Life of a Foodie

A Texas summer usually reaches into the far corners of October, but this year, September rolled in and dragged Fall with it. Ok, so it’s still a balmy 93 degrees, but trust me, when you’ve been battling triple digits for so long you start to think the air is supposed to feel like flannel, anything is an improvement.

My point is, the mercury has dropped, clouds have rolled in and it’s time to move on from ceviches, sorbets, watermelon and burgers; it’s time to braise. Give a quick, crisping sear to your meat of choice, submerge it in a cauldron of juices and let it go, low and slow until it unfailingly morphs into a fall-off-the-bone, throw-away-your-knife, why-don’t-we-make-this-everyday sort of meal. Truly no cooking method has ever epitomized a season like braising does Fall. read more…

When troubleshooting home cooking disasters, folks often call on me for answers. Why didn’t my cake rise? Why did the lemon curd curdle? What’s a broiler? (You know who you are). Usually I know the answers only because at one point I had these problems myself. But just as often, I’m clueless.

Recently, several people have asked me how to keep homemade ice cream as scoopable as store-bought brands. My usual response has something to do with egg yolks and stirred custard and fat percentage….but really, until recently, I had no idea why my ice creams were freezing solid over night either.

To research the issue, I purchased a few alternative brands of ice cream; brands that kept their ingredients simple and natural. My goal was to replicate their texture with minimal stabilizers and chemicals. Guar gum and xanthan gum were instantly noticeable as the most popular stabilizers in natural ice cream brands. read more…

You cannot enhance a tomato picked warm from the vine nor an oyster scraped live from its shell. A pie is nothing but a lowly tomb for a ripe Bing cherry and a Texas peach eaten anywhere but over the sink is nothing short of sin. Some ingredients are so prim, so preternaturally perfect that further refinement in an over-zealous kitchen would ruin them completely.

But for every superior product there is an ingredient in need of some schooling. The plantain is one such ruffian, defiantly starchy until boiled or fried into submission. Rhubarb, frustratingly stalkey, must be stewed until spineless. And don’t forget the astringent quince, quite unpleasant until sweetened, simmered and locked tightly in a mason jar. These ingredients are by no means undesirable, they simply require a bit of prodding….sometimes blatant abuse, to render them edible. read more…

Guest blogger Catherine Bearce is a passionate home cook, avid gardener and part-time forager. Her forays into the wilds of Northwest Washington allow her kitchen creativity to creep outside the realms of generic produce.

It was mid-summer and we had been boating the islands near the northern end of Vancouver Island, B.C. for several weeks. Our store of fresh veggies had run out and we were beginning to crave something green and crispy that wouldn’t involve the use of a can opener.

Our current location was a bay that decades ago had been a bustling gold mining community. Nature had reclaimed most of the “town” and we were tied to a small dock operated by the few residents who live on the bay during the summer. Luckily, they were friendly and generous and, importantly, had a large garden complete with chickens and a small greenhouse with tomatoes. After a hike around the bay, and with permission, I went into serious “hunter gatherer” mode.

This has become one of my fondest memories. Wandering around a verdant island on a warm sunny day filling my hat with the makings of a wonderful salad. Mixed greens, nasturtiums, pea tendrils, dandelion leaves, a few small tomatoes and a garnish of wild huckleberries found along the trail back to the dock. Pleased with myself and my fresh creation, I photographed and named it “Shoal Bay Salad”. read more…

It was in New York, a city of over eight million people, that I learned to dine alone.

Initially I dined with others, meeting at their suggested restaurant and suffering through an abominable meal simply to reap the relief of a smaller check. Being in my early twenties, I quickly found that my acquaintances were none too keen on spending money on food when it did nothing but deplete funds and widen waistlines. I was forced to sideline the gastronomically disinclined in favor of those who fully enjoyed savoring a wedge of Garrotxa. This of course, left me with very few dining partners and, thusly, I became my best companion.

I admit, initially the task of eating out alone was discomforting. I often opted for take-out but balancing a Styrofoam box on my knees while I slouched on my IKEA futon quickly grew old. So I slowly eased myself into the solo restaurant scene. read more…

During World War I and World War II, the government requested that American citizens plant their own gardens to aid in the war effort. Victory Gardens aided in sustainability and created a sense of community on the home front.

While we have nothing resembling a food shortage in our country right now, there are more reasons than ever to revive the tradition of Victory Gardens. The demand for local, organic and inexpensive food is on the rise…a triumvirate of requests that seems oxymoronic. Organic herbs from my local grocery store cost two to three dollars each depending on the season. And with the amount of food I cook and the amount I get paid at work, I simply can’t afford the steep prices.

But I want to do my part and I want to eat clean. And thus I planted my first Victory Garden. Having no yard to call my own, I made do by planting a container garden. It’s small, but mighty. A few weeks in the Texas sun and I’ll have Serrano Peppers, Green Zebras, Garden Peaches and a beautiful mass of herbs - all free for the pick’n. read more…

My Grammy Joan was no cook. Though she was rumored to make a killer meatloaf, I saw her do little more in the kitchen than unload a packet of Sweet’N Low into a glass of ice tea.

Despite her kitchen inadequacy, Grammy had persnickety taste. She ordered the sole only if the waiter ensured it was Dover. A box of chocolates always sat on her nightstand, lid removed - only the undesirables untouched. And, as every grandmother should, she fed me brimming bowls of ice cream on the sly, sabotaging any hopes my parents had for a pleasant evening.

But Grammy introduced me to more than my sweet tooth. She created “The Secret Dinner.”

Secret Dinners are simple, elegant and slightly expensive. An invitation to such a dinner means your presence warrants the price and that you are expected to fully appreciate the luxuries bestowed upon you. King Crab and artichokes can’t be entrusted to just anyone, you know. read more…

Valentine’s Day brings on an expected onslaught of chocolate: chocolate truffles, chocolate-dipped strawberries, chocolate soufflés and molten chocolate cakes. And while I love chocolate probably more than the next girl, I feel a bit bogged down by these dessert clichés. It’s all too predictable, too trite. So this year I decided to go rogue and steer clear of the dark stuff. It turns out you can make a pretty elegant dish without it.

And I found a most elegant recipe on Tartelette. One look at the photograph of her Pomegranate Hibiscus Tea and Honey Ginger Yogurt Verrines and I knew they would be perfect for Valentine’s Day. With white yogurt and jewel-toned pomegranate, the verrines manage to echo the holiday spirit without the use of chocolate. read more…

When I moved to New York to attend culinary school, I serendipitously found an apartment in the East Village, the current hotbed of destination restaurants. Prune, Graffiti, Hearth and Ippudo were enticing people to visit an area that, until recently, was best known for its vegetarian fare and hippie lifestyle. While each of these restaurants is contributing to the East Village culinary explosion, there is but one man at the epicenter: David Chang.

This is no revelation to anyone in the food world. Chang’s madman reputation and innovative style have made him one of the most talked about chefs in recent years. And with a menu that includes scrapple, pig’s head torchon, and a blondie pie, his infamy is only growing. Irreverent and unabashed creativity, Chang shook up the East Village and the ripple effect has spread across the country.

During my time in New York, I made it to two of Chang’s (then) triumvirate of restaurants. Momofuku Ssam Bar and Noodle Bar both had memorable (and constantly evolving) menus. But it was the swoon-worthy Steamed Pork Buns that kept me, and seemingly everyone else in Manhattan, coming back.

The irony is, this most talked about restaurant item of the past year is insanely simplistic. Though the process takes quite a bit of time, there are minimal ingredients. Melt-in-your-mouth pork belly* tucked in a pillow-y fluff of a bun, a dash of Hoisin and there it is. One bite and it’s obvious that it’s a product of a mastermind.

*Pork belly is the same cut used to make bacon and should be purchased uncured.

Steamed Pork Buns

From Marthastewart.com
Serves 10-15

½ cup coarse salt
½ cup sugar
1 skinless, boneless pork belly (5 lbs)
Buns (recipe below)
Hoisin sauce, for serving
Sliced cucumbers, for serving
Finely chopped scallions, for serving

In a small bowl, mix together salt and sugar. Rub salt mixture all over pork belly, cover, and refrigerate up to 10 hours.

Preheat oven to 300 degrees.

Rinse brined pork to remove salt mixture and pat dry; transfer to a roasting pan. Roast pork until very tender, about 2 1/2 hours. Increase temperature to 450 degrees. Continue roasting pork until fat is golden, about 20 minutes more. Let cool for 30 minutes before transferring to a refrigerator until cold, about 1 hour.

Slice pork across the grain and return to baking dish with its juices. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve, up to 3 days.

To serve, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cover baking dish with parchment paper-lined aluminum foil; transfer to oven until warmed, 15 to 20 minutes. Brush hoisin sauce on the bottom half of each bun. Top with 2 to 3 slices of pork, cucumbers, and scallions. Serve immediately.

Steamed Buns

Makes 30

2 tsp active dry yeast
1 ½ cups warm water
2 ½ tbs pork fat or lard, melted
1 ¼ cups A.P. flour
4 cups bread flour
1 ½ tsp salt
¼ cup sugar
Grapeseed oil

To serve, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cover baking dish with parchment paper-lined aluminum foil; transfer to oven until warmed, 15 to 20 minutes. Brush hoisin sauce on the bottom half of each bun. Top with 2 to 3 slices of pork, cucumbers, and scallions. Serve immediately.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the dough hook attachment, mix together both flours, salt, and sugar until well combined. Add yeast mixture and mix until dough comes together. Once it comes together, knead for 8 minutes.

Coat a large bowl with grapeseed oil; add dough and turn to coat. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise until doubled in size, about 2 hours.

Punch down dough. Roll dough into a log about 30 inches long. Cut dough into 30 golf ball-sized pieces. Transfer to a parchment paper-lined baking sheet and cover with plastic wrap; let rise 40 minutes.

Meanwhile, cut out 30 square pieces of parchment paper (4 inches each).

Working with one piece of dough at a time, press dough flat and, using a rolling pin, roll dough toward you into a 6-by-3-inch oval. Repeat process with remaining dough. Brush each piece of dough lightly with grapeseed oil and fold in half using a chopstick. Place each piece of dough on an individual piece of parchment paper. Cover loosely with a towel and let rise slightly, about 30 minutes.

Set a large bamboo steamer in a large skillet or wok filled with water about 1/2 inch up the sides of the steamer basket; bring to a boil. Working with 5 to 7 buns at a time, place buns on their parchment paper in the steamer basket; cover and steam over high heat until puffed and cooked though, about 10 minutes.

Last year it was Manchego. This summer it was heirloom tomatoes. Now, I’m totally and completely obsessed with kale. While many people shy away from its gruff appearance, I can’t seem to get enough. You just have to get to know it a little; break down its coarse exterior to find a comforting and healthful disposition.

My main attraction to kale is its price. Thriving in cold weather, this vegetable is wildly abundant in the winter and usually one to two dollars a bunch. Even in an economic crisis, kale makes eating healthy and cheep seem less oxymoronic.

Kale is so healthy it’s a veritable vegetable super hero. Packed with folic acid, fiber, protein and vitamins A, C, K, it’s the cheapest preventative health insurance in existence. How tragic that something so rich in nutrients and flavor was once considered “poor mans food.”

Though it would be impossible for me to grow tired of my recent infatuation, I still aim for variety in my diet. I’ve found numerous recipes to utilize kale. Recent favorites include addictive Kale Crisps and a hearty Winter Panzanella, which I will post shortly. But my all time favorite use of kale is in a white bean and sausage soup. This recipe is ubiquitous in Italian cookbooks for a reason: it’s good. Try it and you’ll see what I mean.

Kale, White Bean and Sausage Soup

Serves 4

2 tbs olive oil
2 hot Italian sausage links, casings removed and filling chopped
6 cups chicken stock
1 15 ounce can cannellini beans or butter beans, drained
½ a bunch of kale, chopped in a thin chiffonade
Salt and pepper

Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan. Add the sausage and stir with a wooden spoon until cooked through, about 5 minutes. Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Lower to a simmer and add beans and kale. Cover and simmer for 8-10 minutes until the kale is tender. Season with salt and pepper.