i probably shouldn't pluralize the subject of today's update - in reality it's just my old flame rebecca, up in new england from awful, hot, prefab arizona. we had curry for dinner - the lao market had a new brand of dried long chili in and they're very nice - deep red (almost black) and giant. the problem is that one bag only makes about one curry. and they're cripplingly expensive - $1.39! can you believe the nerve of these people? i want at least ten pounds at that price. but the curry turned out very nice - eggplant, green sort-of-hot-peppers, enoki mushrooms, and some baby dandelion greens left over from last night (yes, i know, they're not culturally appropriate, but they're substituting for a whole giant group of bitter greens that we can't get here. so there.). oh, and tofu. which rebecca fried - the classic division of curry-labor in this household. oh, and we had caipirinhas. they go with everything.
she took pictures, too. so if they don't look terrible (and if i can figure out how) perhaps i'll put one up.
only time will tell.
22 December 2007
20 December 2007
little observation: man is the sum of his appetites
it's very late at night, so i'm keeping this brief. I meant to write this observation a few weeks ago after reading a very depressing NYT magazine article about the 'sleep industry' but i let the opportunity pass. So rather than attacking specifics, i'm going to take a pretty broad swipe.
everyone in the entire western, industrialized, abstracted world would be a whole hell of a lot happier if we all agreed that the 'simple pleasures in life' - the ones that have basically been around since the dawn of our species, the ones that anyone in the world could point out - are not means to a more significant end. eat because it's nice and satisfying and feels good; sleep and have sex and drink and listen to music and read and walk and all the other things for their own sake.
if you're only doing these things out of a sense of duty or expectation or routine or because your doctor told you to (or told you not to, or told you you had to do such-and-such but mustn't do so-and-so) you're missing the point.
i'm sure this all has been said far more elegantly by someone far smarter than i am, but it seems like, culturally, we're really losing our way. i worry especially about my own generation - values seem to be shifting so fast.
god, doesn't this all make me sound like a complete reactionary?
i'm going to sleep - i promise a recipe or something soon.
everyone in the entire western, industrialized, abstracted world would be a whole hell of a lot happier if we all agreed that the 'simple pleasures in life' - the ones that have basically been around since the dawn of our species, the ones that anyone in the world could point out - are not means to a more significant end. eat because it's nice and satisfying and feels good; sleep and have sex and drink and listen to music and read and walk and all the other things for their own sake.
if you're only doing these things out of a sense of duty or expectation or routine or because your doctor told you to (or told you not to, or told you you had to do such-and-such but mustn't do so-and-so) you're missing the point.
i'm sure this all has been said far more elegantly by someone far smarter than i am, but it seems like, culturally, we're really losing our way. i worry especially about my own generation - values seem to be shifting so fast.
god, doesn't this all make me sound like a complete reactionary?
i'm going to sleep - i promise a recipe or something soon.
19 December 2007
restaurant: the 'original' riccotti's
so i have a pretty simple way of evaluating the places i eat, which also serves as a rubric for helping me pick where to eat when i'm in a strange place. i figured i'd share it - i'll see if i can phrase it coherently: the satisfaction of a meal eaten out is a function of expectation, execution, and expense. how good did i realistically hope the meal would be? how well was it actually made? how much did it cost? the worst meal is one where the expectation and expense far outweigh the execution - this is why i so rarely eat 'contemporary american' fancy food. even when they're well-hyped, the kitchen seldom gets everything right and even if they do i'm paying heavy for it. ethnic holes-in-the-wall fill the opposite - my expectation isn't for a world-changing dinner and my out-of-pocket risk is limited. even if the meal sucks, i can shrug off $20. shrugging off $80 for food and $40 for an indifferent bottle of wine is a far, far different matter (though i suppose most 'adults' shrug off that kind of investment all the time).
with this in mind, behold the cheesesteak (working class italian is still ethnic food, huzzah). bafflingly, it's a 'steak and cheese' here in providence. they're difficult to ruin entirely (though the large chains found in malls and airports certainly try their hardest) and when done right are far far superior to a hamburger or equivalent. the 'original' riccotti's (133 atwells ave) is probably the best example of the form (that i've found) in southern new england. they manage to fry the vegetables and beef hot enough, their beef is not overly gristly, and - most important - they fully incorporate the cheese while the sandwich is still on the grill. it's a seemingly small point but it makes a world of difference. also, their rolls don't suck. despite being an artisan baker, i fully realize that almost as many sandwiches are ruined by too-good bread as by too-bad (pulled pork on 'brioche' is the other glaring example of missing the point). riccotti's have enough heft that they don't dissolve, but at the same time are soft enough to not hurt your jaw. for some reason, it's desperately hard to find this kind of grinder roll outside of the northeast corridor. any ideas why?
anyhow -
expectations: realistic
execution: first-rate
expense: $13 feeds two people almost excessively
they pretty much hit the trifecta.
with this in mind, behold the cheesesteak (working class italian is still ethnic food, huzzah). bafflingly, it's a 'steak and cheese' here in providence. they're difficult to ruin entirely (though the large chains found in malls and airports certainly try their hardest) and when done right are far far superior to a hamburger or equivalent. the 'original' riccotti's (133 atwells ave) is probably the best example of the form (that i've found) in southern new england. they manage to fry the vegetables and beef hot enough, their beef is not overly gristly, and - most important - they fully incorporate the cheese while the sandwich is still on the grill. it's a seemingly small point but it makes a world of difference. also, their rolls don't suck. despite being an artisan baker, i fully realize that almost as many sandwiches are ruined by too-good bread as by too-bad (pulled pork on 'brioche' is the other glaring example of missing the point). riccotti's have enough heft that they don't dissolve, but at the same time are soft enough to not hurt your jaw. for some reason, it's desperately hard to find this kind of grinder roll outside of the northeast corridor. any ideas why?
anyhow -
expectations: realistic
execution: first-rate
expense: $13 feeds two people almost excessively
they pretty much hit the trifecta.
18 December 2007
recipe: broadly minestrone
this is an ideal recipe for days when you look in the fridge and realize that you have several different vegetables all at or past their peak. and who cares if they're a little punked out? just don't use anything rotten. this isn't really worth going out to buy everything, though - you'll end up with a ton of stuff in the fridge that you have to use up. oh, and it's utterly simple to make vegetarian (vegan, really) - just use vegetable stock and no meat at the beginning.
assembly:
1/2lb nice fatty meat - i really think you should use pork - pancetta or good sausage or whatever, chopped or mushed up or what have you
olive oil
two small onions or one of those gigantic ones they sell at white-people grocery stores
a lot of vegetables (tonight's was carrots, eggplant, little green peppers, cabbage, mustard greens and stems, and frozen peas)
five or six cloves of garlic, chopped fine
1tsp or so of fennel seeds
1tsp oregano
a few little anchovies from a jar, packed in olive oil please
1 28oz can san marzano tomatoes, cleaned up and gooshed with their juice
1 32oz box of broth (the industrialized world switched over to boxed broth recently for some reason; trader joe's sells it pretty cheap - i prefer using chicken to beef in this)
1 16oz can cannellini beans, drained and well washed
heat a little olive oil in your dutch oven and brown your meat for a minute or two over medium heat. marcella hazan says you're supposed to stagger your addition of vegetables but you know what? i think that's silly. crank the heat all the way up and honk everything in (except for the mustard greens and peas - use common sense). stir around for a few seconds, throw in another slug of olive oil, and start them browning. the secret to all this, i think, is not to disturb them too much. you want to create a pretty dense fond on the bottom of the pot - so just molest them every few minutes, not every few seconds. once things are getting soft and stuck to the bottom, pour in a little stock and stir up all the stuff from the bottom. then let it stick back on again and add another go of stock. do this three or four times until everything is looking dark and hearty and smelling deep and brown. add your anchovies and garlic and mush them up a little. throw in the fennel and oregano too. after a few minutes more dump in the rest of the box of stock and the tomatoes. turn the heat way down, to around medium-low. after around a half-hour, add the peas and beans and greens.
finish:
salt
pepper
basil
when the soup has thickened up nicely and looks pretty done, season it well and serve. you can cook it for hours and hours and hours like most minestrone recipes call for but all that does is break the vegetables down into a pasty mass. so don't go that far. but make sure the carrots are soft, please.
makes a remarkable amount of very filling soup. but it freezes well. and it's better left over, as every fool knows.
nota bene for vegetarian and vegan readers (oh god, do i have vegan readers?): there is virtually no fat in vegetable soup unless you add it. and let me tell you how awful it is if you don't add enough. not using that half pound of fatty pork? throw in a giant slug of extra olive oil. trust me.
assembly:
1/2lb nice fatty meat - i really think you should use pork - pancetta or good sausage or whatever, chopped or mushed up or what have you
olive oil
two small onions or one of those gigantic ones they sell at white-people grocery stores
a lot of vegetables (tonight's was carrots, eggplant, little green peppers, cabbage, mustard greens and stems, and frozen peas)
five or six cloves of garlic, chopped fine
1tsp or so of fennel seeds
1tsp oregano
a few little anchovies from a jar, packed in olive oil please
1 28oz can san marzano tomatoes, cleaned up and gooshed with their juice
1 32oz box of broth (the industrialized world switched over to boxed broth recently for some reason; trader joe's sells it pretty cheap - i prefer using chicken to beef in this)
1 16oz can cannellini beans, drained and well washed
heat a little olive oil in your dutch oven and brown your meat for a minute or two over medium heat. marcella hazan says you're supposed to stagger your addition of vegetables but you know what? i think that's silly. crank the heat all the way up and honk everything in (except for the mustard greens and peas - use common sense). stir around for a few seconds, throw in another slug of olive oil, and start them browning. the secret to all this, i think, is not to disturb them too much. you want to create a pretty dense fond on the bottom of the pot - so just molest them every few minutes, not every few seconds. once things are getting soft and stuck to the bottom, pour in a little stock and stir up all the stuff from the bottom. then let it stick back on again and add another go of stock. do this three or four times until everything is looking dark and hearty and smelling deep and brown. add your anchovies and garlic and mush them up a little. throw in the fennel and oregano too. after a few minutes more dump in the rest of the box of stock and the tomatoes. turn the heat way down, to around medium-low. after around a half-hour, add the peas and beans and greens.
finish:
salt
pepper
basil
when the soup has thickened up nicely and looks pretty done, season it well and serve. you can cook it for hours and hours and hours like most minestrone recipes call for but all that does is break the vegetables down into a pasty mass. so don't go that far. but make sure the carrots are soft, please.
makes a remarkable amount of very filling soup. but it freezes well. and it's better left over, as every fool knows.
nota bene for vegetarian and vegan readers (oh god, do i have vegan readers?): there is virtually no fat in vegetable soup unless you add it. and let me tell you how awful it is if you don't add enough. not using that half pound of fatty pork? throw in a giant slug of extra olive oil. trust me.
16 December 2007
politics: i'm a single issue voter
i don't want to end up as the latest "east coast elite" blogger piling on poor mike hucklebuckle but i just have to highlight this latest bombshell from zev chafets' NYT magazine take-down:
"Six weeks ago, I met Huckabee for lunch at an Olive Garden restaurant in Midtown Manhattan. (I had offered to take him anywhere he wanted and then vetoed his first choice, T.G.I. Friday’s.)"
did your jaw drop? yes, i know, the real bombshell is supposed to be his don't-mormons-think-jesus-and-satan-are-brothers pander to the evangelical base, but that kind of lightweight theological wrangling is very boring - it's "turtles all the way down" as far as i'm concerned, folks.
(olive) garden-gate, though - there's an issue i can really get behind. as this post's title suggests, i fear a candidate's dining habits really are a litmus test. for someone to be offered a meal anywhere in the food capital of the country and then to settle on olive garden, especially after the host had to veto your first choice, shows me a tremendous neophobia. is this surprising, that a southern theocrat conservative is also a neophobe? of course not - it's to be expected. and i'm not demanding that my candidate end up out in queens eating dosas or curried innards or in chinatown eating those scary orange cuttlefish - i'm not naive enough to ask for my candidate to be an atheist, either. but c'mon - olive garden? he's lost my vote!
oh, and if i had more readers i'm sure some wag would point out that the war criminal kissinger had a very good palate. and yes, i'd rather not have someone like him with his finger on the button. but i'd let him pick where to eat if we were going out for dinner.
"Six weeks ago, I met Huckabee for lunch at an Olive Garden restaurant in Midtown Manhattan. (I had offered to take him anywhere he wanted and then vetoed his first choice, T.G.I. Friday’s.)"
did your jaw drop? yes, i know, the real bombshell is supposed to be his don't-mormons-think-jesus-and-satan-are-brothers pander to the evangelical base, but that kind of lightweight theological wrangling is very boring - it's "turtles all the way down" as far as i'm concerned, folks.
(olive) garden-gate, though - there's an issue i can really get behind. as this post's title suggests, i fear a candidate's dining habits really are a litmus test. for someone to be offered a meal anywhere in the food capital of the country and then to settle on olive garden, especially after the host had to veto your first choice, shows me a tremendous neophobia. is this surprising, that a southern theocrat conservative is also a neophobe? of course not - it's to be expected. and i'm not demanding that my candidate end up out in queens eating dosas or curried innards or in chinatown eating those scary orange cuttlefish - i'm not naive enough to ask for my candidate to be an atheist, either. but c'mon - olive garden? he's lost my vote!
oh, and if i had more readers i'm sure some wag would point out that the war criminal kissinger had a very good palate. and yes, i'd rather not have someone like him with his finger on the button. but i'd let him pick where to eat if we were going out for dinner.
15 December 2007
idea trademark: hipknacks
hot on the heels of my colin meloy - prairie home companion brainstorm comes another moneyspinner.
you know those stores that sell tchotchkes for hipsters - clever shot glasses? novelty shower curtains? fictional books made to read like non-fiction? things that look vaguely old or vaguely french? beirut's probably playing over the speakers?
they sell hipknacks. you read it hear first. hipknacks. it rolls off the tongue.
you know those stores that sell tchotchkes for hipsters - clever shot glasses? novelty shower curtains? fictional books made to read like non-fiction? things that look vaguely old or vaguely french? beirut's probably playing over the speakers?
they sell hipknacks. you read it hear first. hipknacks. it rolls off the tongue.
13 December 2007
restaurant: new wing kee
so i was looking for an excuse to go out on a long walk in the snow today (about a foot on the ground, it's great) and figured it was about time to try out the local siu mei joint, new wing kee (39 central st). is it surprising that i'm a sucker for any place that only has three or four things on the menu? it indicates a great restraint on the part of the owner, and implies that they must be doing those things pretty well.
the interior's a mess, even by my lax adventure-dining standards. comfy old couch in the corner? giant incongruous fishtank? two booths appropriated from an old mcdonalds? whatever - it's the food that counts. americans need to get over this reliance on "atmosphere" in a restaurant. when was the last time you had a lousy meal at a beautiful restaurant and left happy? anyhow. they had the standard hanging pieces of char siu, some of the ultra-crispy-crunchy-skin roast pork that i never seem to care for, a large and scary looking hotel pan full of tripe, and some gorgeous head-on ducks hanging in the usual heat-lamp box. L & i split a whole duck ($15) chopped up and served with a sweet/salty/garlic dipping sauce. a whole duck looks pretty tiny when it's hanging there, but once it's overflowing in a styrofoam clamshell one's confidence in eating the whole thing begins to wane. did i say "split"? i meant to say "L ate a few choice morsels and then sat back to watch me at work". so yes, i ate most of a whole roast duck. and yes, it was amazing. i think my dark-meat conversion is almost complete - i'd rather have this duck than chicken almost any day of the week. well, maybe that's going a bit far. but it'd take a piping hot chicken from edy's in falls church to really challenge this duck.
so yes, readers. steam a bunch of rice, get some cucumbers and whatnot, pick up one of these ducks, and dine in the opulence of your east side mansion. you won't be disappointed. or, hell, eat it there. there's a roll of paper towels you can use to clean your hands up at the end.
oh, and confidential to many, many, many drivers in the providence area: when the road is really snowy and your car starts to spin out, don't give it more gas. please. it makes you look like a total idiot. and when you keep giving it more gas until i feel so bad for you that i walk into a road full of busy traffic to push your dumb ass i would really appreciate it if you didn't floor it when i start pushing. i know you're young and not a great driver, and i'm not going to yell at you in front of your boyfriend, but i mean really. let's use our heads people.
the interior's a mess, even by my lax adventure-dining standards. comfy old couch in the corner? giant incongruous fishtank? two booths appropriated from an old mcdonalds? whatever - it's the food that counts. americans need to get over this reliance on "atmosphere" in a restaurant. when was the last time you had a lousy meal at a beautiful restaurant and left happy? anyhow. they had the standard hanging pieces of char siu, some of the ultra-crispy-crunchy-skin roast pork that i never seem to care for, a large and scary looking hotel pan full of tripe, and some gorgeous head-on ducks hanging in the usual heat-lamp box. L & i split a whole duck ($15) chopped up and served with a sweet/salty/garlic dipping sauce. a whole duck looks pretty tiny when it's hanging there, but once it's overflowing in a styrofoam clamshell one's confidence in eating the whole thing begins to wane. did i say "split"? i meant to say "L ate a few choice morsels and then sat back to watch me at work". so yes, i ate most of a whole roast duck. and yes, it was amazing. i think my dark-meat conversion is almost complete - i'd rather have this duck than chicken almost any day of the week. well, maybe that's going a bit far. but it'd take a piping hot chicken from edy's in falls church to really challenge this duck.
so yes, readers. steam a bunch of rice, get some cucumbers and whatnot, pick up one of these ducks, and dine in the opulence of your east side mansion. you won't be disappointed. or, hell, eat it there. there's a roll of paper towels you can use to clean your hands up at the end.
oh, and confidential to many, many, many drivers in the providence area: when the road is really snowy and your car starts to spin out, don't give it more gas. please. it makes you look like a total idiot. and when you keep giving it more gas until i feel so bad for you that i walk into a road full of busy traffic to push your dumb ass i would really appreciate it if you didn't floor it when i start pushing. i know you're young and not a great driver, and i'm not going to yell at you in front of your boyfriend, but i mean really. let's use our heads people.
07 December 2007
recipe: french toast
i go through phases with french toast, and right now i've just entered a peak. to be fair, i go through phases with most foods. i don't think i can explain it. regardless - i have a pretty limitless supply of high-end artisan bread, and who doesn't like french toast? (amazingly, i didn't like it until about a year ago)
i'm sure mama would say this is closer to pain perdu, but i'm too impatient to let the bread slices stale first. they hold up just fine soaked fresh, so i'm not changing my ways. if you're using lesser bread, you might want to stale it pretty hard first.
i'll also point out that the nitwits at epicurious.com had a big discussion about how you don't have to salt french toast. for some reason, we've decided as a culture that sweet things should be insipid. i think this is a holdover from that period a decade or two ago when salt was the prime culinary evil. it was before carbs - was it before fat too? i'm too young to remember.
assembly:
4 eggs
1 C milk
2T sugar
a pinch of salt
booze! - a very generous slug of brandy or cachaça or rum or anything else that makes sense
around six large slices of good, crusty artisan bread
mix everything together very thoroughly. arrange the bread slices on a pan, and pour the egg mixture on top. turn them over a few times, and throw the whole mess in the fridge overnight.
finish:
way more oil than you think you need
maple syrup or honey or jam or whatever
the next morning heat a nonstick pan swimming with oil over medium heat. i can't overstate this - i'd deepfry the damn things if i could. these are an indulgence and should be treated as such. oh, and don't try to be clever and use butter; the solids will scorch. anyhow, fry the slices one or (if your pan is big enough) two at a time until deeply browned on both sides. like many other things in food-life, darker is better. serve immediately.
i can eat about five slices at a sitting, though i shouldn't. a more reasonable serving is two slices per person.
i'm sure mama would say this is closer to pain perdu, but i'm too impatient to let the bread slices stale first. they hold up just fine soaked fresh, so i'm not changing my ways. if you're using lesser bread, you might want to stale it pretty hard first.
i'll also point out that the nitwits at epicurious.com had a big discussion about how you don't have to salt french toast. for some reason, we've decided as a culture that sweet things should be insipid. i think this is a holdover from that period a decade or two ago when salt was the prime culinary evil. it was before carbs - was it before fat too? i'm too young to remember.
assembly:
4 eggs
1 C milk
2T sugar
a pinch of salt
booze! - a very generous slug of brandy or cachaça or rum or anything else that makes sense
around six large slices of good, crusty artisan bread
mix everything together very thoroughly. arrange the bread slices on a pan, and pour the egg mixture on top. turn them over a few times, and throw the whole mess in the fridge overnight.
finish:
way more oil than you think you need
maple syrup or honey or jam or whatever
the next morning heat a nonstick pan swimming with oil over medium heat. i can't overstate this - i'd deepfry the damn things if i could. these are an indulgence and should be treated as such. oh, and don't try to be clever and use butter; the solids will scorch. anyhow, fry the slices one or (if your pan is big enough) two at a time until deeply browned on both sides. like many other things in food-life, darker is better. serve immediately.
i can eat about five slices at a sitting, though i shouldn't. a more reasonable serving is two slices per person.
recipe: roasted vegetable pasta with pesto
the wonderful grandma who manages produce at the lao market heard me asking the other day for basil (i was making pizza) - i didn't see any on display. so she made up a giant bag of basil and put a $1.50 price tag on it. while i appreciate such a bargain - this would've been $15 of basil at whofo - it's sometimes hard to use up such a quantity of fresh leaves. so, pesto. the roasted vegetables were mostly an effort to use up slightly punky things sitting in the fridge. but they roasted perfectly.
assembly:
vegetables (tonight it was brussels sprouts, pepper, onion, and eggplant)
olive oil
salt
pepper
preheat the oven to 450*. chop up the vegetables into similar bite-sized pieces. place on a roasting pan, cover enthusiastically with olive oil, season, and roast. make sure to roast them nice and dark - there are few things more pathetic than underroasted vegetables.
pesto:
2C very tightly packed basil leaves
3T pine nuts (or walnuts, which are a lot cheaper and work just as well)
a few cloves of garlic
1/2C olive oil
1/2C grated parmigiano-reggiano (okay, fine, i used piave - but you're supposed to use D.O.P. parm - as a former cheesemonger, i have to tell you that the parm they ship to the US sucks - unless you're willing to pay $40/lb+ for the good stuff - end of tangent)
a nice pinch of salt
3T butter
grind the basil, pine nuts, garlic, olive oil, and salt to a paste in the food processor. add the butter and cheese and pulse until amalgamated.
finish:
1/2lb pasta
heat a pot of salted water, and cook your pasta. toss with the roasted vegetables, and top with pesto.
serves three-ish. the pesto keeps, but it'll oxidize into a depressing olive-drab color almost immediately. doesn't affect the flavor, though. and i think most americans are used to it looking that way these days.
assembly:
vegetables (tonight it was brussels sprouts, pepper, onion, and eggplant)
olive oil
salt
pepper
preheat the oven to 450*. chop up the vegetables into similar bite-sized pieces. place on a roasting pan, cover enthusiastically with olive oil, season, and roast. make sure to roast them nice and dark - there are few things more pathetic than underroasted vegetables.
pesto:
2C very tightly packed basil leaves
3T pine nuts (or walnuts, which are a lot cheaper and work just as well)
a few cloves of garlic
1/2C olive oil
1/2C grated parmigiano-reggiano (okay, fine, i used piave - but you're supposed to use D.O.P. parm - as a former cheesemonger, i have to tell you that the parm they ship to the US sucks - unless you're willing to pay $40/lb+ for the good stuff - end of tangent)
a nice pinch of salt
3T butter
grind the basil, pine nuts, garlic, olive oil, and salt to a paste in the food processor. add the butter and cheese and pulse until amalgamated.
finish:
1/2lb pasta
heat a pot of salted water, and cook your pasta. toss with the roasted vegetables, and top with pesto.
serves three-ish. the pesto keeps, but it'll oxidize into a depressing olive-drab color almost immediately. doesn't affect the flavor, though. and i think most americans are used to it looking that way these days.
06 December 2007
cocktail: caipirinha
so i was going to make myself a delicious cocktail this evening to celebrate not falling off my bike and breaking something, but i found out to my horror that i was out of cachaça. this is a big deal, because the caipirinha is far and away my standby drink. it is overwhelmingly strong but overwhelmingly not fiery - i know this is an emasculating thing to admit, but the immediate and burning queasiness that most strong drinks cause is not a favorite sensation.
if you decide to buy a bottle of cachaça, i'd strongly recommend avoiding the cheap industrial versions out there - the relatively huge brazilian population in coastal southern MA greatly increases our artisanal cachaça options. for those of you without ready access to brazilians, i don't know what to tell you. you're probably out of luck. the house bottle these days is rochinha, which is a 5 year single barrel and runs about $20 at yankee spirits. note that this is not the IBA-approved formula - you can find theirs on wikipedia and compare, if you like.
2 1/2oz cachaça
1 smallish lime
1 1/2T sugar
3 ice cubes
i normally am very laissez-faire about washing fruit, but in this case if your lime looks particularly waxy, you should probably give it a quick scrub. you're drinking the rind, after all. either way, cut off the top and bottom of the lime. cut and discard four equal-size slabs of peel off the face of the lime - i know this is hard to describe, but you're basically removing some-but-not-all of the peel, and this is the best way i can think of to do it. if you leave on all the peel, it'll come out too bitter. trust me. so you should have a basically cube-shaped lime at this point. cut it in half, then the halves into quarters - eight little lime-cubes. toss these into a cocktail shaker. add the sugar, and muddle it really hard. i have a giant wooden pestle i bought from the lao for $1. it is amazing. i'm sure you can buy a much lousier one from williams-sonoma for $20. once it's totally muddled, pour on the cachaça and add the ice cubes. jam a lowball glass onto the shaker and shake like hell. the goal is to puree the lime and sugar and bust up the cubes into crushed ice. if you have a source for crushed ice, by all means use it. finally, pour your caipirinha into the lowball and serve.
one of these is lovely, two in a row troublesome, and three dangerous. they are very easy to overdo. so, of course, i urge moderation.
if you decide to buy a bottle of cachaça, i'd strongly recommend avoiding the cheap industrial versions out there - the relatively huge brazilian population in coastal southern MA greatly increases our artisanal cachaça options. for those of you without ready access to brazilians, i don't know what to tell you. you're probably out of luck. the house bottle these days is rochinha, which is a 5 year single barrel and runs about $20 at yankee spirits. note that this is not the IBA-approved formula - you can find theirs on wikipedia and compare, if you like.
2 1/2oz cachaça
1 smallish lime
1 1/2T sugar
3 ice cubes
i normally am very laissez-faire about washing fruit, but in this case if your lime looks particularly waxy, you should probably give it a quick scrub. you're drinking the rind, after all. either way, cut off the top and bottom of the lime. cut and discard four equal-size slabs of peel off the face of the lime - i know this is hard to describe, but you're basically removing some-but-not-all of the peel, and this is the best way i can think of to do it. if you leave on all the peel, it'll come out too bitter. trust me. so you should have a basically cube-shaped lime at this point. cut it in half, then the halves into quarters - eight little lime-cubes. toss these into a cocktail shaker. add the sugar, and muddle it really hard. i have a giant wooden pestle i bought from the lao for $1. it is amazing. i'm sure you can buy a much lousier one from williams-sonoma for $20. once it's totally muddled, pour on the cachaça and add the ice cubes. jam a lowball glass onto the shaker and shake like hell. the goal is to puree the lime and sugar and bust up the cubes into crushed ice. if you have a source for crushed ice, by all means use it. finally, pour your caipirinha into the lowball and serve.
one of these is lovely, two in a row troublesome, and three dangerous. they are very easy to overdo. so, of course, i urge moderation.
recipe: mostly-mexican pork shoulder
i never thought to ask for shoulder at whofo until just the other day - for some reason, i figured they'd display all the cuts that they offer. i mean, it's hard to move product when your customers don't know you carry it. but i asked, and it turns out they have it and it's cheap and that's great. they probably end up grinding most of it into sausage.
the cooking time on this is pretty hefty - at least three or four hours. but it gave me an excuse to run the oven all afternoon (raising the apartment temperature from below 50* to a balmy 55*) and to spend most of my time in the corner practicing no-handed trackstanding on my bike (insufferable hipster fakenger training). all in all it was a pretty nice day off.
spice mix:
a handful of large dried hot peppers - i haven't lived around good enough mexican food to have the ability to differentiate; i used a few cayennes that were kicking around
a few dried thai hots
a couple inches of cinnamon stick
allspice
black pepper
coriander seed
grind everything - there should be a few tablespoons of really red powder
assembly:
2 1/2lb pork shoulder in one piece, any giant hunks of pure fat cut off
1 large orange
1 lime
2 small or one large onion, peeled and sliced thin
salt
preheat your oven to around 325*. lay the onion slices on the bottom of a dutch oven, then juice the orange and lime on top. add the orange peel, torn into a few large sections. don't worry that there's pulp and stuff adhering to the peel. place the shoulder on top, and rub the spice mix all over it. while you're at it, rub in a pretty healthy amount of salt. cover the dutch oven, and put it in the oven. now go practice trackstands or something. after about an hour, turn the shoulder over. after the second hour, uncover the dutch oven. for the next hour or two, turn and baste the shoulder regularly. when it starts falling apart when you try to turn it, it's probably done. pull it out of the oven and leave to cool.
finish:
a little water or wine or whatever
tortillas
various tortilla fillings - your choice
once the pork is cool enough to handle, remove from the pot and shred coarsely - remove any egregious bits of gristle or fat. mix with the lovely brown sludge remaining in the pot. reheat the empty dutch oven over medium heat, splash in a little liquid, and use the liquid to dislodge all the fond and caramelized orange juice on the sides of the pot. boil it down for a minute and add to the shredded pork. correct for salt, and serve.
makes a whole lot - four ample servings, maybe even with leftovers.
the cooking time on this is pretty hefty - at least three or four hours. but it gave me an excuse to run the oven all afternoon (raising the apartment temperature from below 50* to a balmy 55*) and to spend most of my time in the corner practicing no-handed trackstanding on my bike (insufferable hipster fakenger training). all in all it was a pretty nice day off.
spice mix:
a handful of large dried hot peppers - i haven't lived around good enough mexican food to have the ability to differentiate; i used a few cayennes that were kicking around
a few dried thai hots
a couple inches of cinnamon stick
allspice
black pepper
coriander seed
grind everything - there should be a few tablespoons of really red powder
assembly:
2 1/2lb pork shoulder in one piece, any giant hunks of pure fat cut off
1 large orange
1 lime
2 small or one large onion, peeled and sliced thin
salt
preheat your oven to around 325*. lay the onion slices on the bottom of a dutch oven, then juice the orange and lime on top. add the orange peel, torn into a few large sections. don't worry that there's pulp and stuff adhering to the peel. place the shoulder on top, and rub the spice mix all over it. while you're at it, rub in a pretty healthy amount of salt. cover the dutch oven, and put it in the oven. now go practice trackstands or something. after about an hour, turn the shoulder over. after the second hour, uncover the dutch oven. for the next hour or two, turn and baste the shoulder regularly. when it starts falling apart when you try to turn it, it's probably done. pull it out of the oven and leave to cool.
finish:
a little water or wine or whatever
tortillas
various tortilla fillings - your choice
once the pork is cool enough to handle, remove from the pot and shred coarsely - remove any egregious bits of gristle or fat. mix with the lovely brown sludge remaining in the pot. reheat the empty dutch oven over medium heat, splash in a little liquid, and use the liquid to dislodge all the fond and caramelized orange juice on the sides of the pot. boil it down for a minute and add to the shredded pork. correct for salt, and serve.
makes a whole lot - four ample servings, maybe even with leftovers.
04 December 2007
not a food post: the problem
i'm sure this happens to everyone: you're busy laminating dough, or mixing the same 58K of whole wheat you mix every day, or shaping that 100,000th batard, and your mind gets to wandering. here's the obvious-but-not-spoken-often-enough epiphany i had the other day - i figured i'd write it down, even though it's not going to play well in peoria.
so i was thinking about the general state of affairs here on the planet. i read a fair number of left-wing and radical blogs, and a whole bunch of people are concerned about a whole bunch of things. the problem is global climate change, they say. the problem is peak oil. the problem is habitat loss. the problem is extinction. but the really sad fact of the matter is, these aren't really the problem. they're symptoms, sure.
but we're the problem. us. all of us. humanity.
right away i want to take all pains to point out that this is not a moral issue - it's entirely neutral. is an algae bloom an immoral thing? of course not. we just happen to be an algae bloom, writ large. we're the best complex organism on the planet when it comes to consuming energy and reproducing. and no matter how much you, reader, recycle or cut back or eat compost, you're not changing that fact. if there are resources to extract then we, as a species, are going to extract and use them. no amount of hand-wringing will do a whit of good.
that said, i can see about three possible outcomes:
1) things stay pretty much the same - all the r&d money gets thrown into ethanol and "clean" coal and other quick-fix bullshit. meanwhile we start fighting harder for the less and less that's left, until someone decides it's worth throwing nuclear weapons. the population declines drastically - whether or not any groups hold on to some measure of civilization is up in the air. depends on how bad the war is, i suppose. much worse for humanity if the oil infrastructure gets torched in the fighting. on a geological time-frame, at least, the planet will be fine.
2) we catch a break and someone produces a feasible fusion reactor, or the chinese start putting up solar satellites, or something else of that magnitude. while this seems like a utopian scenario, all it means is more input for the algae. how many people can this planet really sustain? i see this as a "take the kids to the zoo to see a real live cow, then treat them to some yeast from the vats" kind of world. we hang around for awhile longer at the expense of the planet. worst case, we live long enough for some idiot to build nano-scale assemblers without building in controls. that'd be worse than a nice quick nuclear war, i fear.
3) the pie-in-the-sky never-going-to-happen scenario - we get fusion quick, cheap enough carbon nanotubes to build a space elevator (also probably in china), solar satellites, the works. the energy bounty translates to a real endeavor to get off-planet. education and falling birth rates in the post-third-world actually stick. long, long, long-term we get enough people off-planet that we can think about country-sized preserves - you know, for all the species that are left. boy, this is rosy. oh yah, and nano-scale research is banned on-planet. that too.
all in all, i'm putting the odds at 60% 1, 35% 2, and that last 5% on 3. but that's me being exceptionally optimistic.
i promise i'll post a recipe or a beer review or something real soon, kids. sorry to waste your time.
so i was thinking about the general state of affairs here on the planet. i read a fair number of left-wing and radical blogs, and a whole bunch of people are concerned about a whole bunch of things. the problem is global climate change, they say. the problem is peak oil. the problem is habitat loss. the problem is extinction. but the really sad fact of the matter is, these aren't really the problem. they're symptoms, sure.
but we're the problem. us. all of us. humanity.
right away i want to take all pains to point out that this is not a moral issue - it's entirely neutral. is an algae bloom an immoral thing? of course not. we just happen to be an algae bloom, writ large. we're the best complex organism on the planet when it comes to consuming energy and reproducing. and no matter how much you, reader, recycle or cut back or eat compost, you're not changing that fact. if there are resources to extract then we, as a species, are going to extract and use them. no amount of hand-wringing will do a whit of good.
that said, i can see about three possible outcomes:
1) things stay pretty much the same - all the r&d money gets thrown into ethanol and "clean" coal and other quick-fix bullshit. meanwhile we start fighting harder for the less and less that's left, until someone decides it's worth throwing nuclear weapons. the population declines drastically - whether or not any groups hold on to some measure of civilization is up in the air. depends on how bad the war is, i suppose. much worse for humanity if the oil infrastructure gets torched in the fighting. on a geological time-frame, at least, the planet will be fine.
2) we catch a break and someone produces a feasible fusion reactor, or the chinese start putting up solar satellites, or something else of that magnitude. while this seems like a utopian scenario, all it means is more input for the algae. how many people can this planet really sustain? i see this as a "take the kids to the zoo to see a real live cow, then treat them to some yeast from the vats" kind of world. we hang around for awhile longer at the expense of the planet. worst case, we live long enough for some idiot to build nano-scale assemblers without building in controls. that'd be worse than a nice quick nuclear war, i fear.
3) the pie-in-the-sky never-going-to-happen scenario - we get fusion quick, cheap enough carbon nanotubes to build a space elevator (also probably in china), solar satellites, the works. the energy bounty translates to a real endeavor to get off-planet. education and falling birth rates in the post-third-world actually stick. long, long, long-term we get enough people off-planet that we can think about country-sized preserves - you know, for all the species that are left. boy, this is rosy. oh yah, and nano-scale research is banned on-planet. that too.
all in all, i'm putting the odds at 60% 1, 35% 2, and that last 5% on 3. but that's me being exceptionally optimistic.
i promise i'll post a recipe or a beer review or something real soon, kids. sorry to waste your time.
02 December 2007
recipe: pork chops diane
like many other things i'm learning to cook, this just sort of appeared to me as i was standing in whofo this evening. i realized i'd not cooked a pork chop before, so...the sauce is apparently something i'd read in a cookbook, made from memory, and then went back to find out what it was called. happens all the time. so this is really just a faux steak diane.
assembly:
2 nice thick pork chops - i think they weighed about a pound and a third total
salt
pepper
butter
heavily salt and pepper the chops on both sides, and let warm up to room temperature. meanwhile heat up a pretty heavy skillet over medium-high heat. when you're ready, throw in a little knob of butter, and when melted add the chops. don't crowd the pan - if i had to make more than two, i'd do it in two batches. cook, turning halfway through, until just barely cooked - trichinosis is virtually a non-issue in the US, so cook your pork pink. pull out and let rest while you make the sauce.
finish:
a few shallots, chopped fine
vermouth (or cognac, if you are rich or well-to-do)
cream
dijon mustard
a little more salt and pepper
toss the shallots into the pan, still over medium-high heat. stir for a minute or two, then add a hearty splash of the liquor of choice. it'll at the very least steam enthusiastically, and if you're lucky and it's high-proof it'll burst into a giant column of flame. don't burn your eyebrows. once that's reduced a bit, stir in your cream and a spoonful of mustard. let the cream thicken, add the chops back in, stir, and serve.
serves one person if they like two chops, or two people if they are sensible.
assembly:
2 nice thick pork chops - i think they weighed about a pound and a third total
salt
pepper
butter
heavily salt and pepper the chops on both sides, and let warm up to room temperature. meanwhile heat up a pretty heavy skillet over medium-high heat. when you're ready, throw in a little knob of butter, and when melted add the chops. don't crowd the pan - if i had to make more than two, i'd do it in two batches. cook, turning halfway through, until just barely cooked - trichinosis is virtually a non-issue in the US, so cook your pork pink. pull out and let rest while you make the sauce.
finish:
a few shallots, chopped fine
vermouth (or cognac, if you are rich or well-to-do)
cream
dijon mustard
a little more salt and pepper
toss the shallots into the pan, still over medium-high heat. stir for a minute or two, then add a hearty splash of the liquor of choice. it'll at the very least steam enthusiastically, and if you're lucky and it's high-proof it'll burst into a giant column of flame. don't burn your eyebrows. once that's reduced a bit, stir in your cream and a spoonful of mustard. let the cream thicken, add the chops back in, stir, and serve.
serves one person if they like two chops, or two people if they are sensible.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)