Holiday Fun

Things have been busy lately. It's that time of year, I guess. We went to a great holiday cheese party, and a typical office party. I made these for the latter:

They're the super-simple cheesecake cupcakes I recommended for Thanksgiving. Pomegranates happen to be in season, and are gorgeous and delicious, so I added pomegranate seeds to half of the batch for color and excitement.

The cupcakes turned out deliciously. Unfortunately, I made way too many, so we are still trying to eat them all. Cupcake overload is awesome, but not during the holidays when everyone is already plying us with delicious food.

Anyone need some cupcakes?

In other news, we finally checked out the local kosher grocery today. We'd heard tantalizing tales of lamb bacon from friends, and had to investigate. We haven't sampled the bacon yet, but the experience was fun. We saw a congressman stocking up on ridiculous quantities of gefilte fish, and saw this sign on their canned fish aisle:

Seriously, you want to read that. Kind of gross, but great. One of the things I find fascinating about kosher food rules is how detailed they can be. Very, very detailed.

Pesto, deconstructed...

...figuratively, of course. I try not to be pretentious like that.

For dinner tonight, I decided to make a quick pesto and some more onion confit, and alternately spread them on slices of bread.

The pesto I made is non-traditional, and it caused me to think about what makes a good pesto. I generally make non-traditional pestos, and they always turn out great, with a minimum of measuring or fussiness.

If you think about it, all you really need is something leafy, something crunchy, something fatty, and salt. I usually add something acidic and something aromatic for a little excitement, but it's not always necessary.

Tonight's is arugula, pistachios, olive oil, lemon juice, and shallot. I just tossed alternating handfuls of everything into the food processor, and voila. Another of my favorites is spinach, walnuts, goat feta, and garlic.

Easy and delicious. Though it does kind of look out of place on our plastic plates (did I mention we're moving?!)

Odd Ingredient du Jour: Rennet

I am fascinated by rennet. I was first intrigued by its presence in my favorite vintage cookbook (of which I actually have two copies- 1943 and 1953).

The '53 version has the prettier cover.

I love Meta Given's voice. The cookbook has a ton of personality, heavily influenced by the early/mid twentieth century research on the new science of nutrition, Home Economics, and yes, the U.S. Government's recommendations, with a surprising dose of feminism. If you can't make it to What's Cooking, Uncle Sam?, this book pretty much captures everything you'd see there.

By the way, what is rennet ? It's a collection of enzymes used to coagulate milk proteins. The sources are unappealing- either derived from the lining of a calf's stomach, from microbial sources (mostly molds), or from bacteria genetically modified to produce the proper enzymes. Frankly, given those choices, I'll stick with baby cow stomach (sorry, cows).

Most people think of rennet as cheese-related, because that's primarily what we use it for today. The Modern Family Cookbook, on the other hand, mentions rennet primarily in the context of puddings. I found it intriguing, and a little odd. But, being an inveterate pudding-lover, I had to try it.

(Those are vanilla beans. Yes they look icky.)

Rennet puddings are super-easy to make. We all know I'm pudding-impaired, so that's saying something. This is a vanilla pudding I made last night, following a recipe that came with the rennet tablets. It was written by the homemade cheese guru Dr. Fankhauser. Interesting that the pudding recipes aren't even on his recipe page online.

Perhaps this is why.

The texture is not very appealing. It's somewhere between soft-boiled egg whites and yogurt, and rather confusing to eat. The above photo was taken after chilling the custard for two or three hours. After five hours, it had firmed up somewhat, holding its shape about as well as an egg custard:

I'm curious to try more rennet pudding recipes. Maybe next time with whole milk for better flavor. I'd definitely recommend using rennet if you're going for an egg custard feel, but can't use eggs. It's also way, way, way simpler to make than an egg custard- for this recipe, I heated milk, sugar, and a vanilla bean to lukewarm; added a dissolved rennet tablet, and chilled. That's all.

DC Beer Roundup

After all that food rounding up, I think it's time to talk about the great DC beers I've had lately.

The collaboration between DC Brau and Epic Brewing, "Fermentation Without Representation" was much-anticipated at our house. Unfortunately, not so anticipated so that we were able to score any on tap. The tap version was actually brewed locally at DC Brau, while the bottled version was made by Epic, in Utah.

The beer itself is an imperial pumpkin porter. Pretty unusual for a pumpkin beer. It's not too sweet, and pretty intense, as might be expected from an imperial porter. Honestly, it smells and tastes mostly like tobacco to me. Also molasses, a little cola, and winter spices.

Then there's Chocolate City, one of the newer local breweries. This was actually the second week ever they're doing growler fills, so we headed to their facility by Catholic University.

Alas, I had our slightly crazy rescue dog in tow, so I was unable to take any photos of the inside. But the owners/brewers were extremely nice, and the brew facility looked good. The location and building (an old railroad depot?) has great potential as they ramp up production to become a weekend destination.

We got a growler of the Copper Ale, which is pretty nice. It's well-balanced, a little bitter, with pronounced malt and honeyed/wheaty/grassy flavors.

It should be noted that Chocolate City is still quite new. Maybe that explains the less-than-perfect reviews. I'd disagree with the vitriol- it's a very good everyday, medium-heavy sort of session beer

Then tonight, I had a drink that wasn't local, but still very interesting. We headed to the Queen Vic, on H Street, for drinks and snacks. They have a fascinating list of "cocktails", mostly consisting of beer/cider+liqueur. I had a hard cider with Becherovka, aka the "Harvest Apple". It was a nice break from beer, and not too sweet.

I also had marrow.

It was quite tasty and kind of disgusting, all at the same time. I hadn't had marrow in forever, and I think before when I've had it, it consisted of split, then roasted, bones. These were roasted whole, resulting in an off-putting texture. The marrow was fatty and gelatinous; some parts were whitish and greasy, while others were pink or red, with a more solid consistency. The dish came with bread, a side of flake salt, and a little parsley and onion salad to clear the palate. Delicious, but unappealing to look at.

Finally, on the beer side of things, there's Port City's seasonal winter offering, "Tidings". I have yet to try it, but am really excited to do so. I like that they utilized local ingredients, and that they chose to do something different- they went light, with a Belgian style blond ale, rather than dark like everyone else. I guess with such a tasty porter, there's no pressure to go dark.

Food Roundup, Road Trip Edition

We've finally gotten out and about a bit on the East Coast. So I figured it was time for another exciting food roundup.

First, we headed to Philly a few weeks ago so Jon could run the Philadelphia Marathon. Before we left, Jon noticed a "Pancake Breakfast!" sign at a local church while jogging. It's incredible how every church basement in the U.S. pretty much looks and smells exactly the same, and I was reminded of my own many "cooking in church basements" experiences. It was kind of odd. But everyone was extremely nice, the food was good, they had real butter, and it was $6 all you can eat, including pretty decent coffee. And their china was adorable:

I'd go back. It sponsors the men's ministry, and I think they do it once a month. Regrettably, their website doesn't appear to have information about it at all, much less when the next one is.

In any case, we next headed to Philly. The city's gorgeous. The city center is actually inhabited. I visited a bodega for the first time, ever. And we had some awesome food:

We had dinner at Zavino, a few blocks from our hotel. It was a happy accident, as we'd intended to carb up at the pasta place next door. Their wait was insane, so we popped in to Zavino and sat at the bar. Pretty much everything on their menu looked fabulous; I ended up eating a sunchoke soup from their specials board, topped with truffle oil, crisp prosciutto bits, lemon, and garlic (a "proscuitto gremolata", as they called it), with a side of their roasted sherry Brussels sprouts, and a Victory Yakima Glory to drink. Apparently, I didn't photograph any of this (I really thought I had!), but it was all extremely tasty. I appreciated that the sunchoke soup wasn't overloaded with toppings, and still tasted quite vegetal, rustic, and filling.

The next day, post-marathon, we hit Tony Luke's on the way out of town. We'd wanted to hit up one of the more traditional cheesesteak places, but every other marathoner in town had the same idea. I had the roast beef Italian- beef on bread, with sauteed broccoli rabe and sharp provolone. I know it's anathema to the concept, but dipping the bread, Chicago-style would've made it great. And the rabe was delicious, but could've been better with more garlic. Also no photos. Also no clue why not.

The following weekend, we went on a daytrip to the Shenendoah Valley. It was surprisingly pretty- I forgot Virginia looked like that. Nearly mountainous. I had some dutch apple doughnuts from a gas station that were pretty decent.

Then last weekend, we went to Los Tios for brunch with friends. I had this delicious craziness: skirt steak with eggs, sauce, plantains, breakfast potatoes, rice, and crema. It was as tasty as it sounds.

Finally, I made another round of the lemon thyme chicken a few days back. This time with more thyme, as we had a ton left over from Thanksgiving. I tried to use less oil and butter, which worked out well, but the thyme was awful. I'm not a huge fan anyway, but it added this weird bitter off-flavor that crushed the lemony flavors.

Jon noted that it had a marsala thing going on when it was done. I think the fat levels were calibrated better this time to create that nice consistency without reducing the sauce. But the thyme? Never again.

Everybody Panic...

...because it's almost Thanksgiving.

I had a lot of interesting and fabulous food this weekend, and I am surely remiss for not blogging about it right this minute. However, Thanksgiving is this week, and every food blogger on the planet is having all kinds of ridiculous freakouts over it. So I would be more remiss in not blogging some random thoughts about said notable cooking holiday.

My best advice is not to panic. And don't get all food-fetish Martha Stewart-y if that's not your thing. I always think it's an excuse to have fun, even the year I committed to cooking everything. It worked out great. Keep your sense of humor, play around, and everything will be ok.

This year, we're lucky enough to be invited over for the holiday. I will be making the salmon rilettes and the cauliflower gratin from Thomas Keller's Bouchon cookbook, and everything else is someone else's problem.

Still panicked?

If you need something easy to take somewhere, try Cooking for Engineers' garlic potatoes or cheesecake cupcakes. I've made them both multiple times, and they're foolproof and delicious. Or go for the garlic mashed potatoes. They're awesome, too.

If you want something a little more complicated or posh, check out Serious Eats' Thanksgiving guide. They have a lot of delicious-looking sides. Until I decided to tone things down for the possibly-less-crazy palates at our potluck Thanksgiving, I was going to make the Momofoku Brussels sprouts.

If you're looking for cooking inspiration, or just some crazy aspirational food porn, Gilt Taste has been doing a great job of that lately. They also have a holiday cooking hotline going at 877-445-9228 during limited hours through Wednesday. I almost want to call it, just to chat up the no doubt awesome food people on the other end.

And that pumpkin milkshake? I WILL make you. Preferably after I start training for a marathon or something.

So, you're not panicked. Maybe you're more worried about the booze?

I believe in beer with Thanksgiving dinner. Or non-traditional wine. Whatever floats your boat.

For beer, try going local first. Here in DC, I'd grab some of DC Brau's limited edition Imperial Pumpkin Porter. It's substantial, but not too heavy, and not sickeningly sweet or overly flavored like a lot of pumpkin beers. I'd also get some of Port City's porter, which is lighter than most porters, but really well-balanced.

If you prefer lighter, Schlafly's Kolsch is a winner. It's an excellent session beer, goes well with a variety of foods, and is subtle but a lot more interesting than most light beers. New Belgium's Abbey, Boulevard's Tank 7, or Abita's Harvest Ale are all nice choices.

Apologies for the lack of California beers- I'm trying for geographic diversity, but can't think of a great West Coast beer I really love. Bear Republic might have something good, or Anchor Steam, if you're into it. I think I like Firestone Walker, but haven't had enough experience with their beers to recommend anything in particular.

What about wines?

The traditional choice is Beaujolais. If you go this route, please go Villages and not Nouveau. Speaking very generally, the nouveau tends to be candy-like, treacly, thin, and awful. And it sells at a premium, because it's what *everyone* wants for Thanksgiving.

Honestly, I think something from the Languedoc is more interesting. Their wines are also relatively light, but tend to be simple, dry, and lower-alcohol, with more offbeat flavor notes- leather, graphite, violet, and the like- and gorgeous deep purple color. Or, if you're into white wine, go for a rousanne, viognier, verdejo, or similar. I'm a huge fan of mineral and marine flavors. Trader Joe's has a kosher white still that's pretty nice. Even a vinjo verde could be interesting, or a cava. And if you see Spanish or French cider, just grab it- it's bound to be perfect.

Onion and Andouille Pasta at Home

For lunch, I had fusilli in a creamy onion sauce, with andouille sausage, and a persimmon for dessert. And a glass of red wine.

(My rant about Americans and lunch drinking is coming one of these days. For now, I'll just say that wine with lunch is one of the great pleasures of life, and if you don't appreciate it, you depress me. And that your Frappucinos and sodas are going to kill you a lot faster anyway.)

The onions were genius. They actually started yesterday as a precursor to French onion soup. But they smelled so fabulous as they were caramelizing, I couldn't bear to add anything to them. So instead I smeared heaps of onion confit onto slices of bread with dinner, and couldn't wait to use the remainder today.

Quick digression: if you want to make your own onion deliciousness, I made it by melting 3T butter in a large dutch oven, then adding two pounds of onions, sliced 1/4" thick or so. Specificity in slicing doesn't really matter, just the time and heat level. Lots of time, very little heat. Stir every 15 minutes, less towards the beginning, more towards the end. For 2-4 hours. Or you can even stop sooner, if you like the way things smell and it's reduced to a spreadable consistency.

Anyway. I woke up thinking about these onions. They're that delicious. I vaguely thought, in my half-awake daze, that they might be amazing with pasta. Then this afternoon, I was picking up my newly-sharpened knives from the local butcher (this is not nearly as virtuous as it sounds: this is the first time, ever, I've had them sharpened), and couldn't resist grabbing some andouille sausage, too.

Like the lazy food blogger that I am, I actually tossed the sausage into the boiling water while the pasta cooked, then pan-fried it in a little butter to get a little browning. I then tossed in the cooked pasta, a little pasta water, and the leftover onion confit, and mixed everything for a few minutes. It was the perfect meal for an overcast, ridiculously foggy day.

Oh, and the persimmons? So fabulous. They'll get their own post someday soon, too.

Provencal Sunshine

For dinner, I made this tastiness:

Sort of a Provençal chicken dish, with thyme and super-bright lemon flavor. With green beans on the side, and a glass of red wine.

It was loosely based on this recipe, which is itself a loose approximation of an Ina Garten recipe, and which I discovered via Jenna Sauers' excellent twitter feed.

We all know how lazy I am. Baste? Oy. And whatever casserole dishes we may own are still stowed away in a box somewhere. So I decided to braise everything in my huge dutch oven instead.

I omitted: the fresh thyme, because it was exactly the same price as a cheap bottle of wine (I got the wine instead); the bacon, at the last minute, because I was curious to see what it would taste like without all that smoky richness; and a few other ingredients. I dusted a little dried, ground thyme into the pot, but would probably spring for fresh thyme next time.

The results were fabulous, as promised. The lemon flavors were so huge and sunny and bright; it would be an awesome mid-winter dish. Instant happiness. Omit the thyme, make some rice, and it sort of becomes Moroccan. Or add some salt-cured olives. Regardless of what you do, the broth makes an amazing sauce. It would work great on fish. Or anything. Jon was actually dipping pita chips into the puddle of sauce on my plate as I destroyed the wannabe leftovers.

If you want to make it my way:

Lightly coat the bottom of a large dutch oven with oil. Cook the chicken thighs in the oil for a few minutes. Then toss the onion, carrots, and lemons on top, very coarsely chopped, along with the garlic cloves. Dust some thyme on top, and plop on pats of butter (I used 3-4T), and some salt. Cover, place in your pre-heated 400-degree oven for 30 min. At that point, I actually lowered a steamer basket full of green beans into the top, lowered the heat to 350, and cooked, still covered, for another 20 minutes. I then removed the chicken with tongs, lightly dusted with smoked paprika, and broiled for 3 minutes or so, just to dry them off a little. At the same time, I reduced the liquid over high heat on the stovetop, and fished out the lemon chunks.

The $2.77 bottle of wine? Questionable, but not horrid. My quick test for how much a cheap bottle of wine is going to suck is to look at the ABV. The higher it is, the worse the wine. 14% or higher is a dealbreaker. This, the Oak Leaf Vineyard Merlot (rule #2: cheap Merlot is way better than cheap Cab), is 13%. It's pretty oaky, a little spicy, and not very complex, but at least not treacly. Maybe a step below Whole Foods' Three Wishes Merlot, and way above Chuck Shaw. Both of which are at similar price points.

Calling Marion Nestle

This weekend, Jon made chili, and we had a little party. Chili is his thing, so he made his usual beef, lamb, and bean chili, and an experimental vegetarian version with portobellos, zucchini, and beans. We had a cheese plate (Trader Joe's cranberry-swathed goat cheese is A-mazing), and people brought over tasty appetizers and beer. It was delicious and fun, and something we should do more often.

Sadly, I didn't take any food photos. But while we were grocery shopping beforehand, I found some great blog fodder...

You know that public health vs. processed foods industry debate over food labeling? This is exhibit A in what's wrong with the current rules. Honestly, I don't even know what the current rules are. But any regs that permit labeling this misleading are, I think, categorically immoral.

If you can't read it, the copy says:
"Nutrition Rich Cookies...As much fiber as a bowl of oatmeal...As much calcium and Vitamin D as an 8oz glass of milk...As much Vitamin C as a cup of blueberries"

I'm sure that's all technically true. But let's check out the ingredient list.

Oh, and all the additional misleading comparisons above the ingredient list, too.

In addition to repeating the comparisons from the front, it says:
"As much iron as compared to a cup of cooked spinach"
"As much Vitamin B12 as compared to a cup of cottage cheese with fruit"
"As much Vitamin A as compared to an 8oz glass of tomato juice"
"As much Vitamin E as compared to two cups (16oz) of carrot juice"

Which all creates the illusion, for the less educated about food, that these cookies might actually be good for you. Who knew? indeed.

First ingredient? Sugar. Then flour (not whole). Then a mixed cocktail of vegetable oils, one hydrogenated. Trans fats FTW, y'all. Cocoa. Corn sugar. Polydextrose (which is apparently where those silly fiber numbers come from. Who knew?). Corn flour, then corn syrup. And a few other random things.

Then there's a separate list of added vitamins and minerals below the ingredient list. I mean, I guess that's what it's doing there. I didn't know it was legal to separate out ingredients like that. Kind of creates the illusion that there's something good for you in all this, like separating "active ingredients" out on medicine labels. Bottom line, you won't get a goiter eating these things.

So who makes this crap? I was really hoping for Nabisco. And who knows, there probably is some huge company hiding behind "Suncore Products, LLC". For a company allegedly based in Denver but distributing in the DC area, there's a serious dearth of info online.

Certainly, their own website in an exercise in ridiculousness. Maybe I should start working my way through their recipes starring said cookies?

And I should definitely be happy their FAQ answer to "can I stop eating fruits and vegetables if I eat your cookies?" is a no.

But hey, there's already a law firm on it. "If you or someone you know has been harmed by WhoNu? cookies or a similar product, please contact us to discuss your legal rights." Let me know if you go that route. I'd appreciate the referral bonus.

Sweet Potato Fries at Home

For brunch, I had baked sweet potato fries, with an egg and some coffee.

The sweet potatoes were inspired by this recipe. But really, that recipe's way too complicated. Just cut your potatoes into spears, toss with a little olive oil and salt, and bake at 450 for 15min. I added a little chopped garlic at that point, tossed, and roasted them for another five minutes or so. They were exceedingly tasty.

To go with it, I pan-fried an egg in a little butter. These are posh fancy pasture eggs from Whole Foods, so I feel ok about eating them, even if eggs still gross me out. I'll work on finding some backyard eggs, but, until then, they're pretty decent. Maybe it was my imagination, but the yolks seem to have a distinct lemon flavor that would make a nice Hollandaise.

Odd Ingredient du Jour: Ginkgo Nuts

First, a little botany lesson. Because I love ginkgo trees.

Their leaves are so pretty!

Ginkgo trees are classified as gymnosperms, which is the older method of seed-bearing among plants. Conifers are another common example (I'll refrain from geeking out about the cycads...just know that you never want to hit the botanic gardens with me).

Basically, it means their seeds aren't enclosed inside a flower, and instead are in cones or exposed on short stalks. And it means ginkgo trees are extremely ancient. That "living fossil" stuff biology teachers get excited about? That's the ginkgo.

More ginkgo porn. So pretty.

People have been noshing ginkgo biloba seeds for a long time, particularly in Asia. And it just so happens that the DC area is full of ginkgo trees, and that fruiting season is right now. In addition to the pretty leaves, you'll know these trees by the foul odor emanating from the sidewalk, and the squashed orange goo everywhere. Yes, the fruit reeks. But it's also a nice glowy orange color, and adorably wrinkled.

Naturally, I have some around the corner from my house in their full reeky glory. So I had to investigate. I just foraged them from the ground, because the putrescent flesh isn't what we're after anyway.

At this point, I had to consult the internets for advice, having neither tasted ginkgo nuts before nor any idea what to do with them. Instructables to the rescue!

Following the tutorial's advice, I soaked the fruit for an hour in warm water, then removed the seeds. (Also do be aware that ginkgo fruit technically contains urushiol, aka the chemical that puts the "poison" in poison ivy. I've never had issues, but if you're paranoid/sensitive/not a risk-taker, glove up)

This is what they look like, de-fruited.


I wanted to consume them right away, so I skipped ahead to roasting them in the oven. I cooked them at 400 degrees for just over ten minutes, not quite sure how to tell if they were done, because the outer shell does not turn green, just the inner meat. The explosion solved my little dilemma.

Seriously, if you want to scare someone, explode some ginkgo seeds in their oven. It sounded like a cannon went off in there. Maybe I'd try a lower heat next time, but the survivors were indeed done.

They look like slightly translucent olives when cooked and peeled.

And the taste? That was what I was most curious about, since most people dislike them or claim they're an acquired taste. The short version would be "they taste like buckwheat-flavored jelly beans". But they're actually pretty complex- kind of woodsy and earthy, with an odd chewiness. The second one I ate was significantly more bitter than the first, but there's a touch of bitterness to all of them. On top of all that, the toasty buckwheat flavors resound most prominently.

I'm not sure what to do with them next. Most recipes I see them in are very strange to the western palate- congee, eggy savory custards, and the like. I'm going to think about it and hopefully come up with something good. The flavor is unique enough make all the effort worthwhile at least a few times each year.

DC Food Roundup

Our friends got married here in DC last weekend, and the in-laws came out to join in the festivities. So naturally we ate out lots. Hence, a roundup.

PS, the clouds were really gorgeous yesterday:

Anyway.

The standout for the week, both for sheer absurdity and for tastiness, would be the "BBQ Burger" from Del Ray Pizzeria.

I hadn't had enough time with the menu, and our waitress had been great about beer recommendations (didn't get her name, but the chick with long black hair and purple streaks is great), so I took her rec on this, too. It's shredded pork shoulder, on a burger, covered with cheddar and jalapeño. Otherwise known as completely awesome.

Also delicious this week was Super Pollo. The Andean countries of South America have an obsession with chicken. Sometimes fried, sometimes rotisseried with spices. This stuff is the latter. Pretty cumin-heavy, rubbed inside and out before cooking. Sort of like the Mexican spice rubs I'm completely obsessed with.

The chicken at Super Pollo is the best we've had in town, but their sides leave something to be desired. I had fried yuca, which was decent, but is much better at Señor Chicken in Alexandria. The green sauce is always to die for- pretty spicy, no idea what's in it. But excellent on anything and everything.

We also ate at the Cheesetique again. They seem to have enlarged their menu lately, and that's a very good thing. I had a "Madrid Melt"- Manchego cheese, Jamón serrano, and membrillo. I love all those things alone and in combination. So I was shocked to discover how well they meld when heated together. The jamón's slight mustiness and the manchego's creaminess complemented each other perfectly. The quince added a sweet note that my mother-in-law, who ordered the same sandwich, but had never had jamón or membrillo before, described as grape jelly-like. That, for me, was the most fascinating thing- everything was so well paired, it became something completely different and new and brilliant, and none of the components were very distinguishable. That's really rare, and a great achievement in its own way.

Odd Ingredient du Jour: Naranja Agria

With lunch ("multigrain pilaf" from Trader Joe's), I had some of this, mixed with sugar and soda water to make a tasty beverage. It's an unusual ingredient, but one I find pretty useful, so I thought I'd discuss it here.

It's mock bitter orange juice, bitter orange being an integral ingredient in many Latin American recipes. I first heard of it trying to make Rick Bayless' jicama salad in "Authentic Mexican", but it's also common in meat marinades. Real bitter orange juice comes from Seville oranges, which produce extremely sour citrus flavor (apparently it's reminiscent of grapefruit) and are generally unavailable in the U.S. Bayless suggests using a mixture of lime and grapefruit juice, in addition to orange zest, as a substitute rather than bottled mix. I did that the first time I made the jicama salad, but it was expensive and a huge hassle. Next time, I bought this huge bottle of mock bitter orange instead. It contains orange juice, Seville orange oil, grapefruit juice, and a variety of preservatives. And it's huge. I don't make nearly enough Mexican food to use up this bottle in a timely manner, so I started experimenting with it. It works well in homemade vinaigrettes, but my favorite use is cocktails and mocktails. It's extremely bitter, but flavorful and a little floral. I haven't tried making tinto de veranos* with it yet, but I bet with enough added sugar it could function as a stand-in for the orange Fanta.

(*Tinto de veranos are the best drink ever. But the Wikipedia page is kind of wrong. I lived in Spain for a summer, traveling and drinking widely, and always saw them made with orange Fanta, never with lemon soda. And definitely never with Sprite)

In Defense of Pi

...the pizzeria, not the number. I suspect 3.14159...can hold its own.

So, Pi is a pizza place in St. Louis that specializes in deep dish. You may recall the kerfuffle back when Obama shanked Chicago in the heart by calling it the best deep dish he'd ever had. Pi is pretty damn good, so we were happy to hear that Pi would be opening a DC outpost around the same time we moved out here.

We ate at Pi DC a few weeks ago. To clarify: I, not a Chicago native, ate there with three Chicago natives. Who love their deep dish. We all found it extremely tasty, though I thought they were still ramping up to full Pi deliciousness as compared to their St. Louis locations. I didn't take any photos, and didn't blog about it. So why now?

One of my fellow dining companions from that night emailed me the WaPo food critic's assessment of Pi DC.

I generally appreciate food critics in the cities we've lived. We've been lucky to have a slew of good ones- Jason Sheehan, before he moved on to Seattle; Katharine Shilcutt in Houston; Ian Froeb in St. Louis. You may note these are all the alt paper critics: somewhere along the way, we discovered they represented our food interests better than the newspaper critics. Perhaps that's my problem with Mr. Sietsema. I'm still trying to figure out the DC food scene, and what perspective everyone brings to the table. But this review just leaves me puzzled.

First, I think there are some unreasonable expectations. We're talking about deep dish born in St. Louis, purporting to be Chicago-style. As anyone familiar with restaurants should know, cuisine is a product of where it's created. Go try some Italian food in St. Louis, for example. No Italian would ever mistake it for their cuisine. Frankly, I'm from America and had trouble recognizing it as Italian food. It's not Italian food; it's St. Louis-style Italian food. Think deep-fried, breaded ravioli ("T-ravs"), pasta cooked to death, thin, sweetish red sauce on everything. It's peculiar, and some of it is disgusting, but you can see clearly the blending of Italian ingredients with Midwestern sensibilities.

Now let's talk about deep dish. I've only had it in Chicago a few times, but it has a few distinctive characteristics. The biggest one, I think, is density. Chicago deep dish is a meal. Eating an entire pie might kill you. They're laden with cheese and meat, and collapse into an oozy, artery-clogging pile on your plate. The crust is crisp, and has a deep-fried appearance that often spits grease as you bite in.

If we're talking "authentic", I'd say the best deep dish in St. Louis is actually from Black Thorn Pub. It's dense, it's oozy, one slice hits you like a load of bricks to the head. Jon had two, and had to go home and pass out afterward.

I guess all this leads up to the big tell: Pi isn't really Chicago-style deep dish. It's *better* than Chicago-style deep dish. If St. Louis didn't already have an eponymous pizza style, this stuff could hold its own. Maybe a better name would be "St. Louis deep dish"?

So what's different about it? It's less dense. It's a drier pie. Less sauce, less cheese, but still more of both than a conventional pizza. It tastes healthier, even if it's probably not. That alone to me means it's not real Chicago-style deep dish. The crust is better, too- it keeps the crispiness, and a light greasy sheen, but it's no longer soaked in the stuff.

So why do these dumb Chicagoans in DC seem to love it if it's not Chicago-style, and if it's allegedly *SO* awful? I have two theories that I think explain it better than delusional "homesickness".

1)The urban professional class (ie, Pi DC's target market) is more concerned about their health, generally speaking, than Midwesterners. Pi's pizza has healthier topping options, and tastes less greasy, than most of what's available in Chicago. Chicago transplants enjoy the nostalgia of deep dish, in a tastier, possibly healthier package, maybe more than they would enjoy the real thing if it were available.

2)Expectations. I've lived in Texas, I know great barbecue. Do I expect to find it in DC? No. Would I be really happy to find good barbecue, even if it's not Luling City? Would I maybe go a little crazy and evangelize about how awesome it is? Um, yeah.

And sure, there's a little homesickness wrapped up in it, too. I can't help but wonder what Minnesota-raised Sietsema's review would look like should a hot dish place open in the District.

Simple Breakfast at Home

For breakfast, I had ciabatta rolls, with almond butter and datil/raspberry jam, and pumpkin spice coffee to drink.

These cute little things are actually homemade sourdough ciabatta rolls from (again) "Ideas in Food". It's due back at the library (again) this week, and I just don't want to let it go. Perhaps a book I'll be buying.

The rolls need improvement, flavor-wise. There's not enough sourdough in the recipe to be noticeable, and I used all white flour for texture reasons, so the result is really bland. But beautiful. And they were relatively easy to make, and about on par with the ciabatta rolls I'd buy at Trader Joe's.

On to the good stuff.

I covered said ciabatta in almond butter and this stuff. It was kindly brought back from Florida for us by our friends Brian & Stephanie, and is unbelievably delicious. Especially for something I'd never heard of before. Datil peppers are pretty spicy, but have a nice round, fruity flavor that goes perfectly with the raspberries. This jam has way more depth than most pepper jams, and is really fabulous with almond butter. Dangerously delicious, indeed.

The coffee, Trader Joe's pumpkin spice blend, is odd. The first time I made coffee with it, I used the recommended 2 tablespoons per cup, and it nearly killed me. I've toned it down since, but the flavors are just really strange. I think it's intended for people who add lots of sugar and cream to their coffee; maybe then the flavors would be mellow. Black, it's extremely astringent and bitter, with heavy overtones of nutmeg.

Finally, a cooking note.

I don't care what any cookbook says, everything gets cooked on my pizza stone (left) from now on. I've had a few bread mishaps lately, so put my ciabatta head to head on metal baking sheets and the pizza stone to test whether that was the issue. The pizza stone bread is fully cooked, with a crisp bottom, while the baking sheet bread is just cooked, yet burned on the bottom. Pizza stone wins.

Vanilla Pudding at Home

For breakfast, I had some vanilla pudding, with a cup of tea.

Well, "pudding". As longtime readers may have noticed, I have serious issues making pudding. And I adore pudding, so this really is a tragedy. Usually I chalk it up to me not following recipes, per usual. In fact, the last three or so times I've had pudding failures, I've used this recipe, but altered it in drastic ways. I had never made this pudding actually following the recipe.

So, having scored some vanilla beans at Penzey's (love Penzey's), I decided it was finally time to make real vanilla pudding like an orthodox little recipe-follower (or at least, I tried; I still cut down the sugar, because 2/3 of a cup sounded disgusting and deadly). It was supposed to be dessert last night.

And...failure. The same failure as always, oddly- the pudding won't set up. I am at a loss. It's probably not my milk (1%, sometimes 2%), because pudding is supposed to be made with milk, not cream, and many recipes call for lower fat milks. It shouldn't be my cornstarch, which is within date and stored in a ziploc baggie (but maybe it is? Too much humidity?). The sugar? I don't think so. My theory is that it has something to do with my heating technique, but I tried to be really careful this time, and it still happened. Yes, I have a food blog, and I still can't make Bittman's "practically foolproof" pudding.

So, breakfast was a delicious vanilla pudding beverage. It reminds me quite a bit of Oreo cookie filling in flavor. Next time, I would pare down the sugar even more- even half a cup is way too much for me. I'd also love to try the chocolate variation (again) once I know what my problem is.

The tea was pretty tasty, if a sad substitute for nice coffee. We are out, and I'm too lazy to schlep across town for great beans, but too sick of crappy coffee to settle for bad grocery store beans. Enter Morning Thunder. It's different enough from straight black tea to be drinkable in large quantities, and the black tea leaves mellow out the usually astringent and straw-like flavor of pure maté. And, even though Celestial Seasonings is technically no longer a local Colorado company, their art is still adorable.

Making a Map

This week, I had more cooking ideas floating around in my head than usual. I blame Ideas in Food.

Ordinarily, I shop for groceries for a specific dinner. Pretty much every day, if I'm going out of my way to cook a halfway decent dinner. Yes, this is pathological. I've even been known to visit three grocery stores for hard-to-find ingredients, though that's somewhat rarer. I like to grocery shop, just as much as some people loathe it (hi, mom). Regardless of how busy my life is, I like to preserve the illusion that I'm a Parisian who simply must visit individual purveyors every day.

But this week, I decided to be different. To facilitate my crazy ideas, and to see if it results in decreased food waste, decreased expenses, or more general happiness. Out of curiosity.

First, I brainstormed all the crazy ideas floating around in my head into a nice little map of related ideas. And then went shopping. My loose plan, if you can't tell from the pretty colored pencil ravings above, was to make fesenjan one night, Rick Bayless' tomatillo sauce another, a veggie risotto a third, maybe some lentil burgers a fourth, then make a few minor dishes, and make some things to stockpile for later (ie, stock).

My initial experience was pretty awful. I found it stressful to have to keep so many required ingredients straight at the grocery store (even though I had a list. What can I say, I'm a little ditzy). Plus, one of my grocery store neuroses is that I refuse to use a cart. They're cumbersome and ridiculous, and I'd rather develop wire-shaped bruises from a handbasket (yes, this has happened before...and may have happened today) than be chained to a ridiculous cart and hemmed in by slack-jawed and slovenly shoppers, carts piled high with frozen dinners. I still had to visit two grocery stores, but was faced with the additional obstacle of volume. I found myself fantasizing about those handcarts middle-aged European ladies schlep to the market, but somehow managed to get everything upstairs in one go.

The food, however, has been ok so far. Tonight, I made foccacia from Ideas in Food. The texture was gorgeous, the flavor pretty good. Next time I'd try using the pizza stone so as to not slightly burn the whole mess.

To go with it, I used up some cannelini beans that have been tormenting me from the pantry for months. I simmered them in some chicken stock and wine until tender, then smushed in the food processor with some olive oil and salt.

Then the main dish, the scariest tofu you've seen in awhile. Except I forgot to upload an image. You're lucky I forgot. It looked pretty awful. Basically, I made a batch of Rick Bayless' quick tomatillo sauce, then casseroled it with tofu cubes and chopped gordita tortilla chunks, all covered in cheddar and parmesan. It miraculously ended up tasting pretty good, though the dish was really intended to be my passive-aggressive protest against the megapacks of tofu Jon keeps buying at Costco. We have two more packs to go through before they expire in a week. Somebody help me.

Costa Rican Rice-A-Roni and the Return of the Brownie Cookies

For dinner, I had glorified DIY Rice-A-Roni (I had to google how to spell that), with a Yuengling to drink. And a brownie cookie.

That mess is a take on our usual quasi-Costa Rican rice+beans+egg dish. I had an odd desire to clean out the fridge this week, as well as clear the pantry of Jon's repulsive canned baked beans. So I cooked some sad frozen peas with the rice, added some seasonings, and topped the mess with an egg and the now-ubiquitous Aleppo pepper. Jon ate his toxic-smelling, slightly neon-hued beans instead of the peas, which he dislikes. The dish was somewhere between serviceable and decent, and far better than Rice-A-Roni, but I was too busy baking cookies for five hours to really care.

So, the cookies.

They're good, but I can think of a dozen other cookie recipes I can make with less mess, and in less time. They taste like brownie edges, crispy, with a chewy middle, and maybe a bit of macaron shatter when you bite into them.

Unfortunately, I might have to make them again out of curiosity- I "mixed" rather than "folded" at a critical step, and I'm now wondering if the texture would be significantly better had I folded. Maybe not. Also, they're so devastatingly chocolaty you'll come away from baking hating chocolate (yet covered in it...) At least they make the whole house smell great, until you succumb to the fumes.

The Chocolate Pudding Caper, part I

This week, I've been reading Ideas in Food. Finally, I've found people as crazy as me.

I've roasted pasta...I've pre-soaked it in tomato water...The book is gloriously experimental, with a ton of interesting ideas. This morning, I decided to make their Crispy Chocolate Mousse.

My mother has a recipe from the 1960s built on the idea of a meringue/cookie hybrid, and it makes the most fabulous cookies ever. However, she hates to cook, and periodically loses said recipe. I haven't seen it in fifteen years, so I decided to try baking these in the hopes they'd be similar. They actually take five hours to bake, so I'm not sure how they are yet. (And in the process of writing this, I've realized I forgot to add the vanilla) But if noshing the leftover pudding-like batter directly out of the bowl is any indication, they're kind of awesome.

That said, it's the first recipe I've made in months that makes me remember why people hate to cook. It's a meringue and not a meringue at the same time, so lots of finicky egg pampering is required. Because egg whites require an absolutely clean bowl for proper whipping, and because the yolks are mixed with something hot, a minimum of three large bowls are required. And that's all before you have to scoop the whole mess into a pastry bag/ziploc for piping. The process of transferring between bowls has left me with a variety of delicious leftover chocolate goos to surreptitiously sample, but there's a lot of waste. And I'm covered in chocolate byproducts and feel about five.

Gordita & Hummus & Tips to Set Your House on Fire

For lunch, I had an extra-thick tortilla, aka gordita, with homemade hummus. I also ate a leftover roasted yam from last night, sprinkled with salt and aleppo pepper.

Homemade hummus is awesome, if you get the ratios right. Sadly, I'm not sure what those are right now- I couldn't find our usual recipe, so bumbled around yesterday with some tahini, garbanzos, olive oil, lime juice (I forgot to buy lemons), garlic, and salt. It's edible, but too thick, a bit chalky (too much tahini?), and generally shy of awesome.

The gorditas were an almost disaster. I bought them because they sounded yummy, but store-bought tortillas are always dry and gross without proper preparation. Wanting to make them edible as expeditiously as possible, I recalled my secret tortilla weapon: the toaster.

Not the toaster oven (I don't own one), the toaster. Note that I learned of this tip when a friend complained on Facebook about his Spanish wife setting the kitchen on fire again, so please don't sue me when your kitchen goes up in flames. It's kind of dangerous. But it works quickly, and perfectly, to heat a few tortillas. I rub with a light (light!) coat of olive oil, then pop a tortilla in each slot. Stand there and watch it, and unplug if your toaster starts smoking. You'll probably need tongs to get the tortilla out, as they tend to get slouchy. Don't forget to unplug your toaster before poking around in there. In this case, the gordita wasn't flexible enough to fit into the slot, so I cut it in half. But it was fast, and I got a nice crisp outside and warm, steamy inside without the hassle of heating a skillet.

Techniques: Breakfast Potatoes

This morning, I made some breakfast potatoes, mostly because I discovered a forlorn, half-empty bag of yellow roasting potatoes on top of the refrigerator. I guess "breakfast potatoes" is kind of a generic term- to me, they're bigger than hashbrowns, smaller than homefries. The point is, they're the right size to cook relatively quickly, without the hassle of grating (I don't even own a grater of the size appropriate for hashbrowns, and I suspect many others don't, either. Microplane rocks my world).

So how did I get good breakfast potatoes, without taking decades?

-Cut the potatoes in small (about 1/2cm), uniform cubes so they cook quickly in a pan. This can be the world's largest pain in the ass, or extremely fun, if your knife is sharp and you're a little OCD.

-Think about regulating the heat. First, preheat your pan and preferred fat source. I did butter, but there was a little pork fat residue in the skillet I could taste on the potatoes. This was a good thing. The big key is to preheat for way longer than you think you need to. Try a couple of minutes. Watch to make sure nothing spontaneously combusts. But you want that pan hot.

-Speaking of which, skillets. My personal opinion is that a nonstick skillet works just as well as my old-school cast iron. Sure, the one that's a pain to season and clean looks cooler, but I don't notice much difference. Maybe you'll get a little more color, faster, with the cast iron, but it seems cosmetic.

-Do you want them crispy? I did a mix of crispy and smushy. I started with high heat to develop some crispiness. The important part, however, is covering them so they'll steam and cook thoroughly faster. Preferably at lower heat, so they don't burn. If you want really crispy, start with the steaming and then crisp at the end. Mine were a happy medium.

For fun, I tossed a little freeze-dried green onion on top when I was done. They didn't overpower the delicate buttery potato flavors, and I didn't have to worry about food poisoning from fresh ones.

News from Gen's Kitchen (Cue the Food Geek)

Ok, so I mentioned awhile back that this format is getting boring (for me, and probably for anyone else reading). After some thought about what might make this more interesting, especially in light of the billion-and-a-half "look at what I ate!" blogs out there, I've decided to go educational. But creatively, and hopefully not too obnoxiously.

Why educational? I love reading cookbooks that explain techniques, rationales for a particular process, and unusual ingredients in-depth. I'm also obsessed with vintage cookbooks, for what they say about food, but also culture and how it's changed over time.

I'd like to think all this semi-arcane knowledge is useful. I find having a fuller understanding of ingredients and techniques makes it much easier to spot issues in my cooking, and take into account factors people who don't read a lot of cookbooks might not notice. That's why I do so many odd and crazy things, and yet generally come out with an edible result. And, of course, there's always more to learn- sometimes it's fun to see how I fail, and to explore why.

And maybe there will be a lazy What Gen Ate post sometimes. I still have to eat, after all.

(I also apologize for the lack of visual interest in this post. I was going to do some cool MS Paint thingy like all those other cool blogs out there, but I discovered it's actually really hard. Computer artist, I iz not.)

I'm Secretly Dutch

For lunch, I had falafel and fries from Amsterdam Falafel, with soda water to drink.

You may recall that I dislike falafel. [This whole excursion, which also involved CaBis and me cursing vociferously at the many drivers in the bike lane, was Jon's idea.] But this place is delicious. Their falafel is inoffensive (high praise from me), and the toppings are fabulous. They have pickled radishes (the fuschia things you see in the photo)which I love on Middle Eastern wrapped things, and excellent, very garlicky hummus. There were also a variety of interesting toppings, such as sweet veggie salad, minced jalapeño, beets, and fried, caramelized eggplant. Perhaps the only improvement would be labeling all the cool toppings, so we don't have to guess.

In any case, I didn't have to guess, because the dude manning the counter was either a very proud owner, or the best employee ever- he gave great service, and excitedly explained all the toppings. I was a little skeptical of his description of arduously prepping all the toppings from scratch every morning, but accidentally poked my head into the kitchen later, looking for the bathroom. Sure enough, there were huge piles of veggies, and an employee chopping away.

The fries were classic vlaamse frites. They're somewhat fat fries, crispy on the outside and fluffy inside, with a good amount of salt and served in a traditional paper cone. There were a few yummy sauces available at Amsterdam Falafel, including "garlic cream" (heaven) and peanut. The peanut sauce had a nice touch of vinegar, but I found it needed a little heat- add a bit of the minced jalapeño, and it's perfect.

Finally, the soda water. I love that, in addition to taking Euros and being located in a very Amsterdam block of rowhouses, they still have soda water in their soda machine. It seems like that's getting more and more rare. It's refreshing in the summer, and way better than actual soda.