/art historian phase, told my mother that art was anything that made people angry. In this case the art was my sister's outfit of a hot pink turtleneck under a bedazzled, airbrushed lion cub sweatshirt. (Why it made my mother angry I do not know. It made me a little angry too, for reasons I am not entirely comfortable exploring, even at this remove.) While sort of absurd, I know what my sister meant. Art shouldn't be pretty, necessarily, but it should invoke a response.

Can food be art? The question is a little tricky given the contextual role of food in modern human life. Clearly, food is mostly about sustenance, but even examining the subset of food as entertainment begs the same questions.

A. Is the food art?
B. Is the person who made the food an artist?
C. Is the person who created the dish an artist?

Even typing this I pause, because I used the word "dish" in the third question. Perhaps that betrays my prejudices. There is a great difference between art and craft, and I think there is such a difference between making something new and wonderful, and flawlessly recreating someone else's "new and wonderful." This certainly can be applied to the line cook who makes the chef's creations perfectly night after night, but can it also be applied to the mezzo-soprano who sings "Carmen?" Is her's a craft, and not an art? I confess I do not know.

When the term "art" is given to food, I must wonder if the term refers to audacity, or fine flavor, or chemical ingenuity. I wonder if we should apply my sister's test to it, and assess merit based on an emotional response by the eater. This concept necessitates a thorough shift on the part of the consumer. Before judging a particularly confusing plate of pork with durian, must we consider not just the interplay of flavors or textures, but how it makes us feel? Does that make it art? Humanity has a great tradition of art which invokes the futility of human existence, the frailty of being, and the sadness and anger of people. Somewhat unfortunately I know that no one will compare a conflicted entree to Dostoyevsky, and a fast-food nugget may never convey what Sinclair made us feel in our guts, but I rather wish it would. 

For that reason alone I despair of food ever attaining the status of art. As long as we expect everything we eat to be something we consider delicious, it is nothing more than a consumer product. For those of us who sigh discontentedly at that notion, I suggest confronting our most hated culinary prejudices. Search them out, try them in so many forms that you know exactly how they make you feel and why. If we can get past what our mouths are telling us, maybe we can figure out what art really means.
]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/08/on-food-and-art.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/08/on-food-and-art.php Fri, 14 Aug 2009 22:13:25 -0500 Los Angeles Part 1: Simpang Asia
Two restaurants in particular have stayed in my mind, a hip, new place called Street which purports to serve street food from the global culinary ether, and a cafe/grocery called Simpang Asia which serves straightforward Indonesian food.  Thumbnail image for Simpang Nasi.JPG
Nasi Bungkus, seen above, is coconut rice with chicken liver curry, beef rendang and a deep fried, hard boiled egg, all wrapped up in a banana leaf. This is akin to my preferred method of eating average (buffet style, anyone?) curry: mash it up together, but comparisons to adequate food to no justice to this nasi. The rice was creamy in flavor and texture and the rendang was almost like brisket. Now I accept that many people don't like liver, but I love the option of ordering it, especially in a fabulous yellow curry with "long beans," and Courtney can attest to the fact that I never once asked if she wanted to try it.

We really only managed half our dishes each, which seemed to make the dudes working there very upset. But I swear to you, bleached, braided rat-tail guy, it was delicious.

The grocery attached to Simpang Asia was fabulous, three cramped aisles of Japanese, Indonesian, Indian, and Chinese packaged foods. Courtney, with a whole kitchen to stock, got to pick from one million rices, dals and noodles, vinegars, oils, candies and snacks, but I had to content myself with a stinky packet of shrimp paste and a jar of mysterious green sambal: presents for the nice boy feeding my cats.
]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/08/los-angeles-part-1-simpang-asi.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/08/los-angeles-part-1-simpang-asi.php Fri, 07 Aug 2009 14:02:18 -0500 Lydia, Queen of Sausages
There are few food projects, I think, messier, more laborious, and more emotionally taxing than sausage-making. I realized this watching the meat grinder birth mealy tendrils of pork, getting gummed up every so often with fat and white gristle as I pounded the stuff down the feed tube. The meat bloomed up from the grinding disc in an almost unbelievably huge mass before separating under its weight and falling into the bowl. I thought of fetuses, placentas, alien-life forms, and people losing limbs in industrial accidents. This was going to be good.

I first thought of sausages only because my new mixer came with a meat grinder and a sausage making funnel-tube-thing. Before that, unlike cheese, bread, and jam, making my own sausage was very much not on my list. I mean, I don't even eat sausage beside an occasional bratwurst or kielbasa at someone's "let's grill shit" party. But here came the mixer, with that little sausage-stuffing-tube thingy and everything changed. I didn't have a plan, really, but the possibility was there in the back of my head. I still wasn't planning to actually do it when I picked up a book at the library and spent a day reading up. It wasn't until I found myself staring at hog casings that I realized what I was preparing to do. It seemed like sausage was happening to me, that I wasn't any part in the causation. I mean, I had just picked up fresh oregano at the farmer's market, I had all the ingredients in my fridge, I had zombie walked into Meijer and bought a huge chunk of pig shoulder, and, yes, now I was fingering hog casings, but it felt like it was someone else doing it. 

First, I did my best to bone and de-gristle the pig. To be honest, this was the least gross part of the entire operation. I wrapped up my meat and shoved it in the freezer to make it easier to cut and grind. I sliced open the packet of casings (gritty!) and cut off a piece to soak. This is supposed to make it softer and easier to work, but when you put it in the water it balloons a little and suddenly there are all these veins and whoa! that's some intestine you got there! I admit a little thrill upon seeing this. I think it is a sign of my fetishization of DIY in the kitchen.  "Here's the intrepid farm woman, using all the parts of the animal!"

With the pork cut up and the flavorings assembled, then came the wrestle with the meat. This is not a gentle process. I was sweating by the time I had a full bowl of the greyish pinkish mush that used to be an animal. With my hands, I mooshed in the flavorings: parmesean cheese, white wine, oregano, garlic, salt and pepper. The hard part was coming next. I couldn't find the sausage-funnel-stuffing-attachment! The whole point of this wretched exercise was that I had this tool that would make the whole thing possible. I looked everywhere. I tore the cabinets apart, but I could not find it. So now I have an impossible pile of sweaty meat, my kitchen is covered with trichinosis, and I have no stuffing thingy. There was no way I was letting the grinding go to waste, so I cut the end off a funnel and put my bewildered-determined face on and started trying to gentle the casing onto the funnel.

I think maybe the best description for this step is easing a foot-long, tissue-paper condom on your arm, underwater. It is not easy. Then you tie the end of the casing, fill the funnel with meat-mix, and start shoving the stuff through into the intestine. This makes horrible squelching noises. Lots of air tends to get shoved in with the meat, so there is a lot of pausing and massaging of air bubbles, and then a distinct farting sound when the air is forced back out of the growing sausage. I managed, somehow, to make 4 roughly foot-long sausages, but looking back the whole thing is rather fuzzy. I can only explain my state of mind as zen-ish; I went to another place, and my hands stuffed intestines with what is, with brilliant logic, called forcemeat. And then suddenly I was done. I had, without thinking, lined the sausages up neatly on a pan in the fridge, bleached the fuck out of the kitchen, and poured myself a glass of wine.

This is how Ted found me, some time later, with a glazed expression on my face. He looked at me questioningly, and I said "I made sausage?" He sort of laughed, so I made him look in the refrigerator at my pale, fat, baloney smelling links. I was a surprised at how much they looked like sausage. Its really all sort of a blur. But they were delicious.
]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/07/lydia-queen-of-sausages.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/07/lydia-queen-of-sausages.php Thu, 23 Jul 2009 10:37:46 -0500 On Keeping Fruit
I assume this will only take time and practice, and by the time I'm 50 I'll be the Greatest Cook in the World. I think, though, that with the current glut of farmer's market produce (and cherries in my mouth) a good place to start is with fruit storage. I hope you don't mind reviewing with me.

Apple: If eating or using quickly, leave them out in a cool place. If storing for more than a couple of days, put them in the fridge in the driest possible spot.

Banana: Throw them on the counter, or better, hang them to avoid bruises and uneven coloration. Save way overripe ones in the freezer for banana bread.

Blackberries: Store unwashed in fridge for 1-2 days, in a single layer if possible. These don't ripen after picking, so you need to make sure the ones you buy are ripe, but then if you keep them in a pile, the bottom ones will be mooshed.

Blueberries: Make sure they are dry before refrigerating them (up to 5-6 days.) Damp berries will rot.

Cherries: Pick out any soft ones and store in the fridge for not more than a couple of days. Rinse just before using.

Grapes: Store in the refrigerator in their original, perforated, plastic bag. For best results, wrap them first in a paper towel to absorb even more moisture.  This trick is also very good with  perishable herbs, like cilantro and fresh parsley.

Mangoes: If you buy an unripe one, leave it on the counter until it's ripened, then store in fridge. It'll keep for half a week or so.

Oranges: Leave them unwrapped on the counter. If you expect them to be juicy do not refrigerate them, though they do keep a couple days longer.

Peaches: Ripen, if needed, by leaving them out stem side down. This end is the last to ripen, and will support the fruit better, leaving less bruising. This is the proper way to ripen tomatoes as well. Once ripe, store in fridge for not more than a couple of days.

Raspberries: These are very delicate. Like all berries, don't wash them until right before eating, as the damp makes the rot. Store them for as short a time as possible in a not too cold part of the fridge, like the door.

Strawberries: If you can manage it, these taste best when unrefrigerated, but they will not keep out of the cold. Pick out the mushy ones and store loosely wrapped in fridge.

So what do you think? Want to hear about the vegetables too?

 

]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/07/on-keeping-fruit.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/07/on-keeping-fruit.php Fri, 10 Jul 2009 12:32:47 -0500 Drinks for Summer
If You're Having a Party:
The Mojito:
I must admit my love/hate relationship with this venerable cuban concoction, stemming from how frequently I make them at work. That said, it is a delicious and refreshing combination, and one which is simply made at home, but rather impressive to serve. First off, you don't have to spend a lot of money buying mint at the grocery store, where it costs aproximately one arm and one leg. Instead, pick it up for cheap at the Farmer's Market, or for free at any number of places in town where it grows freely as a weed. My go-to spot is a secret, in case someone decides to care that I take it from there, but I'll probably tell you if you ask me in person. You will need 2 or 3 good sized leaves per drink, or more, if you are using pint glasses.

The leaves go into a glass with half a lime, sliced into quarters, and half a tablespoon of sugar. Using a wooden spoon (or a muddler if you have one, but who does?) moosh the limes to juice and bruise the mint. Contrary to what some restaurants would have us think, you do not want to shred the mint! The alcohol is going to draw the flavor out, and really, the muddling just helps that process along. If you do too much damage to the fruit and mint, you're only looking for bitterness. Add a couple ounces of rum (light is traditional, but dark can be wonderful) and stir a bit to disolve the sugar. If you are using simple syrup, you can skip this step and add ice right away. Fill the glass with ice, top with soda water, stir to mix, imbibe!

A quick note on ice: making drinks at home, many people use just a few cubes per drink, saving space for more liquor. I think it's nicer to ice the drink properly, and have a second. Your proportions will be more accurate, your drinks good and cold, and the second will be as fresh as the first.

If It's Too Hot for Dinner:
The Shandy:
This is basically taking beer with lime one step further. A shandy is a beer/lemonade mixture found under different names in much of Europe and its former colonies. The lemonade is best fizzy, but that can be hard to find in the U.S. (not so at our cottage in canada, where the IGA supermarket brand "Nous Compliments" comes fizzy in cans, even in grapefruit) so sometimes I use frozen lemonade concentrate instead. One spoon of that in the bottom of a glass topped with lager makes a weird twist on a float, but its fizzy and sweet and I love it.

If You Need A Trip To The Grocery Store for the AC
Tinto de Verano/Calimocho:
The preferred drink of spanish teenagers, both these drinks start with cheap red wine, iced. Scandalous!!! The former is topped with Sprite, the latter with Coke. More common in the south of spain than sangria (for the townies, at least) these drinks may sound gross or low-brow, but when it's too hot for pants, who really cares? Besides, I can guarantee that teenage spanish cred is cooler than fancy-pants wine snob cred.

Note: the wine must be cheap!!

If You've Given Up:
Brandy:
My boyfriend says brandy is the perfect drink for summer, because it gets better when it's warm. Of course, he says that in the winter, too. In all honesty, though, brandy can be rad on a summer bike ride along the river. Stick it in you pocket to keep good and warm, but keep the apple juice chaser in your backpack. For a treat, chase with ginger beer.

I hope this lovely day finds all of you well, and that we all avoid metaphysical hangovers in our little indulgences...



]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/07/drinks-for-summer.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/07/drinks-for-summer.php Mon, 06 Jul 2009 15:20:09 -0500 The Mixer
A note about the Mixer: it has been something of a dream of mine for years. I pretty much had given up hope of getting one as anything other than a wedding preasent, and that's a dumb reason to get married. It is huge, silvery, if you try really hard you can anthropomorphize it into a little kitchen buddha with t-rex arms and a cyclops eye. Also, it opens up whole worlds of recipes heretofor unnattempted. So far I have made gingersnaps (successful, except I didn't have molasses and substituted maple syrup: less potent, surely) lemon bars (complete disaster: tasted like scrambled eggs) cheddar/black pepper biscuits (delish, made into eggs Benedict the next morning) sesame crackers (awesome with hummus) angel food cake (with strawberries from the farmer's market and whipped cream) and cheddar/jalapeno cornbread (nice and cakey.) Its been about a week. So now, I am supposed to impress people but I truly don't have any room in my fridge for leftovers! At least the kitchen is clean. Since getting this mixer I've felt bound to honor it, and my supplications include heavy and frequent scrubbings of its countertop shrine.

The sesame crackers were maybe the most enlightening, in that they make me reluctant to buy crackers ever again. I have touched on the cracker phenomenon before, but only to note that for their ease in preparation they enjoy a disproportionate impressiveness. Bring baba ghanouj to a party? Nice job. Bring it with homemade crackers and people will be crowding around, "Did you make those???" Yes. And it took more time for me to get dressed. That aside, these little guys are so tasty, so far beyond the supermarket pale, that they may become staples for me. With about 4 ingredients and no special instructions about gluten formation or rising or any of that, you can make these and watch a TV show at the same time.

These are really basic, but with one extra step- toasting the sesame seeds, they get serious flavor. Best with a like-minded dip, hummus, baba g, tabbouleh and just plain feta are all nice, but a lemony tapenade wouldn't be wrong either. From the King Arthur Flour Bakers Companion, a wonderful reference for anyone starting to bake. 

1 1/2 cup pastry flour (the one in the box)
3/4 tsp salt
1/3 cup water
2 tbs olive oil
1/2 cup sesame seeds

First, toast your seeds. Put them in a dry, nonstick pan. Turn your heat on medium. In a few minutes the seeds will start to pop and jump. Stir or flip them around and keep cooking. The pan will start to smoke alarmingly. This is also good, just stir or flip every 30 seconds or so. You will see the color change happen. If things are going too fast, lift your pan for a bit and flip the seeds. When they are glossy and chestnut brown and your kitchen smells like sesame, they are done. Let cool in the pan, stirring once or twice off heat. Proceed. Preheat your oven to 425. (You can do this midway through the recipe, as you have a half hour of resting time, and if you put your oven on it makes the whole house like, 1 million degrees. Just remember to preheat a baking sheet in the preheating oven. Put it on the lowest rack.) Throw everything in your new stand mixer. Alternatively, throw it in a bowl. Stir to combine well and knead it for a minute or less. Shape it into a disc, cover with plastic wrap and let sit for 15 min. Then make into 8 equal size balls, flatten into discs, cover with the wrap and let sit another 15 min. Use a rolling pin to make 6" rounds of each dough ball.

This is the fun part (aka, the part where you get burned.) Your need to get 2 dough flats into the oven and onto the baking sheet as quickly as you can without burning your arms. Don't let too much heat out of the oven. Cook for 3 minutes, then, again as quickly as you can, open the oven and flip the rounds. You can use your fingers if you're a masochist, but tongs or a spatula are far safer. Cook about 3 minutes on the other side, and remove to a rack. Repeat with the remaining rounds. If you like you can brush these with sesame or olive oil. And you made crackers! Amaze your friends! Keep in a reused airtight takeout or yogurt container.

In other news, Liberal Snacks, the video accompaniment to Scary Dinner, is coming soon. With cooking and vegan jokes by Lydia Clowney (kidding) and filmography by Esther Clowney, this is sure to be another thing to watch when you're really bored. We even got to plug it last night on WYCE. Thanks again to Michael Cunningham for that, and for helping us with the cake!  
]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/06/the-mixer.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/06/the-mixer.php Mon, 22 Jun 2009 14:05:00 -0500 Indian Cuisine
Indian Cuisine, ostensibly an "authentic" south Indian restaurant, brings to mind Indian food, done like the Chinese we get in America: gluey, one dimensional, and (theoretically) the same thing you would get at any crappy Indian place in the country. Or, it almost perfectly recalls the foil pouches of curry you get at Meijer and heat in boiling water for a disappointing, but economical meal. Unfortunately, the dishes at Indian Cuisine will set you back $11-14 insead of $2.99. Add a nan or two at $2.50 a piece, and you are looking at a pricey meal.

After a long wait at the door (Yes, I timed it. It was just under 2 minutes) trying to get someone's attention, my boyfriend and I were seated in the empty French Quarter. It was rather eerie, and sound tended to echo, making the atmosphere uneasy. I ordered some veggie pakoras right off the bat, and then a fish curry with coconut milk and a lamb vindaloo. The waiter asked us how hot we wanted them "on a scale of one to ten," which always makes me nervous, because what is anyone's 10? I mean, I like things spicy, my tastebuds are used to spice, but I don't want it "Indian hot" like some friends from the subcontinent. I tried to deduce what system the kitchen uses; Indian spicy or Midwestern spicy, and the waiter told us that we should get everything at a 10, because its "not that hot. More like a 7" Well, ok, I am no sissy baby.

The pakoras, out first, were decent, though a few were unpleasantly oil-soaked. They only vegetable in them was onion, and while I like onion pakoras, I thought they could have been less misleadingly described on the menu. The accompanying chutneys were a run of the mill cilantro-mint, and a too-sweet tamarind that tasted a bit too much like ketchup.

Curry-wise, things went downhill fast. The food was too hot. I overheard the server later telling a table that he tries to make customers "push the envelope." Well, that's just irresponsible. Why try to make people eat something that will hurt them? Do you think you know what they need better than they do? The vindaloo was hot, and it was sweet, but it wasnt much else. More than anything it was like a few pieces of fatty lamb swimming in a bad BBQ sauce. The fish curry wasn't much better, being hot, and coconut-creamy, but not much else. The fish, some sort of cod, I think, almost seemed reconstituted it was so oddly textured.

We are experiencing a sort of glut of Indian in GR right now. Bad food at high prices just isn't going to cut it. In fact, if anyone is really tempted to go to Indian Cuisine maybe you can just pay me $45 a couple and I'll make you way better Indian right at home.
]]> http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/05/indian-cuisine.php http://www.g-rad.org/dinner/2009/05/indian-cuisine.php Mon, 18 May 2009 14:29:49 -0500