Holiday Foods, with an Asian influence

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...

A Response to the Responses

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.

Real Maple Syrup

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.

The (Home) Cheese Course

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.

The Route

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.

Fruit: Kiwi

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!

X-Mas

A two-part culinary festival by N., A., and Me.
Christmas Eve:



Roasted vegetable terrines with goat cheese and pine nuts (N)
Curried carrot soup with croutons and yogurt (N)


Beet latkes with rice vinegar and yogurt (A)


Pistachio souffles (Me)

Cranberry-almond (-orange-white-chocolate) biscotti (not pictured due to excessive nibbling) (A)



Christmas Evening:


Artichoke-olive galette with feta and pine nuts (Me)


Truffled arancini with peas on endive (N)
Roasted asparagus (N)

Beets with citrus vinaigrette (N)
Mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy (See below) (A/Me)


Pine nut torte with citrus caramel and kumquats (N)

***

The mushroom gravy was my favorite part, surprisingly. It's a vegetarian/vegan classic:
+Saute onions or shallots in oil
+Add mushrooms and brown
+Add (LOTS of white) wine, some vegetable stock, and some soy sauce
+Season to taste (I like onion powder and a little rosemary)
+Thicken with flour and/or corn starch

NB: I tried pureeing it at Thanksgiving, but I definitely prefer it chunky--cleaner flavors, more palatable texture, and more appetizing aromas.

I don't really know how the galette turned out--it was pretty, but my taste buds were a little confused and no one made any comments on it (which is generally a bad sign). The risotto was delicious but the arancini cooled a bit before we ate it, which sort of muffled the flavors and muddled the consistency. And the torte was tasty, but all that dairy was less than kosher for my poor little stomach. Luckily, the spiked soy nog saved the day...

Holiday Foods

The holidays are here, and so are holiday foods. One classic holiday food: roasted chestnuts. I attempted to recreate this classic, first boiling the chestnuts a bit to soften the skins, then scoring them (so as to prevent oven explosions), then roasting them in a 425 oven for 10-15 minutes. They were...pretty gross. One member of our little party might even say "REALLY gross, yuck, yuck, yuck." I think perhaps the boiling was not the best idea, as the predominate flavor I identified was "boiled peanuts." But how else can you score them? Etc. I now have a pan of badly roasted chestnuts demanding a purpose. Ideas thus far include chestnut pancakes, chestnut sauce for (soy) ice cream, chestnut sauce for my vegetable galettes, and chestnuts-in-the-garbage.

Other mainstream holiday foods include ham, fruitcake, egg nog, potato pancakes, plum pudding, Yorkshire pudding, almond roca, Ferrero Rocher, creamed vegetables, green bean casserole, truffles, and champagne.

Few of these foods are included in my own alimentary associations with the holidays. I think of grapefruits, shipped every year from Texas by Aunt Lucille (who was really great-Aunt Lucille). Colin Street Bakery fruit cake from Aunt Barbara (a legitimate aunt), and Harry and David pears for grandma, from my dad (which would reach the pinnacle of their ripeness simultaneously, necessitating a deluge of pear-eating over the 48-hour window of pear perfection). Uncle Terry's ubiquitous snacks of salami, cheese, crackers, olives, and mixed nuts (on the good years, just cashews). My father's stocking stuffers of Power Bars, which would actually be palatable after hanging in the stockings above the fire; my grandmother's more traditional stocking stuffers of clementines and Hershey's kisses (and, fittingly, toothbrushes). A. laughed at me this year when I cracked open a bottle of Johnny Walker, inhaled the alcoholic fumes, and reported, "This smells like Christmas!"--a byproduct of years of sniffing, disdainfully, grandma's somewhat related scotch-on-the-rocks.

Last year I was in southern California with A., and we had a proper southern Californian Christmas weekend, complete with fish tacos; this year fish tacos were one of the few things she mentioned missing. My roommate, from western Pennsylvania, has mentioned sundry gelatin-based salads and desserts, which she defended rather forcefully. My favorite little jew mentioned potato pancakes, unsurprising after her enthusiasm throughout our expedition to Zabar's in NYC.

I suppose the ultimate rubric for a "holiday food" relates to your memories of the holidays: personal meaning, tradition, ritual, and the like. And I think this might be why holiday foods hold such a dear place in so many of our hearts and palates--I think in many ways Americans are ritual-starved, and we cherish and savor those we do have, particularly those that are enforced in our national culture (but don't get me started on how exclusive and oppressive Christmas-as-a-national-holiday is in my eyes). Despite my opposition, the traditions of Christmas still remind me of home, comfort, community, and sharing. Which may actually be part of the opposition. Ah well, there's plenty of good food.