January 2004 Archives

Todd gave me a great birthday present this year (you're going to be reading a lot about a few great birthday presents over the next few days). He knows I've had fun learning more about wine, and that I'd like to have a small collection around the house so we can open a bottle whenever we have guests or just feel like it ourselves. So last night he said, "I need to pick up your birthday present, and it's just down the block. Do you want to come along?" My curiosity was aroused, because I had no idea what he had in mind. He led me to the wine shop, then told the guy there (the owner, I think) that he wanted to buy me six bottles of wine, all different, so I could taste around.

I think the owner actually enjoyed picking them out for me. We had already picked up a shiraz from the Barossa Valley in Australia because we found the bottle charming (it's the Piping Shrike, and it has a funny little story on the back and not a whole lot of info on how the wine tastes). After approving our selection, the owner picked out six other bottles (the last one was free) of sharp, flavorful red wines (I like bright, spicy wines right now, rather than rich, mellow ones). We got a Spanish rioja that hasn't been mellowed for U.S. palates; an Italian ripasso, which is made by pouring wine over amarone (partially dehydrated) grapes; a Gigondas, from the Rhone region of France; a merlot that is not typical for merlot; and two others from California.

Todd gave me a great birthday present this year (you're going to be reading a lot about a few great birthday presents over the next few days). He knows I've had fun learning more about wine, and that I'd like to have a small collection around the house so we can open a bottle whenever we have guests or just feel like it ourselves. So last night he said, "I need to pick up your birthday present, and it's just down the block. Do you want to come along?" My curiosity was aroused, because I had no idea what he had in mind. He led me to the wine shop, then told the guy there (the owner, I think) that he wanted to buy me six bottles of wine, all different, so I could taste around.

I think the owner actually enjoyed picking them out for me. We had already picked up a shiraz from the Barossa Valley in Australia because we found the bottle charming (it's the Piping Shrike, and it has a funny little story on the back and not a whole lot of info on how the wine tastes). After approving our selection, the owner picked out six other bottles (the last one was free) of sharp, flavorful red wines (I like bright, spicy wines right now, rather than rich, mellow ones). We got a Spanish rioja that hasn't been mellowed for U.S. palates; an Italian ripasso, which is made by pouring wine over amarone (partially dehydrated) grapes; a Gigondas, from the Rhone region of France; a merlot that is not typical for merlot; and two others from California.

When I saw the cover of last month's Real Simple, I thought, "What could be more boring than chicken soup?" I am not a big chicken soup fan, and that includes real chicken stock from a chicken carcass, chicken noodle and matzoh ball (although I'd be willing to try a really good matzoh ball soup if someone knew where I could get some). To me the only reason to eat chicken soup is if you're sick.

But when I finally read the RS recipe, I decided to try it. In addition to 3 tablespoons of minced ginger it had parsnips, carrots, a turnip and sliced scallions sprinkled over the top. It starts with sauteeing the ginger with a couple minced garlic cloves and a thinly sliced onion. Then add the chicken broth and the vegetables. The recipe uses a rotisserie chicken, but I don't get the point. I just added cubed raw chicken to the soup, and it was cooked by the time the vegetables were soft, 20 minutes later.

It was pretty good, with all that ginger. I also made the maple-walnut biscuits (a half-recipe, since the whole one made 8 biscuits). The best part of the biscuits is the maple syrup you brush on top for the last 5 minutes of baking. (There's maple syrup in the dough, too, but I felt like it was less detectable.)

Oh, the photo is courtesy of my coworker, Julie, from when I ate the leftover soup for lunch. Thanks!

I can't say that I've had macaroni and cheese from the box recently, but I'm still a defender of it. It's fast, it gives you that carb-comfort, it doesn't cost a lot. And sometimes you have to just wallow in the guilt of eating low.

I made macaroni and cheese last night from a recipe in an issue of Cook's Illustrated from the 1980s in which they tried to claim that their stovetop mac and cheese was almost as fast as the blue box. But that's only after grating 1/2 pound of Cheddar cheese, whisking milk, eggs and seasoning, boiling macaroni, making then tossing breadcrumbs with butter and toasting them. Then comes the seven minutes of constant stirring that prompted the writer to claim that it's almost as fast as packaged. (Never mind all the dishes you get dirty.) What's the point of making the claim? Just say it's better, richer, more fulfilling. A different animal entirely, really. Making mac and cheese from scratch fulfills entirely different longings than making it from the box. Why even compare the two?

That said, I'd make the Cooks Illustrated mac and cheese again in a heartbeat. It was incredibly fast (30 to 45 minutes) and so creamy right out of the pot, with the nice crunchy contrast of toasted breadcrumbs on top.

First I put the water on to boil, then turned my attention to the breadcrumbs: I had some left over from the cassoulet I made last weekend, but I needed more, so I used packaged bread. First I ground half a piece in the coffee grinder to clean out the grounds (it really works!). Threw those crumbs away, then ground more bread for the topping. Tossed about a cup of crumbs with about a tablespoon of melted butter, then toasted in a 350 degree oven for 10 minutes. Tossed 1/2 pound elbow macaroni in the boiling water.

Mixed 1 cup evaporated milk with 2 eggs, a heavy dash of Tabasco, a teaspoon of dried mustard, lots of salt and a few grinds of pepper. Drained the cooked pasta, then tossed it in the same pot with 3 tablespoons of butter. Then, over low heat, added the milk mixture with most of the cheese and stirred until melted. Then added the rest and stirred for 5 minutes more, until it starts to thicken. The longer it sits, the thicker it gets. I ate it right away, sprinkled with the bread crumbs. Todd ate it about 45 minutes later, and it had set up a bit, like a baked mac and cheese would. He said it was still good. Once you finish the steps above you could put it in a casserole dish, cover it with the crumbs and bake it until bubbly.

I can't say that I've had macaroni and cheese from the box recently, but I'm still a defender of it. It's fast, it gives you that carb-comfort, it doesn't cost a lot. And sometimes you have to just wallow in the guilt of eating low.

I made macaroni and cheese last night from a recipe in an issue of Cook's Illustrated from the 1980s in which they tried to claim that their stovetop mac and cheese was almost as fast as the blue box. But that's only after grating 1/2 pound of Cheddar cheese, whisking milk, eggs and seasoning, boiling macaroni, making then tossing breadcrumbs with butter and toasting them. Then comes the seven minutes of constant stirring that prompted the writer to claim that it's almost as fast as packaged. (Never mind all the dishes you get dirty.) What's the point of making the claim? Just say it's better, richer, more fulfilling. A different animal entirely, really. Making mac and cheese from scratch fulfills entirely different longings than making it from the box. Why even compare the two?

That said, I'd make the Cooks Illustrated mac and cheese again in a heartbeat. It was incredibly fast (30 to 45 minutes) and so creamy right out of the pot, with the nice crunchy contrast of toasted breadcrumbs on top.

First I put the water on to boil, then turned my attention to the breadcrumbs: I had some left over from the cassoulet I made last weekend, but I needed more, so I used packaged bread. First I ground half a piece in the coffee grinder to clean out the grounds (it really works!). Threw those crumbs away, then ground more bread for the topping. Tossed about a cup of crumbs with about a tablespoon of melted butter, then toasted in a 350 degree oven for 10 minutes. Tossed 1/2 pound elbow macaroni in the boiling water.

Mixed 1 cup evaporated milk with 2 eggs, a heavy dash of Tabasco, a teaspoon of dried mustard, lots of salt and a few grinds of pepper. Drained the cooked pasta, then tossed it in the same pot with 3 tablespoons of butter. Then, over low heat, added the milk mixture with most of the cheese and stirred until melted. Then added the rest and stirred for 5 minutes more, until it starts to thicken. The longer it sits, the thicker it gets. I ate it right away, sprinkled with the bread crumbs. Todd ate it about 45 minutes later, and it had set up a bit, like a baked mac and cheese would. He said it was still good. Once you finish the steps above you could put it in a casserole dish, cover it with the crumbs and bake it until bubbly.

Do you ever see those signs with quotation marks around random words? Please don't "feed" the "birds." Parking in "back." You know what I mean. Here the quotes serve a purpose: Some might say this is not "authentic" cassoulet. (I won't get into why authentic is in quotes here.) Mostly because it starts with a pound of sweet Italian turkey sausage, which is inauthentic on about three different levels. It still tasted good, though. I feel like the fennel from the sausage combined well with cassoulet's traditional thyme.

Anyway, it's much easier and faster than the usual cassoulet, too. Saute the aforementioned sausage, removed from casing, in a little bit of oil in a Dutch oven. Add a thinly sliced onion and a minced garlic clove. Then pour in 45 ounces rinsed, drained canned white beans, 5 sprigs thyme, 1 1/2 cup chicken stock, 2 chopped parsnips, 2 chopped carrots, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, then simmer gently for an hour.

Meanwhile combine 1 cup fresh breadcrumbs with 2 minced garlic cloves and 1/4 cup chopped parsley. Spoon the bean mixture into a shallow casserole dish, then spread breadcrumbs over the top and bake in a 400 degree oven for 10 minutes.

This makes a huge amount, so I only baked half of it Sunday night for Todd and I (he took leftovers to work the next day). Then I washed out the casserole and spooned the rest of the mixture in it and put it in the fridge. I brought it to work today, with the rest of the breadcrumbs, to share with a couple of coworkers. We've been trying to start up a rotation of taking turns bringing lunch for the others once a week, but we all tend to be busy so it's been slow getting it started.

Do you ever see those signs with quotation marks around random words? Please don't "feed" the "birds." Parking in "back." You know what I mean. Here the quotes serve a purpose: Some might say this is not "authentic" cassoulet. (I won't get into why authentic is in quotes here.) Mostly because it starts with a pound of sweet Italian turkey sausage, which is inauthentic on about three different levels. It still tasted good, though. I feel like the fennel from the sausage combined well with cassoulet's traditional thyme.

Anyway, it's much easier and faster than the usual cassoulet, too. Saute the aforementioned sausage, removed from casing, in a little bit of oil in a Dutch oven. Add a thinly sliced onion and a minced garlic clove. Then pour in 45 ounces rinsed, drained canned white beans, 5 sprigs thyme, 1 1/2 cup chicken stock, 2 chopped parsnips, 2 chopped carrots, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, then simmer gently for an hour.

Meanwhile combine 1 cup fresh breadcrumbs with 2 minced garlic cloves and 1/4 cup chopped parsley. Spoon the bean mixture into a shallow casserole dish, then spread breadcrumbs over the top and bake in a 400 degree oven for 10 minutes.

This makes a huge amount, so I only baked half of it Sunday night for Todd and I (he took leftovers to work the next day). Then I washed out the casserole and spooned the rest of the mixture in it and put it in the fridge. I brought it to work today, with the rest of the breadcrumbs, to share with a couple of coworkers. We've been trying to start up a rotation of taking turns bringing lunch for the others once a week, but we all tend to be busy so it's been slow getting it started.

This recipe was from Mollie Katzen's Sunlight Cafe, which I'm really growing to like for ideas. It doesn't look like the round babka I'm used to having, and it had a lot less air in it. In fact, when I first cut into it after it baked, I was kind of disappointed because it looked like cake. But cutting it, and eating it, revealed a different story. It's dense, rich, with that eggy heaviness. And chocolate. I was worried because I didn't use all the sugar-cocoa mixture, but it didn't seem to matter. On Day 2 it was starting to get a little on the dry side, though. As a coworker and I compared recipes it became clear that this is a relatively low-fat recipe with about half the usual amount of yeast, which probably accounts for the dry, dense texture (the handfuls of extra flour I added certainly didn't help).

Dissolve 1 1/4 teaspoon active dry yeast (about half a packet) in 1/4 cup warm water for 5 minutes. (I added about a teaspoon of sugar to feed the yeast, then added that much less later; I wonder if that affected the outcome. I just like to see that my yeast is working.) Then stir in 1/2 cup yogurt, 1 egg, 1 1/4 teaspoon salt, 3 tablespoons sugar and 3 tablespoons melted butter.

Stir in 2 cups flour, 1 cup at a time, then work an extra 1/4 cup in with your hands. At this point my dough was so sticky I kept adding more flour, about 3 more handfuls (I have a pretty light touch when measuring flour and always seem to add too little, although with this recipe you really have to be careful not to add too much; the dough stays very sticky). Then I sprayed my hands with nonstick spray, which really seemed to help. Work all the flour in while it was in the bowl, lift the dough, spray the bowl and the top of the dough with nonstick spray, then put the dough back in the bowl. Let it rise in a warm place 1 1/4 hour, while it increases in bulk a bit more than 50 percent (which kind of looks discouraging after making things that double in bulk, but the recipe does use only half the yeast packet).

Punch it down with a greased fist, then put it on a greased surface and let it sit 5 minutes, then pat and stretch it into a 10 by 16 inch rectangle. Spread to within 1/2 inch of edge with a tablespoon of softened butter, then with a mixture of 5 tablespoons sugar and 3 tablespoons cocoa powder. Sprinkle with 1 cup chocolate chips. Roll it up from long side, pinched end closed, then transfer to a greased baking sheet, seam side down, and let it sit for another hour (it doesn't rise much). Bake in 350 degree oven 40 minutes until brown and sounds hollow when tapped.

I think I may use a different recipe next time, but the technique should be universal (the proportions of ingredients just differ).

This recipe was from Mollie Katzen's Sunlight Cafe, which I'm really growing to like for ideas. It doesn't look like the round babka I'm used to having, and it had a lot less air in it. In fact, when I first cut into it after it baked, I was kind of disappointed because it looked like cake. But cutting it, and eating it, revealed a different story. It's dense, rich, with that eggy heaviness. And chocolate. I was worried because I didn't use all the sugar-cocoa mixture, but it didn't seem to matter. On Day 2 it was starting to get a little on the dry side, though. As a coworker and I compared recipes it became clear that this is a relatively low-fat recipe with about half the usual amount of yeast, which probably accounts for the dry, dense texture (the handfuls of extra flour I added certainly didn't help).

Dissolve 1 1/4 teaspoon active dry yeast (about half a packet) in 1/4 cup warm water for 5 minutes. (I added about a teaspoon of sugar to feed the yeast, then added that much less later; I wonder if that affected the outcome. I just like to see that my yeast is working.) Then stir in 1/2 cup yogurt, 1 egg, 1 1/4 teaspoon salt, 3 tablespoons sugar and 3 tablespoons melted butter.

Stir in 2 cups flour, 1 cup at a time, then work an extra 1/4 cup in with your hands. At this point my dough was so sticky I kept adding more flour, about 3 more handfuls (I have a pretty light touch when measuring flour and always seem to add too little, although with this recipe you really have to be careful not to add too much; the dough stays very sticky). Then I sprayed my hands with nonstick spray, which really seemed to help. Work all the flour in while it was in the bowl, lift the dough, spray the bowl and the top of the dough with nonstick spray, then put the dough back in the bowl. Let it rise in a warm place 1 1/4 hour, while it increases in bulk a bit more than 50 percent (which kind of looks discouraging after making things that double in bulk, but the recipe does use only half the yeast packet).

Punch it down with a greased fist, then put it on a greased surface and let it sit 5 minutes, then pat and stretch it into a 10 by 16 inch rectangle. Spread to within 1/2 inch of edge with a tablespoon of softened butter, then with a mixture of 5 tablespoons sugar and 3 tablespoons cocoa powder. Sprinkle with 1 cup chocolate chips. Roll it up from long side, pinched end closed, then transfer to a greased baking sheet, seam side down, and let it sit for another hour (it doesn't rise much). Bake in 350 degree oven 40 minutes until brown and sounds hollow when tapped.

I think I may use a different recipe next time, but the technique should be universal (the proportions of ingredients just differ).

Chain or no, Cafe Spice is one of my favorite Indian restaurants. It has an open kitchen, too, so while we waited we watched them cook, roasting meats on skewers, scooping thin dosa off the cooktop. Their lunch is a pretty good deal. Yesterday Todd and I ate and had drinks for $31 with tip. I had the South Indian lunch special, which had some familiar and some not-so-familiar items on it. One of the most pleasant surprises was the idli.

Idli are fairly bland cakes (almost like cornbread) shaped like little UFOs and made from ground rice, dal and water. I was actually pretty sure I wasn't going to finish them until I dipped them in the bowl of sambar, a spicy broth that had chiles, tomatoes and eggplant in it. It soaked the flavorful juice right up and turned out to be a great way to eat it.

The special also included a mini potato dosa, a crepe-type bread filled with curried potatoes, onions and cashews. The coconut chutney, a smooth puree, had this wonderful, milky-watery coolness, like really freshly made mozzarella has (it was awesome with the dosa).

The third item on the platter, my least favorite, was uttapam topped with onions and peppers. It turned out to look kind of like little pizzas made out of pancakes. Still OK, but not as great as the other two.

Chain or no, Cafe Spice is one of my favorite Indian restaurants. It has an open kitchen, too, so while we waited we watched them cook, roasting meats on skewers, scooping thin dosa off the cooktop. Their lunch is a pretty good deal. Yesterday Todd and I ate and had drinks for $31 with tip. I had the South Indian lunch special, which had some familiar and some not-so-familiar items on it. One of the most pleasant surprises was the idli.

Idli are fairly bland cakes (almost like cornbread) shaped like little UFOs and made from ground rice, dal and water. I was actually pretty sure I wasn't going to finish them until I dipped them in the bowl of sambar, a spicy broth that had chiles, tomatoes and eggplant in it. It soaked the flavorful juice right up and turned out to be a great way to eat it.

The special also included a mini potato dosa, a crepe-type bread filled with curried potatoes, onions and cashews. The coconut chutney, a smooth puree, had this wonderful, milky-watery coolness, like really freshly made mozzarella has (it was awesome with the dosa).

The third item on the platter, my least favorite, was uttapam topped with onions and peppers. It turned out to look kind of like little pizzas made out of pancakes. Still OK, but not as great as the other two.

This is a variation on a recipe from Elizabeth Alston's little pancake cookbook. I started by slicing a Granny Smith apple thinly, as though I was making a pie, then sauteed it in some butter with brown sugar until the slices softened. While that was cooking, I whisked 1/2 cup milk, 1/2 cup flour, 2 eggs, 1/4 teaspoon salt, a few gratings of nutmeg and a big dash of cinnamon in a 4 cup measure. Spread out the apples in their pan evenly, then poured in the batter (which was the batter for Easy Oven Pancake in the cookbook) and popped it in a 450 degree oven for 12 minutes. It's an eggy pancake, full of sweet-tart apples. We poured maple syrup over the top.

This is a variation on a recipe from Elizabeth Alston's little pancake cookbook. I started by slicing a Granny Smith apple thinly, as though I was making a pie, then sauteed it in some butter with brown sugar until the slices softened. While that was cooking, I whisked 1/2 cup milk, 1/2 cup flour, 2 eggs, 1/4 teaspoon salt, a few gratings of nutmeg and a big dash of cinnamon in a 4 cup measure. Spread out the apples in their pan evenly, then poured in the batter (which was the batter for Easy Oven Pancake in the cookbook) and popped it in a 450 degree oven for 12 minutes. It's an eggy pancake, full of sweet-tart apples. We poured maple syrup over the top.

This is one of those places you walk into and everything is so breathtakingly beautiful that you just have to look for a while, even before you can start contemplating the flavors. (It also makes you mad at yourself for not having a camera along; this picture is from their web site, www.buttercupbakeshop.com.)

We confined ourselves to the cupcakes (just $1.50 each): lemon, Devil Dog (with marshmallow-looking frosting), German chocolate, red velvet, spice, Lady Baltimore (white with a cherry nestled in the frosting on top) and then the regular yellow and chocolate. We both settled on spice, which had a sour cream frosting. The cupcake part was good, with a spicy (nutmeg?) bite and the texture of a quick bread, with golden raisins and walnuts. The frosting was piled high and fluffier than Cupcake Cafe's, sweeter too (almost too sweet, without a detectable sour cream tang). Not the dense, rich Cafe cupcake, but a chewier, sweeter one. It seems more like an everyday cupcake to me. Not that it's mediocre. It's just a sit-down-after-school-with-a-big-glass-of-milk-and-a-treat cupcake. The one thing that keeps it from firmly planting itself in that camp is the huge quantity of frosting. (Which I can't decide whether I'm for or against; it's nice to have frosting for every bite, but it makes it less portable and more decadent.)

I'm in the process of getting Kim's new design up and running, so please bear with us as I get all the kinks worked out. It's not her fault, it's her lazy husband.

I don't know how to choose what to write about today. Should it be the sad tale of my belly flop with chocolate pot de creme (I used frozen egg yolks that hadn't completely thawed, so you can imagine the rest), the yummy tortilla soup topped with toasted corn tortilla stips and cheese that wasn't really that difficult or exciting to make (diced onion and jalapeno sauteed; added cumin, chile, garlic, then chicken soup base, water, a can of diced tomatoes and a sliced pork chop left over from lunch the day before) or the rosti that was pretty but soggy and, mysteriously, tasted to Todd like wet socks (tasted to me like onion, potatoes, salt, pepper)?

Todd took a pretty picture of the soup, though:

The weather was sunny, cold, with a frigid wind (but not as cold as it had been the two previous days). The company was Todd and two friends who moved to Minnesota a few months ago and who had some big news. The place was Pigalle, a French bistro that's just two blocks down from my office. All these elements came together to take me out of my day Friday, to forget about the office and the cold and the things I don't like about my life for a while.

Tucked into a table along the back wall, we had a view of the big, bright room lined with windows and mirrors. We almost all ordered bistro standards: fragrant onion soup with a thick layer of melted cheese on top and bread soaking up the broth, a thick, fluffy omelet, steak frites (and one order of ravioli that looked great). I had a frisee salad with lardons and a poached egg on top. Happy, happy, happy.

I have to get back to try the onion soup. It smelled awesome. And it's easy to see myself stopping in there for lunch one day, alone with my magazine without feeling ill-at-ease, for a warming crockful.

I got my Penzeys order yesterday and found a surprise. They had packaged, along with my order, a sample of their chili powder. Unlike lots of national brands, their chili powder doesn't have salt, just ancho chile powder, cumin, garlic and Mexican oregano. I had ordered cumin, ancho chile powder and Turkish oregano, so it's almost like they were showing me that I could get it all together in one.

I also ordered their awesome single-strength bourbon vanilla, which comes with a vanilla bean in the bottle (one of their bestsellers is the double-strength vanilla), and paprika, turmeric and chicken soup base. I haven't tried it yet, but it's kind of a paste and the first ingredient is chicken meat, so we'll see how it is. In the past I've ordered chipotle chile powder (smokey and hot), cardamom pods, paprika (they have hot and sweet), sage, curry powder, peppercorns. They have a great selection of whole spices, vanilla beans.

The have a few stores, and apparently people are always clamoring for a Penzeys to be built in their town, so the company is running a competition. Whatever city sends the most postcards to Penzeys will win a store in their town. (I think the city has to have a population of 300,000.) The company doesn't do a lot of marketing, so this is a way for them to find out where they're known and where a store my do well. It could be genius, or it could fail terribly. It'll be interesting to see. I'm sending my postcard in. (Write "I want a Penzeys in my town" and send to Bill Penzeys, c/o Penzeys Spices, 19300 west Janacek Court, Brookfield, WI 53045; make sure to include your address because it's limited to one entry per address.) They have all the rules on their web site. The contest ends July 31, 2004.

It's amazing how good food can make up for a host of ills. After our meal at Divane last night I made a trip to the restroom. It turned out to be nicely designed, with one stall and three women squeezed into the tiny room in front of me. Plus it was about 30 degrees warmer than the dining room. The sauna-like temperature and the good meal made all the women talkative, so we chatted and laughed as we waited, complaining about the cold dining room and the scatty service (two different waitresses were trying to take our orders, and they were a little too aggressive about drinks and starters, which there were only four of, including salad, hummus, spicy lamb pita and something else).

The bad: the aformentioned service, the cold (which they couldn't do much about, it was 10 below outside), the vinegary-tasting shiraz that was their house red.

The good: the donor kebab with yogurt. There were three piles on a huge platter. To the left was a salad of sliced onion, cilantro and peppers. To the right, a shredded carrot salad that was really good, with a hint of something acidic but not enough for me to identify it (lemon juice?), and big round slices of some kind of watery-tasting radish. In the center was a huge pile of thinly sliced lamb with hot sauce and yogurt. Under the lamb, swimming in the yogurt and sauce, were these spongy, chewy squares that I couldn't identify until Todd said they were toasted pita, and then it was obvious (a great texture).

About $45 for two main courses and two drinks, but you could almost get away with just a starter and one main for two (I took home more of my dinner than I ate at the restaurant). I thought I didn't really like lamb until I tried this; it had a hint of that lamby-gamey taste, but just enough to be nice. Good stuff.

Here's a tale of the pointlessness of going to Key Foods on a Sunday afternoon: I had intended to make chimichurri, shrimp and asparagus (I know, but I had some great asparagus in early December from the grocery - sweet, asparagusy), a pistou for vegetable soup. I guess it's winter, and I was thinking spring. No basil, only the saddest-looking curly-leaf parsley, no shrimp, moldy asparagus. It was almost comical.

Using a recipe from Molly Katzen's Sunlight Cafe as inspiration, I made Chai-spiced oatmeal for breakfast this morning. I had bought cardamom pods to make Chai tea this winter and forgot all about them, so that's next, but here's an interesting spin on the plain old bowl of oatmeal (I loved it):

Combine 1 cup milk, 1/2 cinnamon stick, 2 crushed cardamom pods, 4 cloves, a pinch of salt and a grating of fresh nutmeg in a small saucepan and heat almost to a boil, until steam is coming off it, the edges are getting bubbly and the center kind of starts to undulate. Turn off the heat and steep for 15 minutes, then use a slotted spoon to strain out the big spices. Then add about a tablespoon of honey (I used strong buckwheat honey, which I love, although Katzen's recipe called for light honey) and turn the heat back on medium-low. Sprinkle in 3/4 cup oats and stir. Cook for 8 minutes or until the oatmeal is a consistency you like. I added more honey at this point because it wasn't quite sweet enough for me. It makes 2 kind of small servings. The taste is almost the way perfume or flowers smell, warm and spicy, and there's a nice rough and creamy texture, since I used a higher ratio of oats to liquid than is usually recommended (thanks, Lael, for the tip).

I went to the grocery store last night with $7 in my pocket and the idea that I wanted to make soup with the can of chickpeas I had at home. I had looked at a couple of recipes for Moroccan-style soups, but most had squash or raisins or something else Todd doesn't like. So I bought a can of stewed tomatoes and a box of frozen chopped spinach (I also had to buy milk and I found ladyfingers to make something that's closer to real tiramisu). The resulting soup was pretty good; I intend to make it again so I will record faithfully exactly what I did last night, even though I don't think all the ingredients/steps are absolutely necessary (ie the bouillon cube, the Italian-flavored stock, etc).

I sauteed one small diced onion, then added a large minced garlic clove and a sprinkling of cayenne for heat. Poured in a can of Italian-seasoned chicken broth (the 15-ounce-ish size), a big can (28 ounces) of stewed tomatoes, chopped up and with their juice, a couple cups of water and a bouillon cube. Also added a bay leaf, some oregano and a cinnamon stick (crucial to the final flavor). Let that bubble for 10 minutes, then added half a package of frozen chopped spinach and a regular-size can of chickpeas. At this point I added another shot of cayenne (I used this instead of ground chipotle because it seems like cayenne is more pure heat, which I wanted, and I didn't want the deep flavor of chipotle to overpower the cinnamon, which was a distinctive but not entirely recognizable flavor). Heated and served with bread to sop up the juice.

I went to the grocery store last night with $7 in my pocket and the idea that I wanted to make soup with the can of chickpeas I had at home. I had looked at a couple of recipes for Moroccan-style soups, but most had squash or raisins or something else Todd doesn't like. So I bought a can of stewed tomatoes and a box of frozen chopped spinach (I also had to buy milk and I found ladyfingers to make something that's closer to real tiramisu). The resulting soup was pretty good; I intend to make it again so I will record faithfully exactly what I did last night, even though I don't think all the ingredients/steps are absolutely necessary (ie the bouillon cube, the Italian-flavored stock, etc).

I sauteed one small diced onion, then added a large minced garlic clove and a sprinkling of cayenne for heat. Poured in a can of Italian-seasoned chicken broth (the 15-ounce-ish size), a big can (28 ounces) of stewed tomatoes, chopped up and with their juice, a couple cups of water and a bouillon cube. Also added a bay leaf, some oregano and a cinnamon stick (crucial to the final flavor). Let that bubble for 10 minutes, then added half a package of frozen chopped spinach and a regular-size can of chickpeas. At this point I added another shot of cayenne (I used this instead of ground chipotle because it seems like cayenne is more pure heat, which I wanted, and I didn't want the deep flavor of chipotle to overpower the cinnamon, which was a distinctive but not entirely recognizable flavor). Heated and served with bread to sop up the juice.

This Vietnamese restaurant is at 9th Avenue and 20th Street, so it's relatively close to the Charles Cowles gallery, where we went last night to shake hands with a photographer Todd really likes, Edward Burtinsky (I really like him, too, but Todd's the photo junkie). I'd never had Vietnamese before so it seemed like a good time to try it.

The place isn't well-marked (in fact, I never found the name of the place anywhere on the storefront), but I had read somewhere that it was the shop with palm trees or ferns or something out front, which is how we identified it. It's kind of too cool for us, with an entirely glass front, waitstaff all in black and a little square pot of live grass and candles on every table, but the staff didn't come across as haughty or anything. We arrived around 7 and it was about 1/3 full, but by the time we left they were busy.

The wine I had, a riesling-type white, was sharp and flavorful, perfect for the spicy food. I had barbecued pork, which came in a bowl of brothy sauce, with piles of lettuce and thin noodles on the side. I don't know how I was supposed to eat it, but I ate the pork, sometimes with the lettuce, then dipped the noodles in the sauce left in the bowl (the sauce was really good, salty and meaty). We also split an order of tuna summer rolls with cilantro and a salty, spicy dipping sauce.

Looked at the dessert menu, but nothing sounded quite enticing enough. I kind of wanted to try ginger flan, because it sounded kind of odd, but Todd wanted the chocolate mousse cake (boring) so we opted for nothing. (He said whatever I wanted was fine, but I really wasn't that interested. What a shock.)

The last week in January is Restaurant Week, where participating restaurants around the city serve $20.04 prix fixe lunches and $30.04 dinners. I'm not a huge fan of prix fixe to begin with, and I've had some not-so-good Restaurant Week lunches. Maybe it's the places I've chosen. I know I had a great meal at Molyvos, but it wouldn't have cost me a whole lot more to just pay the a la carte prices. Are there good meals to be had during Restaurant Week? Are there places you can go where you don't feel like a schmuck for order the prix fixe? Is it too late to get a reservation at said places?

A lot of times the dishes just seem kind of assembly line to me, more so than usual. I've gotten so I don't even participate anymore. The winter Restaurant Week usually happens just before my birthday, and I tend to view that as a hassle; I have this idea that reservations are more difficult to get because of it.

The last week in January is Restaurant Week, where participating restaurants around the city serve $20.04 prix fixe lunches and $30.04 dinners. I'm not a huge fan of prix fixe to begin with, and I've had some not-so-good Restaurant Week lunches. Maybe it's the places I've chosen. I know I had a great meal at Molyvos, but it wouldn't have cost me a whole lot more to just pay the a la carte prices. Are there good meals to be had during Restaurant Week? Are there places you can go where you don't feel like a schmuck for order the prix fixe? Is it too late to get a reservation at said places?

A lot of times the dishes just seem kind of assembly line to me, more so than usual. I've gotten so I don't even participate anymore. The winter Restaurant Week usually happens just before my birthday, and I tend to view that as a hassle; I have this idea that reservations are more difficult to get because of it.

I attempted tiramisu last night. I say attempted because I couldn't find ladyfingers and ended up using Stella Dora cookies that are shaped like ladyfingers, which made an entirely different animal altogether. I knew I didn't have the right kind of cookie, though, so I only made a half-batch. I'll spend more time looking for real ladyfingers later, which should improve my results immensely.

First I whipped 8 ounces mascarpone with 1/2 cup powdered sugar, 1 cup heavy cream and 1 teaspoon vanilla extract. Then I placed 5 of the cookies side by side on a platter, brushed them liberally and repeatedly with a mixture of strong coffee and kahlua, then added a layer of the mascarpone mixture. Repeated the layers once, then dusted the whole thing with cocoa powder.

I think it would've worked better if I had soaked the cookies in the coffee mixture instead of brushing them. Another option, the one in the recipe I used, is to make a sponge cake in a jelly roll pan (but I didn't feel like doing that last night). I have about half the mascarpone mixture left over. I think I may make the sponge cake, then cut rounds to fit in my ramekins and make individual tiramisu with that.

I attempted tiramisu last night. I say attempted because I couldn't find ladyfingers and ended up using Stella Dora cookies that are shaped like ladyfingers, which made an entirely different animal altogether. I knew I didn't have the right kind of cookie, though, so I only made a half-batch. I'll spend more time looking for real ladyfingers later, which should improve my results immensely.

First I whipped 8 ounces mascarpone with 1/2 cup powdered sugar, 1 cup heavy cream and 1 teaspoon vanilla extract. Then I placed 5 of the cookies side by side on a platter, brushed them liberally and repeatedly with a mixture of strong coffee and kahlua, then added a layer of the mascarpone mixture. Repeated the layers once, then dusted the whole thing with cocoa powder.

I think it would've worked better if I had soaked the cookies in the coffee mixture instead of brushing them. Another option, the one in the recipe I used, is to make a sponge cake in a jelly roll pan (but I didn't feel like doing that last night). I have about half the mascarpone mixture left over. I think I may make the sponge cake, then cut rounds to fit in my ramekins and make individual tiramisu with that.

The line at our local gourmet-ish grocery store, Natural, forms right in front of the deli counter and sometimes snakes back through the refrigerated dairy aisle. Yesterday when Todd and I stopped by for a few things, the line was all the way to the back wall of the store, blocking access not only to the deli but also to the milk, eggs, cheese and refrigerated tubes of pizza crust (if they even carry it), which is what I was after. So instead I picked up some yeast, deciding to make my own pizza crust. Which is what I did. I'm still astonished that I can casually decide to make pizza crust and just do it. And it only took about 1 1/4 hour, including the first rise.

I think I'm ready to graduate to more advanced yeast-based recipes, like bread (I know, bread's not really advanced, but I'm kind of scared of yeast, so I'm taking baby steps). Deb's bread always turns out so beautiful, so maybe I'll try a recipe from Deb's blog.

I did get a pasta maker for Christmas, so we had homemade pasta on New Year's eve. It's the third time I've made fresh pasta, including the class I took, and I'm beginning to be convinced that it wasn't just beginner's luck; it is very easy to do, and somewhat difficult to mess up.

The recipe I use is 2 1/2 cups flour in a bowl, then you break up three eggs and mix it with some salt in a smaller bowl. Pour the eggs into a well in the center of the flour, then use a fork to incorporate the eggs and flour. Knead for a few minutes, then wrap in plastic and put it in the fridge for at least half an hour to relax (it's much easier to roll out that way).

Meanwhile I sauteed some Italian sausage and garlic and added some tomatoes and oregano. Let that bubble while I filled the Dutch oven with water, put it over heat to come to a boil, and rolled out the pasta.

To use the machine, I cut the dough in quarters, then flatten a quarter into a long oval. Feed it through the machine on 1 first, maybe a couple of times, then progress up through all the settings, running the dough through each setting at least once. When we reached setting 5 (my machine goes to 9), we put it through the linguine setting. It takes about 3 minutes to cook. I had to boil it in two batches, removing the first batch from the water and putting it into the pan with the sausage and tomatoes (so it could soak up all the tomato juices, although I'm not sure fresh pasta soaks up sauce like dried does).

It was good stuff. The noodles were really long, which reminded me that for Chinese New Year (I think) people eat long noodles, maybe for longevity? That's the story I'm going with for my extra-long linguine on New Year's eve. Maybe it'll be a new tradition. It took three of us to make the noodles (although I think you could do it alone).

I did get a pasta maker for Christmas, so we had homemade pasta on New Year's eve. It's the third time I've made fresh pasta, including the class I took, and I'm beginning to be convinced that it wasn't just beginner's luck; it is very easy to do, and somewhat difficult to mess up.

The recipe I use is 2 1/2 cups flour in a bowl, then you break up three eggs and mix it with some salt in a smaller bowl. Pour the eggs into a well in the center of the flour, then use a fork to incorporate the eggs and flour. Knead for a few minutes, then wrap in plastic and put it in the fridge for at least half an hour to relax (it's much easier to roll out that way).

Meanwhile I sauteed some Italian sausage and garlic and added some tomatoes and oregano. Let that bubble while I filled the Dutch oven with water, put it over heat to come to a boil, and rolled out the pasta.

To use the machine, I cut the dough in quarters, then flatten a quarter into a long oval. Feed it through the machine on 1 first, maybe a couple of times, then progress up through all the settings, running the dough through each setting at least once. When we reached setting 5 (my machine goes to 9), we put it through the linguine setting. It takes about 3 minutes to cook. I had to boil it in two batches, removing the first batch from the water and putting it into the pan with the sausage and tomatoes (so it could soak up all the tomato juices, although I'm not sure fresh pasta soaks up sauce like dried does).

It was good stuff. The noodles were really long, which reminded me that for Chinese New Year (I think) people eat long noodles, maybe for longevity? That's the story I'm going with for my extra-long linguine on New Year's eve. Maybe it'll be a new tradition. It took three of us to make the noodles (although I think you could do it alone).

This is a cookbook Todd's mom gave me for Christmas. His great-aunt Trudy won it when she was 13, in 1925, for a recipe for split-pea soup that she has written in the back.

The recipes are interesting, odd and kind of vague (recipes don't specify an oven temperature, just saying "a hot oven" or "moderate oven"). There are lots of ingredients I've never heard of or never used: Porto [sic] Rico molasses, sweetbreads (two recipes for sweetbread and cucumber salad), aspic, tongue, chaud-froid, croquettes, coupes, baskets, creamed vegetables, mutton, mincemeat and puddings. In fact, lots of everything. The recipes are really short, and the book is more than 700 pages. They're written in sort of a backward manner that I find myself using when I'm in a hurry, with lots of steps and important information relegated to a sentence clause. Here's a recipe for curried vegetables:

Cook one cup each potatoes and carrot, and one-half cup turnip, cut in fancy shapes, in boiling salted water until soft. Drain, add one-half cup canned peas, and pour over a sauce made by cooking two tablespoons butter with two slices onion five minutes, removing onion, adding two tablespoons flour, three-fourths teaspoon salt, one-half teaspoon curry powder, one-fourth teaspoon pepper, few grains celery salt, and pouring on gradually one cup scalded milk. Sprinkle with finely chopped parsley.

Other recipes have ingredients lists, and the best part about the book is where someone has made notes: how to halve a recipe for Cottage Pudding, "Nancy List made for Donna's dinner 8/29/86" next to Snow Pudding I.

Don't know if I'll cook from it, but it's fun to read. I like the recipe style; I imagine it's written for women who knew their way around a kitchen.