le blog de tranny

July 1, 2011

soup diary: channeling Ina

I realize it’s (supposed to be) summer in SF but I’ve really been on a soup kick lately. This could be a reaction to all the roasts and mac ‘n cheese from Focaccia that I’ve been eating on my lunch break. All I know is, as dinnertime rolls around, I find myself craving something warming yet light, something that can easily be loaded with some much-needed veg, something… soupy. The other week on Paul’s only day off we were planning on having a quiet evening in, ordering Thai from our go-to place and catching up on perhaps the only tv left on Netflix instant watch that we haven’t exhausted.. On our way home, however, Paul suggested that instead of ordering Thai I cook him dinner. I was at first averse to the idea but then I realized we had some broccoli left in the fridge that was rapidly going off.

[turkey meatball soup with lemon, broccoli & escarole]

We also had a lemon, some chicken broth, some panko bread crumbs.. so I thought maybe I’d attempt a soup that was loaded with bright Italian flavors but not too heavy. Perhaps I would do a riff on Italian wedding soup, but with white meat for the meatballs like the soup Ina made for her wedding anniversary on Barefoot Contessa: Back to Basics (Jeffrey loves chicken). To channel Ina even more, I’d use fennel in the soup base (she’s a fan of including it in her mirepoix) and lemon (perhaps her favorite ingredient) to brighten up the soup — lemon zest in the meatballs and lemon juice to finish off the broth. So off to Falletti Paul went.

They didn’t have ground chicken, so I made turkey meatballs instead. I threw together the ground turkey with some scallions, garlic and parsley, an egg yolk, a handful each of grated parm and panko breadcrumbs, and the secret ingredient: the zest of half a lemon. I seasoned the mixture liberally with s&p and added more breadcrumbs until the texture felt right between my fingers. Don’t really know how you can make meatballs without being hands on.

I used a trick I picked up from a vegetarian minestrone recipe from Epicurious that I made a while back — using old parmesan rinds to flavor the broth. I also stirred in some escarole at the end, also borrowed from that recipe.

Cooking the noodles directly in the soup gave it a nice thick consistency. The finished soup was both hearty and healthy (at least by my standards), with a flavorful, nuanced broth. Ina would’ve been proud. (Or more likely, she would’ve not cared as I’m neither a WASP nor a gay man.)

Turkey Meatball Soup with Lemon, Broccoli & Escarole
What I had:
- ground turkey
- scallions
- panko breadcrumbs
- an egg
- parmesan cheese
- parsley
- minced garlic
- zest of half a lemon
- canola oil + butter
- a fennel bulb
- leeks
- broccoli
- leeks
- escarole
- parmesan rinds
- a carton of chicken broth
- a cup and a half to two cups of water
- small pasta, like orecchiette

What I did:
- Combine coarsely chopped fennel and leeks in a pot with a little bit of olive oil. Saute on medium-low heat until nicely caramelized, about 20 minutes.
- Meanwhile, make turkey meatballs out of the first six ingredients. Form them into small meatballs. Set aside.
- Add broccoli, parmesan rinds and minced garlic to the pot; season well with s&p. Stir for about five minutes until broccoli starts to turn bright green. Pour in chicken stock and water to cover. Bring to a simmer.
- Brown the meatballs on all sides in some canola oil + butter. Do not cook them all the way through (they’ll finish in the soup).
- After the soup has been simmering for.. a while, fish out the parm rinds, add the partially cooked meatballs and about four handfuls of orecchiette pasta. Cover and simmer for 10 more minutes so that the meatballs and pasta cook all the way through.
- Turn off the heat then stir in escarole and a healthy squeeze or two of lemon juice. Season to taste. Serve with parsley and freshly grated parm on top.

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June 18, 2011

pdx weekender, days 2-3

* Day 2 – Boise, Hair of the Dog, Little Bird *

The next day Jane and I ventured East, for a perfect Sunday brunch at Tasty ‘n Sons, after grabbing a disappointing iced coffee at Stumptown. The iced coffee we had at Barista was a billion times better, but I guess it didn’t come in this cool bottle?

We had to put our name in because Tasty doesn’t take reservations but luckily there was a vintage store on wheels across the street for a mild diversion.

Finally we were seated at the bar at Tasty ‘n Sons. If there is one thing I love more than savory brunch, it’s savory brunch with brunch-appropriate cocktails. And if there is one thing I love more than a gin fizz, it’s a rose gin fizz.

[Rose City Fizz: aviation gin, egg white, cream, lemon, rose water and soda]

I kind of felt bad that there was not a single trace of green on either of the plates we ordered, but this feeling quickly dissipated once our food arrived. I think it took us all of ten minutes to wipe this plate (or should I say cazuela?) clean.

[polenta and sausage ragu with mozzarella and fried egg]

[fried egg and cheddar biscuit with fried chicken]

Everything we ordered was delectable and decadent. It was tempting to stuff ourselves but we decided to stop at two entrees. But brunch was going so swimmingly, why cut it short? Another cocktail was in order. Jane uncharacteristically went for the beef jerky bloody mary. I guess it was time to let loose! For my part, I ordered the almosa: bubbles, orange and aperol.

That housemade beef jerky was definitely worth the extra dollar.

Afterwards we took a leisurely 1/2 mile stroll to Mississippi Ave., where we popped into a few shops and a nursery.

After spending an hour or so on Mississippi Ave., we were ready for Hair of the Dog (har har). Since the theme of the day was letting loose, we decided to order tasters of each of their beers!

We also ordered this meat plate thing.

After chugging the 13.5% abv taster because our cab was waiting outside, we had an interesting ride back to the Pearl District followed by naptime and some MTV. The VMAs to be exact. So bad. I felt like it was the 90s again. Who knew that a mere three hours later I’d be transported back to the 90s FORREAL by the sounds of Koreyne crooning the Cranberries and Jane belting Les Miz (one of my fave musicals as a kid).

When the clock struck 9.00 we had finally mustered up the will to go to dinner. To my dismay, Le Pigeon, our original plan, was already closed. Luckily Le Pigeon’s more casual, bistro counterpart, Little Bird, was still open, and walking distance from The Ace no less. The menu was chock full of that simple kind of French fare I love to eat. I was hard-pressed to find a single item I wouldn’t order. I even found the desserts tempting (lavender creme brulee).

I finally fulfilled my promise to my body to feed it some ruffage after a long day of stuffing my face with meat and carbs.

[butter lettuce salad with radish and Pernod vinaigrette]

I decided on the short rib which had been roasted for 15 hours. It was a very good decision.

[roasted short rib, bone marrow vinaigrette, horseradish, served with cippolini onions, potatoes and carrots]

A parting gift of mini banana macarons. Nice touch.

* Day 3 – Food Cart Land, Shopping, Barista (again) *

We wanted to rep our sadly absent Caroline so of course we had to pay respects to the portable food vendors. One such congregation was conveniently located a few blocks from our hotel, so it was the obvious choice for a first meal on our last day.

A gathering of food carts.

LOLOL.

Korey ordered a vegetarian omelet sandwich thing from the PDX Brunch Box and chased it with a spring roll from one of the Thai carts.

Another gathering of food carts.

Jane and I, reeling from 48 hours worth of heavy drinking and eating, had been planning on going to the pho cart called Pho Le, which was closed even though Yelp said it’d be open goddamnit!

Luckily there was a Korean stand called Bulkogi Fusion at the first intersection we’d gone to. I ordered a kimchi and pork wonton ramen and it hit the spot like no other.

Jane’s kimchi ramen.

Thanks for a great weekend ladies!

Day 1 here.

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June 18, 2011

pdx weekender, day 1

I came to Portland because we had planned on a girls only getaway weekend, because I’d been told I’d like it there. I’d been itching to check out the hipster mecca of the Pacific NW for years now, with its peaceful greenery, ample breweries, delicious coffee, and burgeoning food (cart) scene.

In the end, I found that the things I love to do most in Portland are the things that don’t set it apart from SF. I like the boozy brunches, snobby cocktail joints and casual yet upscale new American restos. SF arguably has more of each. Yet at the same time, I found Portland to be a calmer, cleaner city than SF, refreshingly so. A city in which I could feel comfortable walking the streets at all hours of the night, rather than having to worry about being pistol-whipped or stepping in human feces. A city in which the baristas are cute *and* friendly, and where cars will stop to let you jaywalk in front of them rather than laying on their horn and charging right at you.

A city that’s incredibly quiet, even at the hippest establishments, perhaps because they are filled with white people (Charlotte from SATC says WASPs don’t yell?). Yes, Portland is a shockingly white city, which was kind of disarming to our 5/6ths asian crew. In the Pearl District, we would literally traverse several city blocks, sit in certain restaurants for over an hour, without seeing a single non-white person. Not saying that’s a bad thing but very curious indeed.

The hype around places like Voodoo Donuts, Powell’s Books, Kenny and Zuke’s, Apizza Scholls and Stumptown is palpable, but we decided as a group to not bother with the first two, namely because, (1) waiting in line for donuts is stupid and on the rare occasion that I crave a donut, I want it to be simple and straightforward, not laden with fruit loops or shaped like a penis, and (2) seeing Powell’s Books (which was right next to our hotel) from the outside was good enough for me. We steered clear of Kenny and Zuke’s, also next to the hotel, as Jane mentioned that the food there is “gross.”

[We stayed at the Ace.]

* Day 1 – The Pearl District *

There was no shortage of recommendations for coffee shops to check out in Portland. Stumptown is perhaps the most well-known, but I’d also been told to go to Heart, and Barista came very highly recommended by the biggest coffee geek we know. I’ve only recently begun to appreciate the role the barista plays in producing a good cup of coffee. Coffee from the best roaster, if burned, tastes like shit. Barista boasted both talented baristas and a carefully curated selection of espresso and coffee from the likes of Stumptown, Heart and Intelligentsia. (They have tastings every Monday to figure out their line-up.) It was just what we needed to kick off our vacation.

My Nicaraguan french press from Intelligentsia.

The first time we went to Barista, Jane ordered a delicious iced coffee made from a Guatemalan roast from Heart. Paired with a little soy milk it was ridiculously good. So good that on our last day in Portland the three of us came back and all ordered it.

Next it was time for Deschutes Brewery, which Jane had been raving about since her last trip to Portland. I have to say, it was definitely one of the highlights of our weekend. We each started off with a sampler and some food, followed by another round of oh I don’t remember. I think of the beers we ordered Cascade and Green Lakes were my favorites. I also ordered the most amazing, succulent elk burger. Who knew?! It was possibly the best thing I ate on the trip. I can’t stop thinking about it.

[elk burger with gruyere, roasted shallot and thyme mayo, brioche bun]

After a hazy shopping experience and getting acquainted with our hotel room, we ventured out again to Teardrop Lounge, a cocktail bar well-loved by Chowhounders and recommended by our server at Deschutes. We were warned that the bartenders there would be “snobby” but I guess I don’t give a damn as long as they can make me an interesting cocktail. It’s not like I’m going to order a pineapple vodka or some shit.

An interesting interior…

Jane and I were quite fixated on this useful glossary of cocktail terms. “Nopa should have something like this,” said she. Are you there, Nopa? It’s me, Tranny.

Unfinished Business: gin, Cocchi Americano, Bonal gentian aperitif, Rocky’s bitters, agave nectar, absinthe.

We finished off the day with dinner at Clyde Common.

Communal tables seem to be the trend in Portland.

[East of Eden: gin, lemon, egg whites, gewurztraminer reduction, elderflower]

I started off with the fideos, which I liked and Jane loved. Note to self: never order dishes drenched in squid ink if wearing a newly purchased white blouse.

[fideos, scallops, squid, Italian sausage, squid ink vinaigrette, aioli]

My entree made for a great picture, but I have to say that the trout tasted a bit too earthy for me. Note to self: inquire as to the type of trout upon ordering, only order ocean trout, never river trout.

[prosciutto wrapped trout, lemon, greens, fried egg, maitake]

I am realizing now that I have too many photos for one post…
Days 2-3 here.

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June 4, 2011

soup diary: hot, sour, savory

As I get older, my eyes get worse. I squint at menus painted above the cashiers at Mexican restaurants. I actually feel *hung over* the morning after a big night of drinking. I’m not as sharp as I used to be. And you know what else? I’ve somehow managed to dull my palate. Me, the girl who used to have no tolerance for spicy foods as a child, now piles Tapatio on top of her eggs and burritos. At sushi restaurants, I add so much wasabi to my soy sauce that it turns into a paste and my nose explodes. I crave savory, spicy soups like tom yum and bun rieu (and kimchi ramyun hehe) that burn as they go down, all the way to my esophagus, but with a pleasurable kind of pain that immediately fuels the impulse to slurp down another spoonful. Nowadays, when I’m sitting in bed watching Skins with Paul, I rarely order anything other than Thai food for delivery. It’s the tom yum goong for sure. That spicy, savory, sour broth is irresistible to my asian palate. It’s addicting.

Well one day I was like, “What the hell? Why don’t I ever attempt to satiate my craving for hot, salty, sour liquids with something homemade?” Surely it’s not difficult to craft a soup with these very qualities. Well actually, it kind of is if you are living in Lower Haight. I found myself wanting to bus over to Duc Loi, the closest bonafide asian supermarket I know, where I could find the ingredients that are key to such a soup. Ingredients like shrimp paste, or really anything to make a shrimp or crab-based broth. Luckily the Korean mini mart on Divis and Page had shrimp bouillon; if it didn’t I simply would not have been able to make a soup bearing the flavors I so desperately craved. I mean, Falletti doesn’t offer any means of making a pork or shrimp stock, short of making it from scratch of course. They also had a disappointing selection of spicy flavorings for me to put in my soup. I ended up opting for the chili garlic sauce that I had leftover in my fridge. It looks like this.

I feel like it’s pretty standard though in most grocery stores, in spite of the fact that it’s a Viet condiment.

I had bun rieu on my mind so I opted for the skinny rice stick noodles, fried up some tofu, added some fresh tomatoes and tomato paste to the shrimp stock, and threw in some canned crab. I also added some kale and pea shoots for something green. I didn’t have kefir lime leaves or lemon grass, so regular old limes had to do. I threw in some basil at the end for an aromatic effect.

So anyway, I’d call this a mix between tom yum and bun rieu, using (mostly) whitey ingredients.

Hot, Sour, Savory Soup with Fried Tofu, Crab & Kale
- Fry up some tofu. Pat extra firm tofu dry with paper towels and then fry, in cubes, in canola oil until brown and crispy on both sides. Season with salt.
- Make shrimp stock. (For me, this entailed dissolving 2 shrimp bouillon cubes in 6 cups of boiling water.)
- As the soup is simmering, add the zest of 1 lime and the juice of 2 limes.
- Add 3 heaping tbsp of chili garlic sauce.
- Cut 2-3 tomatoes into wedges and throw them in the soup.
- De-stem and chop some dino kale and throw it in the soup.
- Add 1 tbsp of tomato paste.
- As the soup is simmering and after you’ve added these things, taste it for seasoning. Adjust as necessary.
- Then add two cans of crab and the rice sticks and allow to simmer for a few minutes until the noodles are soft. Turn off the heat.
- Stir in chiffonade basil, pea shoots, the fried tofu and some chopped scallions. Serve immediately topped with more basil.

We had leftovers for days, it was delicious and sinus-cleansing, and it really didn’t take long to make at all. Next time I’ll make an asian soup for real, but this one suited me just fine.

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May 21, 2011

veg ribbon “pasta” with toasted breadcrumbs

Ribbon salads are quite common, and I even remember Caro telling me once about a pasta salad she’d had at an Ici luncheon with strips of squash and trumpet mushroom. When Paul and I were in LA visiting my parents a few weekends ago he ordered this salad at Mar’sel that looked like pappardelle but was really perfectly dressed strips of hearts of palm and zucchini. The more that I mature as a home cook, the more I’m drawn to meals like these, that serve an aesthetic purpose almost higher than the eating of the dish itself. It’s fun and creative and feels like art.

Tired and silly as it may be I don’t think I’ll ever not find making my food smile back at me amusing. In fact I think I shall do this more often when I’ve had a bad day.

I realize how this sounds but I think I push myself more to make my food look beautiful and focus on the details if I’m cooking vegetarian. For me a meal of all veg needs to have that extra novelty above and beyond being flavorsome and well-executed. I should really create a vegetarian tag on here. FYI, if your Google Reader (hi Carson) randomly shows posts that I made several months ago, it’s probably because I’ve added or reclassified a tag on the post. I wish it wouldn’t do that because I’m constantly having to reevaluate the way things are organized on this blog.

The idea was to make a “pasta” entirely of ribbons of (or ribbon-like) vegetables. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve seen a number of veg ribbon dishes in my day, but none that went whole hog with the ribbons as pasta idea. So I had Paul pick up a small eggplant, three trumpet mushrooms, a bundle of skinny asparagus, three zucchini and basil at Berkeley Bowl. I also had him pick up the small balls of mozzarella, for a “spaghetti & meatballs” type motif. I already had panko breadcrumbs, lemons and garlic on hand.

First, I prepped the vegetables for their transformation into “pasta.” I peeled the eggplant and cut the less tender ends off the trumpet mushrooms, asparagus and zucchini. Then, using my handy dandy mandoline and tip-of-the-knife skills, I cut the trumpet mushrooms, zucchini and eggplant into strips. I tried to make the strips as long as possible (which is no easy feat) and also made sure not to cut them too thin, because I didn’t want them to fall apart after roasting. After tossing them with olive oil, salt and pepper, I roasted the eggplant, trumpet mushrooms and asparagus at 400 degrees F until tender but not falling apart. The eggplant and trumpet mushrooms didn’t take long at all because the strips were pretty thin.

I kept the zucchini raw, for a little bit of crunch.

While the vegetables were roasting, I made the lemon garlic vinaigrette we love to make around here. I actually kept track of the proportions this time: two small garlic cloves smashed in the mortar and pestle with a teaspoon of kosher salt until creamy, zest of half a lemon, juice of a lemon, teaspoon of dijon and just enough extra virgin olive oil to bring it all together (I hate it when dressings are too oily).

I tossed all of the veg strips with the vinaigrette, like a beautiful salad.

For the finishing touches, I toasted some breadcrumbs in a pan with a little bit of olive oil, some slivered garlic and a pinch of salt. I cut my basil into chiffonade, obviously, to keep with the ribbon theme. I tossed the basil with the dressed veg strips and then plated the veg “pasta” with mozzarella balls, toasted breadcrumbs and more chiffonade basil on top.

It was delicious, it took me under an hour to make, and serving four people it probably would’ve come out to under $5 per person. Maybe those vegetarians really do have the right idea..

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May 3, 2011

frittata-off

I realized that though I’ve written about frittatas on here before and make them all the time, I’ve never actually posted a recipe. I think I never bothered because I figured it was too simple a dish to be worth mentioning, but I realized as of late that that’s not necessarily true. I had been confident that I, and anyone who set their mind to it, could make a perfect frittata with minimal effort, until the rekindling of an old rivalry cast doubt on my former self-assurance. Char and I both love to cook and both have significant others who love to eat, so we decided to have a duel of sorts, but were unsure as to what the battleground should be. We had to limit ourselves to one dish given capacity constraints in my kitchen, and we thought that a Top Chef-esque showdown might be too open-ended (the dishes needed be comparable), while an Iron Chef-esque showdown could too easily lead to an uneven playing field (he doesn’t really cook seafood, while I have very limited experience cooking duck and pork).

After Annabel mentioned a frittata he’d made once, I knew that had to be it — a frittata-off. Of course he was game, because he’s cooked many frittatas in his day, as have I. But once I set to it I realized there were so many ways in which such a simple dish could be.. imperfect. The right cooking vessel, the right balance of cheese, eggs and milk (my preference is to use milk because I always have it on hand while Char is a proponent of using cream), the right timing — all of these things are required to produce a frittata with a lovely fluffy texture that is nice and thick and not burnt on the bottom. Or at least these were the thoughts that flooded my head once we started cooking. The funny thing is I still don’t really have precise measurements for this recipe, even after my frittata-making abilities were closely scrutinized, mainly by me.

Since we had limited information about each other’s technique, the strategy lay in our respective selections of ingredients, which would not be revealed until the morning of the frittata-off. I decided to do a variation on the frittata I made last Easter when we were living in the Oakland house, which had pancetta, asparagus, green garlic, chives, parsley and parmesan. Falletti does not have green garlic. So I made one with pancetta, leek, regular garlic, asparagus, parsley and parm this time.

Char’s shtick seems to be extravagance with fats and rich flavors, so he opted to make a potato and leek frittata with crumbled bacon and two types of cheeses – parmesan and gruyere. I have to hand it to him — using gruyere was a really nice variation and added great flavor. I had never considered using a hard cheese other than parmesan in my frittatas, for whatever reason.

Note that we both chose to use leeks and cured pork belly, because those are essential to pretty much any frittata. But in spite of these same ingredients choices we still ended up making frittatas that were quite different. Even though I used a stick of butter in mine, mine was deemed the “healthy” option, while Brent’s had not a single fleck of green.

It was KZ who first made me a frittata and then later gave me the recipe while I was abroad, by posting it on my Facebook wall. I’ve used some variation of this recipe ever since. This is how I made my contender for our frittata-off. If you want Brent’s recipe, you’re going to have to ask him. His was more layered like a tart.

- Choose a pan that is oven-safe and not too large. You don’t want the frittata to be too thin.
- Make the egg mixture: beat a dozen eggs with (1/2 a cup?) of milk, season with s&p, add about 1/3 a cup of grated parmesan. Preheat the broiler.
- Fry the pancetta or bacon to desired crispness. Set aside. Pour off some of the fat but keep most of it.
- Saute the asparagus and leeks with garlic and butter in the pork fat pan. Season with s&p.
- Once the vegetables are almost cooked through (you don’t want to overcook the asparagus – if it’s bright green and still a little crunchy it’s the right time), add a little more butter and oil to the pan to coat the bottom (if needed), let it heat up a bit, then add the egg mixture. Give it a quick stir to let some of the eggs run to the bottom of the pan. Keep over medium-high heat until the eggs are just set on the top. If I had to give one tip on making frittatas it would be to watch it like a hawk, rotating the pot so it cooks evenly and giving it a gentle shake every once in a while. If you smell burning, rotate the pot, move it to the side a bit, turn down the heat, whatever you have to do. This is obviously not an exact science.
- Once the eggs are almost set but just a little runny on the top, pop it in the broiler to finish off the top. This should take 5 minutes at most. When you take it out, the top should be slightly puffed up and just starting to brown. Immediately top it with more freshly grated parm so that it melts. Let it cool for a little while before serving. Top with fresh parsley.

Char’s frittata came out looking like a double cheese pizza from Pizza Hut, but it was deliciously decadent and I must confess, slightly thicker than mine (if you’re into that).

He served us a few pieces then, suddenly and inexplicably, Char’s frittata committed suicide. I laughed while Annabel hunched over in mourning.

At least I got my piece! (BTW, in the end only P and A were present for the tasting, so the competition would’ve most certainly been a draw had anyone vocalized their vote. Or else they would’ve been in the dog house.)

LOL.

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April 26, 2011

crabs for easter

It’s always a treat to visit my parents for a weekend in their swank new hilltop domicile with ocean views. They have everything a DIY foodie could possibly want — a wall of picture windows (read: loads of natural light for food photography), a spacious kitchen, sharp knives, disposable income and willingness to buy me the groceries I want, and gracious, adoring palates. It hadn’t even occurred to me when I booked flights for P and I that we’d be visiting the folks on easter weekend. It wasn’t until my dad emailed me a menu, oh that horrendous menu, of the easter Sunday brunch at Fleming’s that I became aware of the occasion. Scoffing at the menu, I immediately shot him an email back saying I’d prefer to make us brunch instead.

On the flight down, Nimbus and I began brainstorming ideas for easter brunch. I was initially going to do a corned beef hash with a poached egg on top (à la Nopa) with sage biscuits (à la Jane). In the end, my dread of baking and desire to cater to my mom’s tastes (she’s not so much a meat and potatoes gal) got the best of me, and I decided to go the more *fresh* *California* *hotel brunch* route.

Inspired by a salad Caro loves to make, or at least, that we often talk about (whenever it’s strawberry season, strawberry salads come out to play), I decided a strawberry-goat cheese-sugar snap pea salad would have to make an appearance in the brunch spread. I’d been thinking spinach but when we got to Bristol Farms I noticed they had mache, a spinach-like baby lettuce that’s sweet and nutty. It seemed like it would work perfectly and I’m always grasping for novelty in my food preparation (especially when I’m in an LA grocery store like Bristol Farms that doesn’t even have pea shoots or green garlic — I can’t help but be a produce snob!) so I nixed the spinach and went for the mache. I also grabbed some sliced almonds to round out the creamy sweet nutty flavor theme. The vinaigrette was a no-brainer — high quality Modena balsamic + pinch of dijon + honey + olive oil + pinch of salt + pepper — since good balsamic and strawberries is quite the classic combination.

I blanched the peas in salted boiling water for just a few minutes before rinsing them off under cold water. I really should blanch things more often but often find myself too lazy. It really is immensely more pleasant to bite into a blanched pea pod in your salad than a raw one, at least in my humble opinion – you still get the freshness and crunch but not to a grating degree.

[strawberry, sugar snap pea and mache salad with goat cheese and almonds, balsamic honey vinaigrette)

But this brunch wouldn't be my kind of brunch without a savory star to wake up the ol' palate. A gigantic crab cake, with a poached egg on top, and some kind of herby lemony reduction. My mom loves crab cakes and I love eggs. So we'd both be happy. (The men are easier to please.)

I have to hand it to Bristol Farms - their produce selection might be weak by Bay Area standards but their dungeness crab meat is top notch. The fishmonger picked out the best bits for me because I spoke to him on the phone. The meat was so sweet and succulent -- I almost regretted turning it into crab cakes.

[dungeness crab cake over mache, poached egg, lemon dill parsley reduction]

A bite or two of the unadulterated crab meat and I was ready to let go. I pretty much stuck to my old recipe for crab cakes but went easier on the mayo and instead of chives threw some fresh green onion into the crab cake mixture. I also halved the recipe.

I had the poached eggs and crab cakes going at once – it was quite the spectacle. Luckily I had a (somewhat reliable) sous chef. I mean he did wig out once and tell me to pull out an egg before it was done but by the by, he was a trusty kitchen partner.

The reduction was the trickiest part of the meal, which is to say, not 100 percent straightforward. I cooked a minced shallot in some butter for a while before adding a quarter cup of dry vermouth, the juice and zest of a lemon and a cup of fish stock. I reduced the fish stock by about half and added s&p and another quarter cup of vermouth to balance the flavors a bit. Right at the end I added corn starch slurry because it wasn’t thickening to my liking. I guess that’s cheating but who cares! I took it off the heat then stirred in a shitload of chopped fresh parsley and dill, because I wanted the reduction to be green. The herbs ended up browning in the hot liquid but the reduction still tasted great. I drizzled it over the poached egg right before serving.

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April 5, 2011

two months ago

I’m a different person than I was. I guess that’s a pretty trite thing to say but my lifestyle has changed in some very tangible ways. I work longer hours, sometimes staying at the office til 8.00 or 9.00. I do things like rock climbing. I go out in the Mission almost every weekend. I pretty much never go grocery shopping, ever, unless I’m *about* to cook something. I never really photograph my food anymore. Can this be perceived as a good thing? Do I have a life now or have I simply lost the motivation to do something so important for myself, that is, exercise some creativity and cook myself a nice meal? I mean, I still cook, on the fly, on the weekends mostly, but when was the last time I totally geeked out over a menu?

Valentine’s Day.

[pan-roasted duck legs with five spice orange glaze, asian brussels sprouts slaw]

On Valentine’s Day I fulfilled my New Year’s resolution of cooking with duck. I had this insane craving for peking duck, which is pretty much impossible to replicate at home (I didn’t really try), so I tried my best to mimic the flavors and textures. The dish that resulted was fantastic in its own right, but certainly not peking duck. I decided to make a syrup-y glaze for the duck with five spice and orange — a five spice peking duck à l’orange of sorts. And to go with it? An asiany brussels sprouts (because we had some on hand) slaw and a bed of jasmine rice. Simple, hearty, amazing.

To make the glaze, I simmered 4 cups of water, the juice of half an orange, 2 tablespoons of honey, 4 tablespoons of soy sauce, 1 tablespoon of brown sugar and 1 tablespoon of five spice powder in a saucepan with thick slices of fresh orange and ginger and a few cloves of garlic smashed with the base of the knife. I simmered this for about 20 minutes and then removed the orange and ginger slices and took it off the heat. Don’t let the orange slices fall apart on you — fish them out sooner if needed. I wanted the sauce to have kind of a syrup-y texture.

[with a little help from my friends]

I don’t think that I understood how Mark Bittman’s method was supposed to work as well as I should’ve at the time. Brent had given me this lovely bottle of champagne for my birthday that we drank almost all of while cooking, so maybe that’s why. The basic idea is to render out most of the duck fat without overcooking the duck. First, season the duck legs with s&p then put them skin side down in a skillet over medium heat until the skin starts to sizzle, then cover and turn the heat down. Flip the duck after 15 or so minutes and cook for another 15 or so. Then take the lid off and turn the heat up so you can brown the duck on both sides. Once the outside is nice and crisp, set the duck legs aside and pour off most of the fat. Then deglaze the pan with a few healthy splashes of mirin. Add the five spice orange mixture and bring to a bubble, then add back the duck legs and simmer them for just a few minutes in the sauce until they are well-glazed on both sides.

To make the slaw, use a mandoline or sharp knife to slice the brussels sprouts into thin strips. Add grated carrot, diced serrano chile (you don’t need much), chopped scallions and some freshly chopped cilantro and mint. To make the vinaigrette, combine a bit of sesame oil with freshly grated ginger, unseasoned rice wine vinegar and fish sauce. Adjust the proportions according to taste. I ended up adding more fish sauce because I love it. The savory and pungent flavor of the fish sauce is simply delightful with the freshness of the cilantro and mint. Toss the slaw with the vinaigrette right before serving.

That’s all I got for now. Good night friends.

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March 30, 2011

oysters anonymous

When you find people who share your same interests, things can get dangerous. A shared passion quickly becomes a relationship of enabling. One feels pressed to go all out. Whether it’s eating two dozen oysters in front of Jane on your birthday, drunk texting with Nina about oyster cravings (and fiendishly seeking out $1 oyster happy hours), or challenging your east coast boss who you just met to an oyster-eating contest, my behavior as of late has been symptomatic of a penchant, an obsession even, for consuming those salty creamy bivalves. And I know plenty of people who feel (almost) as strongly. One afternoon I paid a visit to my old ‘hood, on the other side of the bay, specifically Gina and Aaron’s house. G and I popped by Tokyo Fish Market, a first for me.

While Gina perused the raw fish section, picking out some fine cuts of hamachi, tuna and hirame for us to nosh on, I surveyed the oyster selection. I opted for a dozen Drakes Bay, a dozen Miyagi and a dozen Chatham, an east coast oyster, just to mix it up a bit. The Chatham oysters were just so sweet and creamy — my favorite of the bunch!

[top to bottom: chatham, miyagi, drakes bay]

Aaron gave Gina and I a little impromptu lesson on how to shuck oysters.

1. Stick the oyster shucking knife into the joint, the part that keeps the oyster together. Wiggle the knife around until you pierce through the joint.

2. Twist the knife back and forth once you’ve penetrated the joint to separate the two shells.

3. Once you’ve successively wedged the two shells apart, use the knife to separate the “feet” from the top and bottom of the oyster meat by running the knife between the meat and the shell that’s stuck to it, on both the top and bottom.

Then you’re pretty much done. We sampled our oysters will all types of dressings. We of course had the standard fare on hand – slices of lemon and a mignonette made of champagne vinegar and shallots.

And some smoked salt — it was wild.

Aaron even dappled with some of the chilis he had on hand.

Naturlich we punctuated this feast of bivalves with some freshly cut sashimi. Sometimes you just need some starch (a bowl of rice) to cut all the delicious raw seafood you’re consuming.

The ultimate: a Chatham oyster with wasabi tobiko and cream!

T’was truly a massacre.

The night only degenerated from there. After feasting on three dozen oysters, two bottles of sparkling wine, and some eps of Heston Blumenthal and Rick Bayless, Aaron busted out some foie gras that’d been in their freezer for god knows how long. He lightly seared it and then used the cooking oil to make some — you guessed it — foie gras popcorn! Stinky.

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March 5, 2011

a carnitas revelation

Carnitas are easy to make! Had I known this, I would’ve saved so much money on super burritos over the years. (Rarely do I take any kind of meat besides carnitas in my burritos.) I really can’t get over how beautifully this meal turned out. I’d had this recipe from the Homesick Texan in the back of my mind for some time (how could I not — it’s just so easy!) and one evening I just decided to go for it. Three hours later I was eating better than I ever had.

I believe the proportions are 1 cup of orange juice + 3 cups of water for 3 lbs of pork butt. You just cut the pork into strips, leaving the fat on, and cover it in a pot with those liquids. Salting the pork well at this stage is also key.

[note: the water had not yet been added at the time this photo was taken]

A low and slow simmer for two hours, uncovered, and you’re ready to turn the heat up to boil off the liquid. This should take about 45 minutes or less. Stirring near the end of this cooking time is crucial lest the precious carnitas start to burn. Apparently the fat slowly seeps out as the water evaporates during the initial simmering period so that the pork is eventually being cooked in its own fat. Once you turn up the heat the pork caramelizes in the sugar from the orange juice and the rendered fat. About 15 minutes before the pork was done cooking I deglazed the pan with a healthy splash (or three) of brandy, because why the hell not? It’s delicious. More sugar = more caramelization = more of what I love in carnitas. Turn off the heat, adjust the seasoning and you’re good to go. These carnitas could be eaten on their own (as Andrea demonstrated when she came over later that night with a few drinks in her and ate what was left straight out of the tupperware ) or in a simple taco or burrito. When you’ve put in that much work (if you could even call it that), why not just serve them in a really plain fashion? Showcase the meat — that’s the whole point anyway.

So how did I decide to serve up this godly, mind-blowing creation? Well, I was reminded of this time that I was over for dinner at Gina and Aaron’s last year. They had just made Rick Bayless’s banana leaf roasted pork, and they served it with some lovely pickled red onions in some very simple soft tacos. I just found that to be so elegant (yet tasty) that I had to rip off the idea. During the two hours of simmering I had some time to kill, so I decided to quick pickle some shallots using leftover pickling liquid from that time I pickled quail eggs (why not save your pickling liquid — it doesn’t spoil and clearly comes in handy), Mexican pickled jalapenos in their juice, red wine vinegar, garlic, bay leaf, salt, and some coriander and peppercorns I had lying around.

I simmered the shallots in the pickling mixture for about 15 minutes before pouring everything into a jar and popping it in the fridge for an hour. With the help of some chopsticks to extract the shallots from the other mess I had some beautiful pickled shallots, ready to serve, by the time the carnitas were done! I’d also, to my great surprise, found some ripe avocados at Health Haven on Divis. I made a lemon-y, cilantro-y guacamole to serve with the carnitas and pickled shallots.