tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26581251755996858312024-03-13T11:13:30.625-07:00The Pith & PitGastronomic adventures of a transcontinental foodieAnniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-45745739253812297372011-04-03T11:21:00.000-07:002011-04-03T14:12:42.389-07:00Winner, Winner, One-Pot Dinner<div style="text-align: justify;">Well, almost. This recipe suggests a frying pan in addition to a pot, but based on a <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/30/dining/30braise.html?_r=1&ref=dining">recent article</a> by John Willoughby of <span style="font-style: italic;">The New York Times</span>' Dining and Wine section, you might just get away without it.<br /><br />It all started with the promise of ripe avocados. During a weekday shop at the Covered Market, my greengrocer spotted me eying a basket of what appeared to be delectable Israeli Hass avocados. They had that almost-shriveled, blackened exterior and gave immediately to the touch. 'This can't be', I thought, greedily adding a handful to my basket. Avocados with ripe, creamy flesh suitable for guacamole are a fruit that has achieved grail status among circles of ex-pat friends, especially those from California, and the odds of finding such things are about 1 in as-many-miles-as-we-are-from-San Diego. And yet we comb produce bins of the major supermarkets, along with the baskets of the handful of markets and greengrocers in a dogged, sisyphean effort to find green gold.<br /><br />So, you can see how, with a nod from this nice man that 'these'll be great for guacamole', I couldn't resist. In retrospect, however, the fact that he asked me if I'd 'like some cucumber for my guacamole' should have killed any lofty expectations of the authentic specimens I craved...I sliced and diced as soon as I was home from work--all brown and stringy, save one, which was willed into a pseudo-creamy mush with vicious mashings of a fork.<br /></div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-joMHo_3sFXs/TZjL4CrZ6sI/AAAAAAAAAxg/G0-kdJQRZIc/s1600/IMG_8542.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-joMHo_3sFXs/TZjL4CrZ6sI/AAAAAAAAAxg/G0-kdJQRZIc/s320/IMG_8542.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591443101032508098" border="0" /></a><br />Unwilling to accept defeat, I got started on everything else to go with it. Here's the recipe:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">One-Pot Stewed Chicken with Chorizo </span><br /><br />Yields 4 portions<br />Time: 2 hours<br /><ul><li>4 skin-on, bone-in chicken legs with thigh attached (preferably free-range, organic), patted dry with kitchen roll<br /></li><li>110g (approx.) chorizo sausage (one that has a good kick of heat and plenty of paprika), casing removed, and cut into 1-cm pieces</li><li>1 Tbs butter</li><li>3 Tbs olive oil (needn't be extra virgin)</li><li>1 medium-large white or yellow onion, peeled and sliced<br /></li><li>2 cloves of garlic, peeled and minced</li><li>1 Tbs ground cumin<br /></li><li>1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon</li><li>1/2 tsp nutmeg</li><li>2 tsp tomato paste</li><li>1 8-oz tin of whole or crushed Italian tomatoes (needn't be seedless)</li><li>1 Tbs dark muscovado or brown sugar</li><li>1 Tbs white wine vinegar</li><li>1 bay leaf<br /></li><li>3-5 whole cloves</li><li><span style="font-style: italic;">ideally</span> 2 whole tinned chipotle peppers in adobo, chopped (I had to substitute 2 red chilis, with seeds, minced and 1 tsp chipotle-style hot sauce--not at all the same thing, I know!). This is all to taste, of course. If you're not a fan of chilis, go easy and use just one.</li><li>Salt and ground black pepper</li><li>Tortillas</li><li>Lime wedges, soured cream, guacamole, to serve as accompaniments </li></ul><div style="text-align: justify;">It's a laundry list of ingredients, but the idea here is that by combining all of these robust flavours, you'll be left with incredibly tender meat and a rich gravy.<br /><br />If using the browning method, first heat a skillet on medium-high heat. Add the butter and olive oil and brown the chicken pieces, one-to-two at a time for a few minutes per side, until the skin is browned and starts to crisp. Transfer the chicken to a casserole or a deep pot. Lower the heat to a medium flame and add the sliced onion, stirring occasionally so that they soften and turn translucent rather than brown. Once they're softened, add the garlic and spices (cumin, cinnamon, nutmeg), turning over so that the onions are coated. Add the tomato paste and stir for a further minute or so. Add everything to the chicken in the pot. In the same skillet, raise the heat slightly, and sautee the chorizo until crispy and browned, 2-3 minutes. Again, add this to the chicken, onion, and aromatics.<br /><br />The skillet can now be retired, and the pot or casserole should be set on a medium-high flame. Add in the tin of tomatoes, sugar, vinegar, bay leaf, cloves, and peppers (or chilis). Give the pot a good stir with a wooden spoon, making sure that all the chicken is coated with liquid, and add enough water so that the liquid is <span style="font-style: italic;">almost</span> level with the chicken. Stir well again and bring the pot to a rapid simmer.<br /><br />Once the liquid has reached a rapid simmer/boil, turn the heat down to a very low simmer and simmer, covered and stirring occasionally (every 15-20 mins. or so), for at least 1 1/4 hours (up to two hours). As the fat in the chicken and the sausage will rise to the surface during cooking, and there will be an ample amount of it, skim the surface of the simmering liquid with a large spoon, discarding the fat.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bYDLQPyOJN0/TZjLikpjlRI/AAAAAAAAAxY/OhAIoFQHW0s/s1600/IMG_8531.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bYDLQPyOJN0/TZjLikpjlRI/AAAAAAAAAxY/OhAIoFQHW0s/s320/IMG_8531.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591442732194436370" border="0" /></a>Place a strainer over another deep saucepan and drain the entire contents of the pot into the strainer. Pull out the chicken and reserve. Press the sausage and onion and spices against the strainer to release any other juices and set the sausage-tomato-onion remnants aside to serve later, if desired.<br /><br />Set the strained liquid in the saucepan onto a high heat so that it begins to reduce to at least half its original volume. Once reduced, taste for seasoning, adding salt and pepper as needed.<br /><br />Pick all of the meat off of the chicken, discarding any bones or skin. Try not to eat it all in the process! The meat should fall away from the bone.<br /></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xS-ssdUjy8I/TZjMPlOW0AI/AAAAAAAAAxo/-xV8M7VCq6w/s1600/IMG_8536.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xS-ssdUjy8I/TZjMPlOW0AI/AAAAAAAAAxo/-xV8M7VCq6w/s320/IMG_8536.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591443505442902018" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Once the sauce is reduced, how you serve this dish is up to you! I returned the chicken to the reduced sauce and served in warm tortillas with a squeeze of lime, coriander, soured cream, and tomatoes. You'll have just spent a lot of time developing that rich gravy, so there's no need to add much to it. Another variation might be to serve the chicken pieces whole, with the sausage, onions and gravy over the top (remember to pick out the bay leaf!), with rice or couscous.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LwVAzFBuXFs/TZjMhk6zS9I/AAAAAAAAAxw/eVRvgV-3IKM/s1600/IMG_8549.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LwVAzFBuXFs/TZjMhk6zS9I/AAAAAAAAAxw/eVRvgV-3IKM/s320/IMG_8549.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591443814598527954" border="0" /></a>While perhaps a bit time consuming, the overall effort is minimal and the flavours robust--part sweet, part smokey and hot from the sausage and chipotles, part tangy from the vinegar and tomatoes, and the chicken is melt-in-the-mouth. It is a satisfying weekday supper, even when the avocados are brown!<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gG42_WPhUnk/TZjMuTWNjoI/AAAAAAAAAx4/QR20fSxcztU/s1600/IMG_8552.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gG42_WPhUnk/TZjMuTWNjoI/AAAAAAAAAx4/QR20fSxcztU/s320/IMG_8552.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591444033219956354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">With thanks to E. for her help with the recipe!</span><br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-44383392804499138312011-03-21T14:49:00.000-07:002011-03-21T16:02:47.205-07:00How Not to Make Lemon Cake<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DRTWXbUMKus/TYfXhlvHsqI/AAAAAAAAAwE/R3sp22h5yl4/s1600/IMG_8521.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DRTWXbUMKus/TYfXhlvHsqI/AAAAAAAAAwE/R3sp22h5yl4/s320/IMG_8521.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586670834841793186" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">(a bad photograph of a less-than-perfect Lemon Cake)<br /><br /></span></div>An exciting event took place on Sunday: the first baking project occurred at my new chez moi!<br /><br />I've been glued to Raymond Blanc's 'Kitchen Secrets' series on BBC2, and I was desperate to make his Lemon Cake from the second episode 'Cakes and Pastries'. What else was going to console me after discovering that Adam, M. Blanc's right-hand Commis who is beyond charming, is a newlywed?<br /><br />(Surely my sigh was part of a collective exhale that spread across a certain BBC 'Lifestyle and Leisure'-watching demographic as he dedicated his Piece Montee to the happy couple?). There's even a <a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=328603626909">Facebook group</a> called 'Stop Raymond Blanc Nagging Poor Adam'. I, for one, think 'A-Dam' loves every minute of it, though. It may be tough love, but my guess is that Adam has put in many tougher, crueler hours/days/years to achieve such a level of mutual trust and closeness with his Chef de cuisine.<br /><br />Anyway, back to this Lemon Cake.<br /><br />I'm not truly 'home' in a place until the oven has been used. There's no microwave in the new digs, so it's back to old school warm-up-leftovers-in-a-casserole-dish kind of quick cooking on weeknights. Warming up leftovers in the oven doesn't count as 'using' the oven, though. I wanted something that would fill my humble rooms with something decadent and comforting. The perfect cake with a big cup of coffee on a Sunday afternoon seemed just the thing.<br /><br />So, I diligently copied down the ingredients as I heard them on the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00z4j5s/Raymond_Blancs_Kitchen_Secrets_Series_2_Cakes_and_Pastries/">programme</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">For the cake:</span><br /><p class="ingredient">5 eggs<br /></p><p class="ingredient">300g caster sugar<br /></p><p class="ingredient">140mL cream<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></p><p class="ingredient"><span style="font-style: italic;">juice and zest of 3 lemons</span><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span></p><p class="ingredient">splash of dark rum<br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span></p><p class="ingredient">80g melted butter<br /></p><p class="ingredient">240g flour<br /></p><p class="ingredient">½ tsp baking powder</p><p class="ingredient">Yes, at minute 3:11 the voice-over woman clearly says 'zest AND JUICE' of three lemons. Whoops. Lesson number one: always double-check recipes gleaned from episodes of food TV. I got schooled. X-nay on the uice-jay. A relatively wet batter went in my pint-sized oven at 180 degrees C (as far as I knew...), and rose very slowly but steadily over the 50-minute time period prescribed. It did not, by any means, gain the kind of loft that Raymond Blanc's did, and that's when I began to worry. I cursed the oven, a brand new container of baking soda, grocery store eggs...had I not whisked enough air into the batter? I left the cake in for ten extra minutes, hoping that the mounded loaf would maintain it's pathetic poof. No such luck. After five minutes on the counter, that loaf sank into a log of dense, slightly rubbery stodge.<br /></p><p class="ingredient">Unwilling to admit defeat, however, I continued on, glazing with warmed apricot jam and followed with <span style="font-style: italic;">une couche</span> of lemon glaze. The result: a lemon loaf that is the stumpy, ugly step-sister to Raymond Blanc's Lemon Cake. In taste, however, I'm pleased to announce that it did not suffer, and I greedily sliced myself a hunk, took a seat at my new kitchen table as the sun blazed on the red brick across the street and was perfectly content with my stodgy cake, a cup of coffee, and to be truly home.</p><p class="ingredient"><br />If you'd like to make Raymond Blanc's Lemon Cake as it should be made, the recipe is <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/lemon_cake_29430">here</a>.</p><p class="ingredient">Also, any tried and tested lemon cake recipes are most welcome!<br /></p>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-18118863983461679112011-02-27T14:21:00.000-08:002011-03-06T15:58:31.820-08:00When Lewis Carroll and Philippe Starck do Afternoon Tea<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--_VDJRM9WA8/TXQcVbBSA9I/AAAAAAAAAuc/Z1mK6VPwY0M/s1600/IMG_8369.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--_VDJRM9WA8/TXQcVbBSA9I/AAAAAAAAAuc/Z1mK6VPwY0M/s400/IMG_8369.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581116992574850002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">the Lobby of the <a href="http://www.sandersonlondon.com/">Sanderson</a></span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When D. phoned from Istanbul to say a reunion had been scheduled for friends coming in from Denmark, Turkey, and, well, Wales...as well as far-flung city boroughs...and that afternoon tea at the Sanderson was going to be involved, no further convincing was necessary for me to take the day off to go to London for a Mad Hatter's Afternoon Tea.<br /><br />The Morgans Hotel Group (of <a href="http://www.mondrianhotel.com/en-us/#/home/">Mondrian</a> and <a href="http://www.delano-hotel.com/en-us/#/home/">Delano</a> fame) opened Sanderson's doors in 2000, and the 'urban spa' has no item left untouched by Philippe Starck (down to the chrome <a href="http://www.yliving.com/xo-design-poaa-dumbbells-with-optional-carrying-case.html">Poaa free weights</a>, glinting in bespoke shelves in superior rooms). Turning off the tide of shopping hoards on Oxford Street onto Berners Street, one already feels the sense that 'urban spa' is not far off the mark. On entering the Lobby, which occupies the south wing and flows into the Long Bar to one's right, the usual Starckian suspects are present: the red lips couch is there, along with big, bold lines, fluid spaces, the suspended chair, and a painting of a stately-looking Pinscher(?). Glancing over at the Long Bar, there was, equally, no denying Ian Schrager's hand in the Sanderson ethos--days away from London Fashion Week and the young, svelte and beautiful had already assumed poses along the angular bar.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HYAjQW_ewOY/TXQc9DRwDFI/AAAAAAAAAuk/FdOM2xlpvww/s1600/IMG_8370.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HYAjQW_ewOY/TXQc9DRwDFI/AAAAAAAAAuk/FdOM2xlpvww/s320/IMG_8370.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581117673396243538" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AWSWZbXkO1U/TXQdLCAY9-I/AAAAAAAAAus/2MnDG_8ih8A/s1600/IMG_8352.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AWSWZbXkO1U/TXQdLCAY9-I/AAAAAAAAAus/2MnDG_8ih8A/s320/IMG_8352.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581117913573160930" border="0" /></a>Tea was taken in the courtyard garden, whose plexi-paneled roof shielded us from the drizzle, and whose heat lamps kept us cozy. After a full explanation of the menu and clear instructions from our helpful server, and we were off down the rabbit's hole...<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lsk7zUBhWDs/TXQYWsYaXbI/AAAAAAAAAtc/mA1nZgTglkQ/s1600/IMG_8355.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lsk7zUBhWDs/TXQYWsYaXbI/AAAAAAAAAtc/mA1nZgTglkQ/s320/IMG_8355.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581112616368627122" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Our cake stand, made from shabby-chic recovered china</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">(from top)<br />'hot and cold lollies'<br />'chocolate and hazelnut ice cream 'bombes'<br /><br />the best scones I've ever had<br /><br />'Eat Me', 'Drink Me' and a dark chocolate espresso 'Opera' cake</span><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rA17QCy2c4o/TXQZOOVviNI/AAAAAAAAAtk/Fo_xfG4hbn0/s1600/IMG_8356.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rA17QCy2c4o/TXQZOOVviNI/AAAAAAAAAtk/Fo_xfG4hbn0/s320/IMG_8356.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581113570377042130" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">clotted cream and jam that was more like delicious strawberry compote</span><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IRCXwxBIfIE/TXQZeHgY4hI/AAAAAAAAAts/3Ej2BCrBCNA/s1600/IMG_8357.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IRCXwxBIfIE/TXQZeHgY4hI/AAAAAAAAAts/3Ej2BCrBCNA/s320/IMG_8357.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581113843420553746" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">finger sandwiches: cucumber on beetroot bread, egg and cress on brown bread, smoked salmon and cream cheese on spinach bread and butter and ham on saffron bread</span><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_IYKdfjo2nA/TXQaE1Dt4HI/AAAAAAAAAt0/i0hrkqilnRo/s1600/IMG_8365.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_IYKdfjo2nA/TXQaE1Dt4HI/AAAAAAAAAt0/i0hrkqilnRo/s320/IMG_8365.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581114508483354738" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tmwsIrGVR2M/TXQaNYMeTRI/AAAAAAAAAt8/YbQCGyBwJP4/s1600/IMG_8366.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tmwsIrGVR2M/TXQaNYMeTRI/AAAAAAAAAt8/YbQCGyBwJP4/s320/IMG_8366.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581114655354277138" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">white chocolate 'Eat Me' shell filled with sponge and strawberry cream</span><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oWzlFOJACT4/TXQapqLrC_I/AAAAAAAAAuE/h5zkHF9_HtE/s1600/IMG_8359.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oWzlFOJACT4/TXQapqLrC_I/AAAAAAAAAuE/h5zkHF9_HtE/s320/IMG_8359.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581115141219093490" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">'Drink Me' potion, filled with three layers of purees: apple pie, lemon curd, and toffee pudding (we were told that this version was infinitely better than that conceived for their wintertime tea, which layered smoked salmon with roast dinner and Christmas pudding...)</span><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ir81RLzT3wc/TXQbNSE59eI/AAAAAAAAAuM/v5zqzyAnYEk/s1600/IMG_8367.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ir81RLzT3wc/TXQbNSE59eI/AAAAAAAAAuM/v5zqzyAnYEk/s320/IMG_8367.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581115753223550434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">an impossibly glossy chocolate cappuccino 'Opera' layer cake</span><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eqcORNs5SSw/TXQbkr-xPXI/AAAAAAAAAuU/JbfSxlfig68/s1600/IMG_8368.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eqcORNs5SSw/TXQbkr-xPXI/AAAAAAAAAuU/JbfSxlfig68/s320/IMG_8368.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581116155314126194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">going, going...</span>gone.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Waddling back to the Lobby, we felt much more like Alice post-'Eat Me' than Alice post-'Drink Me', but it's an experience that everyone should try while it lasts!<br /></div><a href="http://www.sandersonlondon.com/"><br />Sanderson Hotel</a><br />50 Berners Street<br />London<br />W1T 3NG<br />020 7300 1400<br />Tube: Oxford Circus<br /></div></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-85489328609045174742011-02-06T10:14:00.000-08:002011-03-30T01:18:11.516-07:00Birthday Bourguignon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TU7pu-EmotI/AAAAAAAAAhM/QxOa1JbprJI/s1600/IMG_8342.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TU7pu-EmotI/AAAAAAAAAhM/QxOa1JbprJI/s400/IMG_8342.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570646782249444050" border="0" /></a><br />And another month gone. With no post. Not that there hasn't been some cooking happening. There certainly HAS been eating going on, and so I shall try to redeem the neglectful silence with some highlights.<br /><br />We start with a birthday dinner of Beef Bourguignon--Julia Child's Boeuf Bourguignon, to be precise. Yes, a food blog post about Julia Child and Beef Bourguignon...wasn't there a book or a movie or something recently...?<br /><br />Anyway, for friend P.'s birthday, Chef E. and I hosted a French-inspired evening. Taking our cue from Julia's master recipe in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Way_To_Cook"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Way to Cook</span></a> (a 'crowbar separation' from both Amy Adams and <span style="font-style: italic;">Mastering the Art of French Cooking</span>)we meticulously patted man-portion kilos of cubed beef with paper towels and got to browning. A bottle of wine, Italian tinned tomatoes, some stock, and a few hours later we had stew, served with green beans with lemon dressing and toasted almonds.<br /><br />As this was a celebration of E.'s birthday as well, an apple pie, as requested, was wrestled up, and there was dinner!<br /><br />Our dessert was experimental to say the least, without Grandma's recipe for pie crust to hand, and dear friend A., who can't eat dairy. Soy butter to the rescue! I ended up with a super pliable dough that rolled out beautifully, and the roux for the stew was definitely none the worse for this lactose-free substitute.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q4W1dazbKx0/TWrMoXbyv3I/AAAAAAAAAs8/ldLFmRkQlzo/s1600/IMG_8349.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q4W1dazbKx0/TWrMoXbyv3I/AAAAAAAAAs8/ldLFmRkQlzo/s320/IMG_8349.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578496082309201778" border="0" /></a>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-14055482846813698042011-01-16T13:11:00.000-08:002011-03-03T10:24:32.703-08:00Comfort in a Bowl (the other winter vegetables)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S3YcOSaYhcU/TW_cPzpDluI/AAAAAAAAAtU/HCGGHPFBSeM/s1600/IMG_8318.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S3YcOSaYhcU/TW_cPzpDluI/AAAAAAAAAtU/HCGGHPFBSeM/s400/IMG_8318.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579920627453892322" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">I do realise that a recent post focused on a winter vegetable soup, but this one is not your average winter potage and it's also tastier than any other I've had recently.<br /><br />Along with my New Year's resolution to 'travel more' (I find these kinds of would-like-to-do -anyway objectives far easier to fulfill than those based on deprivation and restraint), I thought I might also reaffirm my belief in no-waste cooking. I shall cook with what lyeth in the darkest recesses of the cupboards, and I <span style="font-style: italic;">shall</span> like what comes of it. Or else. Or be defeated trying.<br /><br />This week's challenge brought about this roasted red pepper and Butternut squash soup, which has a few warming ingredients to liven up even the greyest of grey British January days. Ginger and red chillies add some sweet heat, and the addition of parsley stems, fresh tomatoes, green chillies and creme fraiche render the dish both more visually appealing and more texturally interesting. I also advise moderation when blending soups in a blender--a few chunky bits are always welcome so as not to create something that resembles baby food (as so many store-bought soups do).<br /><br />So, without further ado:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Yield: 3-4 portions</span><br /><br />1 Butternut squash (peeled, seeded, and cut into roughly 3-cm cubes)<br />1 large red Bell pepper/capsicum (rinsed, seeded, and cut into 4-5 thick segments, lengthwise)<br /><br />2 Tbs. Dijon mustard<br />2-cm cube of fresh ginger, minced<br />1 Tbs. clear honey<br />1 red chili (rinsed, seeded, minced)<br />1 Tbs. fresh lemon juice<br />5-6 Tbs. olive oil (enough to coat all the veg)<br />Salt and ground black pepper<br /><br />2-3 cups vegetable or chicken stock<br />2 cloves garlic (one whole, peeled, one peeled and minced)<br />1 small white onion (peeled and quartered)<br /><br />3/4 cup fresh parsley or coriander (or mix of both) (rinsed, leaves roughly chopped, stems reserved)<br />4 Tbs. creme fraiche (plus more to serve on the side)<br />1 green chili, minced<br />1 red chili, minced<br />Fresh tomatoes (washed, roughly chopped)<br /><br />Preheat the oven (on the broil setting) to 200 C, with one rack elevated to near the broiler). Place prepared Butternut squash and pepper onto a shallow baking tray and use a fork to mix the above five ingredients together. Pour over veg in the baking tray, tossing the veg until all is coated in the oil. Season with salt and pepper.<br /><br />Roast the veg for about 30-40 minutes, or until soft and the edges caramelised. Meanwhile, heat the stock to a simmer over a medium-low flame and add the whole garlic clove and quartered onion. Continue to simmer on a low flame until the veg is fully roasted.<br /><br />Transfer the roasted veg and scrape any oil from the tray into a blender. Add parsley/coriander stems and one cup of stock (garlic and onion included) and blend (make sure the top of the blender is not fully closed, as steam will need to escape!), adding more stock as needed. Pour half of the soup into a pot or serving tureen (so that some of it remains chunky) and blend remaining soup, with more stock if necessary. Transfer all of the liquid into a serving bowl and stir through 4 Tbs. of creme fraiche.<br /><br />Arrange chopped chillis, tomatoes, and parsley, coriander, or both, on a plate and serve alongside soup, as well as a few lemon wedges and extra creme fraiche.<br /><br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-12724504404552749462010-12-18T12:49:00.000-08:002010-12-18T13:55:33.901-08:00EOA: Equal Opportunity Adulteration-Of a Culinary Sort<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TQ0rHp2IiMI/AAAAAAAAAgM/VYOQNTz2gfU/s1600/IMG_8004.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TQ0rHp2IiMI/AAAAAAAAAgM/VYOQNTz2gfU/s320/IMG_8004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552141326109673666" border="0" /></a><br />And now it's time for a dish that I am aware may elicit the ire of my dear Italian and Mexican friends. My apologies, in advance!<br /><br />It was another cupboard-cleaning affair of a dinner. These tend to happen during that stretch between Thanksgiving and Christmas, when both my budget and my patience for yet more food shopping are stretched thin. I embrace these impromptu meals, rummaging through the crisper to see what is on the verge of going soft and concave and winding forearms deep into the dark depths, precariously between bottles, to snatch up whatever jars and packets of goodness-knows-what that have been knocking around for far too long.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">A chicken breast. Fresh tagliatelle. Chipotles in adobo. Whipping cream.<br />Go.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Chipotle Chicken Tagliatelle</span><br /></div></div><br />Approx. 300-400g fresh tagliatelle pasta<br />1/2 medium white onion, sliced<br />1 tsp. brown sugar<br />4 Tbs. virgin olive oil<br />1 boneless, skinless chicken breast<br />2 cloves garlic, minced<br />6-8 cherry tomatoes, washed, stemmed and halved<br />Zest of 1/2 a lemon<br />4 dashes Worcestershire sauce<br />2 <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Costena-Chipotle-Peppers-Adobo-Sauce/dp/B0000GGHU6">chipotle peppers in adobo</a>, roughly chopped<br />6 oz chicken broth<br />4 oz heavy whipping cream (or single cream, or half-and-half, if feeling more virtuous)<br />Flat-leaf Italian parsley, to garnish (optional)<br />Salt and ground black pepper<br /><br />In an oven-proof skillet, soften the onion on a medium heat in 1 Tbs. of olive oil and season with salt and pepper. When the onions have begun to soften and go a bit translucent, add the brown sugar and caramelise the onion. Once the onions have caramelised (sugar has dissolved, onions are soft and sticky), remove from the pan and set aside.<br /><br />Chop the chipotle peppers and rub them all over the chicken, using a bit of the jarred adobo as well. Return the skillet to the hob and, in 3 Tbs. of olive oil, brown the chicken breast. Once the chicken is browned (1-2 minutes each side), add the onions back into the pan, along with the garlic, cherry tomatoes, Worcester sauce, and lemon zest. Stir and saute for a minute or so. Then, add just enough chicken stock to deglaze the pan. Cover the skillet with foil and put in a 220-degree C oven for 10-15 minutes, or until the chicken breast is cooked through and its juices run clear when pierced.<br /><br />Remove the chicken from the pan and slice on a cutting board. Return the skillet to the hob on a low heat and add the cream, stirring continuously with a whisk until a thickened sauce is formed. As the sauce thickens and reduces on a very low simmer, cook the fresh pasta in salted boiling water.<br /><br />Strain the pasta, reserving a few ounces of the pasta water, and add to sauce. Add a bit of the pasta water if sauce is thicker than desired. Stir through thoroughly and plate pasta, topped with sliced chicken and parsley.<br /><br />While you're at it, if you happen to have some dulce de lechce cream to get rid of, a little parfait of dark chocolate digestives, chocolate chips, and hazelnuts makes a lovely dessert (though I wouldn't recommend following up the pasta with this straight away!).<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TQ0sVMB7dTI/AAAAAAAAAgU/GZmtSBo1fE4/s1600/IMG_8008.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TQ0sVMB7dTI/AAAAAAAAAgU/GZmtSBo1fE4/s320/IMG_8008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552142658135881010" border="0" /></a>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-16759660560914804242010-12-12T12:15:00.000-08:002010-12-12T15:06:10.051-08:00Comfort in a Bowl<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TQVAGC8_H3I/AAAAAAAAAf0/4Bo7RVC_a1g/s1600/IMG_8261.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TQVAGC8_H3I/AAAAAAAAAf0/4Bo7RVC_a1g/s320/IMG_8261.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549912588420063090" border="0" /></a><br />No, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth; I have not been knocked out by a low-hung gargoyle or the icy slick coating the cobbles. I've just been, well, incommunicado the last couple of months; the means for communication were certainly present--as were my own laziness and a rather hectic schedule. My sincerest apologies to you out there--who are probably no longer bothering to read!--who have been met with Poirot's face for the last three months... I'm tired of his visage, too.<br /><br />So, here's a too-good-not-to-share adaption of a <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Low-Fat-Vegetable-Soup-1025">recipe</a> from the October 1995 issue of <span style="font-style: italic;">Bon Appetit</span>:<br /><br />Yields 4 generous portions.<br /><br />3 stalks celery, chopped<br />1 medium white onion, peeled and chopped<br />2 carrots, peeled and chopped<br />Olive oil<br /><br />2 Tbs. fresh thyme, stripped from stems<br />1 whole sprig fresh rosemary<br />1 small bunch sage (4-5 leaves)<br /><br />2 Tbs red onion jam<br />Splash of red wine<br /><br />2 courgettes, chopped and ends removed<br />1 yellow pepper, seeded and chopped<br />2 cloves of garlic, whole/peeled<br />1 medium baking potato, cubed<br />1/4 cup red lentils (optional)<br />1 8-oz tin of peeled tomatoes<br />8-12 oz water<br />8 oz boiling water with 1 chicken or vegetable stock cube dissolved in it<br /><br />Salt<br />Ground black pepper<br />1 tsp. <a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pul_Biber">pul biber</a> or chili flakes<br /><br />Rinse and chop the vegetables into bite-sized pieces--preferably so that they are all roughly the same size. This is not crucial. I find the best vegetable soups are those that have those escaped, odd bits--they add texture. Sweat the chopped onions, celery, and carrots in a few tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat in a large pot or dutch oven until they are soft, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon. A bit of salt will help with this. As the <span style="font-style: italic;">mirepoix </span>breaks down and starts to smell scrumptious, throw in the rosemary, 1 Tbs. thyme, sage, and stir. Put a lid on the pot to help the herbs infuse into the vegetables. Leave the pot covered, stirring occasionally, for 2 minutes or so.<br /><br />Fish out the sprig of rosemary, the sage leaves, and add a splash (half of a wine glass) of red wine. Scrape the bottom of the pot to release any bits that have caramelised and stuck. Now add the red onion jam, courgettes, pepper, garlic cloves, potato, and stir. Add the tin of tomatoes, breaking up the tomatoes with the wooden spoon. Next, add the water and stock and stir through thoroughly. There should be enough liquid to cover all of the other ingredients; add more water if needed. Now is a good time to check seasoning. Add more salt if necessary, add ground black pepper, chili flakes, and if the onion jam was left out, add a pinch of sugar to offset the acidity of the tinned tomatoes. Cover the pot and raise the heat slightly to bring to a boil. When the soup has reached the boil, add the red lentils (optional) and turn down the heat to a vigorous simmer (more of a low boil). Cover the pot and allow the soup to simmer for at least 15 minutes, or until the lentils and potatoes are cooked through and all the vegetables have softened.<br /><br />When the soup has simmered away and the vegetables have reached the desired softness, tip in the remaining fresh thyme and check the seasoning once more, adding more salt and pepper as needed. Turn off the heat. Using a ladle, transfer 1/3 - 1/2 of the soup to a blender and pulse until smooth (allow the liquid to cool a few minutes in the blender before blending, or keep the steam hole of the blender open, covered with a towel). Try to get the two cloves of garlic included in the portion that is blended--if they manage to remain elusive to your ladle's trawl, that's fine; they'll have gone soft and sweeter having been boiled whole.<br /><br />Pour the pureed soup back into the pot to join the remainder and stir through.<br />Serve warm.<br /><br />David Chang of Momofuku recently quoted the Basque chef Juan Mari Arzak on Lynne Rossetto Kasper's 'The Splendid Table', saying 'You have to look at food through a child's eyes', and on a cold, dark Sunday afternoon, this simple and straightforward soup was comfort in a bowl.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-10677061945330253042010-09-28T14:00:00.000-07:002010-09-28T16:07:06.898-07:00Poireaux Vinaigrette<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TKJZUaTBOmI/AAAAAAAAAaE/lQZ2iYTMLrI/s1600/poirot_1413271c.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TKJZUaTBOmI/AAAAAAAAAaE/lQZ2iYTMLrI/s400/poirot_1413271c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522074300300999266" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/tvandradio/5408883/Hercule-Poirot-to-return-to-TV.html">You say 'Poirot'; I say 'Poireaux'</a></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> (photo: ITV)</span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">Last week I read this post on <a href="http://orangette.blogspot.com/2010/09/before-you-know-it.html">Orangette</a>, and the words have been ringing in my ears. Not exactly the words of the blog itself, but those of <span style="font-style: italic;">my </span>meres Francaises. I count myself immeasurably lucky to have had more than one.<br /><br />The first was Mme. S. As an impressionable sixteen-year-old, I spent an unforgettable and all-too-short week with la Famille S. in the small town of a few thousand people called Arcangues, or Arrangoitze, in the Basque country, near Biarritz. Mme., as far as I could tell, derived immense pleasure from feeding me and watching my facial expressions convey what my limited French could not yet fully express--not that the daily motions of her explaining what we might do that day in her Spanish Basque accent and me staring blankly back, nodding and smiling, utterly clueless, did not have their own charm.<br /><br />Mme. S. had a lemon tree in the backyard and made a lemon meringue pie the likes of which I continue to dream about and have never tasted since; lunches, of course, were a three-course affair; and dinner proceeded at a similar pace, featuring local terrines, confit de canard with wild honey, Jambon de Bayonne, local dessert wine, and inevitably concluding with me red-faced and totally, utterly content. In one week my waistline ballooned with the vigor of choux pastry.<br /><br />Years later, when I was to bring my parents and brother to meet la Famille S., we were treated to yet another epic lunch, about which we still often rhapsodize: the savoury final course was what sealed the deal for my parents--local foie gras as silky and rich as one has ever had accompanied by two bottles of a coveted dessert wine, made by a neighbour whose annual production never exceeded more than fifty bottles. And this time I was able to translate the accolades with relative accuracy, though, again, I think our faces and primal noises of delight said more.<br /><br />My second mere Francaise was Mme. V. I arrived on her doorstep as a twenty-four-year-old having spontaneously landed my first job in Paris and desperate for a place to live. She and Monsieur V. were most gracious and caring. So long as I refrained from cooking anything with onions and garlic--'ils puent'--and did not, under any circumstances, bring a man back to the house, I was invited to be 'chez soi'. Mme. and I would talk about food, religion, politics, art, my alternately expanding and contracting waistline, her hopes for her children, marriage, and everything in between. When I finally gave in and replaced my two morning croissants with a double shot of espresso, she proclaimed after a few months' time that I had become 'une vraie femme Parisienne'. My fondest memories in that house were sitting at the dining table over a tisane of lemon verbena from the garden, warmed from baked endive, and chatting into the night.<br /><br />Alors, en l'honneur de mes deux familles Francaises, here is my version of poireaux vinaigrette:<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TKJqmY8TsGI/AAAAAAAAAaU/keg0Hj7QQ2s/s1600/IMG_7991.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TKJqmY8TsGI/AAAAAAAAAaU/keg0Hj7QQ2s/s320/IMG_7991.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522093300872622178" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">1 leek</span>, washed, outer layers removed<br />(keep the root intact while washing and cut off the tip only when on the baking tray)<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">20 cherry tomatoes</span>, washed and halved<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1 egg</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />8 Tbs. basic vinaigrette</span>*<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Olive oil</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">White wine vinegar</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Salt</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pepper</span><br /><br />*1 tsp. Dijon mustard; 2 Tbs. white wine vinegar; 2 Tbs. vegetable oil; 3 Tbs. olive oil; 1 tsp. herbes de provence; salt and pepper to taste<br /><br />Prepare leek, ensuring to rinse away any dirt and grit. Cut the leek in half, lengthwise, and then cut the root tip of the leek and place on a foil-lined baking tray. Douse in vinaigrette.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This recipe yields leeks that are soft towards the root and crisp and chewy towards the tips; you will need a sharp, serrated knife to tackle the fibrous tips. For an all-around softer texture, blanch the leeks in boiling water for at least two minutes, and then pat dry before roasting. </span><br /><br />Toss halved cherry tomatoes in olive oil, salt and pepper, and arrange on the baking tray, ensuring that they're not overcrowded. Place baking tray on an upper rack of the oven whose broiler is preheated to 220C. Cook until you think they are done (at least 15 mins.), and then let them cook a while longer. The leeks will turn like languid sunbathers and respire before going limp. They should be browned and soft. By this time your tomatoes should be roasted as well, but keep them in longer for further caramelisation, if desired.<br /><br />While the veggies are roasting, boil a pot of water with a dash of white wine vinegar thrown in. When the veg has just five minutes to go, put some sliced ciabatta (drizzled with olive oil, salt and pepper) into a lower rack in the oven. Now poach the egg in the boiling water.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TKJvv0D4EFI/AAAAAAAAAac/-yyJdLXvjbw/s1600/IMG_7996.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TKJvv0D4EFI/AAAAAAAAAac/-yyJdLXvjbw/s320/IMG_7996.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522098960329085010" border="0" /></a>Arrange all components in a shallow bowl, drizzling the egg with a bit of olive oil, the leeks with a bit more vinaigrette, and garnishing with chives (optional). Rub the toasted bread with a raw garlic clove and enjoy!<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TKJx8QbtFnI/AAAAAAAAAak/RxcavUM4NPw/s1600/IMG_7998.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TKJx8QbtFnI/AAAAAAAAAak/RxcavUM4NPw/s320/IMG_7998.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522101373126907506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-77839121368694570472010-09-14T09:51:00.000-07:002010-09-21T09:41:09.150-07:00Wonder Bread<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TJEBnznE5wI/AAAAAAAAAZk/fIPsRHqbVnI/s1600/IMG_7972.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TJEBnznE5wI/AAAAAAAAAZk/fIPsRHqbVnI/s320/IMG_7972.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517192801886201602" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">There is a gale outside. Rain is slapping the roof and whistling wind is seeping through my leaky, single-paned Victorian sills.<br /><br />Apparently, Hurricane Igor is bearing down on Bermuda.<br /><br />Yet, down in the kitchen, a preheating oven is helping a 7g packet of yeast work magic. That flour, water, sugar, fat, and yeast can create something so basic yet so intricate in structure is, to my mind, rather miraculous.<br /><br />Baking bread was not a culinary exploit I entered into lightly...or wantonly, for that matter. I found a defeatist attitude was safest. That, combined with some research.<br /><br />My quest for fool-proof, fail-proof tips brought me to <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/profile/felicity-cloake">Felicity Cloake's</a> <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2010/jun/10/how-to-bake-wholemeal-bread">June article</a> in <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/">The Guardian</a>. The perennial questions are entertained--to knead or not? If so, how long? How long a proof? What about slamming, pummeling, and all other motions that get the anger out in the name of a light, billowy loaf?<br /><br />I studiously followed Cloake's tips, spending as much on a small jar of vitamin C tablets as on the entirety of the other necessary ingredients. I crushed the requisite half-tablet with a mortar and pestle, fearing that my curry pastes were to be forever tainted by undertones of orange concentrate. Thankfully, no taste of Tango has come through--not in the curries, nor in the bread.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TJEClVvlBXI/AAAAAAAAAZs/Rsixrr1y5pM/s1600/IMG_7361.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TJEClVvlBXI/AAAAAAAAAZs/Rsixrr1y5pM/s320/IMG_7361.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517193859020686706" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Repeat trials have yielded consistent, infinitely pleasing loaves of bread. There was a giddy sense of anticlimax that came over me as I stood in front of my first loaf of homemade bread, which was perfectly articulated by my housemate: 'Wow! Did you make that yourself? It looks just like you got it from Marks & Spencer!'<br /><br />Therefore, with an ounce of new-found confidence and wholemeal at my back, I now come to white bread. For this recipe I used 650g of organic white bread flour and 50g of organic wholemeal, combined with a 7g sachet of yeast, 1 tsp salt, 2 Tbs olive oil, and 1 Tbs honey. 30 minutes at 210 C et voila.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TJEDE28IkgI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/JTzOuYDpQUw/s1600/IMG_7975.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TJEDE28IkgI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/JTzOuYDpQUw/s320/IMG_7975.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517194400507662850" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">The result was an even crumb, springy texture, nice hollow sound, and a balanced sweetness--decidedly and deliciously un-M&S-like.<br /><br />Cloake's article opens with a quote from Margaret Costa: 'Beware of making that first loaf'...<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TJED-UgNhhI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/1rT_W89EIcY/s1600/IMG_7982.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TJED-UgNhhI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/1rT_W89EIcY/s320/IMG_7982.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517195387696154130" border="0" /></a>So true.<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-42208272116185879342010-08-01T08:48:00.000-07:002010-08-29T21:05:27.884-07:00Cold as a CukeMy colleague, K., has what sounds like an expansive, tantalizing array of vegetables growing in her garden. So, when she offered to offload some of her bounty of homegrown cucumbers, I was not one to refuse.<br /><br />During these hot spells that we've been enjoying in Oxford, these cukes have been the perfect refreshing component to many dishes. The other day I came upon a particularly good pairing--'Singapore Noodles' and pickled cucumbers. The 'Singapore Noodles' are <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">entre guillemets</span> because this dish was more of a quick, easy exercise in clearing out the remains of the crisper and making a dent in my profusion of condiments than an attempt to follow a recipe. This is a veggie interpretation, but the traditional preparation uses roasted pork and vermicelli noodles.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">For the pickled cucumbers:</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TFWhnR2DnaI/AAAAAAAAAZM/xtvGGvfn9fo/s1600/IMG_7804.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 274px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500480216080031138" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TFWhnR2DnaI/AAAAAAAAAZM/xtvGGvfn9fo/s320/IMG_7804.JPG" /></a><br /><br />1 small cucumber, peeled (seeded or unseeded, up to you) and thinly sliced<br />1 tsp. chili paste (sambal oelek or the like)<br />1/4 tsp salt<br />1/4 tsp sugar<br />3 Tbs. rice wine vinegar<br /><br />Combine all of the above in a shallow bowl, cover and chill for at least one hour.<br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /><br /><br /><br />My 'Singapore Noodles':<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>SAUCE<br />1/2-inch cube of fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped<br />1 large clove of garlic, roughly chopped<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TFWiMGiZqaI/AAAAAAAAAZU/C5xWDAPj3gM/s1600/IMG_7805.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500480848699959714" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TFWiMGiZqaI/AAAAAAAAAZU/C5xWDAPj3gM/s320/IMG_7805.JPG" /></a>1 Tbs. chili paste (to taste)<br />1 Tbs. low sodium soy sauce<br />3 Tbs. fish sauce (nam pla)<br />1 Tbs. rice wine vinegar<br />1 tsp. palm sugar (caster will work, too)<br /><br />EVERYTHING ELSE<br />7 oz. (half of one bag) rice noodles (vermicelli or Banh Pho)<br />1 Tbs. vegetable or peanut oil<br />2 Tbs. toasted sesame oil<br />1 egg<br />2 spring onions, thinly sliced<br />1 red or yellow, or orange bell pepper, thinly sliced<br />Coriander, chopped<br />roasted peanuts (optional)<br />lime wedges<br /><br />Success with these kinds of stir-fry noodle dishes depends on having all of your components washed, chopped and ready to go. It's fast cooking in a hot wok, after all, and it only takes a moment of neglect to burn. Prepare the sauce in a bowl in advance as well.<br /><br />Once all of your veg is prepared, place the rice noodles in a bowl and cover with boiling water. Let the noodles steep until soft and pliable (1-2 mins.), drain, and then toss with 1 Tbs. toasted sesame oil. Heat over a high flame remaining sesame oil and vegetable oil in a wok or other shallow pan that can handle high heat.<br />Add the spring onion (reserving 1 Tbs. for garnish) and pepper, moving constantly. After 30 seconds, crack the egg (careful of stray shells, etc.) straight in and stir-fry, breaking up the yolk. When fried, add the sauce and toss in noodles and peanuts. Stir-fry a few seconds more, ensuring that everything is coated in sauce. Serve warm in shallow bowls, topped with coriander, reserved spring onions and lime wedges.<br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left">The noodles will be tangy, sweet, salty, and as spicy as you like, and the cucumbers are the perfect pairing--light, clean and picked, with just a hint of chili. </div></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-80545094829946321932010-07-25T10:16:00.000-07:002010-07-27T00:04:00.732-07:00Honest FoodThere is a deception that occurs throughout the summer months. It happens with those disappointing first bites of what seems by all outward appearances to be a perfectly ripe [insert summer fruit or vegetable here]. Unless one is lucky enough to tick off the entire grocery list at a farmers' market, farm stand(s), or other local supplier, some of those store-bought tomatoes and strawberries are bound to disappoint. Those glistening, red skins hide tasteless, watery, mealy white mush.<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Unless one lives in <a href="http://www.anamur.bel.tr/">Anamur, Turkey</a>.<br /><br />Here, bananas--among a plethora of tropical fruits--reign, and it was thanks to this fruit that a brief visit to the coastal town turned out to be so memorable.<br /><br />Leaving the happy wedding party behind, R. and I boarded a bus from Mersin to Anamur, and after a five-hour, vertiginous journey of hugging sheer cliffs (English hedgerows have nothing on these blind turns), which turned into an eight-hour journey thanks to a flat tire--and which involved me almost being left in the gas station toilet--we arrived at dusk.<br /><br />Tired and a bit nauseous, we headed for a large fruit stand across the street from the bus station where pile upon pile of bananas were stacked. 'Banana Man' offered us a place to sit at the adjacent cafe and suggested we stay at his friend's hotel in the Iskele [port] district, near the beach. His friend would even come pick us up. Letting down our urban guard of distrust and general code of cynicism, we felt comfortable enough chalking the offer up to genuine, small town hospitality, and agreed.<br /><br />Within minutes, Hamdi Bey turned up in his car, led us to our basic but charming room, and sent his teenage colleague to accompany us to the best fish restaurant in town, Kap Hotel Restaurant.<br /><br />We chose a sea bass out of the cooler and ordered calamari and two mezes spreads to top the famous 'pillow bread'. Our fish was promptly grilled to perfection and served with lemon and rocket, along with tomato and cucumber salad. Washed down with a cold Efes and finished with a massive plate of some of the most tasty fruit I've ever consumed, we left contented, to say the least.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyEyUg34PI/AAAAAAAAAYk/QqMGjZs7Dpw/s1600/IMG_7633.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 225px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyEyUg34PI/AAAAAAAAAYk/QqMGjZs7Dpw/s320/IMG_7633.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497915245147447538" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyEIzfdz4I/AAAAAAAAAYc/T9DLYvbAw10/s1600/IMG_7632.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyEIzfdz4I/AAAAAAAAAYc/T9DLYvbAw10/s320/IMG_7632.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497914531908538242" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"> (before) (after)<br /></div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyFgnCCWlI/AAAAAAAAAYs/CCfYGNBYxFI/s1600/IMG_7623.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyFgnCCWlI/AAAAAAAAAYs/CCfYGNBYxFI/s320/IMG_7623.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497916040392366674" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyFr44gNWI/AAAAAAAAAY0/wgJZkgShA3o/s1600/IMG_7635.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyFr44gNWI/AAAAAAAAAY0/wgJZkgShA3o/s320/IMG_7635.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497916234162779490" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">There was nothing extraordinary about this delicious meal; it's not dissimilar to the fish restaurant offerings one would find dotted all along the Mediterranean. The beauty was in the simplicity. The fish had clearly been caught that day, the bread was straight out of the wood oven, and the fruit...well, the fruit tasted as it should--cherries with deep, liquored juice, peaches whose juice ran down chins, and melons that actually <span style="font-style: italic;">tasted</span> of something. I don't like watermelon, but I ate watermelon [karpuz] in Anamur.<br /><br />Best of all, however, were the bananas. Anamur's is the only climate in Turkey capable of sustaining large-scale banana production, and there are greenhouses as far as the eye can see, nestled below the Toros Mountains. They are smaller than imported varieties, and it is as though the flavour is concentrated in its smaller size. With a firm texture and rich, velvety flesh, what to bring for lunch at the beach was a no-brainer: we feasted on pepinos (tastes like a cross between a cucumber and a melon), sweet and sour cherries, and bananas.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyIve9u5ZI/AAAAAAAAAY8/k3DV2po6iRQ/s1600/IMG_7667.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyIve9u5ZI/AAAAAAAAAY8/k3DV2po6iRQ/s320/IMG_7667.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497919594459751826" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyI9kmAzGI/AAAAAAAAAZE/2AjrDqDz4GE/s1600/IMG_7657.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TEyI9kmAzGI/AAAAAAAAAZE/2AjrDqDz4GE/s320/IMG_7657.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497919836489043042" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />The Anamur Muz [banana] Festival takes place in August, and transport to the area is improving with the opening of the Gazipasa airport, near Alanya.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Kap Hotel Restaurant</span> (İskele Meydani'ndaki; +90 (0)324 814 2374)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Eda Motel</span> (İskele Mahallesi, 24-Turgut Reis Caddesi (Eski iskele yolu) No:14; +90 (0)324 814 6319)<br /><br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-63599976518217097462010-07-07T09:11:00.000-07:002010-12-06T13:15:40.788-08:00Tantuni-LandI'm back!<br /><br />It's been over a month since my last post, and copious and varied foodstuffs have been created and consumed during this silent but scrumptious hiatus.<br /><br />Most exciting of these culinary adventures was a recent trip to Turkey to witness dear friends, J. and M., tie the knot on a beach in Mersin. A global network of friends and family came together from all over the world--first to Istanbul and then to Mersin-- for the event, and I cannot imagine a more fabulous, curious, ravenous-to-try-anything group ever assembled.<br /><br />After a beautiful Istanbul fete complete with Bosporus cruise and lots of dancing, we all boarded a plane for the hour-and-a-half flight to Mersin. The day before the big event was free to explore this Mediterranean coastal town, and we hit the ground running in the direction of tantuni.<br /><br />Allow me to digress a bit. When I worked at an English language immersion camp for two summers towards the end of my undergraduate years, many a night out in Taksim's rooftop clubs and bars ended with a large group of us counselors, both Turkish and yabanci [foreign], crouching on small wooden stools and sloppily devouring one portion of tantuni after another. The dish that we had become familiar with at a tiny establishment of Istiklal Caddesi consisted of a scant amount of sauteed mystery meat, heavily spiced with cumin and pepper, drizzled with lemon, covered in more cumin and parsley, and rolled up in durum [a kind of flat bread]. Friends would always bemoan the distance between Istanbul and Mersin, M.'s (the groom's) hometown, and how much better the true Mersin tantuni is.<br /><br />So, there we were in the cradle of tantuni, where the mighty, spicy meat wrap was no tipsy fare, but THE main event.<br /><br />Having consulted our friend H. on where to get the best, we headed to <a href="http://gokseltantuni.com/">Gokzel Tantuni</a>. Despite initial reservations--prompted by spotting multiple locations (a chain!) through the dolmus window--I was far from disappointed. Couples sat around us, daintily and artfully consuming their durums, which never seemed to drip or fall apart, and sipping frothy mugs of <a href="http://ayran.com/">ayran</a>.<br /><br />Over at our table of six, however, twelve eyes grew wide as plate after plate of tomatoes, green spicy-sweet peppers, really hot, small, green peppers, mint, parsley, lemons (the skins are green here), and red cabbage came and just kept coming--many dusted with sumac or pul biber (red pepper flakes). How was all of this goodness to make it to our mouths? And how quickly could it be done?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TD9Xc0IalwI/AAAAAAAAAXs/k5r4UrXZULY/s1600/IMG_7476.JPG"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; display: block; height: 240px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494206222957188866" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TD9Xc0IalwI/AAAAAAAAAXs/k5r4UrXZULY/s320/IMG_7476.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Durum wraps were unwrapped to reveal glistening, moist, spiced meat, promptly loaded with all of the above, and raised to mouths, tomato, lemon, and meat juices gushing.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TD9YC72fHzI/AAAAAAAAAX8/ZA-OHY2jGPg/s1600/IMG_7480.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px; float: left; height: 240px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494206877864501042" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TD9YC72fHzI/AAAAAAAAAX8/ZA-OHY2jGPg/s320/IMG_7480.JPG" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TD9YPdk2WII/AAAAAAAAAYE/hEyJdWCF22o/s1600/IMG_7479.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 320px; float: right; height: 240px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494207093075761282" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TD9YPdk2WII/AAAAAAAAAYE/hEyJdWCF22o/s320/IMG_7479.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The spicy meat was delicious and moist, and the secret of tantuni is in the method of cooking. The minced meat is cooked in a conical metal contraption that captures the fat and juices in the center, where the meat to be served is doused and seared with a bit of water.<br /><br />This video is chatty, but it shows how lightening-fast the cooking method is:<br /><br /><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lKfLKxt4fAE&hl=en_US&fs=1?rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lKfLKxt4fAE&hl=en_US&fs=1?rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"></embed></object><br /><br />Somehow, after a walk on the seaside boardwalk, we found room for a scoop of ice cream from Balli Baba Dondurma--a more stiff, glutinous ice cream than one might be used to, but delicious--there was everything from almond and honey to pistachio and melon.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TD9WoLPcDrI/AAAAAAAAAXk/PI6WtZOMY04/s1600/IMG_7483.JPG"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; display: block; height: 240px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494205318627593906" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TD9WoLPcDrI/AAAAAAAAAXk/PI6WtZOMY04/s320/IMG_7483.JPG" border="0" /></a>It was the perfect ending to a tantuni feast. </div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-68148563939251274702010-06-01T15:01:00.000-07:002010-06-03T15:01:11.944-07:00Bottega<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TAWJqD8b84I/AAAAAAAAAXc/VD53ldQCdPI/s1600/Bottega.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 313px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/TAWJqD8b84I/AAAAAAAAAXc/VD53ldQCdPI/s400/Bottega.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477935877472383874" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(photograph: Lucy Harker, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Loose-Images/381991388083?ref=nf">Loose Images</a>)</span><br /><br /></span></span></div>Just when you thought that Oxford's Jericho neighbourhood couldn't get any hipper, a new kid on the block moves in. That new kid is Bottega Food and Wine Bar. Located opposite the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=128240240400">Albion Beatnik Bookstore</a>, this small stretch of Walton Street could give Little Clarendon a run for its money. And what is a hipster enclave without a wine bar, anyway?<br /><br />This bank holiday weekend I found myself there twice. In two days. Clearly, there's a certain magnetism to its exposed walls and floors, which, not more than three weeks ago, wore the tired carpet and wall coverings of Uddins Manzil Indian restaurant.<br /><br />As I chatted with Chris (co-owner with friend Maurizio) and <a href="http://www.thebigbangrestaurants.co.uk/index.htm">Max Mason</a> from <a href="http://www.thebigbangrestaurants.co.uk/index.htm">The Big Bang</a> (Bottega's neighbour), reminiscing about Uddin's slow slide from culinary grace, there were fleeting pangs of guilt for feeling just that happy that Bottega had moved in.<br /><br />When the owners of Uddins Manzil decided to open for an evening (never any posted hours, and multiple attempts at identifying weekly patterns were futile), they made a decent curry. It was probably reheated from frozen, due to such erratic hours, but if you could push those thoughts to one side, the staff's friendliness and warm atmosphere of the place could go some way in making up for this.<br /><br />The more I thought about it the more I realised I wasn't tied to the mediocre curry, but more so to the circumstances behind meals shared there. There was the time that myself and two friends collapsed into a booth after spending an hour trying to liberate a pigeon that had flown into my open window one afternoon and, having shat on an essay chapter on Heidegger and the greater part of Virginia Woolf's oeuvre, decided to roost on my bookshelf and refused to move. There was many a birthday dinner had there, and, given the fact that, when open, it was nearly almost empty, Uddins was the go-to spot for an impromptu meal with a large group.<br /><br />Bottega is still ironing out a few wrinkles--their <a href="http://www.bottegaoxford.co.uk/">website</a> is under construction--but word of mouth seems to be all that is necessary to ensure ample traffic on the weekends, and I've no doubt that steady streams of customers will be flowing in and out on weeknights in no time.<br /><br />The wine list is carefully edited, with just over a dozen reds and whites to choose from, along with a handful of sparkling wines and champagne. Friends and I devoured an Adlestrop cheese with bread and fruity olive oil, along with some wild boar chorizo. The reds I've sampled so far have ranged from a sharper-than-usual Rioja to a wonderful glass from Portugal, and my 4 GBP glass of prosecco was both delicious and more than reasonably priced.<br /><br />Benvenuto, Bottega!<br />123 Walton StreetAnniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-60472718995629870742010-05-13T10:41:00.000-07:002010-05-13T15:53:15.409-07:00Simple ThingsLast night some friends and I decided to brave the <a href="http://www.veritas.org/Home.aspx">Veritas Forum</a>, a Christian organisation begun at Harvard that hosts discussion forums to engage with 'life's hardest questions'.<br /><br />Needless <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xQPQL42NI/AAAAAAAAAWg/VKOjYZLMfk0/s1600/IMG_7137.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 155px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xQPQL42NI/AAAAAAAAAWg/VKOjYZLMfk0/s320/IMG_7137.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470835870321400018" border="0" /></a>to say, opposite John Haldane (Professor of philosophy and Director of the Centre for Ethics, Philosophy and Public Affairs at the University of St. Andrews), Christopher Hitchens (<span style="font-style: italic;">Vanity Fair</span> columnist and author of <span style="font-style: italic;">God is </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Not Great: How Religion</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> Poisons Everything</span>) was on the defensive.<br /><br />Hitchens's penchant for emotive hyperbole didn't necessarily serve to illuminate<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xQfPsQk_I/AAAAAAAAAWo/HLQll8SRNKk/s1600/IMG_7139.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 98px; height: 131px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xQfPsQk_I/AAAAAAAAAWo/HLQll8SRNKk/s320/IMG_7139.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470836145066644466" border="0" /></a> one's understanding of deeper, ontological conundrums, but he proved, nonetheless, to be a thoughtful and entertaining opponent of Professor Haldane's argument for religion's presence in the 'public square'.<br /><br />The discussion veered away from doctrine--a credit to both speakers--and centred on experience and humanist common ground. Which, in turn, left me compelled not by either set of convictions, but, rather, brimming with more questions. Don't worry--I won't be sharing those here!<br /><br />This is where a vain attempt at seamless transition is made: In the presence of these burly complexities, I find I have, of late, made attempts to simplify some quotidian things, and food did not escape the minimising zeal.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Simple reached sublime last week when the urge to splurge saw me walk into Gluttons on Walton Street and emerge with rosemary '<a href="http://www.seggiano.co.uk/products/04cheese/lingue.html">Lingue</a>', olives, a bottle of prosecco, local cherry tomatoes and fresh basil, and--the piece de resistance--<a href="http://www.fresh-n-local.co.uk/producers/WindrushValleyGoatDairy.php">Windrush Valley wild garlic fresh goats' cheese</a>. The tomatoes were chopped and promptly tossed with salt, pepper, olive oil and torn basil; more than one glass of prosecco was poured; and I consumed nearly an entire round of cheese in one sitting. Each element complimented the other, and none of the preparation could really be called cooking.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xRB0LHuII/AAAAAAAAAWw/L_tkMcC4RFw/s1600/IMG_7121.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xRB0LHuII/AAAAAAAAAWw/L_tkMcC4RFw/s320/IMG_7121.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470836738975316098" border="0" /></a>The rest of the tomatoes and basil then became caprese.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xRXQqK2mI/AAAAAAAAAW4/3koeP0lKQ30/s1600/IMG_7127.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xRXQqK2mI/AAAAAAAAAW4/3koeP0lKQ30/s320/IMG_7127.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470837107398990434" border="0" /></a>Another recent, memorable weeknight dinner was an interpretation of '<a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Sake-Steamed-Sea-Bass-with-Ginger-and-Green-Onions-107923">Sake-Steamed Sea Ba</a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xtCWRNJ-I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/h6r_faSgm_0/s1600/IMG_7133.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 175px; height: 275px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xtCWRNJ-I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/h6r_faSgm_0/s320/IMG_7133.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470867534453221346" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Sake-Steamed-Sea-Bass-with-Ginger-and-Green-Onions-107923">ss with Ginger and Green Onion</a>'. Well, my version ended up being Mirin-Steamed Salmon Ginger and Garlic', but it was no-fuss and delicious. I ate the left-overs cold for lunch, with couscous and a salad.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xswKs1B9I/AAAAAAAAAXI/cl5IcNU1V1o/s1600/IMG_7136.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 228px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S-xswKs1B9I/AAAAAAAAAXI/cl5IcNU1V1o/s320/IMG_7136.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470867222110210002" border="0" /></a>(an improvised steamer)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I'm not certain out of what this need to simplify came. Perhaps, now that summer is daring to actually unfold in the coming weeks, there's an inclination to eat 'clean', fresh food. Perhaps, when everything else in life seems to refuse order, placing a round, plump orb of fresh cheese, amongst oblong moons of tomatoes and olives, the cosmos becomes clearer.</div></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-14085644501011320672010-04-27T14:23:00.000-07:002010-05-01T11:07:56.188-07:00Money Where Your Mouth Is<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S9xtj5MOp_I/AAAAAAAAAWY/7GAspnmIYok/s1600/IMG_5462.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S9xtj5MOp_I/AAAAAAAAAWY/7GAspnmIYok/s320/IMG_5462.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466364511135901682" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">A cow in Port Meadow, Oxford</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Living in a university town can be a blessing and a curse. It's quite difficult to top Blackwell's bookshop(s); nursing a cup of coffee for three hours is entirely acceptable; loitering is, in fact, condoned, if not encouraged, and I got by with discounts in many a shop and cinema before a disgruntled Bodleian librarian gleefully <span style="font-style: italic;">julienned</span> my reader's card before my eyes. And then there are all those open lectures, art exhibitions, concerts, and 'dreaming spires'...<br /><br />When it comes to food, however, there can often be a price to pay. It struck me tonight, as I was polishing off the last of my pint of <a href="http://www.daylesfordorganic.com/">Daylesford Organic</a> vanilla ice cream (I know, dear reader, that you are surely as shocked as I that it hath lasted since my last post!), that I've been having a conversation on loop.<br /><br />Where has the dining gone? Or, was it ever really there in the first place? I'm not talking Michelin stars, though those are found not too far afield, in fact; Raymond Blanc's <a href="http://www.manoir.com/">Le Manoir Aux Quat'Saisons</a> has held on to two for an admirable 25 years. What one finds in between Le Manoir and an Oxford kebab van is stratified territory of extremes.<br /><br />You could argue that, at a time when a KFC delight called the 'Double Down' is being test marketed in Nebraska and Rhode Island, it's a rather rich thing to do to complain about the middle-of-the-road food scene in Oxford. Interestingly, the 'Double Down' has been <a href="http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/comments_blog/2010/04/kfc-double-down-sandwich-will-you-be-buying.html">reported to have 1,380 milligrams of sodium</a>, just topping the<a href="http://www.cherwell.org/content/10194"> average <span style="font-style: italic;">caloric</span> content</a> of a kebab from an Oxford van--1,338.<br /><br />The dining scene in Oxford caters to its dominant demographic--students. And rightly so. Something cheap, and most likely portable, can be had everywhere you turn. From burritos to take-away salads and sandwiches, to Nepalese momo and the ever-present pasty, one's never deprived of choice.<br /><br />It's when you want to <span style="font-style: italic;">dine</span> out that the gastronomic landscape shrinks to just a handful of independently-owned staples. As a student, the question always arose: 'where can I get my parents to take me while they're in town?' The answer was usually <a href="http://www.gees-restaurant.co.uk/">Gee's</a>, part of a group of local hotels and restaurants, which serves seasonal British fare in a converted glass conservatory. The food is consistent, the quality good, and the ambiance enjoyable, but after a few dining experiences, it gets old.<br /><br />A friend, completing his master's, and his fifth year at the University, was pondering this very question last week, and the group of us sat around our pints at the King's Arms frustratingly at a loss. Sure, there's <a href="http://www.edamame.freeserve.co.uk/">Edamame</a>, <a href="http://www.tapasoxford.co.uk/">Al Andalus</a>, <a href="http://www.pierrevictoire.co.uk/">Pierre Victoire</a>, and <a href="http://www.branca-restaurants.com/">Branca</a>, but each poses either an impossible queue or menus that aren't particularly inventive or changing. Max Mason's <a href="http://www.thebigbangrestaurants.co.uk/aboutus.htm">The Big Bang</a> comes closest in terms of representing the best in Oxfordshire and Berkshire produce. All ingredients sourced from small, independent suppliers within a 20-mile radius of Oxford. But, then again, the menu is limited to sausage and mash, and while it can't be beat on a lazy Sunday afternoon, there's no starched linen, nor sense of occasion, in its understated dining room.<br /><br />If only this ethical, green, local sourcing could be given an <span style="font-style: italic;">haute cuisine</span> boost.<br /><br />Max Mason and The Big Bang have definitely achieved standing in the affordable niche, and that is precisely what that restaurant aimed to do. <span style="font-style: italic;">The Independent</span> chose it as the third-best place to eat in Britain for under 50 GBP. A gaping hole exists in the Oxford market, however, for a fine dining experience that celebrates the bounty of local produce.<br /><br />For the time being, I suppose I shall have to be content eating vicariously through Prue Leith, as she judges yet another round of <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0071y6r">Great British Menu</a> chefs!Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-59633212014416820452010-04-18T10:24:00.000-07:002010-04-18T11:31:52.494-07:00When a Craving Takes Flight<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S8tAZQRGyKI/AAAAAAAAAWA/vtyHonmDBtU/s1600/IMG_7042.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S8tAZQRGyKI/AAAAAAAAAWA/vtyHonmDBtU/s400/IMG_7042.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461529775724480674" border="0" /></a><br />Recent weeks have been peppered with a sense of longing. I'm not sure that 'nostalgia' is the term I'm looking for because that implies a lingering sentimentality, whereas these moments were fleeting-acute but not weighty enough to bring out the Linus security blanket and a pint of Ben & Jerry's. Though I DID recently purchase some <a href="http://www.daylesfordorganic.com/page/home">Dalesford Organic</a> vanilla to try...<br /><br />One food memory in particular came to the fore on Friday afternoon. <span style="font-weight: bold;">I wanted buffalo chicken, and I wanted it bad. </span><br /><br />In the town where I went to college, there was a pub called <a href="http://www.wendellspub.net/">Wendell's</a>. They were famous for their wings, and the small operation supplied myself and friends many much-needed pitchers of beer and bowls of wings towards the time our theses came due. Wendell's was the kind of place where locals grudgingly shared the greasy air with the 'gown' crowd; the fact that a website for the place is even in existence is a bid odd. However, their wing reputation clearly precedes their 'Two fryolaters, one grill, and only one cook'.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S8tOWYOXaqI/AAAAAAAAAWI/MSDB3x1ZxJE/s1600/IMG_7035.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S8tOWYOXaqI/AAAAAAAAAWI/MSDB3x1ZxJE/s320/IMG_7035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461545119483652770" border="0" /></a><br />A quick search for the 'ultimate' buffalo recipe led me to the <a href="http://americanfood.about.com/od/appetizersandsoups/r/bufchicwing.htm">Anchor Bar's recipe</a>, arguably the 'original'. The next major hurdle was to track down some Frank's Hot Sauce in Oxford. After posting a desperate message on Facebook, the sauce was sourced from Waitrose--just a short bus journey away--and I was determined to make these wings.<br /><br />At just 1.75 GBP for a package of two dozen chicken wings, I decided to splurge and get some tenders as well. After discovering chipotle paste in stock, how could I not?<br /><br />I stuck as close as possible to this variation on Anchor Bar's recipe; I lightly oiled the wings, tossed them in flour and baked at 425, turning over once, for about 40 mins. I followed the sauce recipe as closely as possible, too, though I had to substitute chili powder for cayenne and fresh garlic for garlic powder. A toss in the sauce and there they were--in their spicy, vinegary glory. Nothing beats that singe-your-nostril-hair acidity cut with tangy heat. Having oven baked them with just two Tbs. of vegetable oil, and having used half-fat bleu cheese dressing, I felt <span style="font-style: italic;">almost </span>guilt-free about all that crispy chicken skin.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S8tO1QHJtuI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/isFay5EuRbY/s1600/IMG_7030.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S8tO1QHJtuI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/isFay5EuRbY/s320/IMG_7030.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461545649881855714" border="0" /></a>For the tenders, I coated them in 1 Tbs. of oil, 1 Tbs. of Frank's, and 2 Tbs. of chipotle paste, followed by a quick egg wash and, finally, a coating of breadcrumbs and baked them in a similar manner.<br /><br />I'm thinking these will be great throughout the week in wraps and salads.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-49723850547595972092010-04-12T11:40:00.000-07:002010-04-12T12:20:48.776-07:00'Fancy' Tuna Salad. Tower optional.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S8NrjcMrM-I/AAAAAAAAAV4/MWn4-09P9P0/s1600/IMG_7022.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 362px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S8NrjcMrM-I/AAAAAAAAAV4/MWn4-09P9P0/s400/IMG_7022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459325429912122338" border="0" /></a><br />So, this post was supposed to be about tuna and avocado. Instead, as you can clearly see, it's just about tuna. I sliced open my lonely avocado that I had patiently let ripen past the baseball stage--a rookie error in the UK, I soon found out--and found it riddled with fat brown veins.<br /><br />I suppose one lives, one learns, and one gets over the fact that avocados here will never be as good as in the ones in the States.<br /><br />I digress. Imagine gem-like pieces of avocado among the tomato, ok?<br /><br />In high school, my French host mother in Biarritz often served me half and avocado with its cavity filled to the brim with tuna and mustardy mayonnaise. I'm sure the mayonnaise was homemade, and I shudder to think how little I appreciated it then. I have only recently warmed to it (I know, I know...), and I still can't stand it in its unadulterated form; chuck it in artichoke dip, with mountains of garlic in aioli, or pair it with ample ketchup and mustard for dipping with fries, and I'm very content to eat it.<br /><br />As for this tuna salad, I was trying to keep things light, so I used a low-fat creamy salad dressing. Really, any vinaigrette or dressing would work. Mirin, rice wine vinegar and sesame oil could be good, as well. What I found really made this good was the minced coriander, chili, and yellow pepper. Along with some lime juice and a dash of Worcestershire sauce, it was refreshing and clean tasting, rather than overly creamy or heavy.<br /><br />I can't lie; I missed the avocado, but mixed together with the tomato and served with some wholegrain pumpkin seed crispbread, it was dinner. Not so bad for cleaning out the cupboards on a Monday night.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-71965591903395979012010-04-06T15:13:00.000-07:002010-04-08T14:20:12.059-07:00Faux Pho Fantastic<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S75A2tE2_3I/AAAAAAAAAVo/_y_8MmL8R1g/s1600/IMG_6994.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S75A2tE2_3I/AAAAAAAAAVo/_y_8MmL8R1g/s400/IMG_6994.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457871106976710514" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Any Londoner who's wandered downtrodden, bleary-eyed, and laden with shopping bags away from the 'Oxford Street Tide' up Great Titchfield Street knows that <a href="http://www.phocafe.co.uk/">Pho</a> is not far away. That deliciously sloppy, utterly comforting, hot, spicy, fragrant Vietnamese noodle dish is a warm salve from the inside out after a weary afternoon of damage in Selfridges.<br /><br />The enormous steaming bowls are accompanied by heaps of crunchy bean sprouts, Thai/holy basil, mint, lime, bird's eye chilis, and variety of sauces ranging from sweet to hot-sweet to bitter-hot. And there's always extra fish sauce on hand.<br /><br />Pho--pronunced 'fuh'--very likely comes from the French word 'feu', as an appropriation of the French dish pot-au-feu. Pho bac, or pho from northern Vietnam, is more straightforward in its flavours and reflects the origins of the dish, which are thought to be near Hanoi. When French colonists began slaughtering cows for meat, pot-au-feu, the beef, and the word stuck. Pho bac broth is clear and clean, less layered than its tarted up bedfellow of the South--pho nam--and many purists consider it to be the <span style="font-style: italic;">true</span> pho.<br /><br />Being the wanton glutton that I am, I tend to steer towards the pho nam for its deep, rich broth. While reading up a bit on pho, I was struck by the extent to which the dish represents so completely the history of Vietnam--from its colonial past to the eating habits and histories of North and South. It's no surprise that it's considered somewhat of a national dish. Historically, the South has been spared the food shortages suffered in the North, and the sheer amount of fresh condiments<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>served with pho nam attests to this fact. The growing number of pho restaurants in the US (particularly on the coasts) and Canada (especially around Vancouver) naturally reflects the influx of Vietnamese refugees to these regions some forty years ago. Pho in London is one of the first places I've encountered in the UK to get pho, and I've no doubt that its popularity will only grow. When is someone going to come out with the iPho application for the UK?<br /><br />Last Tuesday I was desperate for a quick soup, and as Pho was so far far away, I decided to try my hand at a faux feu. Before dashing out the door to a pilates class, I set beef broth on a low simmer and threw in smashed garlic cloves, an inch-long cube of ginger, some lemongrass (beaten and cut into chunks), a red birdseye chili, roughly chopped, and a glug of soy and a glug of fish sauce and let it go for an hour or so. I left the lid ajar, and when I came back the broth had reduced slightly, the house smelled wonderful, and all that was left to do was throw in some thinly sliced red peppers, some pork and shrimp wontons, some rice noodles, one more fresh chili for a good kick, and top with green onions and coriander. I like mine on the hot side, so I added some sambal oelek, along with more nam pla (fish sauce).<br /><br />Bliss.<br /><br />The wontons were decidedly unconventional, but they were also so comforting and rich, having cooked through in the broth. After dumping in whatever you wish to add, it's best to let the whole lot simmer for a minute or two, until the vegetables are just slightly softened and the broth has absorbed into or cooked the protein. Tofu would be wonderful here, too...along with the kitchen sink.<br /><br />So, not exactly pho bac, nor pho nam. It was absolutely faux pho, but for a weeknight meal that is warming from the gut, it hit the spot.<br /><br />And the leftover ingredients made for excellent peanut noodles!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S75DRYknLXI/AAAAAAAAAVw/MQnkYwaFOpM/s1600/IMG_7002.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S75DRYknLXI/AAAAAAAAAVw/MQnkYwaFOpM/s400/IMG_7002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457873764352470386" border="0" /></a>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-79230922343356446692010-03-25T10:45:00.000-07:002010-03-31T14:27:05.329-07:00Edinburgh on My Mind<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vYZOk0spI/AAAAAAAAAVg/knpBHmlVkhg/s1600/IMG_6766.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vYZOk0spI/AAAAAAAAAVg/knpBHmlVkhg/s400/IMG_6766.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452689701782991506" border="0" /></a><br />Where to begin? No, I haven't thrown in the towel. Just yet. It's been a whirlwind of a past few months with a jaunt to Scotland, trips to London, and lots of work in between.<br /><br />Along the way, there has been food, however. Oh, has there been food!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vTSABbOCI/AAAAAAAAAVI/mIwEnP4qG68/s1600/IMG_6745.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 235px; height: 176px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vTSABbOCI/AAAAAAAAAVI/mIwEnP4qG68/s320/IMG_6745.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452684080059201570" border="0" /></a>Itchy feet caught up with me in February, and being whisked away to Edinburgh for a stay at <a href="http://www.thebalmoralhotel.com/">The Balmoral Hotel</a> was all that the Rocco Forte destination promised and more. I don't think I've slept as soundly as I did in those three nights than in three months together.<br /><br />An afternoon spa package came with a complimentary light lunch at Hadrian's Brasserie. A goat's cheese tart and braised beef with cabbage and potato gratin must have been miles away, however, from the Michelin starred Number One restaurant, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vUXPOMI8I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/GihXfL7-2ZE/s1600/IMG_6814.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 139px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vUXPOMI8I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/GihXfL7-2ZE/s320/IMG_6814.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452685269550244802" border="0" /></a>just a hop across the hotel lobby. The beef had not reached the melt-in-your-mouth state that any properly braised bit of protein should, and the tart--probably constructed twelve hours earlier--tasted like it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />No harm done--I was off to the spa! Emerging 3 hours later as a new woman, dinner brought us to The Outsider, where my most memorable meal of the trip was had. There is nothing like Scottish wild salmon. One thinks one has had salmon before, and Copper River fillets are certainly up there with the rest, but this salmon was otherworldly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vV0FvnkYI/AAAAAAAAAVY/q1IGRkvBDYU/s1600/DSCN3119.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vV0FvnkYI/AAAAAAAAAVY/q1IGRkvBDYU/s320/DSCN3119.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452686864733933954" border="0" /></a>Dressed in a light, creamy roasted red pepper sauce and served on a bed of wilted spinach and fennel, all of the earthy, charred flavours heightened, rather than detracted from, the delicate fish. Accompanied by garlic shoestring frites, we were happy customers.<br /><br />I think Scottish hospitality has something to do with it as well. Every server, doorman, sales person, and clerk was helpful, charming, and...well...just nice. Also, the men at the Missoni Hotel, dressed in Missoni kilts, were not hard on the eyes, either. This, enhanced, I think, by the delightfully deadly Vespa martini I had at the bar.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vONfUerYI/AAAAAAAAAUw/pWVAdR6Hzqg/s1600/IMG_6744.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 203px; height: 152px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vONfUerYI/AAAAAAAAAUw/pWVAdR6Hzqg/s320/IMG_6744.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452678505003134338" border="0" /></a>Other highlights, gastronomically speaking, were a bresaola, rocket, and Parmesan salad at too-cool-for-school <a href="http://www.centotre.com/">CentoTre</a> and a glorious 28-day aged Aberdeen beef fillet with bernaise at the more starched-collared <a href="http://www.tempus-edinburgh.co.uk/">Tempus</a>, both on George Street.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vPUC8w4-I/AAAAAAAAAU4/_9HPbsxEE_U/s1600/IMG_6847.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vPUC8w4-I/AAAAAAAAAU4/_9HPbsxEE_U/s320/IMG_6847.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452679717158183906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Topped off, of course, with sticky toffee pudding!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vRVbD5UII/AAAAAAAAAVA/6Wwf9XsIqBk/s1600/IMG_6850.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S6vRVbD5UII/AAAAAAAAAVA/6Wwf9XsIqBk/s200/IMG_6850.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452681939833671810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Edinburgh was like a bigger-<span style="font-style: italic;">dare I say it?</span>-better Oxford. For student life, Oxbridge is the place--a veritable playground of Colleges to choose from, each one offering a more packed social schedule than the next. But what about life after the Ivory Tower?<br /><br />A recent incident involving a Bodleian librarian julienning my old reader's card with a scissors really drove home the fact that that chapter has ended, as much as it smarts to admit it. Doors, metaphorical or otherwise, tend to slam behind one when living in a university town sans programme of study, and it's time to look steadily onwards. And the view from the castle was breathtaking.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-38393362688547423562010-01-28T10:13:00.000-08:002010-01-31T13:13:57.672-08:00Aussie Aussie Aussie! Et du vin aussi<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2HYZXJ6NAI/AAAAAAAAATw/FbrLco7i-3I/s1600-h/IMG_6602.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2HYZXJ6NAI/AAAAAAAAATw/FbrLco7i-3I/s400/IMG_6602.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431860555809436674" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">D's Australia Day Pavlova<br /><br /><br /></span></div>Yes, it is that time of year when those of us not lucky enough to have been born in a country or a hemisphere where the average annual temperature rarely dips below 'balmy' take part in celebrating with those who have.<br /><br />Yes, it was Australia Day on Tuesday 26 January!<br /><br />Commemorating the arrival in Sydney Cove of the First Fleet of the British Navy in 1788, this rather controversial public holiday is typically rung in on the beach with copious amounts of beer and barbecue.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2RrLR0sXLI/AAAAAAAAAT4/B5H379TtjP0/s1600-h/IMG_6542.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2RrLR0sXLI/AAAAAAAAAT4/B5H379TtjP0/s400/IMG_6542.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432584892022807730" border="0" /></a><br />Here in Blighty, however, being in the dead of January chill, we celebrated with our Aussie, D., huddled in warm kitchen where we devoured a pavlova to end all pavlovas... The meringue was perfection--firm, dry and crunchy on the outside with a tacky centre layer--topped with cream and a bounty of fruit. It was neither heavy nor too sweet, but was light, pillowy, and fresh. We all asked for seconds.<br /><br />Prior to this celebration on the 26th itself, we found ourselves at a wine tasting of Australian and New Zealand wines sponsored by the St Antony's College Wine Tasting Society--commonly known as the Antonian Wine Tasting Society.<br /><br />Our host--let's call her Janine--was a bubbly Social Secretary who apparently hadn't eaten much preceding the tasting. As the evening progressed, her introductions to the wines became ever more abbreviated as her eyes ravenously scanned the plates of cheese and crackers dotting the tables. D. made the point that, perhaps, slabs of Sainsbury's Own Mature Cheddar and Brie, unceremoniously slid from plastic and plopped onto plates, may not have been the best choice of accompaniments for maintaining an untainted palette.<br /><br />In any case, Janine held it together quite well, and we ignored the lactic slick on our tongues as she led us through a flight of six wines:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XG8OW5b6I/AAAAAAAAAUA/wiJWQrMBMYk/s1600-h/pioneer_block6_sauvignonblanc2009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 61px; height: 212px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XG8OW5b6I/AAAAAAAAAUA/wiJWQrMBMYk/s200/pioneer_block6_sauvignonblanc2009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432967263440957346" border="0" /></a><br /><br />1. <a href="http://www.saintclair.co.nz/wines/tastingnoteP.asp?WiID=342">Saint Clair: Pioneer Block, #6 'Oh Block'</a><br />2009 Sauvingnon Blanc<br />Marlborough, NZ<br />14.99 GBP<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />This wine was reminiscent of a Sancerre and had bold citrus flavours of passion fruit and black current. Its acid would counter any creamy poultry or seafood dish. Spaghetti alle vongole or clam chowder, anyone?<br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XLSLmbtrI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/2vSekmPofYk/s1600-h/Image+Tarrawarra+Chardonnay.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 58px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XLSLmbtrI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/2vSekmPofYk/s200/Image+Tarrawarra+Chardonnay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432972038704445106" border="0" /></a>2. <a href="http://www.tarrawarra.com.au/">Tarra Warra Estate, 'Tin Cows'</a><br />2004 Chardonnay<br />Yarra Valley, Australia<br />9.99 GBP<br /></div><div style="text-align: right;">Not one to choose Chardonnay even when the best varietals are on offer,<br />I hesitated with this one. We all have experienced<br />those horrible Chardonnays from California and Australia<br />too many times. Thankfully, we were all pleasantly surprised.<br />More mineral than fruity, buttery with subtle notes--<br />none of that smacked-in-the-jowl-with-an-oak plank woodiness.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XJuIDNRCI/AAAAAAAAAUI/EhJi2Aa9wGc/s1600-h/mod_imageSource.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 50px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XJuIDNRCI/AAAAAAAAAUI/EhJi2Aa9wGc/s200/mod_imageSource.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432970319764472866" border="0" /></a><br /><br />3. <a href="http://www.schildestate.com.au/home/">Schild Estate</a><br />2006 Riesling<br />Barossa Valley, Australia<br />10.99 GBP<br /><br />This Riesling was much drier than any of us anticipated, which was nice. A very balanced, all-around sturdy Riesling.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XOKvyVDjI/AAAAAAAAAUY/SxDaMlo6Wmg/s1600-h/Pinot_Noir_2008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 75px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XOKvyVDjI/AAAAAAAAAUY/SxDaMlo6Wmg/s200/Pinot_Noir_2008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432975209513946674" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><br />4. <a href="http://www.rabbitranch.co.nz/">Rabbit Ranch</a><br />2008 Pinot Noir<br />Central Otago, NZ<br />16.99 GBP<br /><br />Central Otago's location along the 45th parallel ensures the slow ripening of this wine, whose grape requires such gentle coaxing. Rabbit Ranch says it's made in a 'very soft, fruit-forward, low tannin style', and that's precisely what it was.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XQtqKVpLI/AAAAAAAAAUg/IHWTp7MwVXY/s1600-h/redbank_fightingflat_main.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XQtqKVpLI/AAAAAAAAAUg/IHWTp7MwVXY/s200/redbank_fightingflat_main.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432978008322712754" border="0" /></a>5. <a href="http://www.redbankwines.com/product.asp?p=60&b=49&l=117&v=2706">Redbank, 'Fighting Flat'</a><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">2006 Shiraz<br />King Valley, Australia<br />10.95 GBP<br /><br />This wine could have seen a few more years in the cellar, as the winery's website suggests 5-7 years. It might have developed a bit more as the red fruit and cedar-y notes were blunt.<br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XSNqrZhmI/AAAAAAAAAUo/hI4hyET3zJA/s1600-h/49bottle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 56px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XSNqrZhmI/AAAAAAAAAUo/hI4hyET3zJA/s200/49bottle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432979657728820834" border="0" /></a><br />6. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S2XSNqrZhmI/AAAAAAAAAUo/hI4hyET3zJA/s1600-h/49bottle.jpg"></a><a href="http://www.grantburgewines.com.au/thewines/?wine=49">Grant Burge 'Holy Trinity'</a><br />2003 Grenache-Mouvedre-Shiraz<br />Barossa Valley, Australia<br />19.95 GBP<br /><br />50 % Grenache, 33 % Mouvedre and 17 % Shiraz<br />Full and up-front fruit and spice that would be great with<br />red meat or an arrabiata sauce.<br /></div><br /><br />AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE! OYE OYE OYE!<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-38328249522864454272010-01-17T09:02:00.000-08:002010-01-17T11:16:41.182-08:00Something old, something new, something tangy, something...slipperyOne of my favourite things about Oxford is how international a community it is. My close-knit group of friends alone represent Africa, Australasia, Asia, Europe, the Middle East, and North America. I clearly need to make a concerted effort with the lovely Central and South Americans around!<br /><br />If our pot luck dinners had a representative chef it would more likely be <a href="http://www.chefmarcussamuelsson.com/">Marcus Samuelsson</a> than Julia Child or Gordon Ramsay.<br /><br />Our friends enrich our lives every day, challenging us, helping us to see ourselves as we are, making us all better people. One of the best things, though, is gathering around a table of food cooked by friends or for friends and tucking in to something new and different and--whether you like the taste or not--made with much love.<br /><br />What is also truly exciting and wonderful is receiving gifts of food from other parts of the world, offering the opportunity to taste something that I truly would never have been exposed to otherwise. When I returned to the UK from the December holiday I was graced with two such tokens!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S1NfcmTPJ0I/AAAAAAAAATY/TQ8XOjtj2To/s1600-h/IMG_6540.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S1NfcmTPJ0I/AAAAAAAAATY/TQ8XOjtj2To/s320/IMG_6540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427786920833787714" border="0" /></a>N. was kind enough to bring back a hefty bag of FaFa Fruit Bar from Tehran, which is something like a giant sheet of fruit leather. Being something of a connoisseur of fruit leather from those early days of after-school snacks and last-minute pick-me-ups surrounding sports matches, I was overjoyed to be presented with such a bounty of it.<br /><br />The paper closure to the enormous plastic bag containing the snack shows cartoon characters, each more happy about their respective apple, plum, apricot, red currant (I think), cherry and tamarind paste (unsure, here also...) than the other.<br /><br />N. informed us that, just as one might find in the States, the product comes in a variety of flavours, but that the sour was the best. Even without having tasted the others, I would have to agree. The tar-coloured stuff tastes great! It's also oddly addictive. The sourness is not too intense, just enough so that I find myself tearing just <span style="font-style: italic;">one more</span> bit off as I'm writing this.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S1Nf2_U3bTI/AAAAAAAAATg/ooF_4HiwovA/s1600-h/IMG_6536.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 119px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S1Nf2_U3bTI/AAAAAAAAATg/ooF_4HiwovA/s200/IMG_6536.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427787374228106546" border="0" /></a><br />The package also claims that it is 'A <span style="font-weight: bold;">Bound</span> Between Children & Fruits'. I cannot read or speak Farsi, and I can barely hold on to a second language, so I truly mean no disrespect when I say that I think this a highly amusing incidence that brings to mind images of siblings braiding lengths of fruit leather into ropes with which to tie each other up.<br /><br />My second gift of food came from another friend, N., this one from Nanjing. The day after she arrived back from China she came into the kitchen sheepishly asking me if I liked duck. N. has witnessed many of my culinary exploits over this year, and has been the subject of much intense questioning and pestering by yours truly. Most of the time, I am the hovering nag asking about the origins of [insert Chinese cooking technique, vegetable, spice, sauce, herb here] while she's trying to relax and cook up something simple and scrumptious for dinner.<br /><br />I said I loved duck, knowing that Nanjing is famous for its duck dishes. She then presented me with two shrink-wrapped, bright green packages the size of my palm. 'This is Duck?', I thought. There, on the package was a Sanrio Pekkle duck look-alike, sporting a bib and surrounded by flying chili peppers.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S1NgVWMMw6I/AAAAAAAAATo/M97y6bk2000/s1600-h/IMG_6538.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S1NgVWMMw6I/AAAAAAAAATo/M97y6bk2000/s320/IMG_6538.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427787895761847202" border="0" /></a><br />N. stood there while I gingerly tore away the top and a mini duck wing began to emerge, covered in a tough, slippery aspic the colour of weak tea. I have had few <a href="http://www.andrewzimmern.com/">Andrew Zimmern</a>/<a href="http://anthony-bourdain-blog.travelchannel.com/">Anthony Bourdain</a> moments in my life, but I was coming to the realisation that this might be one of them.<br /><br />I took a brave, large bite into what looked like the most fleshy part. The gelatinous outer coating was, in fact, a tasty, highly salty combination of flavours that the package lists as its ingredients:<br />fresh duck's wings, table salt, soy sauce, onion, ginger, anise, pepper, <span style="font-weight: bold;">chilioil</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Colored ground pepper</span>. The jury is still out on what 'Colored' ground pepper means, exactly, but I have to admit that the, if slightly sinewy, chewy, meat was good.<br /><br />N. explained to me that her mom had stuffed the sleeves of her sweaters with the packets, all containing various duck parts and flavours; she sweetly offered me a heart packet, but I bashfully declined. So these are the Chinese equivalent to the Hershey's chocolate Kisses I used to find in my suitcase upon arrival, back in my college dorm room! She said that these were snacks that people in Nanjing eat when watching TV or just hanging out.<br /><br />This packet also had an amusing phrase or two: 'The last English alphabet after production Date. Indicate production location.' It's like a <a href="http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com">CakeWreck</a><a href="http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com"> </a>moment of the Nanjing processed duck industry.<br /><br />All of this is to say that these small tokens mean a lot. Mouthfuls of new, different things open our eyes, make us more aware of how others live and eat, and we are the better for having experienced them, just as we are better people for the friends and family around us. Next time I'm saying 'yes' to the heart!Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-4212247315316002922010-01-10T10:18:00.001-08:002010-01-10T23:28:38.085-08:00Noel<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0ojzY6tYsI/AAAAAAAAASw/TZ0V18uwEho/s1600-h/IMG_6406.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 177px; height: 236px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0ojzY6tYsI/AAAAAAAAASw/TZ0V18uwEho/s320/IMG_6406.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425188066890179266" border="0" /></a>'Twas the season of homecoming. I had been counting the days since Thanksgiving to get back home to friends, family, the cat, and--embarrassingly high on the list--the <a href="http://www.wolfappliance.com/GasRanges/R60GasRange">Wolf range</a>. A few years of cooking on the thing, which my dad cleans and polishes as others might a rare Porsche, was like tasting forbidden fruit.<br /><br />Little did I know that the year following would see me cook every meal in my tiny town in rural France on two electric 'plaquettes' (that's electric hobs or burners). This was followed by kitchen digs which were, essentially, the servants' quarters in a beautiful home in Paris' 16th arrondissement, and finally, my own Marais <span style="font-style: italic;">cuisinette</span> (think mini fridge, two plaquettes, sink, and cupboards in a space of 4' x 2.5' x 5'). It was impressive. Even more so, the food that myself and flatmate, N., managed to coax from those two plaquettes and a <span style="font-style: italic;">micro-onde</span>.<br /><br />Going home for me in December is like cozying up to a hearth. There are always mouthwatering smells wafting from the kitchen, and the hibernation instinct manifests itself in wearing old high school sweatshirts and manic, early morning, jetleg-induced baking projects that often last throughout the day. Our family holiday season is always punctuated by my brother's Christmas Day birthday and a holiday party of friends and their families who have made the journey back from various continents and coastal states.<br /><br />There is little drama, in fact, that surrounds these events. Except, that is, when it comes to the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0ok1N4G-XI/AAAAAAAAATA/q3LltxuHwng/s1600-h/IMG_6428.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0ok1N4G-XI/AAAAAAAAATA/q3LltxuHwng/s200/IMG_6428.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425189197797849458" border="0" /></a>menu and cooking. Words like 'overambitious', 'stodge', and 'boring' become verbal lashings in answer to proposed dishes, and despite the <span style="font-style: italic;">six</span> burners and two ovens, there is always the feeling of 'too many cooks in the kitchen'.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0okW3pkj2I/AAAAAAAAAS4/Exj4N782UCo/s1600-h/IMG_6442.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0okW3pkj2I/AAAAAAAAAS4/Exj4N782UCo/s320/IMG_6442.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425188676435218274" border="0" /></a>My brother's birthday dinner proved a case in point. Meat thermometers flew as grumblings over the timing of the risotto, lobster tails, and sirloin simmered. Somehow it all came together, washed down with some lovely Perrier Jouet, and all was well again.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />New Year's Eve this year was a special one. With everyone home, we decided it was the appropriate moment to open a 1977 Taylor Fladgate Vintage Porto. May this year be as earthy, sweet, and balanced. Eat your heart out, Oxford, and a very happy 2010!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0olksvKKiI/AAAAAAAAATI/a5bnqdjfZ3s/s1600-h/IMG_6453.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0olksvKKiI/AAAAAAAAATI/a5bnqdjfZ3s/s400/IMG_6453.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425190013535660578" border="0" /></a>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-6000017753312269992010-01-04T15:59:00.000-08:002010-01-10T10:16:51.364-08:00Good golly, gnocchi<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0oVLtJ4IpI/AAAAAAAAASg/kQHSRXcDtoY/s1600-h/IMG_6364.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0oVLtJ4IpI/AAAAAAAAASg/kQHSRXcDtoY/s400/IMG_6364.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425171991964951186" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Peering at me, their little, ugly eyes daring to pierce the side of their plastic bag, my Maris Pipers were begging to be used. Thanksgiving had long come and gone, and while my growing gut said 'no', a little red devil in the form of Mario <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Batali</span>--red clogs to match his horns tap tap tapping on my shoulder--said 'yes'.<br /><br />Fresh pasta has never been an avenue I have felt comfortable exploring. Rather, I delight in ordering it in restaurants, where I know a <span style="font-style: italic;" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nonna</span> has been deftly and expertly labouring over dough for hours to create perfectly shaped mouthfuls of sauced deliciousness.<br /><br />However, some weeks ago I bit the bullet. Friend, V., was leaving for North America soon, and a few friends were coming around for dinner.<br /><br />I peeled and boiled my pound (or so) of potatoes in heavily salted water, mashed them and spread them out to cool on a cutting board. However, I don't think I let them cool enough. My impatience, combined with a gin and tonic during the interim, made me force the dough together a bit prematurely, I think. I kept adding flour, in proportions equal to those that <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/mario-batali/gnocchi-recipe2/index.html">Mario recommends</a>, and somehow added well over 2 cups...and with the addition of the eggs, the mass began to cling to the work surface in a manner that would make Elmer blush. It crept up my forearms, the crevices of the counter...everywhere! More flour. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Somehow</span> this all came together into long logs, and I began to cut small (though they grew large) bits away from each end.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0oZR033SMI/AAAAAAAAASo/iri0y06sUjM/s1600-h/IMG_6373.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/S0oZR033SMI/AAAAAAAAASo/iri0y06sUjM/s400/IMG_6373.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425176495162607810" border="0" /></a><br />Next challenge: the 'rolling' of the bits off of a fork into boiling water to give them that recognizable shape. Mine were less gnocchi-like, and far more odd dumpling-shaped...but they did rise to the top of my pot of boiling water after mere seconds, and smothered in a simple tomato sauce small cubes of mozzarella, they tasted far better than any grocery store variety I'd ever had. They may have been a motley collection of gnocchi-like blobs, but the texture was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pillowy</span> (somehow--given the amount of flour that went in!) and ever so soft. So satisfying was it, that I may give it another go--this time those mashed spuds are going to be left to rest far longer!Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-89871470549973061162009-11-29T06:52:00.000-08:002009-12-06T07:44:13.269-08:00Beard, Bread, Bananas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/SxvEHgtzGRI/AAAAAAAAASU/acZLahNP0cI/s1600-h/Banana+Bread.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/SxvEHgtzGRI/AAAAAAAAASU/acZLahNP0cI/s400/Banana+Bread.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412135010535938322" border="0" /></a><br />When it turns cold, grey and drizzly, I find myself needing banana bread. For me, banana bread represents that feeling of warmth and security that overcomes a person when walking through the front door after a trying day and a long, cold walk from the bus stop. A toasted slice or two, with a thin spreading of butter, and a cup of tea was my ultimate after-school snack.<br /><br />Thus, last week, feeling rather nostalgic and counting down the days until returning to the Twin Cities for Christmas, I called home for the butter-stained page out of James Beard's <span style="font-style: italic;">Beard on Bread</span> (Knopf, 1973). There are two versions--one with honey and another, without.<br /><br />The beauty of Beard's recipe is in the 'buttermilk', which one makes by combining 1/3 cup milk and 1 tsp. fresh lemon juice. The tang of slightly curdled milk offsets the sweetness of the sugar and banana and rounds out the flavour of the bread. Armed with GourmetSleuth's gram <a href="http://www.gourmetsleuth.com/gram_calc.htm">conversion calculator</a>, I set about converting the list of ingredients into grams. I've listed the rough conversions in the recipe below.<br /><br />Now, I am not one to go about messing with a James Beard recipe, but I did feel that, in this instance, the combination of caster sugar and brown sugar, instead of granulated sugar alone, created a totally decadent caramelised note that I will not be able to do without from this point forward.<br /><br />250g/2 cups all-purpose flour<br />1 tsp. baking soda<br />1/2 tsp. salt<br /><br />113 g/ 1.5 cup butter<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">62 g/ .5 cup caster sugar</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">62g/ .5 cup dark brown sugar</span>*<br /><br />2 eggs<br />230g/ 1 cup mashed banana<br /><br />1/3 cup milk<br />1 tsp. lemon juice<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">* </span>If you would prefer to stay true to Mr Beard's recipe, use 1 cup of granulated sugar<br /><br />Sift the flour, baking soda and salt in a sieve and set aside. Cream the butter and sugar using electric beaters (MixMaster). Add the eggs and banana to the creamed butter and sugar, combine milk and lemon juice in a glass, and then add the dry ingredients and the milk mixture in alternating additions, <span style="font-style: italic;">beginning and ending with the dry ingredients</span>. Fold in chocolate chips, raisins, or anything else that you fancy!<br /><br />Pour the batter into a <span style="font-style: italic;">lavishly</span> buttered loaf pan and bake at 350 F (176 C) for one hour.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658125175599685831.post-2526727431017652012009-11-15T05:58:00.000-08:002009-11-15T17:12:50.750-08:00Roast Chicken Salad<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/SwAdo6kcJgI/AAAAAAAAASI/yUCI7s7A4Fw/s1600-h/IMG_5692.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_QCHovim8Dik/SwAdo6kcJgI/AAAAAAAAASI/yUCI7s7A4Fw/s400/IMG_5692.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404352141598664194" border="0" /></a><br />Keeping with this recent theme of posts to do with leftovers, I thought this warm salad of leftover chicken might make a timely addition. With the mercury dropping, or, in Oxford's case, a seemingly constant cold rain falling, I find myself craving stodge in a primal way--somewhere, deep in those rare, remaining empty fat cells there is a concerted, biological chorus of voices cooing 'fatten up for winter!'<br /><br />And in a last-ditch effort this week to stick to healthy dinners, this salad fit the bill as both warming, satisfying and...well...not <span style="font-style: italic;">un</span>healthy.<br /><br />Mixed greens, washed and torn<br />1/2 small white onion, finely sliced<br />1 garlic clove, minced<br />1/2 bulb fennel, finely sliced, exterior layer removed and discarded.<br />1 apple (Pink Lady is a favourite), cut into fine slices<br />Leftover roasted chicken<br />Stilton or blue cheese, crumbled, to taste<br />Cashew nuts (optional; toasted almonds or pine nuts could work, too)<br /><br />3 Tbs. olive oil<br />1 Tbs. white wine vinegar<br />1 tsp. Dijon mustard (whole grain mustard would be fine as well)<br />Salt<br />Pepper<br /><br />In a small saute pain, add 2 tsp. olive oil and saute the onion over medium-high heat until soft and beginning to brown; then, add the sliced fennel and garlic and continue to saute another 2-3 minutes. Lower the heat and add in cubed chicken, stirring until the chicken is heated through.<br /><br />Whisk together the last five ingredients in a large bowl and toss with salad greens. Layer the greens on a plate, followed by the sliced apples, chicken/onion/fennel mixture, Stilton, and cashews.<br /><br />The salty tang of cheese, sweet apple, combined with the savoury warm ingredients hits every note and creates a satisfying mouthfeel without any stodge!Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01596340473749672852noreply@blogger.com1