Todd said a funny thing when we sat down to eat these souffle-like cakes, "It's amazing. One instant they're not there, the next they're there." It's a thought I often have when I make something quick out of simple ingredients. You take all these components and combine them to create something entirely different. I whipped these up after we finished dinner, so that speed might have contributed to Todd's temporary awe.

The recipe was from Everyday Food, but I altered it to make just 2 servings, which was kind of difficult because that was 1/3 the recipe. (What's 1/3 of 1/2 cup? I know it's 1/6 cup, but how do you measure that out? How many tablespoons is that?) First I separated 1 egg and whisked the yolk with 2 generous tablespoons of sugar (less than EF instructed, but I wanted a tart, not-too-sweet cake). Whisked in 2 teaspoons flour, then a teaspoon grated lemon zest and 1 tablespoon and 1 teaspoon lemon juice. While I was doing that, Todd beat the egg white to soft peaks with a pinch of salt. Folded the whites into the lemon mixture, divided it between 2 greased ramekins, then baked it in a water bath at 350 degrees for 15 minutes, or until the tops are brown (the recipe said 20 to 25 minutes, though; I'm thinking my new oven runs hot).

The cakes form a top souffle-like layer with a lemon custard layer underneath (if you were trying to make a souffle you'd wonder what you did wrong). But it's good: as you scoop down through it, you're coating the cake part with the warm custard. I would make it more lemony next time.

Posted by Kim at 09:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I've been trying to use my pasta maker a lot, so about every other week I'll make pasta on a weeknight. Last night I rolled out the pasta kind of thick in the machine, then cut it into squares by hand for a really rustic look. A generous 3/4 cup flour and 1 egg make good-sized portions for two people.

Todd really liked the "condiment," as he called the sauce, so here it is: While the pasta was resting (before I rolled it out) I opened a 15-ounce can of stewed tomatoes, drained the juice and cut the tomatoes into large chunks. Sauteed a large minced garlic clove in some oil, then added the tomatoes, some oregano, salt and a couple sprigs of thyme (odd, I know, but I had it and wanted to use something fresh). Put that over low heat while I rolled out, cut and cooked the pasta, then tossed it with the cooked pasta and scattered some feta over the top.

Posted by Kim at 10:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It must've been all the discussion yesterday about growing up on a lot of prepackaged foods that made me reach for the pouch of Lipton's Smoked Chipotle Rice, orzo and rice with a mild chipotle flavor, for dinner last night. I had been to the launch of Lipton's new Southwest flavors a couple of weeks ago, and this was a new product sample. I think it was not too bad with all the additions I made to it.

I followed the instructions on the package, bringing to a boil 1 3/4 cups water and the rice mix. I added some things, though: frozen peas, chicken shredded from a roast I did last weekend, pimientos. Once the water's boiling you cover the pot, turn down the heat and simmer for 7 minutes. At this point I tasted and added some ground chipotle, for heat (adding another layer of redundancy to "smoked chipotle"), and ancho chile powder. Let it set to thicken the sauce. It was so fast, leaving me plenty of time to lie on the sofa watching TV. Is that what speed and convenience give me? More TV-watching time?

Posted by Kim at 10:05 PM | Permalink

So I'm always feeling a little bereft when I read about some famous chef, like Jacques Pepin or Anthony Bourdain, who grew up around great food, soaking up all this information when their brains and taste buds were like little sponges, learning from toddlerhood from moms and dads who could cook. I grew up on frozen fish sticks, chicken nuggets and pizza, tuna salad, spaghetti from a box with sauce from a jar, rice and pancake mixes, condensed-soup casseroles, canned peaches over cottage cheese. Mmmm, it makes me nostalgic just thinking about it - but it also makes me a novice about what makes for really good food.

So you can maybe understand how excited I was when the intros to two of my new books both revealed that the authors kind of fell into an interest in food relatively late in life, and both lament for a moment their non-food beginnings before going on to either 1) impart a huge amount of information on how to identify fantastic ingredients or 2) share recipes for homey, delicious, beautiful bistro-type dishes. There's hope for me yet.

Posted by Kim at 09:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I was alone for dinner last night, which made it the perfect night for butternut squash, which Todd does not like (surprised?). I found an itty-bitty squash at Natural, cut it into cubes, tossed it with olive oil, salt, pepper, herbs and chunks of chicken sausage and roasted it in a 450 degree oven. Stirred it once, but only took it out after the smoke set off the alarm (which just sends me running to close the doors to the kitchen, since the smoke detector is in the hallway and is just barely out of my reach, even when I'm standing on a chair). Drizzled on some balsamic at the end. Simple and simply good, although it didn't feel like a complete meal on it's own.

Posted by Kim at 07:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Don't do this to yourself! I ordered three food-related books from Amazon.com (thanks Mom and Dad for the gift card) and I spent all last night jumping from one book to the other, just soaking them in.

It made me realize that I almost never pick out cookbooks for myself. I find things on the giveaway table at work or coworkers bring cookbooks to me, or friends and family buy them for me as gifts. I could only name one cookbook on my bookshelf, the Betty Crocker cookbook, that I specifically asked for. With all these cookbooks pouring in, it feels wasteful to buy one for myself. But this time I couldn't resist.

The first one I picked was Solo Suppers, which I read an article about in the food section of an Atlanta paper Todd brought home from a business trip. I have at least two nights a week when I cook just for me, so this book will get a workout. She seems to understand small-scale purchasing and prep.

I browsed on Amazon a bit and settled on two other books: Bistro Cooking at Home and Zingerman's Guide to Good Eating, which was much bigger than I thought it would be (hooray!). After I placed my order I saw Bistro Cooking in a bookstore and got really excited about getting my order. There are at least three recipes in there that use foie gras (Todd's mom gave me some and I haven't known what to do with it).

Posted by Kim at 10:55 AM | Permalink

Todd and I went here late Saturday afternoon, for some wine, salumi and sandwiches. I really love their menu, especially if I'm with someone who's just willing to graze on starters and maybe split a sandwich. I have to admit that I've never had a main plate here because I'm always too full on the other stuff (never had dessert here, either, which is really sad because a couple of the desserts looked remarkable).

Todd started with a New York State microbrew that he really enjoyed, and the waitress suggested a glass of German weisser burgunder for me: clear, crisp, hardly sweet at all with a full flavor and a nice bite at the end. We had a salumi assortment and really liked the coppa, hot soppressata and speck.

When Todd ordered the hen of the woods sandwich, I was at a loss. Clearly he's thinking he's ordering some kind of fowl, not a deceptively named fungus. What should I have done? I said, "Oh, I thought you didn't like mushrooms," which Todd said was snotty (my word, not his). I guess I should have waited until he had a mouthful and said, "Oh, by the way, hen of the woods is a mushroom," and laughed and laughed as he spit the offending bite into his napkin and gargled with his microbrew.

I had a tuna sandwhich, which involved three slices of crustless pullman white and two layers of not-white tuna dressed minimally, with just capers and pickled onions. It was very good and, with the right tuna, easily reproducable at home, I would think. That's what I love about this place: really good ingredients.

Posted by Kim at 10:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I had never eaten, nor prepared, an artichoke. I've had canned and bottled artichoke hearts, marinated and not, but I'd never eaten a fresh, whole one: pulled off the leaves layer by layer, dipping them in mayonnaise, melted butter or vinaigrette, scraping the fleshy part of each leaf with my teeth, until at last you reach the inedible choke and the payoff, the heart. The people who describe it to me are usually rapturous or nostalgic with the adventure of wading through all those rough leaves to find the delicate, and appropriately named, heart.

Having steamed and eaten my first artichoke (with both garlic butter and lemon vinaigrette for dipping), I'm ambivalent. I enjoy the adventure, the big messy pile of leaves that overtake your plate as you eat down, down to the end, but I'm not entirely sure about the flavor. Green and mild, the flavor of the flesh was kind of masked by the accompaniments. Todd started eating them plain, which was a better way to actually taste spring in it. As we reached the center, the tips of the leaves became entirely edible, revealing the satisfying texture that we would find at the heart, firm but without a crunch. I think maybe after all the work for so little payoff, the heart feels like a motherlode.

Posted by Kim at 09:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

When I was thinking about writing about our visit to Q, A Thai Bistro, I realized the two dishes I really wanted to mention, Todd's whole roasted sea bass and the cabernet-pear tart we shared for dessert, don't really seem very Thai. Although maybe roasting a fish whole is a traditional Thai preparation. I'm not sure. It was an impressive presentation, though. (I was a little jealous.) The fish had crispy skin and came with a hot and sweet garlic sauce.

The cabernet-pear tart was interesting. The cabernet part seemed to be a thin layer of cabernet gelatin on top of the tart, which consisted of a dense almond-flavored cake with chunks of pear. I'm intrigued by the possibility of making wine-flavored gelatin. Maybe I'll look for recipes, or experiment. Not entirely sure it's a great idea, but who knows?

Anyway, it seems odd to be able to drop this much money on Thai food in my neighborhood. It's a nice place, but it still seems a little pricey (which is probably why we haven't been there more than twice).

Posted by Kim at 03:13 PM | Permalink

We made dinner at home on Saturday and I wanted to do something special, so I made two different mashed potatoes: sesame potatoes and chipotle sweet potatoes. I had sesame potatoes the first time I ate at the Biltmore Room, and they were pretty easy to recreate at home. I used one baking potato and one all-purpose, since that's what I had, and peeled and boiled them as usual. Then I added chicken broth and mashed with a potato masher, going for a silky consistency. Drizzled in some sesame oil to taste, and added some salt and pepper (but just a little, because I really wanted sesame to be the primary flavor, which is why I didn't use milk or butter, either). For the chipotle sweets, I just mashed boiled sweet potatoes with chicken stock and added chipotle powder. The two contrasting colors looked pretty on the plate.

Posted by Kim at 09:16 AM | Permalink

I've been wanting to make this for a while: challah French toast with a pocketful of creamy, mild cheese and fruit. Todd's not a big fan of ricotta, so we made it yesterday with cream cheese. It actually ended up being pretty easy.

Slice thick, maybe 2-inch, pieces of challah (straight across, not on a diagonal - it's easier to get the filling to every bite that way). Cut a pocket from one of the long sides, trying to make it as big as possible without cutting through the other sides. Spread some cream cheese in there (maybe a heaping teaspoon) and some jam (we used Stonewall Kitchen Black Raspberry, which Todd's mom gave me for my birthday). Dip (only for about 30 seconds if the challah is relatively fresh) each side of the bread in a whisked mixture of 2 eggs, 1/2 cup milk, a pinch of salt and some vanilla. I was too lazy to get out the nutmeg grater, but that would be good, too. Cook like you would regular griddle French toast, then dust with powdered sugar and eat. The cream cheese melts and the filling gets hot, so it's sweet and creamy. I'm thinking I might try a peanut butter and banana filling next time.

Posted by Kim at 09:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

For V day this year I made a really simple chocolate tart that I thought was fantastic, from the Bittersweet cookbook. It's a shortbread-type crust with a set chocolate custard filling that has a flavor deepened by espresso powder.

To make the crust, melt 1 stick (8 tablespoons or 1/2 cup) butter in a large bowl, and add a pinch of salt, 1/4 cup sugar and 3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract. Stir in 1 cup flour (the recipe said the dough is really soft, but mine wasn't even dough at this point so I probably added another 1/6 cup). Pat the dough into the pan (mine's a 10-inch pan, and the crust is thin in it) and bake for 20 minutes in a 350 degree oven (until the crust is golden brown).

While that's baking make the filling by mixing 1 cup heavy cream, 3 tablespoons butter, 1/4 cup cocoa powder (either natural or Dutch) and 1/2 cup sugar. Stir over heat until thoroughly mixed and bubbles start to appear along the sides of the pan. Take off heat and stir in 1 1/4 teaspoon espresso powder and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla (I thought of steeping half a vanilla bean but didn't want to waste a bean on something that has a primarily chocolate flavor). Right before the crust is finished, whisk the hot milk into a slightly beaten egg, a little at a time to temper the egg. Pour the filling into the crust, turn off the oven and pop the tart back in for about 10 minutes, until the center is set but still jiggles slightly. Cool on a wire rack. The recipe said serve warm or at room temperature, but we also liked it the next day straight from the fridge. It cuts very cleanly.

Posted by Kim at 04:24 PM | Permalink

Inspired by Chocolate & Zucchini and a recipe for eggs over asparagus and prosciutto in that Solo Suppers article, I had a baked egg for dinner, accompanied by a buttered slice of bread, roasted Brussels sprouts and a glass of wine.

It wasn't just any baked egg, though. Baked with cream and in a waterbath, seasoned with salt, pepper and fresh thyme, this egg was silky and well-seasoned, with that sweet, fresh fragrance of thyme.

I heated the oven to 450 degrees as soon as I got home. I halved the largest Brussels sprouts and tossed them all with olive oil, salt and pepper and roasted them for 15 minutes before I started preparing the egg. To make the egg I poured in a little bit of heavy cream (just enough to cover the bottom of a ramekin) then broke the egg into the cream, at which point the cream seeped through the sides to cover the egg. Seasoned with salt and pepper, placed the ramekin in a baking dish, put it in the oven, then I filled the larger dish with nearly-boiling water. Baked for 12 minutes, then took out both the Brussels sprouts and the egg. Sprinkled fresh thyme over the egg.

Posted by Kim at 10:02 PM | Permalink

I know, there's a group out there saying, "What does 'leftover wine' mean?" But this recipe is really worth the cup of good red wine it uses. It's a recipe that I adapted from Epicurious.com because I didn't have all the ingredients it called for. I had tried one of my birthday wines, the one from the formerly Cote-du-Rhone region of Gigondas, and wanted to give it a spin in some food.

First I soaked pieces of day-old French bread (crusts on) in whole milk for 10 minutes (I'd guess 1 1/2 cups of bread to about 1/2 cup milk). Meanwhile I finely chopped half a white onion and a handful of fresh parsley. Put a little less than a pound of ground beef in the food processor, then added the onion and parsley, 1 egg, the soaked bread (omitting any milk that wasn't soaked up), dried sage, salt and pepper. Processed it all until it was a consistent paste (this took awhile and was kind of difficult, as the processor was really full; I think I'd put the bread on the bottom next time). Formed into 2-inch meatballs and baked in single layer in a glass baking dish at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.

Tossed the baked meatballs with a light dusting of flour, then panfried them in butter and olive oil until they were brown. Then I added a mixture of 1 cup wine, one small can tomato juice and some chicken-stock paste to the pan, stirring to get some of the stuff on the bottom of the pan. Brought to a boil and bubbled for about 20 minutes, until the sauce was nice and thick. Sprinkled with more parsley. I served with bread, but the recipe from Epicurious suggested mashed potatoes, which I think would be even better. The sauce is fantastic, rich and winey, with a concentrated flavor.

Posted by Kim at 10:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Julie and I went to Amy's Bread on 9th Avenue yesterday during lunch just to get in a walk to enjoy the nice weather. She bought lunch, I bought a loaf of French bread, then I ordered an oatmeal cookie that had been calling to me while I waited for Julie to get her sandwich.

The woman who was waiting on us (we thought she might be Amy) recommended these lime-cornmeal cookies that I had also been eyeing; it didn't take much convincing for me to switch my order. The yellow cookie was about 3 inches in diameter and rounded like a drop cookie, with just enough lime glaze to deliver a burst of sweet tartness with each bite. The rustic, coarse texture was soft in the center and kind of crunchy on the edges. The cookie part was not very sweet at all, which was a perfect balance for that glaze, and had flecks of lime zest throughout. We both liked it, and Julie kept mentioning it all afternoon.

Posted by Kim at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Todd brought the food section of the Atlanta newspaper back from his trip there last week, and they had a big article on the book Solo Suppers, with a handful of excerpted recipes. I haven't tried any of them yet, but a couple of them, like asparagus with poached eggs, looked good. The recipes really seemed to embrace cooking for one, taking advantage of benefits of shopping for just yourself instead of dwelling on the difficulties. Maybe I'll have to pick up the actual book.

It was appropriate, too, since his trip left me solo dining three nights last week, and now that school's started back up it's going to be a regular event again. While he was gone I cooked one serving of dried pasta, adding a handful of frozen bay scallops at the end of the cooking time, then drained them and tossed them with butter and thyme. Another night I had cheesy polenta topped with warmed bottled eggplant tapenade I got for my birthday. Neither was a lot of trouble, but they were good enough that I felt like I was pampering myself.

Posted by Kim at 11:52 AM | Permalink

This was a recipe from Food and Wine, but in the magazine the fish is baked on top of thin slices of potato and tomato that have already been baking for a while. By getting rid of that I made this a pretty quick dish.

Sunday morning I smashed two garlic cloves and about a third of a jalapeno, minced, with some salt in the mortar. Added a couple tablespoons of olive oil, the juice of half a lemon, cumin, paprika and chopped fresh cilantro and stirred it all together. Spread half of that over the non-skin-side of a 1/2-pound striped bass filet and put it in a baking dish in the fridge. When we got home for lunch, I popped it in a 475 degree oven for 15 minutes. Served the extra charmoula on top; I think the fresh herby-crunchy-spiciness was key to the dish. It made just enough for Todd and me.

Posted by Kim at 04:02 PM | Permalink

Todd had suckling pig at Bar Pitti last night, and it was like nothing I had ever tasted before. The meat was so white and mild, and the texture was so soft, almost like it wasn't even meat. I can't come up with a way to describe it; maybe like biting into a bread dough that you've just finished kneading. It made me a little sad, though, because it was so clearly young flesh. It's odd; I don't have the same qualms about veal.

I have to say, too, that this is one of the most welcoming restaurants I've eaten at. The waiter was friendly and casual, and explained everything in detail. Two of our party were about an hour late and had told us to go ahead and eat without them. The restaurant needed the table we were at for a party with reservations and seemed a little anxious about serving our friends, but they were very apologetic and nice about it.

Posted by Kim at 08:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

We just had a sneak peek at the new Whole Foods in the Time Warner building (which is about 8 blocks up from my office, so I was curious), and it was a zoo.

I guess I'm kind of ambivalent because of all fuss (it is, dare I say it, just a grocery store). But they do have nice selections of cheese, fish (sea scallops for $7.99 a pound, which seemed like a decent price to me), produce, meat, olive oils (they have their own brand, which is pretty decent, and then have added a red seal to other brands they like) and prepared foods (sushi, Jamba Juice, soups and lots of prepackaged foods like samosas, summer rolls, potato pancakes, falafel, plus they'll have Thai, Indian and Mexican food bars soon). I have to go back and peruse the cheese more carefully, and I noticed they have a lot of smoked and cured fish I'd like to try: smoked trout, whitefish and salmon, salmon "candy."

And, oh, the produce was pretty: Baby white eggplants and green and purple cauliflowers, a trio of colors of tight, squeaky-looking cabbages, piles of clementines. They also have a chocolate-dipping station, where they can dip anything, a bakery, other confections, a special wine shop.

It's hard to tell from here whether I'll become a regular shopper. Eight blocks is so near, but in NYC it's also just far enough away that there are closer options. The selection will probably draw me back, though.

Posted by Kim at 12:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (1)

It must be the season for these because I've been seeing them everywhere. They're really very striking-looking, and don't taste very much like oranges. In fact, I kind of find the taste a bit insipid, like cherry flavor or fruit punch. From the outside they look like orange, some like oranges with a blush. I think the red flesh is beautiful but would rely on something else for flavor. (Although maybe if you reduced the juice you'd end up with something surprising.)

Posted by Kim at 11:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

We called too late to get reservations to the Biltmore Room on Saturday night for my birthday, so we found ourselves there, in a cozy, intimate room at 9:30 on Sunday night. The fireplace had a fire in it, and couples sat side-by-side at tables along the wall, talking low with their heads together. Midway through our meal the staff had begun cleaning up to close, but we felt leisurely, comfortable, and our waiter never rushed us a bit. I liked it. I may get in the habit of having dinner late on a weeknight.

Oh, and the food was good, too. Todd's starter was quail with a pumpkin risotto that had a rich, smokey-ham flavor. Out of curiosity I ordered stuffed squash blossom, which was a strange choice for a January dinner, a light and crispy fried blossom (much bigger than I thought it would be) stuffed with crab and served with corn and avocado.

The main courses we ordered were really the highlights, though (I'm starting to think that's as it should be). Todd had cocoa-dusted venison, and I feel like I tasted allspice in there, too. I had spiced duck breast, served medium-rare with port-braised figs. I love duck, at least in the incarnations I've had it. We split the warm pear financier, and the ginger ice cream that accompanied it was still a knockout. I said I'm going to have to try to replicate it, and Todd looked at me mournfully and reminded me that I'm not so good at making ice cream. (I just think I need practice.)

Anyway, it was good; we were very happy. It'd be nice if they changed their menu, maybe seasonally. But we're officially fans now (Todd, too).

Posted by Kim at 09:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

My parents sent six Omaha steaks for my birthday, and Todd and I had a little bonfire on Saturday night while making them. We had thawed two bacon-wrapped filet mignon, seasoned them, then put them on a piece of foil on the broiler pan. When it was nearly time to turn them over, I went to the kitchen and saw flames shooting up from the steaks. I yell, turn off the broiler and start to pull the broiler pan from the oven. Todd comes in and wants to douse it with baking soda, but he doesn't know where I keep it, or put a pan lid over the flames, but all the lids are stored in the bottom drawer under the oven so we can't get to them with the oven open (besides, I read recently that you're not supposed to do that). Slapping the fire once with a wet oven mitt only made the flames get momentarily bigger (it wasn't really a very big fire). As we argued about what to do, the flames got smaller and smaller until they went out. All the fuel (the melted bacon fat) had been consumed. We're convinced it happened because we lined the top of the broiler pan with foil, which collected a pool of ignitable fat. The thing that disturbs me now is that neither of us thought to use the fire extinguisher, which is in a very convenient spot in a side cabinet.

Of course, if we had we wouldn't have been able to eat the steaks, which were really tender. Someone at work had said that Omaha steaks tend not to have much flavor, but the bacon wrapped around these made them flavorful, too. And perfectly cooked, believe it or not, pink in the center and juicy and tender all over. Also roasted potatoes seasoned with a new spice rub (another gift) and some Brussels sprouts (which Todd decided really aren't that bad).

Posted by Kim at 06:24 PM | Permalink

I have a coworker, Greg, who is from Kentucky and always regales us with tales of the exotic fare one can sample there. His childhood home is relatively near Owensboro, which is known for its barbecue, particularly its mutton. For my birthday this year Greg called up Moonlite Bar-B-Que and ordered a gallon of burgoo, a soup he had mentioned that I had never heard anything of.

It arrived frozen solid, in a gallon-size plastic jug, and took two days to thaw. It's primarily mutton, but also contains potatoes, tomato paste, cabbage, corn, ketchup, spices, worcestershire sauce, chicken, beef, onions and vinegar. There's a little bit of heat, a little bite from the vinegar, but what you mainly taste is the mutton, a rich, meaty, almost but not quite gamey taste (it was originally made with squirrel, so the literature included in the package goes). The soup's been cooked so long the mutton's in tiny shreds that hold together the thick juice, but the corn must've been added later because it's fresh and plump. We ate it with cornbread, although Greg says they usually have it as a side to Moonlite's barbecue. (I'm amused by the idea of this meaty soup, almost entirely meat, as a side to more meat.)

Posted by Kim at 06:24 PM | Permalink