By Product

Moving

2009-01-16T15:55:00.003-05:00

I have a pretty new home, here.

Please update any feeders, links, and the like. And please come visit often.

Lots of Beer, and the Pretend Hike

2009-01-05T13:17:00.000-05:00

The holidays have come and gone with but one unadorned post from Cmoore. If you think I'm backtracking to make up for lost time, think again -- my gastronomic delights for the month of December shall remain largely anonymous. However, I did happen to spend two obscenely serene nights on the northern California coast. See?

We stayed in Mendocino (above), but stopped by Anderson Valley Brewing Company in Boonville on the way up. After sampling the full gamut on tap (12 brews total) we walked out with hefty bottles of their Hop Ottin' IPA, and Boont Amber Ale (not to mention a hefty buzz). The Winter Solstice may have been our favorite, but the rich creaminess and pleasant wintry spice that made it so pleasant might be cloying after a full pint. I kept hoping to hear a snippet of Boontling, but no such luck.

The next day we continued north up the coast to Fort Bragg, home of North Coast Brewing Company's brewery and brewpub. My lady finally indulged in the beer-batter fish and (garlic) chips she had been craving, and I revisited a childhood favorite with the buttered clams steamed in wheat beer (a grown-up twist).

We intended to order their 10-beer sampler, but a convincing server led us to the full 12-beer set. C. favored their flagship Red Seal and the various Belgian impersonators like Brother Thelonius, a pseudo-dubbel. I picked the ever-robust Old Stock Ale for my top choice. After a pint of that we postponed our intended 7-mile hike, possibly indefinitely (or at least until the next getaway).

Both breweries were excellent, but I'd have to say North Coast pulled ahead. The wines we sampled (Navarro and Pacific Star) were alright and awful, respectively. At least none of them tried to pull this pie shot stint like the "bakery" down the block...

Holiday Foods, with an Asian influence

2008-12-24T09:30:00.006-05:00

I was assigned Christmas Eve dinner at the Tarr household (my standby locale for the winter holiday season). Growing up, Christmas Eve meant going to church and then eating clam chowder, so my mind automatically went to the happy soup-and-salad place. I like light food the day before Christmas, and even when my night in the kitchen got bumped from Christmas Eve to the night before the night before Christmas, I stuck with that idea.

I meant to serve minted goat cheese (with a hint of lemon zest) on whole grain baguette with pomegranate seeds as an appetizer, but that ended up paired with the second/soup course (see below). It was delicious -- I highly recommend you start mashing fresh herbs into your goat cheese on a regular basis.

Instead, we started with the salad. I have no photos of this salad because I was too busy making a three-course meal for five to document the results, but I am going to tell you about it anyways. I've never told you about my obsession with poached eggs, have I? Pity. It is real and it is encompassing, and it is largely unsatisfied. I have yet to poach an egg well. Still the quest continues, and the interest has yet to wane. So as I was planning this Christmas Eve-Eve salad, I started with the idea of a perfectly poached egg resting on top of some lightly dressed bitter greens (in this case, frisée, watercress, and a bit of arugula). After considerable deliberation I also threw in some edamame, roasted shitaake mushrooms, kalamata olives, and fontina croutons.

The dressing was the real star but I can't exactly tell you what was in it. I'd like to pretend that's because it's top-secret, classified information, but in fact I put so many ingredients into it that I don't exactly remember all of them. I know there was sherry vinegar, olive oil, tahini, pumpkin butter, black sesame seeds, and tamari, and that I may start a new love affair with the humble whisk.

The soup was a pile of roasted tomatoes, garlic, red peppers, and sage, pureed and simmered with a bit of vegetable stock, a splash of almond milk, and plenty of cajun seasoning (cayenne, smoked paprika, lemon pepper, onion powder, and sea salt). I left a little surprise of roasted chickpeas in the bottom of each bowl, and finished it off with a few more fontina croutons and some parsley.

And finally, for dessert I made almond meringues, which were perfect for dipping in Mexican hot chocolate (a favorite) made with almond milk, lactose-free cocoa powder, cinnamon, cardamom, chipotle powder, and brandy.

And now I hang my metaphorical apron until Friday. I find it fortunate that although I despise Christmas, my ladyfriend's day of birth happens to be the day after the big day. As long as I can find crab and artichokes there should be a stellar post coming your way this weekend...

Paella

2008-12-03T02:13:00.008-05:00

Every other Monday night Lady and I stay in, so this week instead of a restaurant review I have a probably-more-exciting synopsis of my attempt at pescatarian-friendly paella. I've never made paella before, and was mainly excited that I finally had an excuse to purchase saffron. Saffron is one of those foods that should be given as a gift (along with, in my opinion, organic mangoes, avocados, chestnuts, truffles--chocolate or more preferably fungal, whole nutmeg pods, really incredible coffee, really bitter chocolate, marcona almonds, and anything grown in a windowsill or backyard).

I started with this recipe but tweaked it quite a bit and came up with something closer to this:

1 bag Trader Joe's frozen seafood blend (16 oz of shrimp, calamari rings, and scallops)
Olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup chopped red bell pepper
1+ tsp sweet paprika
3/4 tsp cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper
4 + 2 +1 garlic cloves, crushed
2 cups uncooked Arborio rice
1 1/4 cup frozen green peas
3/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
2 vegan sausage (I used Italian-style because I like the sun-dried tomatoes in this)
16 littleneck clams
1 can artichoke hearts, halved, liquid reserved
3+ cups vegetable stock simmered with 1 tsp saffron threads
1 1/4 cup beer (I used an IPA; a saison or pale ale would also do nicely)

Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large paella pan or skillet over medium-high heat. Add seafood blend (not defrosted); saute 3-5 minutes with 2 cloves garlic, cayenne, and paprika (the seafood mixture will not be cooked through). Set aside, reserving liquid.

Add onion and bell pepper to pan, and saute 5 minutes. Add the remaining cayenne and paprika, crushed red pepper, and 3 garlic cloves; cook 5 minutes. Add rice and cook 1 minute, stirring constantly. Stir in broth, beer, seafood liquid, parsley, 4 cloves garlic, half the lemon juice, and peas. Bring to a low boil and cook 10 minutes, stirring frequently.

In a separate pan, brown sausage in a bit of oil, adding drained artichoke hearts, 1 clove garlic, and a bit of paprika near the end of cooking time.

Add clams to paella pan, nestling into rice mixture. Cook 5 minutes or until shells open; discard any unopened shells. Stir in the seafood and the sausage mixture. Add more liquid (from artichokes or extra broth) as necessary until rice is tender. Sprinkle with lemon juice (or rice vinegar), fresh parsley, salt (we used Tony Chacery's, but that's for another post), and plenty of cracked black pepper. Remove from heat; cover with a towel and let stand 10 minutes.

We were going to pair a crisp Spanish white or even a tempranillo blend with our paella, but really we both love beer and that makes more sense to my palate anyways. I deliberated between saisons and tripels in the grocery store, but ended up with North Coast Brewery's Le Merle. This is a truly excellent California saison, with just enough spice and hops to stand up to our flavorful meal, but still light enough that you would never guess it rings in at 7.9% ABV.

Next conquest: gluten-free vegan pizza. That tastes good. I know I've got you on the edge of your seat...

Confession.

2008-11-26T14:54:00.001-05:00

It's a lazy Wednesday morning and while I should be memorizing the functions of the Stomach meridian I find myself nestled in borrowed boxers with a plate of leftover Chinese food in front of me with no desire to read about wind heat and borborygmus. Ladyfriend tried to make me one of her "delicious" green drink smoothies (frozen strawberries and bananas, protein powder, green..powder...of some nutritional sort, and almond milk), but I was having a distinct craving for leftover mu shu vegetables (I credit the midnight tequila, but that's subject matter for another post). Which reminded me of this draft of my gastronomic guilty pleasures.

I started this list months ago, before I had a real kitchen in San Francisco, and continued it through the days when memorizing muscle attachments took precedence over, say, purchasing produce. In the absence of free time I found myself taking shortcuts and falling back on my less sophisticated preferences. In fact, I distinctly remember pondering my Gastronomic Guilty Pleasures while sitting in a cafe that happened to be playing a (cough, country) song that falls into the category of Musical Guilty Pleasures. Hm. I'm also going to share that I seem to be falling for Ladyfriend, and even though this feels like an incredibly healthy dynamic it seems apropos to enumerate the less-than-healthy foods that I fall for every time.

* Leftover mu shu vegetables, generally without the rice wrappers and potentially cold.

* Mayonnaise. I could practically eat it with a spoon, but I usually make myself scrape it off the spoon onto some sort of bread product and top with salt. Maybe tomatoes if I'm feeling lypocene-deficient.

* Spaghetti-O's. From the can. With the same spoon (see above).

* I know organic, natural peanut butter is delicious and nutritious, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a weak spot for super-processed sugar-laden peanut butter (chunky). Jar --> spoon/finger --> mouth --> stomach.

* Macaroni salad from the Safeway deli. This should probably be a subset of "mayonnaise" but I do feel it warrants it's own line.

* Onion dip. You know. Marie's? The stuff that's basically sour cream and artificial flavors? Yeah.

There. I said it. Don't judge.

What are your guilty (gastronomic) pleasures?

Tuesday Review: Range

2008-11-25T21:07:00.001-05:00

My posts have been rather sporadic as of late, as you may have noticed. I seem to have gotten a) overcommitted, and b) involved with a very nice lady, hence a predictable lack of blogging time. I additionally seem to be entering some sort of unexpected cooking hibernation, and I'm honestly not putting up much of a fight. However, ladyfriend and I have been exploring the gastronomic options throughout San Francisco and she recently had the brilliant suggestion to post lurid details about our adventures here. Thus: Tuesday restaurant reviews.

Last night we struck out to Range. I've been eyeing Range since I first moved to the Mission, and passed Range every day on my way to yoga. I sensed that they had particularly inveigling culinary delights to share, but I needed the appropriate occasion and dining partner to venture out.

I was so right. The atmosphere is warm, home-y, and inviting -- plenty of dark wood and brushed silver, pleasant lighting, and perfect acoustics for dinner conversation. We started with the Quercus Harmonia Pinot Noir 2007 since ladyfriend was looking for something sweet and light, and the Andre Brunel Cotes du Rhone 2006 on the server's recommendation, since I was leaning towards something earthy. We subsequently swapped wines but both were excellent, with a mutual pleasant dustiness that complemented the autumnal flavors of our meal.

The menu looked lovely, but since we have a host of dietary restrictions between us (gluten-intolerant, loosely lactose-intolerant, pescatarian) we selected an array of appetizers. We were hesitant to order the barley-vegetable soup with gruyere croutons, but we weren't disappointed: it was fantastically seasoned and chock full of greens and root vegetables. The Bartlett pears with arugula, celery root, goat cheese, and hazelnuts were the real star for me, showcasing a melange of flavors that synchronized beautifully against the backdrop of rosemary vinaigrette.

For our next course we shared the raw California Yellowtail with pickled beets, meyer lemon, and tarragon which was...a disappointment. Ladyfriend insists the cut of fish was sub-par, and I didn't particularly care for the preparation. Fortunately the sweet-potato-stuffed pasta with sage, lemon, and pecans made up for it -- the lemon in particular added a lovely bracing quality against the sweet heaviness of the wintry fillings.

For dessert we chose the bittersweet chocolate espresso souffle with cinnamon-caramel swirl ice cream, paired with Ottimino Zinfandel 2005 and the Taylor Fladgate late bottled vintage port 2000, and every single one of those flavors worked together so incredibly well. Port and chocolate have to be one of my favorite decadent combinations, and I give Sam the server major props for pushing me that direction.

Ladyfriend additionally notes the excellent service and lovely food presentation, for an overall score of 9.0 (our highest yet; retroactive restaurant reviews to come). I loved it all that and a little more for a 9.1.

A question for you, kind readers: what do you think about taking cameras into restaurants? I know certain New York establishments have banned photography at the table, and I do feel disgustingly overt/tacky/touristy/amateur whipping out my little Sony Cybershot before each course. But, I know that reviews with a view are significantly superior. Thoughts?

Fiats

2008-11-20T04:32:00.005-05:00

Eggs should be consumed:

* With copious amounts of cracked pepper and kosher salt.
* In tandem with sourdough toast.
* Accented (color, flavor, spice) with sriracha; any hot sauce will do. I suppose.

Avocado should be consumed:

* Whenever possible.

Gardenburger Porta(/o)bella(/o) Patties

2008-11-06T06:47:00.000-05:00

Remember that Gardenburger I had last Tuesday? It catalyzed not only the subsequent yam fries, but seems to have reversed my aversion to Gardenburgers.

Traditionally I like neither Gardenburgers nor portobella mushrooms, either as a sandwich or an entree, largely due to fourteen years of vegetarianism, which included the dark years when most tofu was only served in Chinese food restaurants and Starbucks didn't offer soy milk. Back in the day, vegetarians were stuck with the ubiquitous Gardenburger at every family BBQ, camp dinner, team function, and school lunch. Pretty much the only place you couldn't find a Gardenburger was at fast food joints on the way home from away games with high school sports teams, so you'd make do with a large milkshake and fries and remind yourself to bring an apple next time.

Times have changed, and I generally prefer to take advantage of the more exciting (and often more nutritious) options now available to the vegetarian crowd. However, portobellas (the spelling of which can't seem to be agreed upon -- variations include portobello, portabella, and portabello) are now treated as the "steak of the forest" (credit Ruth Ryus).

But for some reason as I was browsing through the grocery store these Gardenburger Portobella Burgers caught my eye, and when I got home from class this afternoon I knew exactly what I wanted. Layered with avocado, thick slices of tomato, spring mix, and mayo and mustard on whole grain bread, this managed to satisfy my lately insatiable appetite.

Next time, I'm using sriracha, kim chee, and alfalfa sprouts. Other good burger-topping combinations?

Yam Fries: Not as suave, but just as tasty

2008-10-22T11:47:00.003-04:00

I splurged on a garden burger for my study snack yesterday (instead of my usual cafe-fare Italian soda), and made the healthy choice of salad over fries. Naturally I regretted this as soon as the young woman two tables down from me received her Rueben with fries (and ample ketchup -- I'm a sucker for ketchup).

As I wandered home that evening, my brain quickly turned from reviewing the functions of the Large Intestine Meridian to recalling a conversation at work (the bar, not the spa) about where to get the best sweet potato fries in San Francisco. Since my brain cells are occupied with Chinese characters and Latin terminology these days, I'm afraid I can't pass on the local secrets, since I forgot them nearly as soon as I heard them. But I can tell you that I made a lovely batch of yam fries with achiote powder and coriander last night. I know, I know -- "yam fries" just doesn't have the zesty charm of "sweet potato fries", but I was working with what I had on hand.

These are baked, not fried, but if you leave them in a hot oven long enough they still get nice crisp edges. Serve with sweet chili sauce, and/or plain ol' ketchup.

2 Yams, cut into short fry-like chunks, or any shape you prefer
A small handful of achiote powder (made from annatto seeds, red and delicious, available at Mexican markets and elsewhere if you're lucky)
An ample shake of paprika
A few dashes of coriander powder
Cayenne, chili powder, or tabasco (I used the latter, but would have preferred the former)
Liberal pinches of sea salt
A tablespoon or two of olive oil

Toss to coat, spread out on a baking sheet (perhaps lined with foil if you're smarter than me), and bake for 30-40 minutes, or until edges are crisp and cooked through. Resist the urge to keep peeking and stirring -- one flip once they start to crisp is all you get. Remove and let cool! If you're smarter than me...

And, if you're like me, enjoy with beer. I'm still enjoying the last of summer's wheat beers, but I think an appropriately autumnal pumpkin ale would do as well, not to mention a classic pale ale or more gutsy IPA. If it's made from barley, it will go well.

Winter Soup for a Summer Day

2008-10-19T00:07:00.000-04:00

Every now and then I make something so good I surprise myself. Take, for example, this simple lentil soup I whipped up out of desperation when the cupboards were essentially completely bare (see previous post) and I was looking ahead to three days of nonstop work.

I don't particularly like lentils, and I don't especially enjoy making soups, but inspired by Vegan YumYum's post on making vegetable stock, I decided to brave the world of stockpots and slow simmers.

This soup is terribly wintery, which would be wonderful if it weren't 78 degrees and sunny in San Francisco! Still, soups are nourishing, and that just doesn't go out of season. You can choose to omit the wine, but a) then you're really missing out, and b) make sure you add an extra 1/2 cup of broth or water, and finish the soup with a few tablespoons of rice vinegar or apple cider vinegar.

1 red onion, chopped
2 carrots, halved and thinly sliced
6 cloves garlic, crushed
2 cups dry lentils
7 1/2 cups water or broth
1/2 cup white wine
1 acorn squash
Seasonings: I used cumin, oregano, chili paste

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

Heat a nice dollop of oil in a large stockpot. Add onions and carrots, cook part way, then add garlic and cook until everything is tender and fragrant. Add the lentils and a healthy spoonful of chili paste, stir to coat, then add cooking liquid, wine, and seasoning to taste (I did about 2 T crushed oregano and a whole lot of sea salt and cracked pepper). Let simmer about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, halve acorn squash, scrape out seeds, rub with olive oil, sprinkle with sea salt and cumin, and roast for about half an hour. When tender, remove, peel, and chop.

When lentils are nearly tender (and liquid is nearly gone) scoop out a cup or two and puree with a bit of water. Add back to stockpot along with acorn squash and maybe 1 more cup of water/broth. Heat through and dish up.

Serve with parmesan toasts, a smooth and full white wine, and a good novel.

Catastrophe

2008-10-18T11:56:00.000-04:00

No more Mother's Cookies?!

Check the link -- that includes Circus Animal Cookies. You know, the kind that were pink or white and covered with little round jimmies? A sad, sad day indeed.

As Halloween Approaches...

2008-10-17T16:53:00.006-04:00

...Maybe You Should Clean Out the Refrigerator

I think most of you will agree that this is a universally daunting task. Today, I took it on. Not only did I scrub out months (years?) of food scraps and questionable green stains, but I also discarded a healthy bagful of expired jarred foods: store-bought tomato sauce, with a friendly fuzzy grey substance crawling across the inside of the lid; tubs of non-blue cheese marbled with unwelcome streaks of blue and green; half an onion, half-heartedly swaddled in plastic, as brown and slimy as any Halloween fright you could come up with.

I moved into this apartment in August, and rumor has it nine (9!) human beings inhabited my little abode before the three of us became residents. Furthermore, my current room was most recently vacated by a couple who both took off for the corners of the world, leaving an array of condiments at our disposal. We have THREE JARS of mayonnaise. We have two (large) bottles of sriracha, and something else that looks similar but a tad thinner. There are four kinds of mustard in my refrigerator, as well as five types of jam (techinically two are preserves, but you get the idea). Two jars of capers stand pillared next to two jars of olives, and there is a host of unidentifiable sauces labeled in Asian characters waiting patiently to spice up my next stir-fry.

I bet at this point you think I am going to post about how I used my culinary prowess to concoct a gastronomic miracle out of pickled ginger, a two-week-old cucumber, and three kinds of hot sauce.

You are (thankfully) wrong. But I am going to show you the very nice lunch I put together with sprouting potatoes, summer squash, and the dregs of a package of soy chorizo. There is ample garlic and oregano, a hint of mustard, and a generous dusting of parmesan on top for a proper finishing touch.

The real point of this post: do you know what's in your refrigerator?

Trouble Brewing

2008-10-08T22:14:00.008-04:00

If you've been keeping any kind of tabs on the brewing world you know that hop prices have skyrocketed -- not to mention grain prices -- and consequently brewers everywhere are spiking the price of a pint. This is particularly true of the All-American super-hoppy beers, which obviously call for even more hops (money) per batch. However, this Wall Street Journal article on "The Future of Beer" points out that beer sales are nonetheless on the rise. This might, in part, be due to the appeal of a pricey pilsner or pale ale in our current downtrodden economy: "Craft beer is still one of cheaper luxury items people can buy". Good beer is a splurge, but an affordable luxury even in the midst of our crisis. So go on, shell out the extra few dollars and support craft brewers -- and enjoy doing it.

Check out this WSJ video on the hop shortage, and the brewers who are still coming out on top:

Chauvinism or Chivalry?

2008-10-08T12:20:00.005-04:00

A friend passed on this New York Times article on gender roles in fine dining atmospheres. Author Frank Bruni notes, "Although the goal in many public places and in much of public life is to treat men and women equally, most upscale restaurants haven’t reached that point. Then again they haven’t really tried all that hard. They’ve learned that ignoring gender is risky, and often foolish, because men and women approach and respond to restaurants in different ways, looking for different things." What are your thoughts on this? Ladies, do you expect to be served first? If you were serving a group of people, who would you expect to order the wine? Does observing gender roles in a dining room enforce an unnecessary binary, or does it simply cater to the different needs already in place?

What do you want when you dine out -- and why do you want that?

Tuesday Omelette

2008-10-02T03:13:00.002-04:00

My friend Megan and I have a standing coffee date...so to speak. We do in fact regularly get together, but usually neither of us actually drinks coffee, and we always at least tentatively plan the next round by the end of each rendez-vous. It's a nice way to explore the city, particularly under the pretense of studying (which, again, rarely actually takes place).

San Francisco is nice, but only nice so far. I hoped to fall hard and fast and it turns out we are still uncertain whether our flirtations will lead to a hot and heavy romance or simply a polite and casual acquaintance. However, I must give credit where due and proclaim the cafes of San Francisco the best I have experienced in the wide world (NB: This means SF beats out the likes of Paris, Venice, Rome, Prague, London, Wellington, Sarajevo, Melbourne, Portland -- Oregon as well as Maine, New York, and Nice; but I'm holding out for various locations throughout Austria, Turkey, Morocco, and Spain).

We most recently met at Cafe Du Soleil in Lower Haight, a charming boulangerie-style establishment with enchanting almond croissants and a decent hazelnut iced coffee. We split a bowl of almond granola with yogurt and chopped fruit, but when Megan departed and I tried to attack my overflowing inbox I kept getting distracted by the vegetable quiches lurking invitingly a few feet from my table. Round, puffy, and crammed full of unidentifiable verdure, they seemed an ideal afternoon companion.

However, the owners of this lovely locale, like so many others in San Francisco, decided to board up the various electric outlets scattered around the walls, presumably in a move to "encourage" patrons to move on once their (my) sparse battery power expired. Yes, I could have stayed and gobbled down the coveted quiche, but on principle if for nothing else ("nothing else" being a stand in for "my starving-student bank account") I vacated Cafe Du Soleil and headed home in search of a comparable (superior?) egg dish.

And now we're getting to it -- what a prologue for this little Tuesday omelette. However, I assure you this omelette warrants the prologue and perhaps a thoughtful after-word as well. Walking home I realized that in addition to craving eggs, I really, really needed sun-dried tomatoes. Immediately. There were other unmet needs I identified as well, and the bus ride home was quite nearly excruciating (we see that someone has let her hunger go a tad too long unattended). When I arrived home I set right to work:

1/4 onion, chopped, fried (ok, I meant to sweetly saute, but in my impatience I let the oil get just a little too hot and I can't say I'm sorry). 2 Tablespoons sun-dried tomatoes, nicely lubed up in their packing oil, sliced and given just enough time to flirt with those with those sizzling onions and let things heat up a bit. A shake of dried oregano and a few nice dashes of powdered coriander for some subtle spice, then in go two eggs beaten (aggressively) with a healthy spoonful of grated parmesan and generous pinches of sea salt and cracked pepper. Cook; flip; serve on sourdough toast with a rim of sriracha.

It was a hot kind of day.

Tart and Juicy Something-or-Others

2008-09-29T17:30:00.011-04:00

When I moved into my apartment in early August we were in the middle of a perfectly frigid San Francisco summer. I didn't leave the house without at least two thick layers, and I found myself drinking copious amounts of hot tea.

My godmother generously stocked my new abode with a bagful of lemons fresh from her backyard, and this juicer. I had never seen such a thing before (nor had I ever met a juicer I liked), but now that they're part of my kitchen lexicon I see them everywhere, working their magic one citrus at a time.

I take Bikram yoga, which is that crazy yoga practiced by crazy people in a heated room (supposedly 108 degrees is ideal, but I've definitely seen the febrile arm of the thermometer fervently wobbling to the 116 mark). This means I am thirsty, constantly. My favorite instructor in Philly could and would literally read my mind: during one of the more sweltering classes in the dead of a Philadelphia summer (NOT frigid), I had been fantasizing about the extra-tart glass of lemonade I was going to whip up at work as soon as I got out of class (sometimes working in a bar has it's advantages). Leo leaned over and whispered into my teetering bow pose, "Sometimes, I just think, 'Lemonade'."

When I am really thirsty -- and I mean really thirsty -- I crave tart. I'm sure there is a biological explanation for this reaction; in Bikram, the instructors sometimes advise us to squeeze a healthy dose of lemon juice into our water to help the recovery period and expedite the hydration process. For me, lemonade, limeade, kombucha -- even a particularly vinegary vinaigrette will do the trick. Tart: "Sharp or acid in taste"; "Dress or make oneself up in order to look attractive or eye-catching" (there's a third definition related to promiscuity, and a fourth involving pastry shell, but we'll ignore those for the time being). Something about that sharp, biting quality is alluring, even if laced with a hint of severity.

Back in San Francisco, exiting class to a foggy, windy sixty-degree day tended to waylay my cravings for tart, juicy something-or-others. Fortunately our Indian summer has finally made it's much-anticipated entrance, and we are enjoying ideal limeade weather. Hence, today's selection:

Dissolve one heaping teaspoon of honey in a pint glass with a bit of boiling water. Add the juice of three limes, and fill with ice. Top off with water (sparkling or still). Sip, slowly -- if you can gulp it down it isn't tart enough.

Oblatory Potatoes (Secular)

2008-09-16T15:29:00.011-04:00

Ever since my Penina (like My Antonia, but Jewish and Jersey) departed San Francisco to make a name for herself in the wilds of Brooklyn, I've struggled with the concept of cooking for one. It's just not as fun. I could and would cook Perrin breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and maybe an afternoon snack for good measure, but when it comes to feeding myself I'm just not as ambitious, nor as nourishing. In fact, cooking for one notably lacks the element of nurturing that I find so pivotal to the joy I garner from my culinary endeavors. And I don't just mean the act of solitary eating can be monumentally less satisfying, but more importantly that cooking, for me, is inextricably wrapped up with the idea of nurturing someone. It's a kind of offering: here, eat my food, absorb my affection, accept my care. Let me share with you. Share with me.

And so when I recently had the opportunity to cook for someone, I pulled out all the stops. I served a highly-tinkered version of this salmon ceviche with pickled cucumbers and tomatillos (don't let anyone, particularly the fishmonger at Whole Foods, tell you that salmon is a bad choice for ceviche); Smitten Kitchen's rosemary flatbreads (but substituting chives and wheat flour); my now-classic stuffed baby potatoes; wilted spinach salad goat cheese packets and a warm honey-balsamic vinaigrette; and drunken peaches with ginger sorbet. My guest's selection of a Macon-villages Chardonnay complemented my culinary choices surprisingly well, and a spot of pear brandy with dessert rounded out the meal. It's nice to have a hand in the kitchen, but mainly nice to have company in the kitchen...and help with the dishes certainly doesn't hurt.

These potatoes can be a bit time-intensive, but a good choice if you have a minion, er, assistant to help out. I particularly enjoy them as a tapas-style offering as they travel well and make good finger food. If you're especially finicky about presentation, cut off the rounded bottoms so that they sit flat -- myself, I'm a fan of curves.

8-10 Baby potatoes
3-4oz Goat cheese
~2 T Coarsely chopped herbs of your choice (I used chives and a sprinkling of dried thyme)
2-3 Cloves garlic, crushed
A few healthy pinches of sea salt and plenty of fresh cracked pepper
Capers (or, olives)

Boil potatoes with salt until just tender. Rinse, let cool, halve, and scoop out the fleshy insides. Mix with everything except capers/olives, check seasoning, then pack into potato skins. Top with capers or olives, garnish with chives or parsley, and chili oil if you're feeling especially decorative.

NB: You could also sprinkle with breadcrumbs and broil for a few minutes, but I prefer them cold, despite the persistent San Francisco summer fog.

Chocolate-Covered Kim Chi (Not a Mistake)

2008-08-30T18:32:00.000-04:00

A friend who was living in Japan sent me a killer care package a few months ago, which included this tasty specimen. It tastes like...chocolate. Wait! Wait for it...oh! There it is! Now it tastes like...chocolate-covered kim chi. Wowsers. Spicy, pungent, salty, sweet, with a hint of...yes, yes that is in fact fermented cabbage on the finish. Delicious cabbage? Undecided. But props for fitting all four flavors into one foil-wrapped package.

Whole Grains, the Quick Way

2008-08-25T17:03:00.000-04:00

Perhaps I should rename this blog, "Starving Student 101."

My fixation with one-pot meals continues, but this time I can at least pretend to maintain my product-focus premise by introducing Trader Joe's Harvest Grains Blend. A lovely combination of Israeli couscous, red and green orzo, baby chickpeas, and red quinoa, this whole grain blend is quick, easy, and nutritious. That said...I don't love Israeli couscous. It's so starchy! And, as per usual, I find couscous tends to be rather bland unless you put in a big effort.

Sooo, of course I put in a big effort: a handful of toasted almonds, some very garlicky sauteed mushrooms, a sprinkling of basil, and a generous crumbling of ever-creamy roquefort. Delightful, nutritious, balanced -- and did I mention cheap and easy? Those seem to be my tastes these days, in women and food...

Cheese Mania

2008-08-23T08:42:00.004-04:00

Last weekend I held a pre-nuptial cheese-tasting for the illustrious Tarr clan and the parents of the eventual bride. It was a France vs. USA tasting: rather apropos considering the current festivities/competitions (I would have brought a Chinese cheese, but as previously noted the Chinese see cheese as solid phlegm, thus they aren't so big on dairies). Six rounds of cheese later, here are the group's rulings.

California Crottin (PG) vs. Le Lingot (PG)
served with Sancerre and apricot preserves
Crottins are dense little rounds of goat cheese, typically exhibiting the gamut of classic goat's cheese characteristics: chalky, tangy, lactic, lovely. The California Crottin is all of these things in a stocky, sturdy little nugget. Le Lingot, on the other hand, (the link is a great article from the SF Gate) is deliciously lemony with a voluptuous creamline. I thought it ripened beautifully on the train ride from San Francisco to Santa Cruz, yet the judging panel decided it melted, literally, against the stoic Crottin. Point one for team USA.

Cypress Grove Truffle Tremor (G) vs. St Maure de Tourraine (RG)
served with a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and local honey
Truffle Tremor is one of my all-time favorite cheeses, and it never fails to impress. Flecks of black truffles peek out of luscious goaty paste melting to a runny creamline nearing the rind. There is a balanced piquancy to this cheese that is unrivaled, even by the in-your-face spice of the ash-covered St Maure. Click on the links if you want to know the story behind the stick. Team USA is pulling ahead.

Jasper Hill Constant Bliss (C) vs. Brillat Savarin (C)
served with Champagne and balsamic strawberries
Ahhh the Brillat was just so ripe -- so perfectly, delectably, fragrantly, decadently ripe. I kept smelling the wrapper. This cheese always brings fabrics to mind: velvet, satin, silk. Paired with the champagne and peppery strawberry relish the entire experience can only be summarized as: rich. Still, when we followed our silky Brillat with the slightly firmer and more complex Constant Bliss we had to concede the latter's superiority.

Cowgirl Creamery Red Hawk (C) vs. Abbaye de Citeaux (C)
served with Norman cider and toasted almonds with honey
I had to make three trips to the cheese counter over the course of two weeks to get my hands, finally, on a round of Red Hawk. This stuff is popular! It's pungent, but balanced; rich, yet palatable. In fact, the group ultimately found it more palatable than the famous/infamous Abbaye de Citeaux, which I included largely because of it's dwindling availability: cheeses like Abbaye de Citeaux will no longer be allowed in the States because the moisture content (greater than 67 percent water). I don't quite understand this law, but you can read more here. At least we have Red Hawk to satiate our stinky cravings.

Gruyere Surchoix (C) vs. Beaufort D'Alpage (C)
served with a Cotes du Rhone and all of the accompaniments
Both these cheeses were pressed, cooked cow's milk cheeses featuring a toasty, earthy profile and a firm, snackable texture. Neither stood out as a favorite with the group, but both were superb -- round five results in a draw, although in my heart this one belongs to Wisconsin for their truly delicious gruyere. Both worked particularly well with the toasted almonds and honey, although in hindsight I would have preferred a beer pairing.

Point Reyes Blue (C) vs. Roquefort (S)
served with a Port, a Sauternes, cocoa fig spread and an almond fig cake
I had never tried the Point Reyes Blue but decided to trust the advice of the Whole Foods cheese counter when selecting a domestic blue. I think I regret my decision. "Mild" in this case seems to mean "bland", and "subtle" might be substituted with "boring." I'd stick with Black River Blue or Rogue's Oregon Blue next time. The ever-salty Roquefort therefore took the prize this round, particularly when complimented by the Port -- the dessert Sauternes didn't quite stand up to the blue punch, and the fig-based accouterments did little to enhance the cheese.

In the end, France: 1 USA: 4. Who knew our palates were so patriotic?

*Photos courtesy of Robin from Roto-Blog. Thanks, Ro!

P - Pasteurized; R - Raw; G - Goat; S - Sheep; C - Cow

One-Pot Wonder

2008-08-20T15:59:00.005-04:00

I've recently been reminded that being a student is hard. Really hard. Particularly graduate school when studying topics like, say, Anatomy, or Traditional Chinese Medical Theory, demanding endless hours of memorizing and regurgitation ad nauseum.

Furthermore, with the recent departure of my little friend with the big stomach, I've realized that it's also difficult working up the motivation to cook for one. I know I used to cook -- I have this blog as proof. But lately I've had more than a couple meals consisting of dark chocolate and raisins. This is problematic, and not at all conducive to the aforementioned studying. One alternative is to eat out more, but my poor little student checking account really can't handle that.

And so, I am renewing my interest in one-pot meals. I need food that is healthy, light, tasty, and quick. I'm also revisiting my devotion to avoid raw foods, since that seems to be the first thing they hammer into your head at Chinese medicine school (right before "cheese is essentially solid phlegm" -- yes, that's a direct quote).

Thus I present: one-pot pasta. I've always preferred blanched vegetables to raw anyhow, and this is a lovely summer dish.

1/2 package pasta (I use whole grain with flax meal)
Two large handfuls of snap peas, ends removed, thickly sliced on the bias
One lemon, juiced
Four cloves of garlic, crushed
A hefty drizzle of extra virgin olive oil
A nice knob of goat cheese (I used Truffle Tremor because I happened to have some leftover in the fridge; any soft cheese will do)

Simmer pasta in a generous amount of salted water. When it seems almost done, throw in the snap peas. After a minute or so, drain and return to pot. Add crushed garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, and plenty o' black pepper. Serve topped with goat cheese. Makes two generous servings, so you have leftovers to take to class tomorrow...

Playing with Matchas

2008-08-12T00:01:00.002-04:00

Cmoore's note: When I recently found matcha in San Francisco's Japantown, I was ecstatic. Not only do I love matcha lattes (soy), but I've been wanting to cook/bake with matcha for months. Here, at last, I thought, was the answer to my culinary invocations. Not so -- whereas I believed (and believe) that the term matcha is synonymous with a form of powdered roasted green tea, the matcha I procured is, in fact, a blend that includes green tea still in leaf form. The following post recounts Perrin's misadventure with our "ground" matcha:

***

Perrin: thought process:

we have lots of matcha. why not bake with it? GOOD IDEA.

find recipe based on very limited ingredients. aha! i think i've found a good one-- Matcha Tea and Honey Cakes.

this looks great! not only is it chinese (go beijing olympics), but i could put in our local honey too. i bet this would taste really good.

assemble all ingredients. use up our last 3 eggs. prepare to add matcha powder...oh shit, it's not POWDER, it's matcha tea leaves! they're not ground. should have paid more attention. ah well, i will figure it out.

figure it out? yeah right. panic. find a blender, with parts strewn across various parts of cabinet. attempt to assemble blender in a haphazard fashion. pour a generous helping of matcha leaves into blender. look around to see if roommate is still home. good. he's gone.

press 'ON.'

hm. why does it smell like burning rubber in the kitchen? crap, it might be the blender. frantically turn blender off. smell gradually subsides. roommate walks through the front door and into kitchen.

he sniffs the air, "it smells good." leaves kitchen. smells good??

sigh. take blender off stand, only to discover that the matcha leaves are not, in fact, turned into powder. entire batch of "blended" matcha proceeds to fall out the bottom of blender. mess ensues.

decide to make the leaves into a powder with my own brute strength. use a knife and cutting board in attempt to crush leaves. more mess ensues. become exasperated and grind leaves with thumb and forefinger. dump leaves in dough and hope for the best.

stick mixture in oven for alloted time. is it done yet? hastily take it out and turn off oven. hm they look a little raw, maybe i should put it back in? turn oven back on. stick mixture in a little longer. wait. okay, they look a tad brown, but they're done. success! that wasn't so bad.

break off a tiny piece of cake. the matcha results in a weird, bitter flavor in mouth. kind of like garbage drizzled with honey. uh, what can i do to make this taste better? frosting makes everything taste better? right? right.

proceed to google 'how to make your own frosting'. decide on a brown sugar frosting. sounds good. re-read recipe. wow that's a lot of ingredients. oh well.

make frosting with maximum mess, using half of dishes in kitchen. proceed to frost shit cakes.

why do i still have a gallon of leftover frosting?? stick it in fridge and hope nobody notices.

resolve to stick to ingredients that actually taste good.

Cmoore's post-script: The tea cakes are, in fact, delicious. More like muffins than cakes, but the flavor is lovely, the texture is moist, and the improvised brown sugar frosting adds the perfect touch of sweetness. I would recommend this recipe to anyone -- anyone, that is, who has matcha powder on hand.

Patriotic Hipsters

2008-08-11T00:09:00.000-04:00

I couldn't pass up posting the link to Slate's post on "The Next Great American Beer," mainly for the section that discusses PBR's aspiration to become the "President of Beers," which is coupled with a lovely discussion of Pabst's marketing tactics (successfully reeling in hordes of hipsters). There are also a few interesting notes on the concept of domestic beer.

I'll stick with my Lagunitas and my Stone for now, thanks. Go ahead and call me a snob, but at least I'm a snob with intact taste buds.

Basta!

2008-08-07T00:38:00.004-04:00

A friend recently directed me to the New York Times review of La Zucca Magica.

In sum: Inspired Italians in the ever-succulent South of France cooking voluptuous vegetarian food. A first! And decorating their restaurant with puppets made from gourds. Another first.

From the owners: “We said ‘basta!’ to trying to pretend the slices did not come from a nice little pig.”

Basta, indeed. This makes me long for Provencal flavors and Old World markets. And...gourds...

Firsts and Lasts

2008-08-06T05:40:00.001-04:00

People always talk about last meals. "What would your last meal be?" "This is so good I could die right now." "You're eating like this is your last meal!" Etc.

Well what about first meals?

As in, what shall I cook for my first meal in my new apartment?

All I know so far is that there will be champagne, fresh basil, more than likely an avocado, and possibly a few tears.

Mate Chai, Mate?

2008-08-03T23:31:00.010-04:00

I haven't been sleeping much. I'd like to blame the dramatic move 3,000 miles from my comfort zones and routines, or the sudden onset of piles of homework and a class schedule, or even the stresses related to working 20 hours per week as a massage therapist (which are, in fact, extensive). And some nights these are the perpetrators, along with whatever other demons choose to drop by for a chat at 3:00am.

But last night, the culprit was my friend Anna, whose enchanting company is quite nearly eclipsed by her stunning Sapphire-and-tonics-with-limeade. Tasty, thirst-quenching, and inspiring a pleasant euphoria, I lost count after round three.

So this morning, when my alarm jostled me out of bed after a brief and fitful nap, my first thought was: coffee. However, the cafe closest to my bus stop serves slightly stale muddy water in lieu of that finer roasted stimulant: pass. I considered tea, but that didn't seem quite gutsy enough for the task at hand. Then I noticed the sign for Guayaki Mate Chai and my decision was made.

Mate (mah-tay) is a stimulating South American beverage long imbibed to promote health, vitality, and longevity. With 24 naturally-occurring vitamins and minerals, 15 amino acids, and a host of antioxidants, it's definitely got a leg up on a cup o' joe. There seems to be some debate as to the compound that gets the job done -- is it caffeine? Theobromine? Mateine? Whatever it is, claims to increased mental clarity and sustainable energy don't seem far from the mark. At any rate, it got me through five-and-a-half consecutive hours of deep tissue bodywork.

Mate chai is a liquid spiced tea concentrate made from mate leaves instead of black tea. Mix 1:1 with the milk or milk-like substance of your choice. I chose steamed soy milk with no regrets. The flavor is grassy, roasted, and slightly metallic, in the most compelling and ambrosial way possible.

As a bonus, it's organic, vegan, and kosher. It's even said to fight bad breath. Put down the coffee cup.

The Note

2008-08-02T00:00:00.001-04:00

I've always wondered how, exactly, people remember anything about wine. Sure, I have a decent grasp of the basic tasting principles, but how on earth do you remember that '96 was a great year for the Bordeaux coming out of Chateau Quelquechose Impressive, and that it should be consumed in March of 2009? I see gimcrack wine notebooks in every boutique-y kitchen goods store in the Bay Area, and I think I've tried to use them on two separate, ambitious occasions -- to no avail. Perhaps that sort of resource is helpful if you frequent tasting rooms, but when I drink wine I am drinking wine and would rather not stop to dissect the experience, or memorize the production notes. I also don't happen to frequent tasting rooms (although I do have an interview to work at one tomorrow -- wish me luck!)

Tyler Balliet at The Second Glass recently reviewed this unique solution to my conundrum: The Note, from Hinckley Cellars. This is a clever metal device designed to help slip that curvy bottle right out of it's little label in no time flat. Clever, or kitschy? Maybe a little bit of both. Instead of using The Note, Tyler takes photos of wine labels with his cell phone: I happen to find this notion nothing less than brilliant (thanks, Tyler). But, if you're really into wine gadgets, check out the video below and get ready to fork over your $65.

A Response to the Responses

2008-08-01T00:00:00.004-04:00

Thanks to all who chimed in with their culinary two-cents. Special credit to Nimoy, who made her very own blog post on orange-glazed tofu. Check it out, it looks delicious! Props for using three of the five prompt ingredients.

Also, since few of you were willing to take the plunge and wager guesses on my literary references, here they are, with my heartfelt (although not always first-hand) recommendation:

Oranges are Not the Only Fruit (Jeanette Winterson)

Jeanette Winterson's gastronomically-endowed autobiography, replete with food-tinged metaphors and told in her very distinct, particularly captivating style. Not my favorite Winterson, but still an excellent literary experience.

Looking for God: An Unexpected Journey through Tattoos, Tofu, and Pronouns (Nancy Ortberg)

A series of essays on the mundane nature of the divine, which, it appears, includes that most mundane of vittles: tofu. Heavy on the Christian overtones, but an interesting approach to daily spirituality nonetheless.

Alone in the Kitchen With an Eggplant (Jenni Ferrari-Adler)

From Goodreads: "A delightful and unexpected collection of pieces by writers, foodies, and others-including Nora Ephron, Marcella Hazan, and Ann Patchett-on the distinctive experiences of cooking for one and dining alone." Highly recommended by one Nancy E., and particularly germane to my current situation.

- and -

The Agony and the Eggplant (Walter Hogan)

Biography of children's author/illustrator/humorist Daniel Pinkwater. I can't actually vouch for this one, but on a somewhat related note, Irving Stone's biographical novel of Michelangelo, The Agony and the Ectasy, belongs on everyone's reading list.

Peel My Love Like an Onion (Ana Castillo)

A Mexican flamenco dancer riddled with Polio navigates the mores of urban Chicago. Maybe not so deep, but the Goodreads comments seem to concur that the voice is "authentic." You be the judge.

From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (E. L. Konigsberg)

A childhood favorite; a classic. If you haven't explored the Met with a pair of runaway children, if you've never thought of bathing in fountains and fishing for pennies to pay for your next meal, if you've never vicariously fallen in love with a mysterious statue...then drop whatever you're doing and head to the nearest library. There's also Amazon. You won't regret it.

By(e-bye) Trans Fat?

2008-07-31T02:59:00.006-04:00

Last Friday, July 25, esteemed Governor Arnold Swarznegger passed a bill that prohibited California restaurants from using trans fats. New York City, Seattle, parts of Maryland, and even my dear Philadelphia (former most-obese city in the country) have banned trans fats, but California is the first state to include restaurants under this sort of law.

I remember NYC and Philly considering legislation like this, and people practically rioted. Most notably, anyone and everyone who appreciated baked goods and the dear bakeries that peddle such delicacies protested the certain elimination of many beloved pastry products. According to the article linked above, trans fats occur most commonly when vegetable oil is treated with hydrogen to prolong shelf life, particularly in baked and fried goods.

Any thoughts on this? Should the government have a say in what sorts of foods hit the shelves? Is this legislation too narrow? Do you think trans fats should be eliminated altogether?

Definitely one for the side bar

2008-07-30T08:33:00.001-04:00

I just discovered Cake Wrecks. You, too, need to discover cake wrecks. If you need a teaser, check out this video:

Survey

2008-07-27T23:13:00.005-04:00

Being without a kitchen of my own is putting me in a bad place. I wander past street-side displays of oranges and onions and spontaneously daydream about citrus spring rolls for the next two blocks. I duck into Safeway to buy a lone bulbous eggplant and stare at it, longingly, guiltily, each time I open the refrigerator. I eat vegan chicken nuggets straight from the box, uncooked, piled with mounds of ketchup that drip through my fingers. I buy spices I can't use for the sheer carnal pleasure of inhaling their fragrant-but-inedible fumes, and spend far too much time browsing through thrift stores and kitchen catalogs, examining gadgets I can't yet give a proper home. Suddenly, I inexplicably find myself in Whole Foods, sampling the watermelon and goat gouda for the third time this week. I think I actually had an inappropriate dream involving chana masala. And I almost bought a basil plant yesterday but caught myself before committing the poor flora to my current vagabond life.

So, dear readers, I'm asking for your help. Tell me about your favorite ways to prepare the following foods, and if you're feeling particularly generous choose one to make and tell me all about it. You can post to your own blog or leave me lurid details in the comments section. I look forward to indulging my inner gastronome vicariously through you.

What's your favorite way to use...

_Oranges (Not the only fruit, but a current obsession)
_Tofu (Look for, maybe find, something divine)
_Eggplant (Alone in the kitchen, the agony)
_Onions (Peel first, like my love)
_Basil (Search your mixed-up files)

Bonus points for identifying any or all of the literary references above.

By Italian Wisdom

2008-07-24T23:16:00.004-04:00

“I always say a gastronome who isn’t an environmentalist is just stupid, and I say an environmentalist who isn’t a gastronome is just sad.”

Carlo Petrini, creator of the Slow Foods movement. Slow Foods USA is coming up, right here in San Francisco -- view the full New York Times article here. And if anyone is planning on attending...

By Substitution

2008-07-24T17:55:00.005-04:00

I set out to make a batch of peanut butter cookies this afternoon (credit to 101 Cookbooks), but after I got home from the grocery store and proudly laid out my organic natural peanut butter (crunchy, to be redundant), grade A maple syrup, extra virgin olive oil, and other ingredients practically requisite in a San Franciscan baked good, I discovered what I thought to be a fatal flaw: baking powder. The recipe, as you may note if you followed the link, calls for baking soda. Many people keep baking soda in their refrigerator, to dispel food odors; however, I'm currently a houseguest, and my host doesn't observe this tradition.

This is not the first time I, or any other hapless would-be baker, suffered this mix-up. One of the few stories told about my mother involves a wok, a beef stir-fry, and the wrong white powdery baking substance. Apparently the result was inedible, and I was always careful to check and double-check my ingredient list after imagining a dinner party gone terribly awry.

That said, I did some quick research and discovered all was not lost: thrice the baking powder can be used to substitute for any given quantity of baking soda. Apparently flavor may be compromised, but my cookies were (are) delicious nonetheless. Brilliant. If you want to go the other way, try 2 parts cream of tartar with 1 part baking soda.

However, the main lesson learned: keep baking soda in the refrigerator.

By Chinese Widsom

2008-07-21T00:37:00.008-04:00

From my Fundamentals of Traditional Chinese Medicine Theory class:

"Without the kitchen, the army is useless."

We were talking about the functions of zong qi, but I feel that this idea applies to many facets of life. Think Napoleon. Consider Washington. Ponder your own assailments upon the world.

Feed yourself well this week.

A Belated Homage to the Fava Bean

2008-07-16T01:15:00.006-04:00

Always a bit behind the vogue, I noticed the vernal influx of food-o-sphere posts on fava beans, and I wanted to contribute my own herald to the noble dicot.

I first saw fresh fava beans in Toronto's sprawling, vibrant, supremely inspirational Kensington Market. Rifling through the endless stalls of cheese, breads, clothing, smoking paraphernalia, spices, dry goods, and produce, I spied the pile of gnarled, spotted pods, which looked like they could have fallen from Jack's beanstalk. "Ah, fava beans!" I exclaimed, largely for my cohort's benefit, "What luck!"

I, of course, had never seen, cooked, or possibly even consumed fresh fava beans at that point in my young, occasionally brash life. Still, I knew I wanted them, and after selecting large, green pods that felt heavy for their size (well it works for lemons and melons...), I walked away with about half a pound of fava beans and the stirrings of possibility.

Now, how to eat them? First, the favas must be shelled, like peas, or rather, like jumbo peas on steroids. I find it easiest to peel back the stem and attached string running down the seam of the bean pod, similar to removing the strings from snap peas or sugar peas.

Next, run your finger along the seam to separate the shell and reveal a row of plump favas nestled comfortably inside. The beans can be removed, and the amply-padded pods discarded (or, if you're really cool, composted).

The first time I experimented with favas, in my wayward youth, I ignorantly stopped at this step, and honestly I don't think the meal was any the worse for my blissful neglect. They were boiled, then marinated with avocados, cherry tomatoes, and chickpeas in a thick lemon vinaigrette, and served in dripping spoonfuls atop thirsty squares of toasted baguette. Fava experiment number one was surely a success.

However, with a bit less bravado and a bit more research I would have discovered the universally-recognized need to double peel your favas. That's right: there's still a long road ahead until we reach the promised Fava Land. After boiling (3-9 minutes in salted water, depending on whether you're going to cook them further), use a paring knife to split the moderately translucent sac surrounding the brilliant green bean. I took the road less travelled and settled for my very own adequately-dexterous fingers, delighting in each painstaking emerald exposé.

Once this was accomplished I marinated the favas, along with chopped cucumbers and red onions, in a lemon-cumin vinaigrette. A few hours later I added a batch of marinated mushrooms and some very salty feta, and again served my salad with an appropriate bread product (Mediterranean flatbreads this time, still good for sopping and scooping).

Serve favas with an appropriately springy wine to suit their fleeting season (April-May). I like the three Italian V's -- Vernaccia, Vermentino, or Verdicchio -- all of which have lovely "green" qualities: melon, lime, hints of grass. A sauvignon blanc would work well, too, but I prefer a more nuanced Old World origin, like the Loire Valley, to the brash New World producers (New Zealand, Australia).

***

For more fava-related inspiration, check out these now-archived links:

Rosa Jackson, in one of her infinitely inspirational experiments, came up with this Fava Bean Gnocci.

Susan at Food Blogga posted this informative post with preparation instructions and a recipe for Fava Bean and Dill Crostini.

The good folks of Swirling Notions presented this post, featuring another Fava Bean Crostini.

Ulterior Epicure offers this eloquent review of his meal at Bluestem, which included a Fava Bean Salad.

Cheese (Again)

2008-07-12T04:39:00.000-04:00

I know I've already posted about making a cheese board, but I've done it again and gosh darn it I make pretty spreads. The latest featured an 18-month-aged Gouda, Morbier, Cypress Grove Bermuda Triangle, and a mystery goat cheese stumbled upon at Whole Foods. We served the dairy delights with candied pecans, fig preserves, raw honey from a neighbor's backyard, thinly sliced apples and pears, grapes, strawberries, and sesame crisps.

And for your visual pleasure:

NB: If you're interested in pairing wine and cheese, check out The Kitchn's post here.

Platinos, Por Favor

2008-07-11T04:38:00.003-04:00

We're temporarily staying in the Mission neighborhood of San Francisco, which Perrin affectionately likens to Spanish Harlem in her "native" New York. There are literally taquerias and/or Mexican groceries on every corner, and I'm overwhelmed by the culinary possibilities whirling through my brain. Nine-cent limes, vats of fresh queso, the ever-popular chipotles in adobe, entire aisles devoted to neat rows of masa harina -- better yet fresh handmade tortillas...and the requisite overflowing bins of yellow plantains.

Plantains aren't usually hailed as a Mexican staple, instead credited to the austral regions of Central and South America. When I first encountered the humble plantain -- plain, blackened, obtuse in its fickle ripening patterns --- I was skeptical of its reputed charms. However, a few hours later the starchy fruit, fried simply in oil and salt, had inveigled me with its piquant textures and flavors. Here was a food that, though moderately useless and thoroughly unappealing in the raw, could be elevated to heights of sheer succulence in the meager locale of a dormitory kitchen.

Since my undergrad days, I've continued my occasional trysts with the staid plantain. Boasting economic and gastronomic utility, plantains seem to be an ideal food for citizens of developing countries...and newly-impoverished graduate students. For roughly ninety cents per person we concocted this fetching repast of fried eggs, plantains, seasoned black beans, and fruit: simple fare, yet substantial, satisfying, succinct.

Plantains are moderately high in calories due to their starch content, but also high in fiber, potassium, vitamin A, and vitamin K. If you slice the plantains thinly, and use more oil, you can create something closer to chips; conversely, if you try grilling the result will seem softer, even mushy. Which brings me to yet another application: mash boiled or steamed plantains with adequate salt and butter for a unique alternative to that ubiquitous other mashed starch.

The hardest part about working with plantains is anticipating the aforementioned troublesome ripening patterns. Green plantains are starchier, and thus best prepared as one might use a potato (boiled, mashed, baked). They will pass through various shades of yellow and brown until blossoming to a deep black, and which point the plantains are sweet, and ideal for dessert recipes or as an accent to more savory foods.

By....Ariel!

2008-07-08T19:34:00.005-04:00

Guest post: By Ariel Braun, a rising freshman at Hamilton College

Many do not believe that a great dining experience can be found beyond the borders of an expansive city. I would have thought so, not meaning to sound arrogant, after I had left the Fancy Food Show at the Javits Center in New York City on July 2nd. Every up-and-coming or already successful entrepreneur chef or producer that I hesitantly and shyly spoke with hails from the lively streets of New York or a quaint little cobblestone path from San Fran. Though many outstanding and publicly recognized restaurants do take residence in the "big" city, a lazy northern New Jerseyian need not go to the trouble of taking the ferry across the Hudson when one can drive to Su Restaurant in Edgewater. My initial attraction came from an advertisement in the Bergen Record. All I needed to read was "healthy cuisine", "no trans fat", "vegetarian", "partly vegan", and an entire plethora of dishes made with tempeh, tofu, and seitan.

I must admit that in my perspective, Paramus is not known for high quality cuisine. As my sister likes to put it, "there are hidden gems" but, still Paramus is littered with duplicates of Chiles, Outback Steakhouse, and The Cheesecake Factory, all found in overly big malls or in the local strip malls that curiously always have a Starbucks within their midst. These restaurants are of but a few that many in my town refer to as "an upscale meal". I do not mean to sound disillusioned or feicious; it's just that every now and again I want to go to a restaurant that isn't judged on how much food you can fit on a plate for the low price of $13.99.

My past experiences might explain why I was a bit leery when we (my Mom and I) pulled up to a tiny strip mall, where Su was located in the far corner. My initial dread was somewhat lifted when I saw a Traders Joe's heading the initial entrance to the strip. Still, the exterior of Su did not appear anything more than an average Chinese takeout place and even the initial interior walkway had a large desk with several menus scattered over the table, reminiscent of a takeout joint.

Another bad omen followed as the entire restaurant was completely empty if not for a father and son at a far table. However as we were seated, the waiter explained that many folks did not normally venture to restaurants on July 4th. My entire childhood of grilling the ubiquitous hotdogs and hamburgers on Independence Day had somehow escaped me, and the empty restaurant made more sense. My mom and I not being the typical eaters had rather preferred an Asian fusion restaurant rather than the dreaded meat that my brother cannot fathom why we do not eat and enjoy.

Su was arranged in a vertical manner with long tables, a long hallway leading to the bathroom, and long leg room (ok maybe "long" didn't fit the last description). Each table was stationed almost like a cubicle, with only one side of the square table being open to the server. I would hazard a guess that if the area of space was even an inch smaller, a case of claustrophobia would have overcame me. However, this was not the case and the ambiance was dignified, chic, and young. The walls were painted a burgundy red, almost a tart cranberry. The chairs were very modern, constructed from metal and rather short in the back (lucky enough for me that my small stature prevented any discomfort). The entire atmosphere concluded with a naturalistic approach; given that the menu was sandwiched between two 12 x 7 pieces of rustic, clean-shaven plywood. The piece de résistance was the sole waiter of the restaurant. In his early twenties, his head was shaved and he had several protruding piercings from his ears, in addition to several visible dragon tattoos. He matched perfectly with the "cool" surroundings and was amiable, kind, and attentive to his sole customers (I mention his temperament, because it is a very difficult job to deal with my mother and myself at a restaurant, given our unabiding desire to question every single item on the menu and to ask several times where the bathroom is, given that we tend not to listen the first, second, or even third time someone answers our asinine questions. I always joke with my mom that at orientation for new waiters, restaurants must use my mom as the model of an aggravating customer to judge the prospective waiter's patience. A test, I myself would probably fail). So far, so good. Su did not have the commonplace tapestry of unwarranted paintings that occupies the traditional Paramus eatery that, try as they must, the ugly landscapes paintings do not add many points to cover up the disenchanting menu items.

Being used to the typical diner menu that lasts for never-ending pages, the menu at Su seemed rather small to me. However, upon reconsideration, I would consider this to be a good thing since the smaller scale allows for a more personal, fresh menu; the restaurant needen't impress its customers with an all expansive menu. Su's food conquers that job simply enough. In addition, there is a glossary on the back of the menu for those not used to the vegetarian/vegan proteins and other specialties. I needed to glance at the glossary several times, in order to classify a variety of mushroom (eryngi) and to reinstate my familiarity with jicama ("a large, edible, tuberous root of a tropical American plant, of the legume family").

Every single item on the menu sparked a slight overflow of hungry saliva. Though many items embodied a certain Asian style (dumplings, scallion pancakes, and Pad Thai rice noodles), the traditional elements were updated with a fusion of Italian influences, Mexican, and traditional American elements. The Four-mushroom risotto, Orange spiced Guacamole, and Club sandwich respectively. Though each dish contained a spark of recognition from their ancestry, these dishes were spiced with a pinch of remembrance from Japan, China, Thailand, and India.

My eye slid to the Entrée portion of the menu and quickly found the Roasted whole wheat seitan with Chinese broccoli, Japanese eggplant, and roasted almonds. The next item down brought even more excitement and enthusiasm: Spinach pistachio roll with Eryungi mushrooms, yellow squash, zucchini, white asparagus, bell peppers, and gingko nuts. Normally at restaurants I am quite passive when it comes to ordering; but this was no time to rely on the back and forth conversation of "You pick", "No, YOU pick." As the waiter returned with filled water glasses and inquired of our choice, I didn't wait for my mom to ask how big the 'entrees' were against the 'small plates'. The waiter nodded in approval and walked down the hallway to place the orders.

Maybe less than seven minutes passed before our food arrived to my equally famished mom and myself. I had expected good food from carefully reading the menu but, I had not anticipated the presentation that stems from the innovations of nouvelle cuisine. The spinach roll was constructed on a long and narrow, pristine white plate, which candidly showcased the full array of colors. I have an annoying habit of always tasting each element of a dish first, almost like deconstruction, and only after have I tasted each individual element, that I eat like the famished, curious eater that I am; consuming large bits of the food, combing the elements into one constructed masterpiece in my mouth. The bottom of the plate was drizzled with a creamy white sauce, not quite the consistency of béchamel. Though this concoction could have easily been made of cream, the 'V' next to the item on the menu told me the vegan dish couldn't have possibly contained dairy. A slight ring of asparagus stroked the sauce and I concluded it was a puree of the aforementioned vegetable. The sauce was slightly sweet and acidic and the roll slid down your throat with a minor pungency left in your mouth. On far side of each of the sliced rolls, was another thick mixture, again resembling something familiar: mashed potatoes. However, the color of the starch had a more pastoral, green and yellow tone and tasted sweeter and less creamy than the typical potato. Well, here was another carefully planned puree of vegetables including what I believe to be the zucchini and yellow squash. The roll itself was constructed of some type of protein, either seitan or tempeh that was coiled around spinach. The protein far eclipsed the satisfaction you get from the typical chicken, but still retained the stringy and chewy texture of shredded chicken breast. A scattered array of red and green bell peppers and big, spongy gingko nuts finished the dish.

A larger, oblong circular dish was also placed on the table. The whole wheat seitan (Question. Can seitan be whole wheat? I thought it was a soy product) glistened on the bed of vegetables. Most likely due to the roasting process, the seitan was nutty and tender but, did require a job of chewing the protein enough so that it could be easily swallowed. However, my difficulty in swallowing the meal might not have been due to any incorrect preparation, but my animalistic approach to consume the delicious dish quickly and haphazardly, before other ravenous, jealous foes (namely my unattended carnivore brother and my sister, whom one would think hasn't eaten for days, let alone pick up a fork and knife) would appear. The vegetables and seitan were swimming in a dark, salty sauce that was a nice change from the sweet, light spinach roll. After devouring the whole dish I realized that my previous assertion that the chef had left out the broccoli promised in the menu was incorrect; I discovered the spinach-like strands with tougher ends that must have been the variation of broccoli from China.

Though I am very much a dessert person, I do not usually spend the extra couple of dollars on the dessert that is usually not given much thought by the chef. To me, chefs do not pay as much attention to desserts; unrightfully so. The dessert is the ending reminder and the last approach the chef has to convince the patron that the restaurant is worth dining at again. However, my experience at Su was so exceptional that I couldn't help but to ask for the menu again to look at the desserts. While only one of the desserts was vegan, the selection seemed varied enough. There was the traditional Deep fried banana nuggets ('nuggets' to me, was kind of a put-off word, since my memory took me to McDonalds) and homemade ice-cream, that was updated with interesting flavors like lychee, red bean, and green tea. But, I am a chocolate and peanut butter gal and headed straight for the Profiteroles with white chocolate and creamy peanut butter filling with a natural berry sauce. I happily awaited and soon the 'dragon man' waiter brought out a triangular dish that contained not one, not two, but SIX profiteroles! My mom gasped out loud and in hushed tones murmured that, "He [the waiter] must have thought we wanted two of them." (When the check came, it turned out that we were only charged for one dessert. My mom was overly impressed, noting the portion size and became even more flabbergasted when she thought that perhaps it was a misprint on the check and that we did in fact receive two desserts, but only charged for one). Nonetheless I peered at the round balls of puffed dough with no white chocolate in sight. Knowing better than to dismiss the chef, I pierced a ball with my fork and gingerly placed it on my dessert plate and spooned some bluish-purplish sauce on top. The fork didn't work so well to pierce the dough and I succumbed to picking the ball up with my fingers and taking a bite. As I was chewing and trying to suppress the urge to close my eyes (a habit which my brother does when trying to be sophisticated but, I find just annoying) I peered through the dough to find a little pocket of peanut butter and what appeared to be melted chocolate that had been cooled and mixed with the peanut butter. The filling was no overly oppressive that like in most profiteroles occupies the whole interior of the dough; the filling was just enough to provide flavor and texture, but not overly so to take away from the delicate exterior. A little dip in the fruit sauce was the perfect foil to the rich profiteroles as was the several scoops of vanilla ice-cream accompaniment on the plate.

It is funny to note that during the entire eating frenzy my mom and I made the most gangly, unappetizing noises that I can only laugh at now. Not to be crude but, the meal was orgasmic and the sounds only added to the feeling our protruding tummies were causing. The sound orchestration wouldn't have been so bad if we hadn't been the only customers in the restaurant. I feel like our sounds were amplified across the entire space and though the waiter remained just as pleasant, I believe when we left he must have had a roaring, hysterical laugh.

After stumbling out of the restaurant in a food coma with promises to return to the waiter, my mom and I spotted a Yolato (yogurt and gelato ingeniously combined together with less calories than ice-cream) café. After just having visited a Yolato in Paramus, I peered through the glass windows to see that this particular chain offered more flavors than its counterpart. And so, my mom and I happily walked into the store to harass more unsuspecting food servers with questions, only to realize that we were too full to order a pistachio yolato for the road.

The Great Breadstick Experiment

2008-07-04T04:24:00.008-04:00

I've undergone a few trial runs for my eventual pizza post, but I'm still not ready to share my (thus far amorphous) wisdom. However, the most recent mistrial led to a particularly auspicious culinary venture.

I used Heidi Swanson's recommended crust recipe, failing to note the yield: enough dough for six twelve-inch (thin-crust) pizzas. We made two, froze three, and saved one lone orb for The Great Breadstick Experiment.

The next night, the providential cello-wrapped ball of dough was divided into eight pieces: I rolled each into oblong cylinders about 7-8" long, flattened the strips, and rubbed them with olive oil. Working with four different filling combinations, I lined pairs of dough with garlic and herbes de Provence; Gorgonzola; capers; and for dessert, chocolate chips. Loosely pinching the edges together, I gingerly twisted each breadstick into long, slack coils. Each sample was generously sprinkled with kosher salt then baked for about 12 minutes at 450 degrees F, and finally served with a simple spinach omelette filled with sauteed mushrooms and goat cheese.

The clear champions of the evening were the Gorgonzola breadsticks, which I double-twisted to make double-wide 5" chunks of bread, salt, and cheese. What's not to love? The other selections were also quite tasty, particularly the combination of semi-sweet chocolate chips and kosher salt, which I may recreate with some sort of dairy or dairy-like delight. As I commented on Heidi's original post, you can often buy parcels of pre-made dough from pizzerias or good bakeries, which would be particularly convenient for whipping up a batch of cheesy breadsticks.

June Link Update

2008-06-24T13:40:00.004-04:00

I stole a couple links from Kdubz at Living On The Vedge: First, Veg PA, an awesome guide to vegetarian eats in Pennsylvania. I wish I would have tapped this when I still lived there! And on that note, I was delighted (and surprised) to find Burrito Eater, a guide to San Francisco's ubiquitous tacquerias. I've already been to one gem on 18th and Valencia, and there are many more tortilla-wrapped conquests to be made.

The beloved Tastespotting tacked a legal notice to their web page and hightailed it out of cyperspace, so my new homepage is Food Gawker, "Where food is gawked." Go gawk, it's fun.

And, I fell in love with Rosa Jackson's Edible Adventures: Paris, Nice, and Beyond. She writes well, she cooks well, and she's galavanting around one of my favorite travel destinations. I'm part admiring and part jealous.

More Bay Area links to come, once I do things like find an apartment and get a job. Woot.

Transcendently Delicious

2008-06-24T02:16:00.002-04:00

I recently dined at the renowned Chez Panisse in Berkeley. My experience was good...but not excellent. Perhaps the build-up of literally a lifetime of laudatory commendations propelled my expectations into the utterly unachievable realm. The meal was very good, and the wine was superb, but I don't know that I would call it extraordinary. I was relaying my experience to Nancy (yes, she has her own tag, too), and she posited this compelling query:

Okay, this is a legitimate question: have you ever had food that IS mind-blowingly good? That is transcendently delicious, as good or better than you imagined?

For this, I defer to my readers' thoughts. (But you can see my answer in the comments section)

By(e-bye) Giraffes

2008-06-20T20:11:00.004-04:00

Did anyone else see that recently an Israeli rabbi says giraffe meat, milk are kosher?

Apparently the real question was whether the giraffe has enough stomachs (four) and thus chews its cud (it does). Cloven hooves -- check. Previously, it was thought that the issue was where, on the giraffe's extensive neck, to make the fatal blow (the shecht). However, experts have made it clear that "anyone who does not know where to shecht a giraffe either knows nothing about the laws of shechitah or could not hit the side of a barn with a baseball."

And that's all the news that's fit to print.

An Unintentional Birthday Cake

2008-06-19T11:00:00.005-04:00

Perrin and I have an ideal symbiotic relationship: I cook, while she chops, advises, tastes, helps me plan menus, and does the dishes.

However, our dynamic may be shifting. It turns out...she can bake.

White Chocolate Almond Pound Cake
Original recipe here.

1 cup butter, softened
1-1/2 cups granulated sugar
3 eggs
2-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup finely chopped sliced almonds
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup white chocolate chips
1 tsp lemon zest

Topping:
1/3 cup (75 mL) white chocolate chips, melted
1/4 cup (50 mL) slivered almonds, toasted

In bowl, beat butter with sugar until fluffy. Beat in eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each. In separate bowl, whisk together flour, chopped almonds, baking powder and salt. Add to butter mixture alternately with milk, making 3 additions of flour mixture and 2 of milk. Stir in lemon zest and chocolate chips. Scrape into buttered 9 x 13" pan.

Bake in centre of 325°F (160°C) oven until golden and cake tester inserted in centre comes out clean, about 1-1/2 hours. Let cake cool in pan on rack; turn out onto plate and let cool. Cut in half lengthwise; spread lemon curd (recipe follows) on one half; top with second half; spread melted chocolate chips over top and sprinkle with toasted almonds.

Lemon Curd
Taken directly from the beautiful yet utilitarian Joy of Baking web site, but cut in 1/3. Read more here

1 large egg
Juice of one large lemon
1 tsp finely shredded lemon zest
1/4 cup granulated white sugar
4 teaspoons unsalted butter, at room temperature and cut into small pieces

In a stainless steel bowl placed over a saucepan of simmering water, whisk together the eggs, sugar, lemon zest, and lemon juice until blended. Cook, stirring constantly (to prevent from curdling), until the mixture becomes thick: this will take about 10 minutes. Whisk butter into the mixture until melted.

An aside: Perrin's email conversation with her culinarily superior sister --

[Perrin to Ariel]
a few developments--
i have aquired a half a gallon of raw milk!
i am in the process of baking a cake. to be more specific, a white chocolate chip almond cake with lemon curd/zest.

***
[Ariel to Perrin]
i doubt that you are making the cake; a more likely development is you observing courtney or some other unsuspecting puppet to prepare the cake, whilst you scream out disencouraging, unproductive mythologies.

***
[Cmoore to Ariel]
Astounding but true. I saw it, unbelievingly, with my own eyes. Granted, I found the recipes, read them aloud to her, and offered useful tips like, "Now you stir it." But still, she made a (beautiful, exquisite, delightful, and delectable) cake. No puppets were harmed in the production of this dessert.

Soyrizo + Couscous = Success!

2008-06-18T22:39:00.015-04:00

I've always been a little on the fence about couscous. Yes, it's easy to prepare, and yes, it can be delicious...but all too often, it's not. It's boring. No, I don't mean simple, which implies a certain stately elegance, but actually downright boring. Something about the fine, insubstantial texture, the lack of fat or flavor, and the general couscous-ness generally puts me off.

That all changed Passover 2008. I'm not Jewish, but I wish I was, and someday I might be. I often celebrate Jewish holidays vicariously through my various Jewish friends, namely one little Perrin (see tags, a.k.a. Penina, Penny, Jew, etc) whose younger sister is one of the very best chefs I know (at age seventeen, no less). Perrin went home for Passover and brought the (not quite kosher-for-passover) party back with her. There were roasted vegetables with salsa verde, herbed fish cakes with horseradish, wine-poached salmon, green bean salad with an apricot vinaigrette, very drunken charoseth, almond macaroons, mazel toffee (tasty enough to convert the most stubborn goyim)...and the most delectable couscous I have ever encountered.

I begged for the recipe -- I used every ounce of wit, charm, and cunning that I have -- but alas I haven't yet set my eyes on the hallowed words. I know there were pistachios, and I think apricots, and I'm sure the main seasoning was turmeric. A well-labeled Facebook album reveals the further addition of "dried figs, dates, red pepper, yellow pepper, and a lovely vinegarette [sic]" (what's in the lovely vinaigrette??) For now, I'm left guessing...

***

Here in Berkeley, I'm slowly settling into my new abode. Very slowly, since I'm hoping to move to San Francisco before the month is out. However, in the meantime I've taken notice of my rapidly dwindling checking account and vowed to eat in until I am once again gainfully employed -- reserving tomorrow, my birthday, for a visit to Chez Panisse, whatever the cost.

We visited the ever-impressive Berkeley Bowl and once we had regained our wits after wandering the seemingly endless aisles of foodstuffs we gathered enough ingredients to fuel our adventures. Remember my shopping list? Well, we didn't have quite the time, space, or funds to check everything off, but I did invest in my favorite staples: mustard, garlic, and lemons for seasoning; spinach, peaches, and mushrooms from the produce department; flatbreads and goat cheese; peanut butter; soy chorizo; and a six-pack of wheat beer that, upon reconsideration of our assets and the knowledge that our new roommates might contribute wine, I grudgingly returned while we were waiting in line. We invested in a few other delicacies from the produce and bulk food sections, and returned home triumphant, ready to COOK SOMETHING ALREADY. I don't use/record recipes, but here's a rough transcript of what I came up with:

Cmoore's Chorizo Couscous (for five -- it's a big house)
I believe the key to tasty couscous is, quite simply, fat. Don't skimp on the olive oil and flavorful add-ins like nuts, dried fruits, avocado, cheese, or, as in this case, soy-based chorizo, which is a wonderfully spicy contrast to the sweetness of apricots and steamed garlic.

2 cups semolina couscous (dry)
4 cloves garlic, minced (not crushed)
3 cups water
1 cube vegetable bouillon
A small handful dried apricots, chopped (10-12)
1 package soy chorizo
Cumin, dried dill weed, and cayenne pepper to taste
Olive oil
Optional: 1/2-3/4 cup crumbled feta

Salt couscous (1/4 tsp or so) and toss with garlic, cumin (maybe 1/2 tsp), and 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large bowl -- it will expand! Place apricots, water, and boullion cube in a small saucepan set over high heat. Let boil; stir well to dissolve boullion and pour over couscous mixture. Stir with fork, cover (I used a kitchen towel held in place with a cutting board) for at least 15 minutes.

Heat 1 Tbsp oil in a wide, flat saucepan over medium heat. Add soy chorizo -- don't worry about shaping it into patties, but do try to create a flat, thin layer. Allow a dark crust to develop before stirring, then re-create a flat, thin layer. Do this several times until the chorizo has enough crunch to suit your taste. Stir roughly to create small chunks, then add to couscous. Season the mixture to taste: I probably used 1 tsp dill, another 1/2 tsp cumin, 2 Tbsp olive oil, and two good dashes of cayenne.

Serve with a green salad and maybe, like me, some very lemony sauteed asparagus.

Road Trip By the Alphabet

2008-06-09T22:41:00.014-04:00

A - Asparagus soup - Pittsburgh, PA

B - Bumbleberry Pie - Bryce Canyon, Utah
[Honorable mentions for Beer, Buffets, Biscuits, Bourbon, and Bananas/Frozen)

C - Cheese! - Toronto, Ontario, Canada
[Honorable mention: Croissants - Fort Worth, Texas]

D - Dried mangoes with chili - Trader Joe's, Santa Fe, NM

E - Enchiladas - Denton, TX

F - Fry bread with honey - Santa Fe, NM

G - Goat-cheese stuffed piquillo peppers with caviar - Santa Fe, NM
[Honorable mentions: Grits; Green chili sauce]

H - Huevos Rancheros, and Habaneros. - The Southwest

I - Italian ice - A very hot day in Texas

J - Jalapenos - Raw, fried, pickled, canned, stuffed, chopped, or pureed

K - Ketchup! - On everything fried, grilled, breaded, battered, scrambled, roasted, or corn-based.

L - Lychee wine - Thai Tapas Bar; Pittsburgh, PA

M - Maple Syrup
[Honorable mentions to: Margaritas, Marinated mushrooms, Mexican pastries, and one truly incredible BBQ Mushroom burger in Memphis]

N - Nashville's best (vegetarian) barbecue sauce

O - Okra, fried - Memphis, TN

P - Peanut butter picnic - Little Rock, AK

Q - Quesadillas - Fort Worth, TX

R - Red beans and rice - Nashville, TN -- yes, they were vegetarian

S - S'mores!Campsite, rural West Virginia

T - Truffled french fries with stilton - Santa Fe, NM

U - Ubiquitous trail mix

V - Vegan hot dogs - Same campsite, West Virginia

W - Waffles - Waffle House; Amarillo, Texas

X - Xtra hot sauce, on everything - Anywhere.

Y - Yes we did drink a lot of beer. - Everywhere.
[Honorable mentions: Yellow raisins, yogurt pilfered from hostel]

Z - Zinfandel! - After I sent back the *white* Zinfandel in Santa Fe, NM

And the winner is....Santa Fe.

One More Reason To Drink (Red) Wine

2008-06-08T12:29:00.002-04:00

From the New York Times:

New Hints Seen That Red Wine May Slow Aging

Thanks, Nancy

Real Maple Syrup

2008-05-28T00:50:00.003-04:00

Other than the sweet, short hour I had in a ridiculously well-stocked hostel in Santa Fe and my two (2!) successful camp fire feasts, I have gone exactly three weeks without a kitchen.

I wish I could post about the culinary marvels I've conjured out of thin air, with only a hot car hood, salt from evaporated spring water, and some wild field greens at my disposal...but I can't, and won't. Instead, let me focus on one of the few foods I can't make, and in fact feel quite strongly that no one should try to replicate: maple syrup.

My father was the first maple-syrup-purist in my life. He wouldn't order waffles or pancakes in restaurants, since they would inevitably be served with "that fake sugar crap." (See also: his standing refusal to order a Caesar salad since most restaurants don't make their own dressing). The exception was french toast, which could and would be served with appropriate (often fake, sugary) jams and butters.

Every Christmas he would order a gallon of real Maine maple syrup from L.L. Bean -- a gift for my grandmother that we would enjoy year-round as we put her waffle-maker and her L.L. Bean cookbook to good use. Since our smaller nuclear family had neither the waffle-maker nor the syrup, when we weren't at grandma's house we had to make do with Bisquick pancakes and fruit syrup, an inferior but marginally acceptable substitute.

Beyond the fact that the syrup had to originate in the surging heart and veins of a maple tree, it had to be served warm, preferably in a small pitcher on a small plate, so as to best catch the inevitable drips. I remember making pancakes for a school fundraiser, and insisting that we boil the (plastic-packaged, generic brand) syrup, so that it could be served warm. Of course it boiled over, coating the pan, the burner, the stovetop, and a good portion of my upper body with a sticky, bubbly, scorching mess. Only then did I realize that most syrup consumers enjoy their breakfast topping cold, or at best, at a murky room-temperature.

I maintain my preference in warm syrup, and additional throw my hat in with the "dippers" as opposed to the "pourers". When you douse your breakfast with syrup, it seeps into the crevices of your blueberry pancakes or pecan waffles, merging flavors and textures. I prefer to maintain the independence of flavor profiles, as well as the smooth, slippery texture garnered from gingerly coating each piece in its own sticky bath.

Did anyone else read Laura Ingalls Wilder's inaugural tale, Little House in the Big Woods? If you did, perhaps you remember the section where Pa bled syrup from the trees during the winter, and the girls would drizzle it on fresh snow. I've never tried this -- is our snow clean enough these days? (Not in Philadelphia) -- but the concept remains captivating.

To bring this narrative to present-day, I originally intended to post about maple syrup when we were in Toronto, where our gracious hosts treated us with superb french toast and...real Maine maple syrup. But isn't Canada famous for their maple syrup? Well, yes. But Maine is practically Canada. Right? Sure. Either way, it's delicious, particularly (thank you, Nimoy), when surreptitiously added to the batter and proudly served at the table. (Brilliant).

Since leaving the north, however, we've dined at several fine establishments including the ubiquitous Cracker Barrels and Waffle Houses that dot the southern United States. The indistinguishable photograph above highlights a stack of pancakes served at the former locale, with -- you won't believe -- a tiny bottle of 100% real maple syrup. I was so excited I saved half the contents, and smuggled them into the latter eatery, which does not offer the real goods. That tiny bottle, which probably held three simple tablespoons of drizzle-able goodness, elevated both dining experiences to the sublime. (I kid not).

On a more practical note, here are a few facts you should bear in mind as you seek out real maple syrup, which I know you all will.

First, maple syrup is offered in a variety of grades, which should be clearly marked on the bottle. Here's the basic breakdown:

Grade A Light Amber is very light and has a mild, delicate flavor. It is usually harvested early in the season when the weather is quite cool. This grade is preferred for making maple candy and maple cream.

Grade A Medium Amber, a bit darker, has a correlating increase in maple flavor. It is the most popular grade of table syrup, and is usually made after the sugaring season begins to warm, about mid-season.

Grade A Dark Amber is darker yet, with a stronger maple flavor. It is usually made later in the season as the days get longer and warmer.

Grade B, sometimes called Cooking Syrup, is made late in the season and appears very dark with a very strong maple flavor, as well as some caramel flavors. Although many people use this for table syrup, because of its strong flavor it is often used for cooking, baking, and flavoring special foods.

Edit: Apparently the Canadians use a different system for grading their maple syrup. Be advised.

Secondly, you may be curious how maple syrup is collected:

Maple syrup does, in fact, trace its roots to the majestic maple tree. Specimens that are adequately wide (at least 12" in diameter) are tapped, a (painless, for the plant-lovers out there) process of removing the sap from the tree. The harvest takes place during the spring, when the sap that was frozen during winter begins to thaw and flow. Generally a tree will tolerate two or three taps but since sap is to trees what blood is to human bodies...well, you get the idea. This is why maple syrup is expensive -- but worth every penny! After the sap is collected it is highly perishable, and must be boiled down to an appropriate syrup.

And on that note, you might be wondering how they come up with the fake stuff.

When we ran out of L.L. Bean syrup Grandma would make sure Dad was securely nested in the living room, and concoct a small pot of sugar water tinted with maple flavoring. This was boiled down until the liquid reached syrup-consistency, and the impostor would proudly take its place at the table. Dad, of course, always knew. Store-bought varieties of "maple syrup" often include ample amounts of the pernicious and ubiquitous high fructose corn syrup, as well as artificial colors, flavors, and preservatives. Yuck.

Finally, some suggested uses for your concentrated tree-blood:

+ Maple syrup enjoyed a surge in popularity when health-conscious bakers realized it made a lovely replacement for white cane sugar. You made need to adjust the recipe a bit, as I find the maple syrup slightly sweeter and more flavorful than plain castor sugar.

+ An obvious use: breakfast foods, but think outside the box of griddle-based starches. Maple syrup adds a lovely depth and sweetness to cooked grains like oatmeal, quinoa, or polenta. You can also drizzle it on fruit or spike your morning beverage with a hint of maple sugar.

+ Consider maple syrup when concocting any caramelized foods, including but not limited to onions, roasted squash, beets, and tofu. And, maple syrup makes an excellent glaze for a variety of proteins and vegetables.

With all of that said, please do remember that maple syrup is sugar. Use it, but use it wisely and perhaps sparingly. Think of where it came from, the laborious hours the stately trees took to churn sunlight and water into a strong and sweet sap -- and imbibe with thanks and mindfulness.

Edit: Click here to read, sadly, about rising maple syrup prices.

Camp Food!

2008-05-20T23:27:00.000-04:00

During our one triumphant night camping (sans rain) I managed to make fire. There is something almost divine about successfully building a camp fire; I am reminded of Prometheus, and then Pandora, and eventually Zeus himself. Our little campfire didn't let loose too many evils, and there was no lightning, but we did conjure up some darn good camp food.

When I think of camp food I think of six things:

(1) Potatoes, baked in the coals to a crisp black then smothered in butter and salt

(2) Hot dogs, roasted on sticks and again smothered in some sort of tangy sauce

(3) Baked beans, heated in a fire-safe pan and enjoyed on tin plates that can double as accompaniments to campfire songs

(4) Hot cereal, concocted in a fire-safe pan and amped-up with walnuts, cream, and dried apricots or raisins

(5) Bananas stuffed with peanut butter and chocolate chips (and, perhaps, marshmellows), baked in tin foil boats

and, of course,
(6) S'mores.

On the night in question -- the first dry evening of our escapade -- we attempted options (2), sort of (3), and the quintessential (6). We roasted vegan hot dogs, then roughly chopped them into a tin of (cold, delicious) vegetarian baked beans. I considered a punnet of cherry tomatoes, but allowed myself to be distracted by the planning of dessert.

Two notes on the preparation of proper campfire s'mores:

1) Melt the chocolate. Come on, people, if you are going to make s'mores, go hard or go home. I propped the graham crackers, topped with chunks of dark chocolate, on the edge of the fire pit, balanced on one of the remaining logs. Yes, one batch melted right into the fire (who knew graham crackers could liquify?) , but overall the effort was absolutely worthwhile.

(2) There are two approaches to the toasting of the marshmellow:
A) Puncture marshmellow with stick; thrust stick in coals/flames; wait 2.3 seconds until marshmellow ignites; blow out fire and enjoy blackened marshmellow product. (Not preferred).
B) Puncture marshmellow with stick; hold an appropriate distance from coals/flames, watching assiduously; rotate when pasty white turns to golden brown (like you're tanning the marshmellow); when all sides are browned, slide marshmellow off stick to waiting warmed graham crackers. (Preferred, because the marshmellow is warm and melted all the way through).

Either method you choose, the final step is most important: Enjoy.

Convenience: Fiber Bars

2008-05-14T20:19:00.001-04:00

We're on the open road, currently regrouping just outside of Nashville, Tennessee. I wish this post could highlight the joys of Maker's Mark bourbon, since we were scheduled to tour the distillery earlier today, but after a series of unfortunate events and bad luck/karma we had to settle for a shot of Maker's Mark out of a plastic beer cup in a smoky bar 1/2 mile down the road.

I'll get to the Maker's Mark post someday, but in the meantime here's a shout-out to the food product that kept us going through our tribulations: Gnu Food High Fiber Bars.

Gnu bars are made from 100% natural ingredients, including organic whole wheat flour, oats, wheat bran, psyllium, flax and millet. Unlike many other car-friendly snacks-in-a-wrapper, these bars are soft, moist, slightly chewy, and full of flavor. And one Gnu bar provides nearly 50% of your RDA of fiber!

At this point my cohort is sort of over the fiber bars -- which is a good thing since there are only two left! The peanut butter flavor was my favorite, with the cinnamon raisin at a close second. Once those run out we're relying on trail mix and cold s'more mixings.

The (Home) Cheese Course

2008-05-10T17:54:00.010-04:00

Today we finally meandered over to Kensington Market in Toronto, in search of cheese, produce, and a belt. We were two for three, but in lieu of a belt we found food products galore. Purple potatoes, ripe avocados at $1 each, habaneros, tomatillos, Ataulfo mangoes, and fresh chives; muesli baguette, rum balls, and cannoli; and at the cheese store, for the win, smoked gouda from Holland, Chamblie from France (raw goat's milk, wrapped in bark!), and a semi-hard goat cheese from Italy (whose name I can neither procure online nor remember offhand).

Nimoy excels at creating really beautiful snack spreads. This is something I wish I did, but when I snack I tend to wander through the kitchen, discontentedly sifting through the contents of the cupboards and refrigerator and grazing on bits here and there. The process is massively unsatisfying, both for my hunger as well as that innate snacking drive that seems so rarely satiated. I wish I were the type to sit down for tea and cookies, or wine and cheese, or beer and veggie dips, every afternoon around 3-4pm...but when I'm eating alone that sort of organization seems so formal and time-consuming.

So, it's a real treat when I visit Toronto and Nimoy/Allison inspires me to Do It Right. Every time I visit we manage to gather an incredible array of fruits, cheeses, breads, and spreads, and this trip we may have hit a new best. We sliced apples and pears, shaved off pieces of mango, arranged a pleasant mound of peeled almonds, opened the jar of tangelo marmalade I brought (recipe courtesy of VeganYumYum, although I added about 1/3 cup of brandy, a bit more sugar, and a generous tablespoon of fruit pectin), set out the last of the honey, laid out grape tomatoes and cubed avocados, sliced the baguette, and opened our cheese parcels.

Really, a good cheese plate simply requires cheese, bread or crackers, and honey. Nuts and fruit are the natural extension, and if you're feeling creative a variety of spreads or jams can also be quite pleasant. The trick is to choose accompaniments that compliment, rather than overwhelm, the cheese selections. Mustard is a natural pairing with cheddars; I find that salty, savory spreads like tapenade or pesto work quite well with goat cheeses; candied nuts are fantastic with aged Goudas; in life and in food, blues love chocolate; and harder Italian varieties work nicely with sweet sides like honey or fruit jams.

The other goal, in my opinion, is to choose a good variety of cheeses that excite without overwhelming. I like something soft, something firm, something hard, and maybe something stinky or blue. You can decide whether you want to focus on a particular geographic region (e.g. an assortment of Italian cheeses -- you have plenty to choose from), compare similar styles from different regions (e.g. a goat cheese from the Loire and a goat cheese from Northern California), pick similar types of cheese (e.g. an array of the creamiest, most luscious cheeses you can find) or choose contrasting iconic cheeses (e.g. Dutch Gouda and Spanish Manchego). Pairing beverages is the next step, but that's a separate post (in the meantime, try this guide from MBA Wine Club).

Our favorite combinations from the day:
+ Muesli baguette, the aged goat cheese, and honey
+ Chamblie, pear, and honey
+ Chamblie and marmalade
+ Aged goat cheese and avocado

The gouda was a bit rubbery, so we saved most of it to be baked into the purple potatoes and Gala apples later in the evening. My beverage of choice, for those who are curious, was a blend of bourbon and iced citrus green tea, which sounds pretty awful but tasted quite lovely, and worked surprisingly well with the cheese. Cheese is the perfect snack! And also, I find, an ideal dessert. Go eat cheese.

Kitchen: The Eggbeater

2008-05-04T07:36:00.002-04:00

After experiencing Lucy's post featuring her new-old eggbeater, and then stumbling across a blog named Eggbeater, it occurred to me that I ought to post about my own ardent feelings toward the humble, under-appreciated, and dare I say endangered eggbeater.

My main culinary influence, before I became addicted to Food & WIne magazine, was my grandmother. Growing up I would spend summers and holidays at her house, balancing my time between tormenting the cats, banging on the piano, and loitering in the kitchen. She was an excellent cook, but she really excelled as a baker -- odd, in retrospect, that this didn't rub off on me, as these days I tend to view baking as a chore rather than a delight. There were always cookies in the house, and summer brought berry pies, shortcakes, and sweet quickbreads. In the winter, for the holidays, we had brownies, bourbon balls, fruitcake, and pies galore. At these times my job, besides assiduously studying her pie crust technique (as the sole female progeny and therefore custodian of the beloved tradition) was to take care of the whipped cream.

There was no store bought whipped cream in our home. Did it even exist back then? I remember thinking spray cans of whipping cream and frozen tubs of Cool Whip were bizarre and unnatural when I first encountered them (I still think this, although I would be lying if I claimed I have never indulged in either or both, possibly without a baked good as a vehicle). When it was time to dress the pumpkin pie or strawberry shortcake, I would empty the waiting pint of whipping cream into the square white Corning Ware bowl with liquid measurements traced in faded blue along the inside. Add two tablespoons of confectioner's sugar and a drizzle of real vanilla extract; retrieve the eggbeater from the second drawer on the right of the stove. Churn until the liquid transforms, magically, into a sweetly fluffy cloud that holds soft yet solid peaks when the eggbeater is gently pulled out. Resist eating with fingers straight from the bowl; that comes later tonight when the grown-ups go to bed (and yes, whipped cream was a major culprit in my early compulsion to sneak food, and probably a factor in my eventual lactose-intolerance -- but I don't hold any resentment for that). Cover leftovers with plastic wrap and re-whip before re-serving -- assuming there are leftovers.

No one seems to use eggbeaters any more. Perhaps they've gone out of style with the influx of aforementioned spray cans and frozen "whipped topping" substitutes. Some of us, perhaps after overindulging as children, are even unfortunate enough to identify as lactose-intolerant, and are thereby wise to avoid dairy delights, whipped or otherwise. And I suppose those that do take the time to execute authentic whipped cream can use their posh Kitchen Aid blenders or simple hand mixers. But I maintain, it's not the same.

If you're looking for a non-dairy whipped cream, try Go Dairy Free's tofu-based imitation, or Ricki's soy-free version. I've also heard you can use sweetened coconut milk in a whipped cream charger...but I maintain -- it's not the same.

NB: Yes, I did actually write what I thought was a complete post without mentioning that eggbeaters can, in fact, be used to "beat" "eggs". But you probably figured that out yourself.

The Route

2008-05-02T06:29:00.007-04:00

So I am moving to San Francisco. And I am driving. In fact, I'm driving this beauty (for a kind gentlemen I found via Craigslist) and taking three weeks to do it.

See our route here.

We're hitting Niagara Falls for, apparently, concrete and tourists (and the Maid of the Mists); Toronto, for cheese galore and Nimoy; Pittsburgh, for...steel factories?; the New River Gorge in West Virginia, for rafting and blue people; Nashville, Dollywood, and Memphis, for a whole lot of country music and a little Bikram yoga (and a good friend who likes both those things); Denton, TX, for another friend and whatever she wants to show us (which we hope includes rattlesnake farms); Carlsbad Caverns and Santa Fe, NM, for desert culture; various national parks (Grand Canyon, Bryce, Zion, Yosemite), for Perrin's first national-park-camping-adventures; San Jose, CA, for family and possibly a bat mitzvah; and finally, Berkeley, CA, for our temporary resting place before starting the AIDS Lifecycle .

Whew.

Gastronomic goals:
+ Resist blowing half the trip budget on cheese at Kensington Market
+ Find and consume unusual eggs (ostrich, please)
+ Eat something appropriately tacky in Dollywood
+ Enjoy bourbon balls, and bourbon, in Tennessee and/or Kentucky
+ Sample genuine Tex-Mex
(including but not limited to cornbread, fake burritos, and odd Mexican-themed casseroles)
+ Successfully prepare and consume campfire food
(NB: more than just beer and s'mores...but those things should be involved)
+ Stop at trashy roadside diners; eat deliciously greasy road food; possibly befriend truckers
+ Drink Californian wine in California and feel like I'm finally home.

Do It -- It's Free

2008-04-30T09:24:00.002-04:00

Click here to upload a photo (or not, you can just use one of the cards they’ve designed if you’d rather) and send virtual toasts to every mom you know (you can send several at a time). For each toast sent, Clos du Bois will donate $1 to WomenHeart.

Fruit: Kiwi

2008-04-26T14:00:00.005-04:00

Courtesy of guest contributor (and fruit aficionado) Allison from Nimoy! Creations.

Kiwifruit is amazingly yummy! & packed with nutrients. It is packed with Vitamin C & has a little less than the potassium of a banana. Not to mention the Vitamin E & Vitamin A! According to one study, it is the most nutrient dense fruit out there, followed by papaya & a third-place tie between mango & orange.

Kiwi also has a lot of actinidin, which is often used commerically as a meat tenderizer. But, it can be an allergen - people who have allergies to latex, pineapples, or papayas are often allergic to kiwi as well. This enzyme also breaks down dairy products & that’s why when it’s combined, it’s recommended to enjoy it right away.

Often my preferred method of eating a kiwi fruit is just to slice in half (as seen above) & dig in with a spoon. But if you’re slicing or are looking for something with a bit of class, check out this instructional video that shows how to painlessly remove the peel without harming the juicy insides.

So, next time you’re produce shopping, don’t be afraid of this slightly fuzzy little brown fruit. Eat as a snack, mix with other fruits, or use it as an interesting alternative in a salad!

Sidebar Updates

2008-04-26T13:30:00.003-04:00

I've been doing a little spring cleaning with my layout. Since I'm moving to San Francisco in (eep!) eleven days to start a Masters in Traditional Chinese Medicine, I've weeded through my Philly links and removed a few of the restaurants. I did, however, add The Great Cheese Quest, which is a wonderful cheese blog by a Philly-based cheese aficionado, as well as McDuff's Food and Wine Trail, a highly informative site created by David McDuff of Moore Brothers wine importers. I had the opportunity to work a natural wines class with David, and the synopsis is still lingering as an unfinished draft, to be published someday relatively soon! I also added Phoodie Info since it's one of the top online foodie communities in Philadelphia.

I've bumped Philly down a spot, and added categories for Toronto and Down Under, since I seem to have affinities for bloggers in both parts of the world, and both geographical locations hold a special place in my heart. My best friend from high school is an Orange County native who just immigrated to Toronto, and I added a link to her craft blog, Nimoy! Creations. She does her fair share of awesome food posts, so one of these days I'm hoping to wrangle her into being a guest contributor for By Product. I lived in New Zealand for six months while I was studying massage therapy, and it's so exciting for me to find wonderful food blogs from down under, including Lucy's beautiful chronicle, Nourish Me.

I also added a category for "Eating Responsibly", which for me both entails sites that emphasize ethical eating as well as sites that discourage disordered eating. These include The Story of Stuff, which focuses on a 20 minute video that each and every one of you ought to go watch right this instant, and The F-Word, which is one of the best sites on disordered eating and cultural dysfunction that I have ever read (longer post on this coming up).

Moving down, I added Tom Cizauskas's awesome vegetarian-beer-blog, Yours for Good Fermentables, and the artisan cheese wonderland, Cheese by Hand. I also added the ever-popular Delicious Days and the dormant yet fabulous Ladies United for the Preservation of Endangered Cocktails (what a great idea!).

Finally, on the vegan front, I added Boston-based VeganYumYum, whose blog is always beautiful and whose recipes are always tasty, as well as Southern wonder Vegangelical, whose recipe for vegan pulled pork was nothing short of life-altering (another future post I've only begun to draft).

So there you have it! My next post will probably outline our itinerary (driving cross-country) and culinary aspirations for the trip and move. Have a great weekend everyone.

Cherry Grove Farm Toma (Lawrenceville, New Jersey)

2008-04-25T10:48:00.001-04:00

Served with apricot mustard

They say: "Cherry Grove is a 400-acre certified organic farm in central New Jersey (Lawrenceville is just north of Trenton). Harvest Toma is made with raw Jersey cow's milk. It is aged for two months, during which time the paste is brushed with olive oil. Their products are available at Reading Terminal Market."

Cmoore says: Luxuriously smooth, with a mild flavor cascading to a nutty, salty finish. Slightly bitter at the rind, but overall highly snackable.

Serving suggestions: Fruity light-bodied reds, like Pinot Noir or Gamay, will complement this cheese without overpowering it. It could tolerate a little bitterness, but no strong tannins or heavy hop; a Belgian IPA like De Raanke might work well.

Tomme Crayeuse (Savoie, France)

2008-04-25T10:35:00.000-04:00

Served with strawberry pesto

They say: "A relatively new creation, Tomme Crayeuse was created by Max Schmidhauser (one of France's top affineurs) to resemble Tomme de Savoie, but with more personality. It is covered in gray, white, and yellow molds. The yellow mold is cellulose mold -- a type of mold generally found in the Savoie region and nowhere else; the while mold is a small amount of P. Candidum, and the gray mold is a result of the two molds growing together. This is one rind you may not want to taste, but the paste inside is buttery, mushroomy, and unique. 'Crayeuse' is chalky in French, and refers to the texture of the very center of the cheese."

Cmoore says: "Tomme" refers to the format of the cheese, which is a 3.5 lb. wheel. This is a smooth, soft cheese with a sweetly fruity profile grounded by a pungent, earthy rind.

Serving suggestions: Light-bodied reds with a little spice: Pinot Noir, Syrah, Beaujolais. I would even try it with a flavorful rose. On the beer side, something fruity, even as fruity as a fruited lambic.

Gres de Vosges (Lorraine, France)

2008-04-25T10:22:00.000-04:00

Served with mushroom pate

They say: "Gres des Vosges hails from Alsace, the land of Munster, where the rich soil is perfect for growing cherry trees. Many of those cherries are used locally to make Kirsch, a crucial ingredient in the production of Gres des Vosges. The cheese is matured in three steps. For the first three weeks, it is bathed in a light brine. Then, for three more weeks, it is washed with diluted Kirsch. Then, for another week, it is brushed with undiluted Kirsch, enhancing its fruity finish. The rind is pinkish-orange from the repeated washings, with a slight granular texture from the salt crystals, and the paste is soft and oozy, with a strong aroma. The cheeses is always decorated with a small fern sprig (it adds nothing to the flavor)."

Cmoore says: Smoothly pungent with a strong aroma and notes of onion. Spreadable paste with a crunch from the rind. Pretty.

Serving suggestions: Sweeter whites pair nicely with stinky cheeses; try a Gewurztraminer for some sweet spice, or a Riesling for notes of honey. Kirsch seems like another no-brainer option. If you want to go beer, maybe a Flemish red ale if you're feeling adventurous, or any other vibrant ale with enough punch to stand up to the assertive cheese.

Haystack Mountain Red Cloud (Niwot, CO)

2008-04-23T09:25:00.005-04:00

Served with brown butter apricots

They say: "Washed simply in brine, Red Cloud exhibits the red fruity qualities of a cheese typically washed in spirits. It is unpasteurized goat's milk, scrubbed and washed daily giving it a marbled red/orange color. The high acidity of the goat's milk i san interesting contrast with the usual pungency of a washed rind cheese, as is the bright white hue of the paste inside. Niwot, Colorado is just outside of Boulder, and Haystack Mountain is a pile of rubble near the dairy."

Cmoore says: Surprisingly mild for a washed-rind cheese, my hunch is that this firm little round will soften and intensify as it ripens. The high acid of the goat's milk comes through nicely, finishing with a sharp bite bordering on ammonia-esque, similar to the pine-y-ness of Vacherin Mont D'Or or Chaput Grand Foin. Haystack Mountain does great things with goat's milk -- this washed rind wonder is definitely worth a try.

Serving suggestions: Something sweet and smooth, like a Riesling, Sauterne, or Tripel. Try with pears?

La Tur (Piedmont, Italy)

2008-04-23T08:53:00.005-04:00

Served with porcini honeycomb

They say: "La Tur is about the size of a cupcake and wrapped in a ruffled paper doily, so instantly there is an indication that the cheeses will be a real treat. An usual blend of cow's, goat's AND sheep's milk, not one component dominates the others. The rind is lightly dusted with P. Candidum, giving it a wrinkly, membrane-like texture. It is luscious and creamy next to the rind, and slightly firmer, although still spreadable, toward the center. Aged for less than a month, La Tur has a remarkable depth of personality, ranging from delicately salty cream to earthy and mushroomy, with the animal undertones of sheep and goat."

Cmoore says: Awesome creamline, with a light but luscious whipped texture. Salty paste that promises to ooze as it ripens. Flavor profile is barnyardy and mushroomy, with notes of hay. Who doesn't like salt and cream?

Serving suggestions: Sparkling! Particularly sparkling rose or grower's champagne. I think a Belgian tripel would be nice, too, or the true champagne of beer, Deus.

Westfield Blue Log (Hubbardston, MA)

2008-04-22T13:43:00.006-04:00

Served with Tuscan pepper honey

They say: "Aged for about 3 weeks. This is a goat cheese with the legendary blue mold, Penicillium Roqueforti. Unlike many artisinal cheeses, this aged goat cheese encrusted by blue mold is a unique, American creation. The Stetsons of Westfield Farm begin with their traditional, high quality chevre, but then cover the outside with the famed mold. After 20 days in a warm curing room with high humidity, the exterior forms a grayish-blue crust. The fluffy interior remains bright white and goaty to the core. It ripens from the outside in, but no blue veins enter the paste. (Note: blue veins are possible only when the cheese maker pierces the paste with copper needles, allowing oxygen and Penicillium Roqueforti to creep in.) The exterior mold gives the cheese a gentle piquancy near the rind, but it is tempered with the lemony tang of a fresh goat cheese."

Cmoore says: "Blue Log" doesn't exactly evoke the paragon of deliciousness, so I usually opt for "Classic Blue Log", which somehow ups the ante. The blue mold is thick, more like a a soft shell than a thin skin. It provides a smooth coating that packs a spicy punch, nicely contrasting the salty, light, creamy-yet-fluffy interior. This might not be the best choice for a crowd-pleaser, but definitely a fun cheese.

Serving suggestions: Blue mold is from Mars, and goats are from Venus, so how do you find a beverage that suits both? Look for something with sweetness to complement the blue, and acidity to temper the goat: perhaps a Chenin Blanc or Viognier, or on the barley-based end, a Belgian tripel would do nicely.

Valencay (Loire Valley, France)

2008-04-22T13:07:00.007-04:00

Served with red beet jam

They say: "Shaped like a pyramid and covered in blue-gray mold, Valencay has a very distinctive appearance. Legend has it that it was originally a complete pyramid, with a point at the top. This was lopped off by an angry Napoleon when he stopped by the castle of Valencay. He had just been defeated by the Egyptians, and the stately pyramids aroused his rage. The mold is caused by a generous coating of salted charcoal ash, an excellent preservative for goat cheeses. Valencay is the first region in France to achieve AOC status for both wine and cheese."

Cmoore says: All the classic qualities of a Loire goat's milk cheese -- lactic, grassy, slightly lemony -- with a creamy, mouth-coating consistency and pleasantly peppery finish. Between the fresh, young scent and subtly biting arugula-reminiscent finish, this is an ideal spring cheese. I bet it would be great with a plate of lightly dressed greens and a very fresh baguette.

Suggested pairings: The Loire is known for their Sauvignon Blanc as well as their goat cheeses, and not coincidentally the two make a lovely union. Other zippy, slightly minerally whites like a Bordeux Blanc or an Austrian Gruner Veltliner would also accentuate this cheese in all the right ways. If you want to go beer try something light but hoppy, like a pilsner, a gentle IPA, or a saison.

Vermont Butter & Cheese "Coupole" (Websterville, VT)

2008-04-22T12:48:00.008-04:00

Served with brown butter apricots

They say: "Vermont Butter and Cheese Company is a cooperative supporting over 20 family farms. They pay each dairy for quality milk, providing incentives for each farmer to raise his standard of purity. The co-op has a strict standard of testing each milk, and the higher the score of an individual's milk, the more money she will receive. They have a line of fresh cheeses and butters, but are mostly known for their aged artisanal goat cheeses, modeled after the famous Loire Valley chevres. Bijou is their take on the classic French Crottin de Chavignol, and Coupole is made with the same recipe as Bijou. It is then drained into a larger mold, that of a miniature dome. They sprinkle it with a small amount of vegetable ash. Coupole is fully mature at 45 days."

Cmoore says: Dense, lactic, and chalky, with an overall mild, slightly sweet flavor profile and pleasant mouth-coating texture. Goat cheese seem more appealing and apropos in the summer, perhaps because the dense chalkiness pairs so nicely with the crisp, cold beverages I crave in the summer heat. I love that VBC is a co-op, and I love that this cheese is vegetarian: I think it would be particularly delicious with some honey and green apples.

Suggested pairings: Crisply acidic whites, like Sauvignon Blanc or Vernaccia; Light, effervescent beers like Belgian wit beer, a mildly hoppy Saison/Farmhouse ale, or even a nice Hefeweizen.

Food Matters

2008-04-20T22:39:00.000-04:00

Thanks, Al!

By Shopping List

2008-04-16T23:10:00.014-04:00

Preparing for my upcoming (22 days!) pilgrimage to the west/best coast, I've been putting some thought (with the two spare brain cells that aren't planning the logistics of getting myself and all my worldly belongings across the country) to what goods I'll need to stock my future pantry. My cooking style is such that I like to have a lot of staples on hand, so when hunger strikes (or guests arrive) I can let my creative forces fly. For one whole lovely month in Santa Barbara I made a variety of dishes with only spinach, broccoli eggs, peanut butter, rice, soy sauce, orange juice, bread, onions, garlic, and mushrooms on hand. (It's really not that much when you think about it). And I suspect similar adventures await me as I settle into my new surroundings over the next few months. I like to be prepared.

Bear in mind that I fully recognize the frivolity and ultimate fruitlessness of this query, but when I'm anxious I like to make lists, and this is one of my favorite lists to make (this is round three or four on this particular topic). As a nice follow-up to the kitchen tools and utensils one might keep handy, here is my list of the edible goods one might need/want to cook in/with/on one's pretty culinary paraphernalia:

In The Pantry (Shelves)
Olive oil (I use extra virgin for everything -- yes, I know you aren't supposed to. But I do.)
Vinegars (brown rice, apple cider, red wine, balsamic)
Rice (brown, Basmati, jasmine), couscous, and/or quinoa
Pasta (fresh is better, but nice to have some dried on hand -- Asian and Italian varieties)
Tea (black, spiced, green, white, herbal; bagged and loose leaf)
Canned beans (black, cannelini, kidney, garbonzo)
Nuts (walnuts, pine nuts, almonds)
Cereal
Crackers
Honey
Canned tomatoes (so useful)
Chipotles in adobo (so tasty)
Coconut milk
Marmite!
Other oil (canola, sesame, walnut)
Dried fruit (cranberries, candied ginger, mango)
English muffins
Soup (grudgingly)

In the Pantry (Baking)
Flour (unbleached, whole wheat)
Corn meal
Baking powder
Baking soda
Salt
Sugar (brown, confectioner's, maybe white)\
Extracts (vanilla, almond, maple, rum)
Cocoa powder and/or baking chocolate
Molasses

In the Pantry (Dried seasonings)
Basil
Bay Leaves
Cayenne or Chili powder
Cinnamon
Cumin
Nutmeg
Oregano
Paprika
Peppercorns
Rosemary
Sesame seeds
Thyme
Turmeric
Vegetable boullion
Flavored salts
Flax seeds
Poppy seeds
Cream of Tartar
Whole cloves

In the Pantry (Drawer)
Onions (yellow, red, maybe shallots too)
Garlic (LOTS)
Potatoes (sweet, baking, red, fingerling -- whatever looks good at the market)
Fresh ginger

In the Refrigerator (Door)
Soy sauce
Peanut butter
Mustard
Ketchup
Hot sauce (sriracha, Frank's, Tabasco, Cholula)
Olives, capers
Yeast packets
Shortening or margarine
Fruit preserves
Maple syrup
Champagne

In the Refrigerator (Shelves)
Eggs
Soy milk
Orange juice
Seltzer
Filtered water / water pitcher
Miso paste
Beer (wheat, stout, lager, IPA, maybe lambic, saison)
Leftovers

In the Refrigerator (Drawers)
Leafy greens (kale, spinach)
Tomatoes
Carrots
Seasonal produce
Tempeh, maybe vegan sausage
Cheese (cheddar, gouda, goat, parmesan)
Tofu

In the Freezer
Leftovers (like soup, preferably in individual containers)
Sliced bread
Ice trays
Fruit for smoothies (lots of bananas, berries)
Veggie chicken nuggets
Tofu
Coffee (beans or ground)
Edamame
Peas
Dark chocolate
Grapes

Elsewhere
Lemons
Not-overly-ripe seasonal fruit
Wine
Bread
Avocados

What else do you have stocked?

Kitchen Products, 101

2008-04-07T10:50:00.015-04:00

For Travis, and his new Berlin digs, in which I shall someday cook.

Ikea is crap. I hate their mass-produced, characterless, cheap-because-it's-going-to-break-in-a-week products, and I *especially* hate their kitchen lines. I reached the pinnacle of my disdain when I stayed in an apartment in Prague outfitted with the standard Ikea fare. What happened to individuality? And local companies? Local flavor? Quality?? Here's my list of kitchen tools worth the investment:

+ GARLIC PRESS. Because chopping just isn't the same (and don't tell me you've ever even thought about using canned).

+ Really great kitchen knife. I'm probably preaching to the choir here, but you need something that's going to get the job done efficiently and effectively, and also prevent you from harming yourself. I worked for Cutco for one miserable summer, but came out on top with a nice set of knives and, more importantly, knowledge about how to pick a good knife. You want a full tang, meaning the blade goes all the way to the end of the handle (rather than inserting into the handle, which raises the chance of unfortunate knife-snapping-incidences). Speaking of handles, avoid wood -- they rot quickly and retain bacteria. You also want high-quality, preferably copper or steel divets, holding the knife into the handle (poor quality divets will rust faster). The handle should be comfortable in your hand so that you don't have to strain your wrist or overgrip with your fingers as you're chopping. And, obviously, the blade should be sharp -- most kitchen accidents occur from using knives that are too dull!
The knife category requires subsections:
a) A chef's knife, which you can use with a rocking chopping motion. Usually a 5-6" blade, 1-2" wide.
b) A serrated knife for cutting tomatoes, bread, some fish, etc. (If you want to splurge on a bread knife, AWESOME, I use mine all the time...but a serrated blade will do).
c) A paring knife, for coring produce, some peeling, and cutting directly in to a pot or saucepan.
d) A medium-sized knife, for other fish, some vegetables, fine cuts, and decorative cuts.
e) Insert meat-appropriate knife here. A cleaver? A hacksaw? You tell me.

+ Pots. Another category worthy of subsections, but first some general guidelines on investing in cookware. Remember you are investing--really great cookware will last you for decades, and bring you a lot of joy in the kitchen! You can buy a mid-range 8- or 10- piece set for $80-$200, and then start to buy high-quality pieces one at a time to build a good set. All pots should have lids (I like glass so that I can peek in), and all pans should have heatproof handles (this is just my personal preference). Check the care instructions before you buy: can you throw them in the dishwasher? Do you have to be careful what utensils you use? Can you use steel wool if something burns? Decide if you want non-stick pans (I don't -- I'm suspicious of the chemicals they use to create the non-stick surface, and I don't like how easily you can scratch the bottom), and go from there. Here's my list of must-have pots:
a) Large stockpot, for soups, stews, risottos, puddings, and other high-volume dishes that need to be boiled.
b) Medium saucepan or braiser. Good for poaching, steaming, heating soups, and small-scale liquid-based exploits.
c) Large flat skillet. For frying, can double as a griddle. Nice if it's ovenproof for baking frittatas or keeping sauteed dishes warm.
d) Medium saute pan. This differs from a skillet in that it has raised sides and a lid. So freaking many uses.
e) Wok. Get a wok. So good for vegetables, stir-fried meats or meat-substitutes, greens, braising, etc.
f) Small skillet, for frying eggs or onions, cooking for one. Nice if it doubles as a crepe or omelet pan.

+ Pans.
a) 13 x 9" glass pyrex. Great for roasting vegetables, baking pasta or chicken dishes, broiling peppers, housing ramekins in a water bath, etc.
b) Flat baking dish and/or cookie sheet. Baked goods, toasting nuts, catching drips, so much more.
c) I feel there ought to be a (c), but I don't really know what else you need. I suppose an 8x8" dish might come in handy, or a bigger roasting dish for meats. If you're an avid baker, loaf pans, springform pans, bundt pans, a pie pan, and muffin tins are also contenders.

+ Wine glasses, because if someone serves me wine in a plastic Eagles cup one more time I swear I will find a way to smash it (preferably after throwing wine in their smirking face). I would love me some Riedel, but at $15 per glass I'm going to wait until after I move across the country to invest. Don't worry about matching the shape of your wine glass to the specific wine you're drinking, but do believe me that Riedel wine glasses literally improve the taste of wine. If you don't want to splurge on Riedel, at least buy stemware with an oversized bowl for swirling. A good rule of thumb is to buy glasses at a pricepoint where you won't be devastated if one breaks, but you're excited to drink out of them.

+ Blender. I love my little Magic Bullet (it does everything!), but I'm aware that other chefs prefer something with a slightly larger format. When buying a blender the first thing I think about it clean-up: are there a lot of little buttons that will make me pull out the Q-Tips everytime I clean the kitchen? If/when I spill liquids everywhere, how much time will I spend figuring out how to wipe out the nooks and crannies of the base? Find something easy to clean, and make sure it has a pulse setting. I'm also a fan of ice-crushing potential, but you get what you pay for when it comes to motor power. If you, like me, are content without a standard blender, consider the Magic Bullet or a stick blender, which can be used to puree salad dressings, dips, soups, etc. (NB: the latter not so good for smoothies).

+ Cutting board. Although they're pretty, wooden cutting boards are said to hold germs. True? Maybe not -- I hear (see comments, below) you can use salt to clean them out every few weeks. Plastic may seem to be a better option, and many people get excited about the super-thin plastic boards that can bend to transport chopped foods from the counter to the pan, but I like something with a little more heft. Glass boards annoy me. The quest continues.

+ Mixing bowls. I prefer the stacking glass variety, but aluminum will do as well. Having several sizes around comes in handy.

Those are the basics as far as "big stuff". There are also a lot of smaller utensils you might want to have handy:

+ Ramekins. Holding chopped ingredients, cooking individual souffles or custards, serving appetizers or spreads, looking professional in your home kitchen. Get six, you'll use them.

+ Zester, perhaps even a microplane. Fresh zest makes such a difference in both cooking and baking. I have a medium-sized zester-meets-grater which I use for citrus fruits as well as hard cheeses. Multitasking tools are ok.

+ Vegetable peeler. You might think this one goes without saying. However, I grew up in a household without a vegetable peeler. I spent way too many hours of my childhood scraping carrots and potatoes with a paring knife. Definitely worth the ($10) investment.

+ Can opener . Again, you may think this is obvious, but there are a lot of really awful can openers on the market. We have four in our drawer right now, and surprisingly only my super-cheap, dinky little dollar store opener gets the job done. I wish you could test-drive the can openers in-store (can you?).

+ Strainer. I thought I could make do using the top half of a two-piece steaming set, but I often find that I need a fine mesh sieve for various kitchen tasks (sifting flour, straining sauces, draining tofu, etc). There's really no replacement, so it's worth the cabinet space.

Obviously your kitchen tools will depend on your kitchen habits. Here are other gadgets that might prove useful:

+ A rice cooker, if you cook rice a lot. Non-rice-cooker-cooked rice just can't compete.

+ An electric kettle. My devotion to the electric kettle began when I was living in New Zealand, where there is literally an electric kettle in every house. Remnants of British culture I suppose. I loved that everywhere I went people offered me "a cuppa", and with the flick of a switch we'd have steaming cups of tea in minutes. I use mine all the time -- not just for hot beverages, but to boil water for pasta or soup faster, to make boullion, to soak sun-dried tomatoes, etc. I also love the ritual aspect of putting on the kettle in the morning, or when guests are over. Stove kettles obviously serve this function as well, but they aren't as fast (or, in my opinion, as pretty), and they take up valuable burner space.

+ Cuisinart. I, myself, still don't quite understand the fixation with Cuisinarts, but I'm beginning to get the feeling that's because I've never really had a chance to play with one. Apparently you can use them to chop, to make dough, to puree dips, to write novels, to cure colds, to find happiness -- and there's rumor that Cuisinart useage may lower your risk of heart disease and breast cancer. I'm still not sold, but read about Food Blogga's affair with her new Cuisinart here and see what you think. NB: I do find myself using my roommate's mini-Cuisinart whenever I make guacamole or hummus. And I like how compact it is. Just a thought.

+ Coffee grinder for spices and seeds, and, of course, coffee. Freshly-ground any-of-the-above are dramatically more flavorful. NB: The Magic Bullet is awesome for grinding seeds and spices!

+ A crockpot, particularly if you want to be able to slow-cook meats or soups while you're out of the house. Also good for party foods and making large batches for freezing.

+ Siphon bottle. To make seltzer! Gosh, I want one.

+ On that note, a water jug, to hold cold (filtered?) water in the refrigerator can be a nice addition.

+ Counter containers for flour, sugar, salts, etc. You don't have to keep them in the counter, but I prefer them so much to messy bags.

+ Pizza stone (and board, because Susan says so, even though I don't exactly know what that is). Definitely makes a difference in your 'pie.

+ Pot rack. Where are you going to store all those pots and pans? I prefer hanging racks (with room above to store larger pots) to cupboards or cabinets.

There are a few things that you can buy at Ikea or a dollar store, knowing you'll probably cycle through them pretty quickly. For instance:

+ Silverware. I can't tell you how many forks I've bent in the poor garbage disposal, or how many spoons have bowed under the pressure of my Ben and Jerry's cravings.
+ Wooden spoons. I recently chucked one because I used it to dye a sweater, and pink spoons can be rather disconcerting if you're making anything but borsht.
+ Kitchen towels . I may occasionally burn holes in mine when I leave them too close to the burners. You can never have too many kitchen towels.
+ Tupperware. You'll lose pieces here and there, so get a good variety of shapes and sizes, and try to store them with the lids securely fastened.
+ Measuring cups and spoons. Self-explanatory. Go for something that will store compactly and clean easily.

Did I miss anything?

Beer: The Sad Tale of Ommegang

2008-03-31T11:11:00.010-04:00

It is with a heavy heart, on this beautiful finally-spring-in-Philadelphia day, that I write a eulogistic tribute to the Ommegang brews of years past.

Ommegang Brewery, located in Cooperstown, NY, exclusively brews Belgian-style ales. Particularly hailed for Hennepin, their farmhouse saison style, they are in fact owned by Belgian brewerey Moortgat (makers of Duvel), and brew a significant portion of their products across the pond. Since 1997 Randy Thiel has been the head brewmaster at Ommegang, and was evened knighted by the Belgian brewer's guild (Chevalerie du Fourquet des Brasseurs) for his accomplishments. He's turned out such delights as Abbey Ale (their version of a dubbel) and Three Philosophers (a dark strong ale blended with a cherry lambic). We've had both the latter selections on our menu on-and-off since I started at Tria, and I always thought of them as some of my favorite beers on the menu. Like superstars Hitachino and Russian River, I trusted that anything and everything coming out of Ommegang would be sure to please and delight.

However, times have changed.

As of February, Randy Thiel has relocated to his native Midwest. He is now serving as the Director of Quality Control at the New Glarus Brewing Company of New Glarus, Wisconsin. Back in Cooperstown, Phil Leinhart, former Director of Production at Ommegang, has assumed the title and duties of Brewmaster. His credentials are sound (over twenty years of brewing; study in England and Germany, as well as in the U.S.), but his products have left me shocked and dismayed. We blind tasted the Abbey Ale in training, and it tastes flat, limp, and dull. The rich flavors of dried fruits and malty depth are gone, replaced with a one-dimensional palate and overwhelming banana notes. Even more horrifying, I ordered a Three Phils at the South Philly Tap Room, and I actually made everyone at the table taste it to verify that I was served the right beer. The cherry sweetness and uplifting effervescence have been replaced, again, with a strong banana flavor and simplified mouthfeel. The fruity complexity of Ommegang's renowned ales seems to be a thing of the past.

Maybe Phil's time at Anheuser-Busch in Newark, New Jersey tainted his conception of great craft beer. Or perhaps his original function of increasing brewing capacity distracted him from the goal of producing truly quality products. 2007 was, in fact, a record-breaking brewing production at Ommegang--but the lesson many Americans have yet to learn rings particularly true here: "more" does not mean "better".

R.I.P. Ommegang. How I shall miss thee.

For more information read Beer Advocate's synopsis here.

Faking It

2008-03-27T17:07:00.005-04:00

Title credit shared between Jennifer Cruise, who wrote the novel before I wrote the blog post, and Rachel of Cheese or Death, who recommended the book to me (which I have yet to read).

Many non-vegetarians are perplexed by the vegetarian's desire to include meat substitutes in his or her diet. If you want a hamburger, the omnivore argues, just eat it. Why waste your time with a Gardenburger? The same goes for sausage, bacon, chicken nuggets, ground beef, turkey, and lunch meat. I have no desire to eat genuine meat (a longer post on that at a later date), but I do love some of the substitutes out there (except the fake lunch meat -- that's just too far.) However, one of my accomplices in supporting the vegan sausage industry recently forward a link to Mark Sisson's post on Processed Soy and Meat Alternatives. The gist of the article is that processed meat alternatives are just as unhealthy as processed meat products, if not more so, including a castigation of my beloved riblets. The main message of the post, which I think is actually rather valid is that:

...If you are committed to a vegetarian diet and we can’t convince you otherwise, we still encourage you to eat food and not food products.

I am committed to a vegetarian diet, and although I don't think I'll ever fully renounce the likes of riblets and veggie sausage, after reading Mark's article I retaliated by making a homemade version of soy nuggets: cornmeal-crusted tofu cutlets. I don't have a photo of these because my happy household devoured them so quickly. That said, I generally feel like my photo-less posts, while less visually alluring, have a certain appeal when you consider that there's no photo because the food was so tasty I couldn't even stop to grab my camera. And thus I present my stream-of-consciousness narration on preparing Tofu Cutlets with Saucy Cabbage

Buy a block of tofu. When you get home, put it in the freezer and forget about it for a few months. When you run out of food and are too lazy/poor/cold to drag yourself to the grocery store, dethaw tofu. Drain very well. (I like to make a sandwich where a cutting board and a plate are the "bread", and the tofu is the..."meat". A couple cans on top encourage a more thorough drain, or pressing down on either side can provide an often-necessary quick fix.) Slice tofu 3/4" thick and douse with soy sauce or tamari.

In a separate dish mix a healthy scoop of corn meal with seasonings of choice (I like a generous amount of ancho chili powder, black pepper, and a sprinkling of sesame seeds). Dredge tofu in cornmeal mixture (no liquids required!) and fry in a blend of sesame and olive oils (balance to taste). Serve with sriracha (or sauce of choice, e.g....ketchup).

I served my tofu cutlets with some saucy cabbage. I don't really like cabbage, but I wanted a side dish and needed to use up a leftover 1/2 head of cabbage in my refrigerator. This recipe exemplifies my cooking style (and perhaps demonstrates why this blog isn't really about recipes) --

Shred cabbage. Heat vegetable oil in wok. Go ahead and throw in a few shakes of sesame oil, too. Cabbage is bland. Add three cloves of crushed garlic. Aww, you like garlic -- make it four. Oops, that garlic is getting really brown, isn't it? Quick, add the cabbage. Stir-fry. This is going to need more flavoring, eh? Soy sauce is a good start. But only a start. How about some rice vinegar? Not that much! Now the whole kitchen smells acidic. Let that cook off for a minute -- mmm, see how the cabbage is getting toasty brown? That's good. What's that, you found half a container of sweet and sour sauce in the fridge? Go on, throw it in there. Yep, good call. Almost there...maybe a dash of onion powder? Perfect. That cabbage sure is saucy...

By Meme

2008-03-23T23:47:00.007-04:00

Stolen from Lucy over at Nourish Me

What were you cooking five years ago?

Five years ago I was finishing my freshman year of college and contemplating writing a book on cooking a multiple-course meal with only a hot pot and a paring knife. (I think someone beat me to it?)

What were you cooking 10 years ago?

Ten years ago (circa age 13), I had just discovered the joys of cooking, thanks to my ennui with my single father's reliance on deli takeout combined with our accidental subscription to Food & Wine magazine. From ten to twelve I went through a recipe mania, cutting and printing recipes from the newfangled internet and all the cooking magazines I could get my hands on, and cataloging them in a giant three-ring binder. By age thirteen I a) realized that I'd rather cook freestyle than per recipe; and b) recognized that I needed to cook in a way that my thirteen-year-old lifestyle (homework, sports teams, music practice, friends) could sustain. So I started making Sunday the cooking day, staying up until the wee hours pickling produce, boiling rice, baking pasta, freezing fruit, chopping vegetables, portioning snacks, and writing menus for the week. The Sunday frenzy dissipated by the time high school rolled around, but lately I've been craving that regiment and ritual.

Five snacks you enjoy:

Trader Joe's desiccated (I think) snap peas
Whatever leftovers are in the fridge
Vegan chicken tenders/nuggets/wings
Tea and toast
Wine/beer and cheese (which, I recognize, could be a whole category unto itself)

Five recipes you know by heart:

I don't really use recipes. But there are a few combos I keep coming back to:
Basic frittata (to be embellished as ingredients-on-hand permit)
Really great roasted potatoes
My signature bread-dipping sauce
Really great guacamole
My mother's dijon vinaigrette

Five culinary luxuries you would indulge in if you were a millionaire:

Five trips to exotic/exciting locales to enjoy the cuisine and appropriate local culinary training. My current list of destinations would probably be:
Turkey
Thailand
Japan
Southern Italy
And...Morocco? Israel? India? Greece? Oh, the possibilities...

My contribution to this survey -- Five culinary indulgences you crave, and can afford without being a millionaire:

Red siphon bottle from Williams Sonoma (see below)
Windowsill herb garden
Garlic press (for when I move and can't use my roommate's any more....see below again)
Turkish coffee set
Vacu-vin pump

Five foods you love to cook:

Eggs! One-hundred-and-one ways.
Pasta, but the end result is generally more sauce/vegetables and less noodle.
Tempeh, probably my favorite meat stand-in.
Greens, mainly kale, because of the constant cravings.
Fresh seasonal vegetables. This moment: asparagus. Recently: blood oranges. Etc.

And one more addition -- Five ingredients you simply adore:

Mangoes
Tortillas
Lemon juice
Olive oil
Salt

Five things you cannot/will not eat:

Red meat, since age eleven
Milk, cream (and/or ice cream, tragically), since age twenty
Foie gras, since my bioethics class/age twenty-one
Most dishes flavored with dill, a lifelong aversion
Pre-packaged desserts (e.g. Twinkies), since my roommate started spoiling me with daily deliveries from Metropolitan Bakery.

Five favourite culinary toys:

GARLIC PRESS.
Cutco knives, from my Cutco saleswoman days, although, honestly, they really are a bit too sharp for regular use.
Red electric tea kettle. So darn many uses. And so pretty!
Red siphon bottle, that I don't own yet.
Magic Bullet. The blender.

Your turn?

Who Doesn't Love Camel's Milk?

2008-03-20T08:42:00.004-04:00

My best friend recently sent me this NY Times Article on Camelbert. Teehee.

To the Cheese Course, Prepare to Add Camel
By PERVAIZ SHALLWANI
Published: March 19, 2008
A brielike cheese with a bloomy rind and a gooey off-white center, Caravane is made in Mauritania at one of the world’s first camel milk dairies.

Emergency? Emergen-C!

2008-03-18T15:47:00.004-04:00

For today's product focus I would like to tout the virtues of my favorite non-alcoholic beverage: Emergen-C. These little drink-mix packets -- available in several delicious (tangerine, cranberry) and a few repulsive (black cherry, tropical) flavors -- support a healthy immune system, provide a nice energy boost, and help replace depleted electrolytes. And it's fizzy -- I definitely have a soft spot for non-soda carbonated beverages. With 1,000mg of low-acidic vitamin C; vitamins B1, B2, B3, B6 and B12; and 32 mineral complexes, it's great for athletes, vegetarians, people who work the graveyard shift, small children, unwed mothers, pet owners, shoe salesmen, Hannah Montana fans, and, well, anyone and everyone really. I love it after a hard yoga class, and I drink it almost obsessively at work. Look what people are saying:

Well. Perhaps it's not a miracle drug, but maybe that's why I like it so much! I'm suspicious of many vitamin pills, as I'm not convinced the body digests, processes, and absorbs them efficiently -- or at all. Many nutritionists claim that the body can only absorb 10-15% of the nutrients in vitamin pills: the rest end up as expensive urine. Liquid nutrients are said to be more easily digested and absorbed, and thus more beneficial. I won't say that Emergen-C prevents or cures colds, or can replace caffeine, but I do think it's a great way to stay hydrated and add a few nutrients to your diet. There's also a few arguments out there favoring Emergen-C over Airborne, not just because of the variance in price point (Airborne is generally $7 for ten tablets; I get my 36 packets of Emergen-C for $10), but also because Airborne's excessive concentration of Vitamin A (5,000mg) could potentially put you at risk for vitamin poisoning (who knew?). I also prefer Emergen-C to other post-workout beverages, such as Gatorade, Powerade, and Crystal Light, all of which are full of sugar ("electrolytes") and pleasantries such as high-fructose corn syrup and Aspartame. At an even 25 calories per packet, I'll reach for my Emergen-C any day (and I do).

And in case there was any confusion:

St. Patty's Day Borscht

2008-03-17T15:56:00.013-04:00

No, borscht is not an Irish food. I actually made this for my Potluck Book Club, which was meeting to discuss the Ukranian-set, fairly Jewish novel "Everything is Illuminated." We tried to stick to the cultural themes with our culinary selections, and despite my longing for blinis and latkes I decided I would tackle that neon hallmark of Eastern Europe: beet soup.

Oddly enough, while I was concocting my soup I couldn't help notice the similarities between Irish and Ukranian cuisine. Potatoes, cabbage, beef, onions...is your mouth watering yet? Well, mine wasn't. I had a hard time believing beets belonged in soup, particularly as I surveyed the rather drab-looking assortment of ingredients. However, I must say this soup turned out to be quite delectable. The vegetables were tender yet textured, and although my house still smells like vinegar the flavor lent a pleasantly refreshing acidity to the broth. Furthermore, the sour cream provides a creamy balance, and I couldn't resist adding a handful of micro-greens for an Americanized crunch -- not to mention some St Patrick's Day green.

Although I always pictured it pureed, borscht is in fact traditionally served as a chunky, broth-based soup. The main seasonings are usually caraway seeds (think rye bread) and dill, but since I couldn't find fresh dill I substituted chervil. Furthermore, most borscht recipes call for beef stock and a few beef bones, neither of which interested me. A few vegetarian recipes recommend a handful of porcini mushrooms to provide the missing meatiness (why are mushrooms the universal meat substitute?), but I instead opted for the remainder of the Harpoon Munich Dark Ale I enjoyed during my prep work. After tinkering with a few recipes, including this one from the Food Network's web site, here's what I ended up with:

5 fresh beets, unpeeled
1 parsnip, halved and thinly sliced
2 medium carrots, thinly sliced
1/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons white or red-wine vinegar
2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons kosher salt
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 stalks celery, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced crosswise
2 small onions, quartered and thinly sliced
5 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
1/2 head Savoy cabbage, cored, cut into 1-inch wedges, and shredded
A small handful fresh chervil
3 bay leaves
One 16-ounce can diced tomatoes (with liquid)
12-15 small fingerling potatoes, cut in halves or thirds
10-11 cups water
1/2 bottle stout beer
6 cubes vegetable bouillon
Sour cream and micro-greens, for garnish

In a large saucepan, cover the beets with cold water by l inch. Stir in 1/4 cup of the vinegar and 2 tablespoons salt. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, and simmer, covered, until very tender, about 40 minutes. Remove from liquid, cool, and peel the beets. Cut into 1/4" thick medium-sized rectangles, and set aside.

Add potatoes to the same pot/liquid and boil until very soft. Set aside, reserving one cup of cooking liquid.

Heat the oil in a very, very large pot over medium heat. Add the celery, onion, carrots, parsnip, garlic, and caraway seeds and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft, about 8 minutes. Add the cabbage and beer and cook, stirring, until wilted, about 3 minutes.

Tie the chervil and bay leaves together with a rubber band and add to the pot with the beets, tomatoes, bouillon, and water. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes to bring the flavors together. Stir in the beet liquid, potatoes, remaining 3 tablespoons vinegar, and remaining 2 teaspoons salt. Season heavily with pepper. Chill.

Serve topped with dollops of the sour cream and handfuls of micro-greens. Pass additional vinegar at the table.

Serves enough to end the Irish Famine. Or at least 12 hungry people.

NB: You can serve borscht warm, too. But I like pretending spring is here, and thus cold soups are more appropriate.

And did you know borscht is considered a classic hangover cure? Try it. Maybe tomorrow, for all the Irish out there.

Bell's Brewery

2008-03-11T10:30:00.006-04:00

Last night I helped polish 290 glasses, picked up 30 soft pretzels, and poured eight varieties of beer for 32 people. What was the occasion? A beer class with Larry Bell of Bell's Brewery.

Bell's started in 1985 as the Kalamazoo Brewing Company (in Kalamazoo, MI), with a very large soup pot in Larry Bell's kitchen. Twenty-three years later Bell's is producing 115,000 barrels of beer per year (NB: That's a LOT). Best known for the ever-popular Oberon, Bell's distributes to eleven states, including, obviously, Pennsylvania. Part of their success might be attributed to Siemans revolutionary Braumat precise temperature control system, a unique way for craft brewers to monitor the temperature of their fermentations. Here are my tasting notes from the class:

Winter Ale (5.0%) Unlike many winter ales, this beer was brewed without the addition of any spices. Reminiscent of a Belgian witbier minus the requisite coriander and orange peel, this ale had a hazy appearance, moderate carbonation, and a nice mouth feel. Notes of cat litter (gravel + urine) on the nose, but a very pleasant flavor overall.

Sparkling Ale (9.0%) Shockingly -- disturbingly -- refreshing for a nine percent ABV! More on the malty side with a nice citrus acidity and a little funk on the finish.

Batch 8000 (9.0%) Strong and complex, this recipe was brewed just once, to commemorate the 20th anniversary of Bell's Brewery. A wheat ale spiced with orange peel, coriander, honey, and grains of paradise, the nose gives off tropical fruits and banana. The flavor is complex but a bit too sweet for my tastes. Still, how many "Imperial Witbiers" are out there? Props.

Lager of the Lakes (5.0%) An homage to the great Great Lakes. A pretty vanilla but well-executed lager, with a light, crisp finish. Lagers are notoriously difficult brew, so I can acknowledge the work it took to produce this.

Consecrator Doppelbock (8.0%) Probably my favorite of the line-up. Another lager, doppelbocks were traditionally made by fasting German monks (beer didn't count towards the fast). The Consecrator definitely didn't taste like it was 8% ABV, with a deep, complex palate highlighting nutty, slightly malty notes. And not only was this beer named for Beethoven's "Consecrator of the House" overture, but Larry Bell also used the phrase "Hegelian dialectic of art and science" to describe his masterpiece. You had me at 'Hegelian.'

Amber Ale (5.8%) What a disappointing follow-up to the doppelbock! The order of events seemed like bad planning to me. After the rich, deep flavors of the Consecrator, this amber ale tasted flat, thin, and pretty boring. That said, Larry pointed out at the end of the class that many of his more popular beers (e.g. the Two Hearted Ale, see below) are not "sustainable" beers: at the end of the brewing cycle, the yeasts are so inundated with hop molecules that they can't be recycled for future useage. That's why many brewers sell a few less-exciting beers at much lower prices -- they need the yeasts (and income) extracted from these less-adventurous ales to support other endeavors.

Two Hearted Ale (7.0%) I swear that ought to be hyphenated. A surprisingly well-balanced IPA that's dry-hopped for a little extra pine-y emphasis. I'm not a huge hophead, but even I could down a couple of these.

Kalamazoo Stout (6.0%) When I think of Bell's, I think of stouts. Their [Russian Imperial] Expedition Stout is nearly legendary, we're currently carrying the Double Cream Stout at Tria, and the Java Stout is my personal favorite. Still, the Kalamazoo Stout is one of the flagships of the Bell's brand, and tied the doppelbock for my favorite selection of this tasting. Roasty espresso and bittersweet chocolate flavors dominate the palate, and the brew provides a full, rich mouthfeel.

Near the end of the class we discussed the rising beer prices, which are largely due to international raw ingredient shortages. The prices of hops and barley have nearly tripled or even quadrupled over the last year, taking the hardest toll on craft brewers. Still, Bell said he would like more consumers to view beer as an "affordable luxury" -- many connoisseurs wouldn't dream of balking at an excellent $15-20 bottle of wine, so why the indignation at a comparable price for excellent beer?

Why all the beer posts as of late?

2008-03-06T14:53:00.002-05:00

Newsflash for those not in-the-know: Philly Beer Week starts tomorrow. Expect another deluge of beer-centric posts, links and events :)

Appliance: Beertender

2008-03-01T13:48:00.005-05:00

When I switched my focus to product reviews I definitely intended to include kitchen appliances in the mix, and today I found the perfect inaugural example. Krups, noted for their superior home espresso machines, has teamed up with Heineken to devise the Beertender, a home draught beer system. This has been available in Europe for a while, but it's making it's American debut via Williams Sonoma March 1 (that's TODAY). A more sophisticated model is rumored to hit shelves in April.

So what is it, exactly? Essentially, a pretty, digital, compact "dock" for a mini keg of beer. An LCD panel displays the amount of beer left, the temperature of the keg, and, as a nice touch, the number of days of freshness left. You can adjust the temperature, but I think the carbonation balance is preset. I recommend checking out Not Cot's nicely graphic review here.

While the Beertender is awfully pretty, I must admit I'm not so much in favor of the gadget. To begin, as far as I can tell you'll only be able to purchase mini kegs of Heineken, which might not be everyone's first choice (and certainly isn't mine). Other web sites claim Beertender's compatibility with "other premium European beers", but their availability (and premium-ness) is questionable. Furthermore, because the BeerTender uses internally pressurized kegs you can't fill up kegs yourself with homebrew or craft beer, and it's unlikely that small craft brewers will offer their beers in a compatible form. Craft beer enthusiasts are best sticking to cumbersome but versatile kegerators.

Beer: BB Dexi

2008-02-28T16:27:00.004-05:00

Another Italian craft beer! This time I present The Barley Brewery's "BB Dexi", or, "BB Ten". It's another wacky Italian brew that doesn't quite fit into any of the conventional beer styles. I suppose you could call it a quadrupel if you were really bent on fitting it into a box; however, don't let the faux-label fool you -- like sundry other epicene phenomena this beer doesn't fit any boxes, labels, traditions, or expectations. It's a wood-aged ale from Sardinia made with orange peel and Cannonau grape juice. Cannonau is the red wine varietal of choice in Sardinia, and thus a natural (yet startlingly inventive) choice for a Sardinian melange of wine and beer.

The BB Ten is on the darker side without hitting the deep, rich hues characteristic of stouts or porters. A dark tan head caps the medium-bodied brew as the slew of tiny bubbles reveal a persistent yet moderate carbonation. Hoppy fruitiness dominates the nose, but the palate reveals a complexity of plums, figs, licorice, and sour grapes. The flavor is sweet yet bitter, and although I recognize this is not the first juxtaposition of bitter and sweet the BB Ten certainly provides an original spin.

Although I enjoyed the BB Ten I found it left an unsettling mouthfeel, and I would prefer to imbibe with food. The brewers recommend serving their beer with a chocolate or ricotta dessert, or perhaps a Sardinian cheese. I think hard, mild, fruity cheese would pair well, as well as bittersweet fruity desserts, inappropriate love affairs, and poorly-timed victories. Suggested serving temperature is 57-60 degrees F.

On the subject of beer...

2008-02-25T11:50:00.005-05:00

Of course this is "set" in Santa Cruz. Of course.

Thanks to Thomas Cizauskas at Yours for Good Fermentables.

Beer: Chocarrubica

2008-02-25T10:00:00.001-05:00

The latest buzz in the brewing world? Italian microbreweries. Yes, the Italians are branching out from wine, Limoncello, and Amaretto (those are my favorites anyhow) and taking the brewing world by storm. One such brewery, Birrificio Grado Plato, recently dazzled me with their oatmeal stout, Chocarrubica.

This beer boasts a light-to-medium body and smooth, quaffable character. When making an oatmeal stout, the brewers actually add oats to the mash, contributing a velvety texture that tends to lightly coat the mouth. In this instance, 30% of the mash is oats (the other 70% comprised of the traditional malted barley), which is pretty darn high. In addition, those stereotypically-voluptuous Italians add Venezuelan cacao and Sicilian carob. Yes -- carob. In a beer. There's talk of hints of Brettanomyces yeast strains as well, as the beer finishes with a sharp, slightly bitter pungency. Italians do like bitters. Chocarrubica displays notes of banana and tropical fruits on the nose, and a surprisingly subtle chocolate profile, perhaps tempered by the slightly more savory carob. I find the carbonation pleasantly present without interrupting the smooth character of the beer.

The nice folks over at Beer Advocate gave Chocarrubica a dismal D-, claiming it smelled of cheese and tasted flat. One reviewer called it "simply undrinkable." Are we drinking the same beer here? Most of my coworkers seem to enjoy Chocarrubica, and I hope most of our customers do, too.

Protein: Gardenburger Riblets

2008-02-25T09:55:00.000-05:00

I've been a vegetarian (of some permutation) for nearly fourteen years. My family never ate a ton of red meat, but it was still a tricky transition for ten-year-old me. For the first year (while I was still eating fish and poultry) the two things I missed most were salami and beef stew (with tender, well-sauced chunks of meat, carrots, and potatoes...ahh). Back in those days, the only meat substitute in my juvenile culinary lexicon was tofu, which I had to admit was not really an adequate replacement for the aforementioned products. I still haven't found a suitable replacement for cured meats, but these days my craving of choice is probably the least vegetarian mass-market meat around: ribs. Yep, I used to really love sucking the flesh off a seared and sauced animal bone. Well. Times have changed, but my tastes still crave the sweet, meaty harmony of barbecued ribs. Fortunately, Gardenburger's "Riblets" serve as a great stand-in, even in (faux) beef stew. These have got to be my favorite Gardenburger product, with a dense, chewy texture, and thick, molasses-rich sauce. Three minutes in the microwave and you've got a superbly satisfying meal. My favorite way to consume these riblets is on a hoagie roll with a little extra barbecue sauce and some stewed tomatoes. Today, however, I took a slightly healthier (and more colorful) route by serving the riblets on toasted sourdough with mustard, spinach, and yellow tomatoes. Still divine. The Gardenburger web site suggests cutting them into hefty chunks and serving on skewers with grilled or roasted vegetables, and I would love to try to cook the riblets themselves on a barbecue. And there's always the beef stew option.

NB: Unless you're downing your riblets at 11am with a cup of green tea, like me, eat them with a hearty Spanish red or beer, beer, beer. A pale ale, IPA, or saison would be my choices -- something with a nice hop backbone and a cutting effervescence.

Links GALORE

2008-02-25T09:04:00.009-05:00

I feel like I have finally made a real entrance into the food-blogging world, and as with all fun new things in my life it's turning into an obsession. In a good way? Here are some of the best food blogs I've run across, and am duly linking on the side bar -- I'm even adding a wine and beer section (come on, who didn't see that coming?)

_Still Life With, a great resource for anyone interested in food photography (looking or taking).

_Taste Spotting: My dear Allison always sends me the greatest links. I'm a sucker for pretty food photos, which is basically the entire layout of this site. It's also a great way to surf the network of food bloggers and share your own delights.

_Chocolate Shavings, artistically presented by Jenn, a Parisian studying at the French Culinary Institute in Montreal, and her boyfriend Oliver (I don't know how I mixed that up the first time around!).

_Cook Almost Anything At Least Once, an adventurous and pretty blog from down under.

_Eat NZ, a great portrayal of Kiwi cuisine via Chef Paul. Way to represent.

_Swirling Notions, on food and wine, and then a little more on wine.

_The Second Glass, "Your magazine for the new era of wine drinking." It's new-ish but doing great so far -- check out the front-page article on biodynamic wines.

_Musings Over a Pint, a pretty great blog on craft beer and a bit of foodie indulgence.

_Bigger Than Your Head, a fantastic overview of the wine world.

_Beer Blog with Roger Protz, a great way to stay up-to-date on the goings-on of the beer world.

_A Good Beer Blog. Need I say more?

A Survey: What Do You Have to Have?

2008-02-20T13:09:00.007-05:00

Risa needs a bottle of champagne in her refrigerator.

Perrin advocates an avocado in the house at all times.

Stu keeps our freezer stocked with veggie chicken nuggets/strips/cutlets.

I, myself, think of peanut butter as the world's most perfect and versatile food, and will always, always have a jar on hand.

I want to know: what one food product do you have to have in your kitchen?

Vegetable: Mustard Greens

2008-02-20T10:52:00.014-05:00

Or, That's a shitload of vitamin K. --Perrin

This week's focus is mustard greens. I'm currently having a passionate gastronomic affair with another leafy green -- kale -- and I thought our relationship was getting a little too intense. In an effort to branch out and see other vegetables, I picked up a huge bunch of mustard greens at Reading Terminal this week. In season from December through April, these greens stem from the plant that produces the acrid-tasting brown seeds that are used to make Dijon mustard. Mustard greens originated in the Himalayan region of India, but I think many Americans associate them with the antebellum South. Greens were a staple of Southern slaves' diets, and mustard greens, collard greens, and kale remain a feature of Southern cooking. To me, mustard greens are evocative of Southern meals complete with fried chicken, sweet potatoes, and maybe some black-eyed peas. Please note: I have never lived in the South. But I do have a Georgia-beauty-queen best friend, which I somehow feel entitles me to make these assertions.

Mustard greens are also incredibly healthy. One cup of boiled mustard greens packs in a whopping 525% of the RDA of vitamin K (!), 85% of the RDA of vitamin A and 60% of the RDA of vitamin C, but only 21 calories and less than half a gram of fat. Additionally, they boast high quantities of vitamin E and B-vitamins, and a host of minerals, including folate, manganese, magnesium, iron, trytophan (yes, like turkey), calcium, and potassium. Mustard greens are hailed for their concentration of phytonutrients and antioxidants, and thus their free-radical-fighting (read: anti-cancer) powers. Additionally, they are said to promote lung and heart health.

If you're anything like me, you read the previous paragraph and had a thought akin to, "Yeah. Great. But do they taste good?" Well, as with most food items, particularly fresh produce, that depends on how you prepare them. While chopping I decide to sample a chunk of raw leaf, which was surprisingly edible. Slightly bitter, with a peppery bite at the finish, the flavor is piquant without being overwhelmingly spicy or sharp. Furthermore, unlike kale and collards, mustard greens have a lighter, leafier texture making them amenable for salads or garnishes. Still, when working with leafy greens I generally prefer to blanch, braise, or saute. In this case, I chose the last option, frying a couple onions in my wok before adding handfuls of coarsely chopped mustard greens, still damp from washing. I added half the greens, let them wilt a bit, then added the other half and tossed them together with a little more water, which in hindsight wasn't really necessary: I let the greens simmer/saute for about six minutes, then had to drain the excess (nutrient-rich) water from the pan.

Near the end of the cooking time I was not impressed with my results, so I started to get creative. I was serving the greens with a marinated three-bean-and-avocado salad on toasted rosemary bread and breaded yellow tomatoes, so I toasted the leftover bread crumbs and threw them on top. Then I started eyeing the leftover egg, and dumped it in the same pan to make a small but flavorful omelet, which I cut into strips and tossed on top of the bread crumbs. Almost there, but I still wanted more crunch -- a handful of almonds went into the same skillet, and just as they started to brown I added them to the wok. Voila -- sauteed mustard greens with style.

Today I was debating what to make for brunch, and I stumbled across the tupperware housing the last few bites of mustard greens. They didn't look terribly appetizing on their own, but stirred into four beaten eggs with some oregano, salt, and pepper they made a great base for an omelet filled with sauteed apples, vegan sausage, pepper jack, and provolone. The sweetness of the apples offset the subtly bitter punch of the greens, and the pepper jack magically brought it all together.

Other recipe ideas include salads, particularly with a warm vinaigrette to wilt the greens (I admit that bacon would be a lovely addition, but I advocate frozen vegan bacon!) I also thought Epicurious's Red Beet Risotto With Mustard Greens And Goat Cheese sounded particularly tasty, and I would enjoy a hearty soup or stew with a few handfuls of mustard greens thrown in.

As far as beverage pairings, I lean heavily towards beer. I think a farmhouse ale (versatile but particularly apropos here) would be pretty stellar, or even a well-balanced IPA to complement the bitter quality of the greens. If you wanted to take the wine route, I would pick a smooth, slightly crisp and medium-bodied white with a hint of spice and no oak -- maybe a Pinot Gris or a robust Gruner Veltliner. If you decided to make a slightly heartier dish I'd advocate a light-to-medium-bodied earthy red with a hint of spice, for instance an Oregon Pinot Noir or an Old World Syrah.

Mustard greens are obviously extremely nutritious, but I still prefer my stand-by kale, which has a coarser, sturdier texture that holds up to cooking a bit better. I would even opt for something like broccoli rabe over mustard greens, soliciting the wilted texture and bitter flavor profile but avoiding the damp, lettuce-like presentation I struggled with this round. Still, I got my week's supply of vitamin K in one heart-healthy dose.

Times Are A-Changin'

2008-02-18T10:27:00.004-05:00

It's time to be honest with myself.

I'm nowhere close to vegan.

Sure, I'm totally on board with a lot of the philosophy and ethics of eating vegan, and because of my bizarre dietary needs and preferences (and aforementioned philosophy and ethics) many people interpellate me as a tree-huggin', granola-crunchin', man-hating vegan (ok, that last bit has more to do with my sexual orientation)...but I'm not. I like cheese, I love eggs, and sometimes I (gulp) use real butter in my cooking. I'm all about conscious, responsible, sustainable eating, but I don't think you have to be vegan or even vegetarian to participate in that sort of ideology.

Additionally, a good friend recently send me a link to Food Blogga's pretty, pretty web site. The author, Susan Rosso, also writes for NPR, and her recent feature on kumquats inspired me to revamp my own approach to blogging.

Here's what I'm considering: Reading over Susan's blog and my own content, I noticed that the posts that really grab my interest are those featuring a single product or ingredient. Add to that my recent grocery expeditions and culinary adventures, and again I notice that I really love taking a single vegetable, or beer, or cheese and getting creative with it. What's the history of this product? How can I use it? How do other people use it? How can I pair it with other foods or beverages?

So I'm keeping the domain, but changing the title of this blog to, "By Product." There will be less posts about, say, random good meals, and more of a streamlined focus highlighting specific products. And there will probably be less posts, but that's probably good since I'm starting a Master's program in four months! Comments, suggestions, and requests are welcome.

I Love...Produce!

2008-02-17T16:10:00.006-05:00

This post goes out to all the fruits and vegetables out there. I love you. I really do. I know this totally outs my dorkiness and weirdness, but I just have to sing my passion and praises for fresh produce. I mean, look! It's beautiful! My roommates and I spent the morning at Reading Terminal Market -- Perrin sold people baked goods (and snuck us cookies) from Metropolitan Bakery's stand while Stu and I ate vegan cheesesteaks and sweet potato fries at Basic Four. Then we wandered through the produce and cheese stands to procure:

Mustard greens
Avocado
Plums
Strawberries
Pineapple
Yellow tomato
Green beans
Broccoli
Snap peas
Blueberries

And these don't quite count as produce, but they do count as delicious:
Sliced almonds
Wasabi peas
Bobby's Roasted Red Pepper Hummus

Bliss. Let the spirit move you -- go buy some produce.

Wine and Cheese Links

2008-02-17T01:54:00.004-05:00

* Crushpad is a San Francisco winery where "you are the wine maker." Crushpad provides grapes from West Coast vineyards, an industry-acclaimed wine making team and a state-of-the-art winery focused on making wine in small lots. It sounds pretty great to me.

* Winemonger has an awesome "ULTIMATE CHEESE AND WINE PAIRING GUIDE." I find it quite thorough and informative -- check it out!

* One of my favorite parts of Fork and Bottle is their collection of wine maps and other great online resources. There's a LOT of information here -- I've just begun investigating.

Quesadillas!

2008-02-16T13:22:00.007-05:00

Penny and I made vegetarian quesadillas! Not vegan, due to the tri-cheese combo (cheddar, pepper jack, and feta), but wonderfully vegetarian with roasted red peppers, cilantro, and vegan artichoke-and-sun-dried-tomato sausage. We doused them with Frank's Red Hot and devoured them before I had to run off to work.

I had Penny roast the peppers while I showered. I thought my directions were pretty straightforward: turn the broiler on high; cut the peppers in half and remove the seeds; put them in a baking dish and let them broil until the skins are charred black. Unfortunately I neglected to mention that they ought to be positioned cut-side down, thus we ended up cutting off the burned edges...which Perrin gobbled down in her impatience for the quesadillas to cook. She actually wanted to eat them raw (the quesadillas, not the peppers), but I think it's safe to say we're both glad we held out for this:

Please note that I kept to my eight-ingredient vow! :)
1) Whole-wheat tortillas
2) Cheddar
3) Pepper jack
4) Feta
5) Cilantro
6) Oregano
7) Roasted red peppers
8) Vegan sausage

Green Wine?

2008-02-11T12:36:00.001-05:00

Is drinking wine bad for the planet? One conscientious oenophile conducted a study, measuring the amount of carbon resources it took to ship wine from California and from France. He ended up drawing the Green Wine Line featured on the map below: drinkers West of the line will leave the smallest carbon footprint by drinking wine from California, Oregon, or Washington, while wine enthusiasts East of the line will do best to indulge in European counterparts. The study didn't include data on shipping wine from the Southern Hemisphere.

You can also minimize the impact your drinking has on the environment by picking bigger bottles (yeah, magnums!) and saying "no" to bottled water (or at the very least choosing a local bottled water!).

Grower Champagne

2008-02-11T11:50:00.001-05:00

A very good friend once advised me always to keep a bottle of champagne in my refrigerator. And thus began my love affair with sparkling wine.

As many readers may know, the term "Champagne" is reserved for wines originating in Champagne, France. There are 261 large-scale négoçiants and coopératives in Champagne. They produce 80% of the total output in Champagne, yet they only own 12% of the vineyards. This means in Champagne (France), there are 15,000 growers in the region who do not make their own wine! Large-scale champagne production involves extensive use of chaptalization (adding sugar), acidification, cultured yeast strains, enzymes, nitrogenous yeast nutrients and rapid temperature controlled fermentations. These houses account for over 88% of all Champagne exports, and this number rises to 97% of exports outside of Europe.

Small Growers, or “récoltant-manipulants,” may purchase only 5% of their fruit. The same people who grow the grapes ferment and blend the wine. This allows the grower/winemaker more interaction with the ingredients and more control over the final product -- terroir in the truest sense.

This week we did a blind taste test featuring one "large-scale" producer and one bottle of grower champagne. The former, Paul Goerg "blanc-de-blancs" (all Chardonnay), offered the typical characteristics of champagne: ripe pears and green apples, slightly bready and yeasty aromas, and a moderately sweet finish. The grower champagne featured a completely different and unique profile. My primary impression was the aroma of raw eggs and bread crumbs right before you bread some lucky food destined for frying. The fruit profile included nectarines and other stone fruits, with a very faint herbal quality on the finish. It was significantly more effervescent, with a complexity and depth unrivaled by the more traditional champagne. I'm honestly not entirely sure whether I liked it, but it was definitely a compelling experience -- I wanted more!

So how can you support grower champagne? As you're examining that bottle of champagne you'll be keeping in your refrigerator now, you may notice the letters NM, RM, or CM. NM denotes négociant-manipulants, the large companies that buy, blend and produce very large quantities of wine. RM are récoltant-manipulants, growers who make and sell their own wine, and CM are co-opératives-manipulants (the co-ops).

EDIT: The ad sent by Marc Hebrart, who makes the champagne we now carry, started, "Drink grower champagne if you've forgotten champagne is wine." I think that's quite apt. Way to go, Mr. Hebrart.

Mexican Wedding Cookies

2008-02-11T11:14:00.001-05:00

My roommates and I had a couple guests over for dinner, and we decided to make a Mexican feast. I made guacamole and tossed cubed mangoes with lime juice and salt; Stu made tacos with soy crumbles and peppers; and Perrin sucked on the mango pits and entertained everyone. For dessert I made Mexican Wedding Cookies, which are basically glorified shortbread with toasted walnuts, rolled in powdered sugar and traditionally served at Mexican weddings. I thought this recipe (from The Joy of Baking) was a bit too buttery (I like mine a bit drier), so next time I would add a bit more flour, a lot more nuts, and perhaps some almond extract.

2/3 cup toasted nuts walnuts
1 cup butter
1/4 cup confectioners' sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups flour
1/4 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Set aside.

Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy (about 2 minutes). Beat in the vanilla extract. Add flour and salt and beat until combined. Stir in the nuts. Cover and refrigerate the dough for about 1 hour or until firm.

Form the dough into 1 inch balls and place them 2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets. Bake for about 12 - 15 minutes, or until the edges of the cookies start to brown. Remove from oven and place on a wire rack to cool for about 5 minutes.

Meanwhile, line another baking pan or tray with parchment or wax paper. Sprinkle about 1/2 cup of confectioners' sugar on the bottom of the pan and then place the slightly cooled cookies on top of the sugar. Place the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar in a fine strainer or sieve and then sprinkle the tops of the cookies (or you can just roll the cookies in the sugar).

I served the cookies with Mexican hot chocolate, made by bringing a vat of soy milk nearly to a boil then turning off the heat and whisking in a couple handfuls of grated Mexican chocolate (you can use any sort of dark chocolate, sweetening as necessary) and a few shakes of cinnamon. I also added a generous splash of brandy, which added the perfect finishing touch.

Lactard-Friendly Cheeses

2008-01-31T16:00:00.000-05:00

If you check up on this blog, you've probably noticed the recent influx of cheese-related posts. A few of you have questioned the presence of such content on a not-quite-vegan themed blog. However, I'm posting today to defend my current love affair with cheese.

Let's start with the basics. There are two kinds of lactose intolerance:

1) Primary Lactose Intolerance: People who don't have enough lactase enzyme, which helps break down lactose (milk) sugars. Our bodies naturally produce less of this when we aren't breast-feeding infants, not expecting to process the breast milk of other mammals for years to come. Inadequate amounts of lactase result in big chunks of unprocessed sugars trying to make their way through the intestines, which is quite uncomfortable -- hence the bloating, gassiness, pain, etc. For these people, products like Lactaid pills and Lactaid milk, which contain supplements of the lactase enzyme, often eliminate discomfort. Some claim that the big chunks of sugar absorb water and becomes food for bacteria that form gases and acids. Ouch.

2) Secondary Lactose Intolerance: People with unhealthy or imbalanced gut flora (the array of bacteria living in the intestines). Everyone has plenty of *good* bacteria that hang out make sure everything is chugging along as per normal, and work to ward off *bad* bacteria. Strong doses of antibiotics can wipe out the strains of good gut flora and make way for bad bacteria. I myself went through several rounds of antibiotics (for two cases of walking pneumonia and several stubborn ear infections) over a three-year period. This basically wiped out my gut flora, and the less-desirable bacteria hanging out in my intestines now love to feed off the milk sugars that may pass through my system. They get excited and produce, again, gas, bloating, pain, etc. Pills don't help people in this category.

So, what's a lactard to do? Give up all milk products? That means cheese, ice cream, milk, pizza, butter, cottage cheese, yogurt...oh my! I don't want to! And, according to several sources, I don't have to. For example, Bob Fusco of the NIH says:

Most of the lactose is removed from the cheese with the whey during the manufacturing process. As a result, most ripened cheeses contain about 95 percent less lactose (.4 to 1 gram per serving) than whole milk (9-12 grams per serving), and less even than Lactaid milk (3 grams per serving), a brand of fluid milk that has most of the lactose specially removed.

Now, I tend to stay moderately suspicious of the NIH, but ever since I've been broadcasting my lactose intolerance, servers, doctors, friends, and various internet sources have been telling me the same thing. Here are the cheeses that seem to be ok for me:

Aged Cheeses
Most styles of cheese are aged a certain length of time before consumption. Any cheese aged over six months -- including most hard cheeses, cheddars, etc -- will have 0g lactose. No lactose means no problem for the lactose-intolerant! Some experts claim any cheese aged more than 60 days has less than 1g of lactose and therefore ought to be safe for most of the lactose-sensitive population. However, some people still suffer from headaches when eating aged cheeses.

Goat Milk Cheeses
Goat's milk contains slightly less lactose than cow's milk, so some goat's milk products are more digestible. Additionally, goat's milk does not contain casein, the protein found in cow's milk, therefore making goat's milk easier to digest.

Raw Milk Cheeses
Raw milk contains harmless bacteria which produce lactase which, in turn, enables the human body to break down and absorb lactose. Pasteurized milk has had all of these bacteria killed off and is therefore lactase-free, but still contains lactose, causing problems for many people who try to drink it. Raw milk cheeses are said to promote easier digestion and better calcium absorption; contribute to a stronger immune system; aid in combating allergies; are high in conjugated linoleic acid - the most potent cancer fighter; and contain a perfect balance of omega-3 and omega-6 fatty acids.

I can tolerate yogurt and aged cheeses with no problem. Pizza and ice cream are the most vicious culprits for me, and lately goat's milk cheeses haven't been so great, either. Fresh cheeses like mozzarella and ricotta are pretty much death, and I've just started experimenting with raw milk. Stay tuned!

Tuxford & Tebbutt Stilton (Melton Mowbray, Leicestershire, England)

2008-01-29T22:44:00.002-05:00

Served with cajeta pear puree

They say: "The only cheese in England to be protected by legislation. It is judged for its creaminess and extent of blue-green veins. Stilton is known for its dense, fudgy qualities. Tuxford & Tebbutt are one of only seven Stilton producers, named for the original owners: Mr. Texford the Stilton man and Mr. Tebbutt the pork pie man."

Cmoore says: Drink a pot of ale, eat a scoop of Stilton, every day, you will make 'old bones'." Nineteenth-century saying, Wymondham. Like all classic Stiltons, the T & T version is salty, salty, salty, with a dense, fudgy texture. There are only six (or is it seven?) creameries in England authorized to make this popular moldy delicacy, and it is traditionally paired with Port wine, in part due to the embargo treaty that once existed between England and Portugal.

Suggested Pairings: Vintage Port, Porter, Stout, Barleywine

Cashel Blue

2008-01-29T22:36:00.000-05:00

Served with chocolate fig spread

They say: "Cashel Blue is the creation of Jane and Louis Grubb, a husband and wife team. Grubb family ancestors were Anabaptists who fled English religious persecution to become butter makers in Ireland. Cashel Blue was developed in 1984, and it is made entirely by hand from whole un-homogenized cow's milk. They wrap the cheese in raw Irish linen when it sets to drain. The cheese is Ireland's premier artisan cheese. A cashel was an enclosure for cows in the Middle Ages."

Cmoore says: Tasting notes: "Barnyardy --> like a stable!" But any fellow blue-cheese-lovers will agree that this is in the best possible way. The texture is creamy and smooth, with a minimal smattering of mold. In this case, the bitterness of the chocolate-fig spread pairs nicely with the saltiness of the cheese. Similarly, a strong, possibly slightly bitter beverage would make an excellent match. The Cashel Blue is made with a vegetarian rennet.

Suggested Pairings: Madeira, Tawny Port, Porter, Stout

Mary Quicke's Double Gloucester (Gloucester, England)

2008-01-29T21:58:00.000-05:00

Served with cranberry mustard

They say: "Gloucester cheeses were at one time made only with the milk from Gloucester cows, which are now almost extinct. There are two types of Gloucester cheese: Single and Double. The main difference is that Single Gloucester is made with skimmed milk combined with a small amount of while milk. Double Gloucester is made from only whole milk. Both types have a natural rind and a hard texture, but Single Gloucester is more crumbly, lighter in texture, and lower in fat. Double Gloucester is allowed to age for longer periods that Single, and it has a stronger and more savoury flavour. It is also slightly firmer. Double Gloucester is colored with annatto, but was originally colored with carrot juice. A popular saying was: 'the rosier the colour, the richer the flavour.' Double Gloucester is also used annually in a dangerous sport: Cooper Hill's Cheese-Rolling and Wake, in which the 60 lb wheels are pushed down a steep incline and feisty young lads attempt to catch them."

Cmoore says: That's gloss-ter, for those of you who, like me, would have written "savory flavor". This cheese, well, tastes like...dirt. In a good way! My first impression was "carrots", but I quickly realized it was more the flavor of carrots freshly pulled from the ground, and covered with a nice dusting of earth. So it's also accurate to say the Double Gloucester is grassy, earthy, nutty, and slightly bitter. And dirty. And vegetarian! (Those statements are not related). It's a cooked, pressed cheese, with a firm, slightly granular texture. And, like most English cheeses, it's excellent with mustard and beer!

Suggested Pairings: Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Weissbier, IPA, Pilsner, [Beer!]

Tete de Moine (Bern, Switzerland)

2008-01-29T21:43:00.000-05:00

a.k.a. Bellelay
Served with Tuscan pepper honey

They say: "Tete de Moine, also known as Bellelay, has been around for a long time. The monastery of Bellelay was established in 1136 and confirmed by Pope Innozenz II six years later. As early as 1192, or one century before the beginnings of the Swiss Confederation, the monks of the monastery Bellelay were first mentioned in connection with cheese. At that time they paid the annual rent on various properties with cheese made in their abbey. Time and again documents from subsequent centuries mention the use of the valuable cheese as a means of payment. The oldest description of the Bellelay cheese dates from 1628 and states that a 'very fatty milk of impeccable quality from the best grasses and berbs of the country is used'. Tete de Moine means the 'head of the monk' and resembles a balding monk's receding hairline."

Cmoore says: Please note that the name "Monk's Head" has double meaning: both the physical resemblance and the barter for paying taxes. This has been on our menu for nearly the entire duration of my employment at Tria, and it remains my number one recommendation to all my tables. Everyone loves it! To serve, we use a girolle (pictured) to shave off florets of cheese -- people compare it to carnations, coral, ginger in a sushi restaurant. One table even looked at me confusedly when I proudly presented the cheese board and queried, "Where's the cheese?" The presentation is fun, and the sharp, strong flavor is balanced by the delicate texture. Definitely a favorite, and highly recommended.

Suggested Pairings: Gewurtztraminer, Zweigelt, medium-bodied and spicy reds, stout, Tripel, Duvel

Gingerbread Pancakes

2008-01-29T21:20:00.000-05:00

Sunday is brunch day, and this weekend we invited a few friends over for a proper brunch feast. Stu made parfaits, layering fresh berries, yogurt, and granola in plastic cups. Our guests brought, at our request, vegan sausage, and we pulled out some vegan bacon to beef up the offerings (pun, sadly, intended). And Perrin and I collaborated on a batch of gingerbread-walnut pancakes with poached pears. This means I made pancake batter and she grated ginger and licked the molasses spoon. They turned out well, particularly the pears, which I poached with honey, cloves, cinnamon, and nutmeg. However, I generally prefer my pancakes a bit moister and fluffier. I usually find that a bit of lemon juice helps, but sadly we had no lemons on hand, and I was wary of the combination of fresh ginger, cinnamon, molasses, and lemon juice.

However, when I was re-searching for the recipe I ended up using, I came across the Epicurious.com/Gourmet version, which gives homage to our mutual inspiration: La Note, in Berkeley, CA. This version calls for a whole quarter cup of...yep, lemon juice. Also, they use coffee instead of molasses, which sounds like a really interesting twist. Next time, I'm trying these.

Wine-ing and Dining

2008-01-29T15:18:00.000-05:00

Last night I made dinner for the roommates and a friend who broke her elbow (!). I'd been meaning to use up some of our dried goods, so I decided to make a risotto with mushrooms, peas, and fresh thyme. I didn't feel like salad but wanted something green, and concocted a lovely side of steamed kale with sauteed garlic, marinated cannelli beans, and Tomatoes Provencal. I didn't realize when I set out on this endeavor that Tomatoes Provencal are traditionally breaded and baked. I didn't have bread crumbs on hand, but I did have cornmeal and parmesan, which I blended with dried Herbes de Provence and fresh thyme and liberally sprinkled on halved roma tomatoes before popping them in the oven for about 20 minutes at 400 degrees. They turned out well -- I think this dish is a nice way to add a splash of color to a meal without too much work (or too much more food).

My roommate's contribution was a bottle of Meron Primitivo, which was fantastic. Originating in Veglie (south of Puglia), Italy, Meron is 100% Primitivo grapes, vinified in stainless steel tanks. The skins are left 7-8 days in contact with the must, resulting in a full body and hearty but smooth character. Plums and cherries dominate the nose, and the mouth feel is velvety and supple. Not as juicy and tart as Primitivos I've encountered, but really nice with the risotto and kale.

Produced by Azienda Vinicola Durante. Imported by Iatesta Imports, Philadelphia. 14% ABV.

Beautfort D'Alpage (Savoie, France)

2008-01-29T13:54:00.000-05:00

Served with chocolate fig spread

They say: "There are three varieties of Beaufort: Beautfort d'ete (summer Beaufort), Beaufort d'Alpage (Beaufort made only in chalets in the Alps), and Beaufort d'hiver (winter Beaufort). Beaufort cheese is prepared using 130 gallons of milk for every 99 pounds of cheese desired. The milk used in one variety comes from the Tarentaise of Abondance cows that graze in the Alps. First, the milk is heated and then the cheese is cast into its molds, pressed, and slated. The prepared cheese must then age for 6-12 months, or even longer, in a cool mountain cellar. During this period, the cheese takes on its yellow color and acquires much of its flavor."

Cmoore says: The first whiff of this delight brought a smile to my face -- grassy, fruity notes evolving into a pleasant nuttiness when I sunk my teeth into the slightly granular, pressed paste. Delicious! However, I did think the chocolate fig spread, while decadent, didn't do this cheese justice. It was overpowering, and too bitter for the Beaufort. I would prefer it with honey, and a glass of fruity, slightly spicy red wine.

Suggested Pairings: Pinot Noir, Syrah, [Reds], Stout, Porter

Lord of the Hundreds (Sussex, England)

2008-01-29T13:48:00.000-05:00

Served with cajeta pear puree

They say: "The Lord of the Hundreds was the Saxon magistrate that collected tithes from all the peasants in Sussex."

Cmoore says: Say it with me, Lord of the Hundreds! Unfortunately the cheese didn't really live up to it's epic name: it was dry, hard, and rather bland. One of my co-tasters suggested it might have been stored improperly, as it tasted vaguely of "refrigerator". The cajeta pear puree (a mixture of goat's milk caramel and pureed poached pears) was similarly boring uninspiring. As an uncooked pressed sheep's cheese, this would be comparable to such gems as Pyrenees Brebis, but Lord of the Hundreds really can't compare.

Suggested Pairings: Tempranillo, Nebbiolo, Americain Dubbel, ESB, Nut Brown Ale

Pata de Cabra (Aragon, Spain)

2008-01-29T13:33:00.000-05:00

Served with membrillo mustard

They say: "Pata Cabra means the foot of the goat." [Yep. That's all I got.]

Cmoore says: A washed-rind goat cheese from Spain with a surprisingly mild flavor profile. The firm paste was sweating slightly when I tried it, and my primary impression was a lactic sweetness with a hint of tang on the finish. I think it would be nice with a fruity (perhaps Spanish) beverage.

Suggested Pairings: Rioja, Riesling, Belgian wheat beer, Deus

5 Spoke Creamery "Tumbleweed" (Westchester, NY)

2008-01-29T13:10:00.001-05:00

Served with with apricot mustard

They say: "Tumbleweed is produced like a cheddar but with the thin bloomy rind of a Cantal Fermier. They age it for 8-9 months. The owner of 5 Spoke Creamery, Alan Glustoff, sought out an Amish cheesemaker to make his cheese. In order to uphold his personal beliefs, he also brought in a rabbi. Tumbleweed is certified kosher."

Cmoore says: A bloomy rind cheddar is a rarity indeed. And it's kosher! Tumbleweed is made from raw milk from grass-fed cows, resulting in a complex flavor and a plethora of nutritive benefits. This cheese is very cheddar-y, but with a profile that is more delicate, fruity, and creamy than sharp, nutty, and firm. Cheddars are traditionally served with mustard, and our blend of dijon mustard and apricot preserves make a very nice accompaniment. I think this is a great beer cheese, and would love to enjoy it with a brown ale or any other robust English ale.

Suggested Pairings: Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon, English Brown Ale, IPA, Pilsner, Yards ESB, Pale Ale