Completely Obsessed

...with baking bread. Seriously, this old NYT recipe is so easy. And I've baked, and been frustrated by, a lot of bread. Easy. I googled around to see if anyone had put the recipe online (they had), and was really depressed to see everyone else is getting much prettier results.

Whatever. It tastes great, even when made completely from white whole wheat flour, and it takes no time at all. I mixed up a batch, walked the dog, rolled it around a little, waited awhile, and baked it perfectly in time for dinner.

Still warm, with some shallot butter? Brilliant.

[Digressive edit: one of those links, the one with the prettier-than-mine bread, is actually an awesome-looking blog. Jon's sort of crushed my longstanding live-in-the-Rustbelt-and-build-stuff fantasies, but now I know where to go to get my fix...]

French Onion Soup-ish

For dinner, I kind of had French onion soup. Not nearly as deconstructed as this, but almost.

It all started when I tried to make a baguette. I'm still madly in love with the New York Times Cookbook, which I received as a Christmas present. And bread is one of those things I wish I made more often, just because you miss it if you don't have it, and homemade is always best.

So I used the Craig Claiborne/Pierre Franey recipe (couldn't find it online...buy the cookbook, you'll like it. Or borrow mine) for French bread. I used wine yeast, because I happened to have a little lying around. I don't think it really makes a difference though.

It has to be the technique. It's a really simple recipe, and, per usual, I messed with it by using mostly white whole wheat flour instead of white. It still turned out well. I was concerned that the inside was so dense in appearance:

But it turned out perfectly. The dense texture held well when I used it for almond butter & blueberry jam sandwiches at lunch, and was a nice counterpoint to the onion jam at dinner.

Onions?

It was sort of the same confit recipe as before. This time, I measured to make sure I was slicing the onions more or less uniformly at 1/4". My new general rule is to use approximately a tablespoon, or a bit more, of butter per pound of onions. And to cook them very, very slowly. These I removed from heat after 1.5 to 2 hours, when they had barely changed to a light toffee color. I added a little kosher salt toward the beginning, and a little red wine towards the end. This time, I also chose to puree them a bit in the food processor, to yield nicely uniform bits.

To make the "soup", I covered some caramelized onion puree with sliced cubes of bread and shredded Parmigiano-Reggiano and briefly heated it. I can't overstate how awesome slow-cooked onions are- it's pure umami goodness. You don't need to use a ton of butter for a smooth, savory flavor. The bread was also a success, though maybe I'd add a little more water next time- I always forget the white whole wheat flour soaks up more moisture and you have to adjust.

To drink, I had a Dogfish Head "Raison d' Etre". It's becoming one of my local-ish go-to beers for complex, interesting flavors. It has a Belgian feel, with some light banana/clove flavors and heavier 'green' flavors- apple, maybe pear? Unique and interesting and substantial, but it still goes well with most foods.

Holiday Food Roundup, Part I

Over the holiday season, I had a lot of tasty, and/or bizarre, food. Here's a brief roundup, from the first part of my vacation.

I was tempted, but ultimately resisted, these freaky little things. I love red velvet cake (actually, one of my unspoken New Year's resolutions is to pin down a great recipe for the cake I so love), but this was just scary.

Instead, I had bread pudding French toast:

The location was Denny's, in case you were wondering. It was attached to our hotel, otherwise I wouldn't have been caught dead there. It's not snobbery, it's just that I don't remember eating at a Denny's without getting full-on, three-days-of-stomach-flu food poisoning. Not kidding; it had been ten years at least since I set foot in a Denny's. Thankfully, I emerged unscathed from this experiment. It was extremely dense, slimy yet dry, and strangely textured, but it didn't kill me. Success?

Once we got to Florida, I was intrigued by this bit of pretentiousness:

A "cranberry bog", from which you can fish your very own cranberries. Fresh Market kind of pisses me off for what they're up to in suburban DC, but I understand that they're a rare beacon of enlightenment in rural Florida. Still, pretentious.

Then there's the random office I visited with the in-laws. You know, you visit an accounting or legal office or whatever, and they ask you if you'd like something to drink? At this office, I was offered a menu:

Yeah.

Yay, cookware!

Sorry I was gone so long! I didn't plan on that, but hooking up internet at the in-laws' proved to be more trouble than it was worth. Don't worry, I'll be punished enough when I try to make a roundup of all the tasty food I've had in the last three weeks.

In the meantime, I thought I'd talk about cookware. Fun, eh?

A few months ago, I was trying to candy some lemon slices, in my absolute favorite size pot. Favorite because it's perfect for everything but really big or really small jobs. It's a two quart Le Creuset, part of a 70s brown set I "borrowed" from my mother and never gave back. You can guess where this is going, no?

I was cooking them over low heat, and it was time to take my dog for a walk. And it was such a gorgeous day, the nicest day in so long, that I took her for an extra-long walk, completely forgetting my lemons. I came home to an apartment full of dense smoke, and an apparently broken fire alarm.

And this. This was taken after I spent about an hour chipping carbonized chunks of lemon out of the pot, actually.

I spent the next month chipping away, and zapping it with oxalic acid, but it just wasn't the same. I heard scary internet rumors of glass chunks in my food, and got freaked out about trying to rehabilitate it. So, on our drive back from vacation in Florida, we decided to stop at one of the Le Creuset factory stores for a replacement.

The store itself was an interesting cultural experience. Hello, dainty old southern ladies. Hello, temptation. I managed to escape just over $100 poorer, for the pot, a specialized potholder, and a large bottle of enameled cast-iron cleaner. Not bad.

The blue happened to be on sale, happens to go nicely with the chocolate brown 70s set, and is kind of sexy. Win.

But I noticed some interesting differences I feel compelled to note. Maybe it'll help out if you ever find a vintage pot somewhere and wonder what it is?

They started enameling the bottoms! As you can see from the wear on my 70s pot, this is probably a good thing. I'm looking forward to easier cleanup, without worrying about whether my pot bottom is fully dry. Also, the enamel surface is much easier to thoroughly dry.

They posh-ified the lids! Older lids don't have any markings, while the new one is cast with a large "Le Creuset". I guess this impresses people watching me cook? Yeah.

On less exciting notes, you can see that they slightly changed the shape of the handles, and that they still insist on selling pots with "phenolic" knobs. My 70s pot has a nice looking knob only because I've melted the plastic off the metal base with use over the years. You can purchase stainless steel knobs from Le Creuset to replace them for high-temperature oven cooking, but seriously?! I fail to understand why plastic-covered metal is still standard.

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.