GreenSugar

Swedish Pork

2012-03-08T18:10:00.001-06:00

What from your family of origin do you want to bring with you into this marriage?
What from your family of origin do you not want to bring with you into this marriage?

These questions have ~~haunted~~ resided with me over the past few weeks. Maybe something magical will happen in four months from today when I leave Ericson behind and become a Kanakis but I find myself watching and waiting to see how these two become one. Can we decide which parts we bring to a marriage and which we don't? The more I learn about this step in my life, the more I realize how much hard work it will be. Of course, there will be easy days when we bike to the south end of the lake and have a picnic and feel like we're trapped in a romantic comedy film where the couple just seems to so naturally love each other that you can't help shrieking at the screen "of COURSE you love each other!! Stop worrying and fussing and messing it up!" Even now, I want to just sit in that kind of warm, happy projection, and not worry so much about him crossing my t's and me dotting his i's.

This period of engagement is a funny one. The New York Times just days before Valentines Day ran a piece entitled "I love you! Now the difficult stuff" which details the hard questions that couples must ask each other before they get married. Create a "relationship vision statement" and that will help you stay the course in this muddy field. The Knot.com is telling me that I have approximately 122 days until my wedding with 123 to do's left and 5 items overdue. My body is telling me that I need to work out at least four times a week, or my Sunday afternoons will inevitably begin with a big weeping session, followed by a good three hour nap. My sister is telling me that it's ok if you don't figure it all out before you get married, really.

While I continue to reside with those questions above, there is one thing I'm sure of. I like my pork and potatoes and will continue to cook with dill and winter vegetables well into the oncoming spring, knowing that real produce isn't about to show up on my doorstep for a good two months. This is the first recipe I've attempted from "Cooking the Scandinavian Way" by Elna Alderbert. Published in 1961 it opens

The Scandinavians take the pleasures of eating very seriously. There is nothing they enjoy more than the gathering together of friends and family for a festive meal...The food is always excellent and abundant without being heavy-- so you really can enjoy it without worrying too much about your waistline!"

For today, I know that my family of origin can get behind that opener, and that I will bring with me into my new family.

Stuffed Pork Rolls: Swedish

6 butterflied pork chops, bones removed, pounded thinly

1 apple, peeled, sliced

dried prunes, about a handful

1/4 t ground ginger

1 T butter

1 pint water

1 cube bullion, or 1 t Better than Bullion

1 T flour

2 T heavy cream

salt and pepper

Lay out butterflied chops on a cutting board, season with salt and pepper and ginger. Place a slice or two of apple and a prune or two in the middle of the chop. Roll up and secure with a toothpick. Brown butter in a large cast iron baker, sear meat on all sides. Pour in water with boullion. Cover and simmer for 45 minutes on low. Remove pork from remaining broth, remove toothpicks, set aside and cover. Mix flour with a little cold water and add to boiling stock, whisking vigorously to prevent lumps. When the sauce is smooth and thick, add cream and simmer for a minute or so. Pour sauce over meat and serve with pommes anna potatoes and vinegared cucumber.

Vinegared cucumbers

slice 1/2 a cucumber on a mandoline 1/16 inch thick. Place in a small bowl and sprinkle in 2 t grapeseed or other neutral oil, 1/4 c white wine vinegar, a few pinches of salt and a shake or two of dried dill. Allow to rest in the fridge while the pork is cooking.

Deathly Hallows, Part Deux

2012-03-06T14:01:00.000-06:00

I am here to draw to an end a fabulous tradition, started back in July, continuing through the sticky months of summer, into dreary wet fall and on through dark February. While it took a 8 whole months to get through all 8 Harry Potter films, our goblets are not the worse for ware and plans are afoot for a Godfather series. If Basilisk Blood can be imbibed from such a glass, can't a good Chianti too?

Rather than drink to specific thematic event or person in HPDH2, we opted for a general celebration of all things British and grown up. Pimms, Bombay Saphhire, and Crispin were on hand with, as always our gigantic block of dry ice. As Harry and Ginny were on their way to making other little Potters, we felt it wasn't quite appropriate to be sipping away at such childish cocktails. We have grown up haven't we?

Unfortunately poor Fea still hasn't learned her lesson and is convinced that an adorable English bulldog stare should elicit some pity. Scraps were tossed her way since she can claim the most British bloodline of us all.

So here we leave you friends. With a table decked with a stout-braised roast, butter smeared red potatoes and more bread. The Brits don't believe in vegetables after all. Underneath that lovely cheatah'ed foil is the largest mother f-ing chocolate trifle you've ever seen. If you ever ask Lorien to make a trifle she doesn't mess around. You've been warned.

Hopefully we'll have tales of horse head and pasta for you next time.

Oscar Night

2012-03-01T09:30:00.017-06:00

I've never been one to gawk at celebrities. I try to spend my time in the grocery aisle watching the shoppers ahead of and after me to guess what they are eating for the week. Even at the dentist or doctor, I'd rather check twitter than pick up People. But somehow, the Oscars feel different. It's a graceful event, and unlike other award shows, most aren't there for shock value. I loved the Oscar's reflective tone this year. Doesn't it seem that we've become a little more serious and a little more reflective as a culture? Am I dreaming that or does it seem that public times and spaces like the Oscars are being used to think about what these experiences mean to us?

Maybe I am giving too much meaning to something that is at it's core entertainment to be consumed, enjoyed and forgotten. If so, at least I promise not to follow suit with the foods we ate while being thoroughly entertained.

A dear friend from Kendall and I decided to do a smattering of Epicurious' Best Picture Inspired Menus. No one menu particularly stood out, and really, it seemed like a better idea to do a smattering of dishes, each representing the best film nominees. Here were our selections:

SoCo Punch: I yanked it from Martha but can I awkwardly give homage to the Descendants? It was based in Hawaii right? With plenty of citrus and plenty of booze, these little sippers seem like the perfect accompaniment to large land trust legal battles...We doctored up the recipe by dashing some angostura bitters at the top of each glass to give it a little more depth.

Carmel Corn Clusters: (Moneyball) a lighter, airy take on an old favorite. Perfectly reminiscent of baseball. Forgive the pun but the homemade caramel knocked it right out of the park.

Jamaican Beef Dumplings: (Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close) Not quite sure how Jamaican dumplings tie back to a little boy in NYC but the dumplings themselves were fantastic. Salty, spicy, crunchy... Homemade fried food is my new favorite.

Deviled Eggs: (The Help) Perfect representation of the film and Epicuriuos didn't mess with the old classic recipe.

Oven-Baked Chicken and Slow Roasted Tomatoes: (Hugo) Despite an over crisped bread base, the sandwiches themselves came together nicely. Yogurt marinade kept the thinly pounded chicken moist and light, roasted tomatoes sweet and arugula for a peppery kick. I think I seriously tweaked out my oven leaving it on for 8 hours for the tomatoes since everything we baked in it afterward came out oddly charred but unevenly cooked.

Pommes Anna: (The Artist) Alright so this wasn't part of the Epicurious menu but I've always wanted to try this method for potatoes and it's an all out stunner. Truffle oil, thyme and salt is about as French as you can get.

Pear and Almond Tart: (Midnight In Paris): Pears, tarts, and almonds all are spot on classique francais.Unfortunately the oven did further damage to this lovely little tart (see note on the chicken above) but the almond filling and crumbly crust stood up well next to simple syrup poached pears.

Damon drank a new gluten-free beer which I'm counting as a nod toward the War Horse (British right?) but Tree of Life missed out entirely. Interestingly enough, not unlike the award recipients themselves. All things considered, I think we focused on the important. And as we decided last night, they should cut back down to 5 selections for Best Film anyway. 10 is just a bit superfluous. As was Angelina's leg. And J Lo's chest. In fact, I'll go back to focusing on my neighbors grocery purchases and leave the star gawking to those who do it best. Cheers!

Catch up: Potato Pancakes, Orange Walnut Cake and Scandinavian Cooking

2012-02-27T21:05:00.001-06:00

There is much to say. Between December and January, I

- got engaged
- spent a culinarian's dream weekend in Austin
- celebrated Christmas with my fiance's family
- mourned Yia Yia's passing (Damon's grandma)
- mourned my grandfather's passing
- began wedding planning
- flew to Portland to plan our July 7 (!!) wedding at Timberline Lodge
- moved out of my beloved 4 year-long residence in Old Town with my dear roommate of six years
- moved in with Damon

That's a lot right? I feel heavy chested just reading it. Life sometimes smacks you over the head and you land on the ground, slowly blinking up at a whole new world around you. I think I'm still blinking heavily these days, though what I see is growing ever more familiar. Loving and losing always go hand in hand, don't they?

An early Saturday morning in February, I awoke to freshly laid snow. I think it one of two snows that have kept overnight all winter. In the spirit of blanketing warmth, I always reach for carbohydrates but with Damon dipping his toes in the gluten-free pond I embarked on my first ever crusade with a potato pancake. My Moosewood cookbook is still my go-to favorite to use up odds and ends in my cupboard and still feel that I'm feeding myself well. These cumin-scented potato pancakes were no exception. Sometimes masala and coffee and freshly fallen snow is exactly what I need to get my head screwed on straight.

Then there was a Orange-Walnut cake from Lottie & Doof, which I used as my own personal welcome home present. Because it's been so warm this winter, I haven't craved citrus like I usually do. Typically, fresh oranges and grapefruits in the dead of winter take me right back to Florida vacations at my grandparents. Grandpa would start sizzling up bacon for eggs benedict and in the meantime, slice up backyard-grown ruby grapefruits. I can still see his super bent thumbs cutting each piece of fruit from the pith.

On a sunny Sunday morning I found myself vicariously living through a treasured friend. She is pushing her own professional limits to the edge as she takes over the helm of this kitchen. I'm inspired and impressed and jealous that she's being pushed so hard in a kitchen newly her own. Big things are ahead. Big things. After detailing her Valentine's Day menu for 60, she brushed this treat across the table for me. Maybe big Scandinavian things could be in store for me too.

I've also celebrated the final installment of our Harry Potter marathon, which I do solemnly swear to show you the delicious feast that bookended the series. And, another dear Kendall friend and I cooked our way through the Oscars. To be released later this week...

Next Generation Apples

2011-11-23T15:28:00.001-06:00

I have Steve Job's Stay hungry, stay foolish speech saved in my inbox. A work colleague sent it to me upon his death and every now and again, on a slow Wednesday afternoon, I take another stroll along with the 2005 Stanford graduates who received the speech that day. I'm not a huge fan of lifting individual quotes from the text so rather than insert a inspirational one-liner I'm just going to ask you to take 4 minutes and read the whole thing yourself. It's worth it.

I've been thinking about generations a lot lately. #OWS seems simply, and probably unfairly put, a fight between an older generation who played the game while it still worked and a younger generation who was told how to play the game, played it and it hasn't worked. There is a lot of anger out on those streets and it seems that more and more, we're better at finding things that divide us rather than pull us together. But as the entire nation reflecting on Jobs death and the role that Apple products played in my generation's lives, for a brief moment, we came together, across generations.

My mom and I celebrated Thanksgiving last weekend and in accordance with tradition we planned to do a million things, and only accomplished a cherished few. We glitter frosted acorns ala Martha, made a delicious pizza with my favorite crust discovered last summer, and played with apples. To be specific we baked two apple pies for two separate upcoming Thanksgiving celebrations.We scavenged Mer's two old standbys: 1970's editions of Joy of Cooking with hand drawn illustrations and The Complete Betty Crocker replete with orange and brown clad kids enjoying cookies.

Mom made these baked apples for breakfast and I'm not sure where she picked up the recipe but I'm a fan. Simply carved out, stuffed with good things and then left to hang out in the oven while you sip on coffee and discuss the world's problems.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and bet that you just may have a stray apple or two hanging around from the fall that are too old to eat raw but too lovely not to use. Plus I'll bet that Friday morning you'll be a little bit interested in breakfast and if you're not gunning for leftovers, you should be gunning for these.

Side note: Mer wanted me to position this perfectly, "Do you think people will be asking you what those tiles are? I bet everyone will want to know. I just love those."

So here we are, on the cusp of my absolute favorite holiday (as it should be for any home cook) and I just wanted to leave you something here to inspire you. No matter what draws your generations together, whether technology or food or football or any combination therein, here's wishing a warm and happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

Mer's Next Generation Apples

Core out as many apples as you need, 1 per person

Stuff with a good mix of chopped nuts and raisins (Mer likes the fancy mixed kind with golden and purple varieties of varying sizes)

Sprinkle with cinnamon and just a pinch of nutmeg

Pour maple syrup into the apples until they overflow, just barely

Place in a cutely photographable oven safe dish and pour 1/2 inch of water into the bottom of the dish

Bake for 1 hour at 350

A New Cookbook: Eleven Madison Park

2011-11-15T15:34:00.001-06:00

I spent a good chunk of last evening sitting on the well-tailored white pleather sofas in the lobby of the Allegro, chatting with a pair that has taken the New York restaurant scene for a spin. Will Guiarda and Chef Daniel Humm are on their first stop of a multi-leg cookbook release tour to talk about their 16 word menu, their come-back kid style turnaround, and what a true New York restaurant really looks like.

Will and Daniel are quite a pair. Brought in separately to steer the 7 year old Eleven Madison Park into a new direction, when these two started working together they felt that something sparked. Five years later, proof of that spark is blazing before us in the form of the holy trinity for New York establishments: four stars in the New York Times, and a Michelin star (three to be exact), and now a cookbook. The book itself mirrors the restaurant's menu: first divided seasonally, as eighty percent of Eleven's produce comes from their local farmers markets. Then, within the season, we essentially peruse the menu which typically looks something like this:

You have your choice between selecting your own prix fixe four course meal (selecting one word under each leaf) or traversing through the chef's choice tasting menu. "We want our guests to be able to fulfill their cravings if they come in hungry for foie gras, but wanted to keep the element of surprise alongside the feeling of control." And in some ways, this delightfully thick cookbook does just the same. We playfully drift through each season, but as we go we are guided with precision that only a well-trained chef can provide. Recipes of this caliber certainly require advanced techniques and equipment but Chef Daniel does want you to cook from it. Recipes have stand in methods, just in case your sous vide is still being shipped from Sky Mall. The result is a book that takes us on a pristine walkabout New York's top restaurants and into the creative minds of a wildly successful pair of restauranteurs.

Nestled amongst the recipes is the story of the restaurant itself. How an unknown chef in small town Switzerland went to San Francisco and then was snagged to turn around an aging bistro in New York. How an entrepreneurial-spirited general manager found himself under the tutelage of Danny Meyer and when asked to do a stint at Eleven, he found a space for collaboration, a place for no "front-back" language but an entirely new philosophy. They slashed the number of seats in the restaurant, found inspiration from Miles Davis, and began shaping the restaurant into an icon in and of itself. This pair is seeking to honor the placehood of New York. Nestled in the MetLife building, in a ceiling soaring, old school type setting, it already sits in an iconic mainstay of New York buildings. Currently they're playing with quintessential New York dishes like the Long Island clambake, smoked fish like at your neighborhood deli, and the cocktails created 80 years ago by a handful of bars within striking distance of Eleven. "Someone needed to create a New York restaurant. So many others want to be somewhere else: Paris, Tokyo, London, but we want to represent the amazing melting pot we have, right here in the city." They're breaking rules by serving parsnip skins, but sticking close to the long established rules that work. And what results? Like Miles Davis a cool stream of soothing dishes, punctuated by the well-earned surprise.

So will I cook from it? I'm going to have to go with Chef Daniel's quote when asked if people could, "Yes-ish." I'll use ingredient lists to be sure; I'll use the images as inspiration to better visually balance my own plates; and perhaps, on days I'm feeling very adventurous think about new methods in cooking. For me at least, that is precisely what any good cookbook should do for the home cook. Cookbooks should inspire, rather than be copied by rote. And inspire, it does.

Autumn in and out of Chicago

2011-10-23T09:27:00.001-05:00

It's hard to be a Chicagoan in October and not feel the pull of hazy yellows, irreverent oranges, dusky reds and mushroom cap browns. Admittedly, there are few times of the year when I wouldn't rather be out in the middle of a field somewhere, somehow particularly in autumn I crave the outdoors. I want to be decked with a thick pair of boots, with ruddy cheeks and an opened mouth smile that only eye-tear-jerking, flippant fall winds can bring.

We try our best to bring fall into the city in a variety of ways. We throw an impromptu weekday pumpkin ale tasting party, complete with furry friends, ghosting and pork fennel stew.

We have our annual pumpkin carving ladies evening, wherein our inner artist, starved all year long finally has a night to exhibit. Replete with the roasting of seeds and little bowls of roasted squash soup. This year's carvings were Sarah Palin, A Ghoulish Fiend, Animal and Kermit the Frog.Charming aren't they?

We took the last long bike ride of 2011 up to Evanston's Ryan Field, a full 29 miles round trip. Leaves crunched along in the bike lane as we cruised home victorious, sporting maize and blue.

The truth of the matter is though, no matter how hard we try, there's something about autumn that you just can't create here in the city.. You have to go to a farm, pick apples, take a hay ride. You have to find a new little town, drink some local brew, and chat with total strangers because they're wearing the same colored clothes as you. And so we did.

We took our annual trip to Iron Creek, to stand in the soil where our produce is grown, to see the barns that have been raised, in part thanks to our business, and see the new little piggies grow as our farm expands.

We dropped by Garwood Farm, a massive U-Pick paradise just outside of Michigan City and collected 2 bushels of apples, tomatoes and peppers all for canning and pie-ing and tarting. Yum.

And last weekend, we rented a tiny, no indoor plumbing cabin off Lake Michigan in a charming little Dutch town and drank local brews, watched the sunset and read this thrilling book.

Much too often, fall can last only for a day or two in Chicago as we vacillate between 80 degrees and 20 but this fall, and I always feel hungry still as we slide int November. But this year I've had a full serving of college football, squash, ale and boots.

Potter's Pizzas: Harry Potter & the Chamber of Secrets

2011-10-20T21:06:00.000-05:00

Harry's growing up right before our very eyes. In CoS, Harry's manning up a bit: his voice is lower, albeit cracking frequently (especially when driving ). And well, we're growing up a little bit too. In watching this round, I'm realizing that our first party wasn't quite the well-oiled machine we thought it was. For example, Lucius Malfoy and Moaning Myrtle aren't introduced to us until this second movie, so we probably should have been drinking Unicorns Blood or Gringots Ginger Beer. Oops. Just like Harry (and Neville), things will only improve over time.

I realized also that the most exciting part of this cocktail is not a thing to be captured in still photos. So for your viewing pleasure, this week's Truth Serum bubbling for you:

That weekend we made:
Potter's Petrified Pepperoni Pizza
Basilisk Blood : Hurricanes
Truth Serum: vodka redbull

*** Since the writing of this post, we have since powered through the remaining 6 films available on DVD in 5 weeks. Driven? Yes. Entertained? Absolutely, though possibly more with our ever-evolving menu than the films themselves. Wait, no I take that back. This is Harry we're talking about after all. We've made:

Potters Perfect Peanut Butter Popcorn (pictured above): equal parts sugar, natural peanut butter, light corn syrup, simmered until consistent and poured over freshly popped corn.

Hippogriff Hamburgers
Maurauder's Map Mojitos

Whomping Willow Whiskey: secretly Imbibe's cover recipe.
And probably some others that I've neglected to write down but will occur to you as flashes of genius when you do your own Harry Potter viewing. Because you will, won't you? My sister told me my last post inspired her and she made some Potter's Purple Potatoes. See friends? This blog does do good in the world.

I do solemnly promise to give you the full report on the finale. There has been talk of prime rib, yorkshire pudding, shephards pie and countless other British delights.

Either way it will be delightful....

Media pass for Chicago Gourmet

2011-09-28T11:48:00.000-05:00

Woah two posts in one week?! I rarely get to that many in a month. So what's all the flurry over there you may be wondering? This little badge here is by far the coolest thing I've done all year:

Media. Me? Really? I've been writing for Gapers Block for just over a year now and my oh my how we've grown! This year, I got a media pass to cover Chicago Gourmet-- a two day extravaganza of food, wine, spirits and celebrities in Millennium Park last weekend. And, as I'm learning that writing well and writing more often means I have to be shamelessly self-promoting (so as to increase readership and therefore accountability), these are the two pieces up on GB.

Andie, my colleague sketched up "Things we saw and ate at Chicago Gourmet" including a bunch of my photos...

and I wrote up "Shaking and Stirring at Chicago Gourmet."

There you have it. That's what all the flurry is about in these parts. It's exciting!!!!!!

Think like a chef, with leftovers

2011-09-26T17:08:00.002-05:00

Let's first off clear up any misconceptions. I am not a chef. Yes I went to culinary school and yes I graduated, but that does not qualify me to be called chef. A chef is one who has earned the title by working in a kitchen and was hired to the job. A chef is affirmed by his/her community. Sous chefs, line chefs, prep chefs, dishwashers, managers, servers call the chef, "Chef." It's those people who actually decide who is deserving of that name. And as it happens, I am not one of them. I may make good food, and can probably chop an onion faster and more neatly than you can, without crying, but trust me on this one, I am no chef.

One of the best cookbooks I own is this one. My sister Katherine gave it to me in 2004, before I knew anything about Top Chef, or celebrity chefs, food writing or even had a glimmer of hope that I would go to culinary school. I was a junior in college with one foot of counter space in my tiny Albany Park-college provided apartment who was sick of Thai, burritos and pizza. Confession: I've never cooked any recipes from this cookbook. But I've thought about the techniques, studies and triads for years.

What is it that makes a good chef, or a good home cook for that matter? To me, one of the most important things is being able to work well with ingredients that are given to you. That's the challenge with cooking seasonally, or the challenge of cooking well with the ingredients that are in your fridge. That's why we are fascinated with shows like Iron Chef. It's the whole, "but how did he just know what to do with that???" I promise you, most chefs don't have a catalog of recipes in their head. And if you really want to be able to do what chefs do, Colicchio's book is a great place to start.

Last weekend, I made some a really killer ribs recipe.* A small note at the bottom read, "to allow for further flavor development, cook the ribs 2 days in advance and reheat for service." Tell you what-- something in these chiles and coffee completely mellowed out and seeped into the meat to hit all of the good fibers of muscle. They were GOOD. After devouring all 6 pounds of ribs, I still had about 2 pounds of bones left over. What to do with bones, neatly seasoned with chipotle, adobo, ancho and coffee? Colicchio (and Chef Pierre from Kendall) would say, make soup!

Into the pot went 1 onion largely chopped, a handful of baby carrots chopped, a handful of celery chopped (this proportion should be 2:1:1 for onion:carrot:celery) and my bones. I sauteed them all together until the onions softened, and then squirted in about 2 T tomato paste. Then added enough water to cover the bones, and plus a little extra to get the most out of my bones and lightly simmered my stock for an hour. Add in a bay leaf and any fresh herbs you have on hand that you like (thyme or oregano) You want a foam to form atop the stock that you can scoop enough, so don't boil so hard that you break up that foam, but simmer enough that small bubbles do rise to the top of your pan. After an hour taste your stock, decide if you want to keep going, or turn it off. Once I made a beef stock but left it on during a football game for three hours and I ended up with the most acidic, tart weird stock that I ended up throwing the whole thing out. But other than doing that, you really can't screw up stock. Typically for brown stocks (lamb, beef) you should roast the bones to add a brown color to your stock, but since my bones were already roasted as full ribs, I skipped that step. Remove your stock from the heat, allow it to cool a bit and then pour it through a colander, into a big bowl with a pour spout. Then pour your stock into 1 quart or smaller freezable containers. Voila. You've done it. You've taken your first step to becoming a chef-quality cook. You can do this with chicken bones, beef bones, fish bones ANYTHING!

I plan to make some kind of mexican flavored soup with my stock, sometime mid-winter and I may even tell you about it. Until then, try it out, and after a time or two, you'll be surprised how your thinking patterns change and how chef-like you're becoming. Step by step.

*Seriously if you're looking for gameday fare (it is autumn after all) and wanted a step up from brats on the grill these ribs are SUPER easy with little upfront prep and great results.

Herbs in the Apartment

2011-09-16T08:37:00.002-05:00

I'm not one to think that I've truly grown up quite yet. It's not that I don't like where I am or where my life has lead me, but most often, I feel like I still am just playing at this grown up thing. I feel as if I have flung myself in a zillion different directions and haven't decided to commit just to one. My identity, is more a sum of all these things I have running, rather than a solid character base, which interests spring from. Am I getting too philosophic? Probably.

Much of the time, I feel like a mash up of identities: am I a working professional or a farmer? Am I athletic or horridly clumsy? Am I a city girl or do I need the slow pace of the country? I have all of these far flung, often conflicting interests. Is there any unison in them? And then one day, something inconsequential happens and everything seems to come together and make perfect sense.

The other day I was let out of work early, which is a nice treat after working on a holiday, dealing with the repercussions for these guys and otherwise spending my day calming down stressed out folks. I biked out of the loop with bright sunshine over my head and energy pulsing through me. What to do with the extra 2 free hours? Pick herbs and preserve of course; we only have a few more days before the frost hits.

So I popped by the garden and grabbed handfuls of green that has been left wanting. I piled them neatly on my kitchen table: parsley, sage, thyme, oregano with peperoncini and kale awaiting their fate as well.

And then looked up:

On the left is a tea towel, purchased from my favorite heritage shop on the north side. You may not be able to read it from where you are sitting but these are little colorful pots, full of herbs with their names neatly written in Swedish on each jar. On the left is a poster collected from my neighborhood print/civility shop. I popped in two years ago, looking for funny birthday cards and walked out with my favorite piece of home. So you can see these two visuals, but all I could see that afternoon was cohesion. A certain togetherness of who I am. That sum of me isn't just my parts but the ways that they work together and all of the bits in between. Months ago I had decorated my apartment and here I am, living out my decorations. And so I sighed and laughed a little to myself and kept chopping.

Herbs and urban farming. I decorate my house with it and live it. Maybe I've grown up more than I give myself credit for. This winter as I reach into my freezer and pull out little ziplock bags with PARSLEY scratched big with a thick point Sharpe, I'll remember that afternoon and smile.

How to: don't know about you but I NEVER use the entire plastic box or bundle of herbs when I buy them from the store. You can always freeze them and then use the same measurements for frozen herbs as you do for fresh. It's a great way to save money and get the most out of your $4 box of herbs!

- Wash your herbs and spin dry in a salad spinner, or pat between two clean cloth towels.
- If you are preserving finer-leafed herbs like oregano, chives, basil, mint, parsley, cilantro, dill, thyme you can chop your herbs really really really finely and freeze them either in zip lock bags, or make herb ice cubes by cramming your herbs into little compartments and filling your cube tray with water. These days, post culinary school, I like to just use ziplocks since then I don't have added liquid in my cooking and can more accurately measure my frozen herbs for use.
- For larger, thick-leafed herbs like sage, some thyme, bay leaves, rosemary you can freeze them in the same manner but they may turn brown. I still do this for leftover 'boxed' herbs that I buy in the store and use them, even if they're brown. The flavor is the same, but the herb has lost its chlorophyll. If I'm preserving large amounts of there herbs, I bundle up the stems, as shown above with sage and dry them for at least a week in a cool, dry, non-sunny spot. Then crush lightly with your fingers and store in an old jar.

Happiness from Onions

2011-08-16T14:30:00.000-05:00

I ran across this today and thought you all would like it. I did.

Onions

By William Matthews

How easily happiness begins by

dicing onions. A lump of sweet butter

slithers and swirls across the floor

of the sauté pan, especially if its

errant path crosses a tiny slick

of olive oil. Then a tumble of onions.

This could mean soup or risotto

or chutney (from the Sanskrit

chatni, to lick). Slowly the onions

go limp and then nacreous

and then what cookbooks call clear,

though if they were eyes you could see

clearly the cataracts in them.

It’s true it can make you weep

to peel them, to unfurl and to tease

from the taut ball first the brittle,

caramel-colored and decrepit

papery outside layer, the least

recent the reticent onion

wrapped around its growing body,

for there’s nothing to an onion

but skin, and it’s true you can go on

weeping as you go on in, through

the moist middle skins, the sweetest

and thickest, and you can go on

in to the core, to the bud-like,

acrid, fibrous skins densely

clustered there, stalky and in-

complete, and these are the most

pungent, like the nuggets of nightmare

and rage and murmury animal

comfort that infant humans secrete.

This is the best domestic perfume.

You sit down to eat with a rumor

of onions still on your twice-washed

hands and lift to your mouth a hint

of a story about loam and usual

endurance. It’s there when you clean up

and rinse the wine glasses and make

a joke, and you leave the minutest

whiff of it on the light switch,

later, when you climb the stairs.

Magical Goblets: HP & the Socerer's Stone

2011-07-28T13:28:00.001-05:00

It was the kind of morning when you wake up, and all of your adult plans start evaporating. Me and two silly friends decided upon the first look of rain streaming down the window that Sunday was not going to be a day for grownups.

Damon and I had been ~~house-sitting~~ stay-cationing at Chad and Lorien's condo while they were in the burbs for the day. Really, it was a good excuse to play with their charming bulldog Fe, spend the afternoon watching the ManU-Fire game on the Soldier Field JumboTron viewable from their sunny pool deck, and catch a couple minutes of Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkaban. Upon their early arrival back home, we declared that we were not leaving. The stay-cation must continue!

The next morning over coffee, we realized our adult selves had vacated the apartment and 3 silly middle school party planners were left in their stead. (Sadly Damon had grown up duties to attend to so he vacated the premises pronto). Chad, Lorien and I were left with a rainy morning and Peter Pan syndrome. Scratch that. Harry Potter fever. None of us had any serious responsibilities and how better could three adults spend a Sunday afternoon than watching Harry Potter, drinking HP themed cocktails and eating HP themed foods?

Chad immediately jumped onto his iPad and began googling. Not surprisingly, we were not the first thirsty adults looking for some Hogwartian-inspiration. Though the Hermione Granger did seem tempting (mostly in its resemblance to a French 75), we were all smitten with the Moaning Myrtle. Vodka and champagne all bubbling and blubbering just like Myrtle herself. As a backup, we also stirred up a Lucius Malfoy, deceptively sweet lemonade with a kicker of rye whiskey underneath.

For snacks Lorien did her best to make wands: thick pretzel rods, dipped in chocolate-butterscotch chips, rolled in Snickers and Twix, and re-dipped. I always thought that the real wands used in the HP series were a bit thick but now I know why. You've got to have a thick want to get some decent magic out of it. (keep it clean kids). Our wands were decidedly thick but if shaken hard enough little bits of magic would fall off (aka Snickers). We decided the next go around, we would need some more dainty toppings.

The idea for golden snitches sprung from my wizardry wit.. Mashed potatoes, allowed to cool and rolled into palm sized balls, covered in cheddar and mozzarella and baked at 400 for 15 minutes. We also needed something a bit more substantial and Hufflepuff stuffed peppers fit the bill. The food was really just something for me to do. Our fab foursome often have dinner parties and the deal is, Lorien takes the lead on cocktails and I take the lead for food. Damon and Chad eat, drink and do cleanup while Fe curious inspects all that we have made and decides if it is consumable or not.

After one very large and very sweet and very bubbly Myrtle for each of us, Lorien declared, "I'm throwing the rest of this Moaning Myrtle down the drain." And we all fell into fits of laughter. It was a little kiddie day, with grown up accoutrements. By the time we actually turned on the movie, we had shopped at 4 different stores, called 12 in search of dry ice, purchased obnoxiously large goblets, whipped up some magic in the kitchen, wished desperately for costumes (in vein), and successfully located said dry ice. We watched HP Episode 1 and plan next week to continue in the series. Perhaps a Severus Snape may be the ticket and some sort of black roasted Death Eater. And who knows, maybe by the 7th movie we'll have this down to a neat science complete with cloaks and scarves to boot. Cheers to the first of an 8 part series.

Moaning Myrtle
2 oz Champagne
1 oz vodka
2 oz white grape juice
purple food coloring
green sugar (for rim dusting)
dry ice

Lucius Malfoy
4 oz lemonade
1 oz Templeton rye whiskey
slice of lemon for garnish

Sunday Night Detox: Fish Tacos & Agua Fresca

2011-07-25T08:35:00.019-05:00

Why is it that every Sunday night, I feel the serious need for hydration and a detox and a light, easily digestible meal? Actually, I know the answer to that question. It's because we are in the full swing of summer which means festivals, barbeques, weddings, birthdays, concerts, parties, parties, parties outside all weekend long. This is what we live for. In the middle of February you ask yourself why you live in Chicago and suddenly an image of yourself on the patio at Sheffield's, El Cid 2, or Gene's Sausage Shop (pictured above and my favorite new rooftop of 2011), pops into your head. We live to dine and imbibe al fresco. Ok, perhaps that's a bit over stated but I don't think I'm alone when I say that when freezing at a bus stop, a little summertime imagining goes a long way.

Needless to say, I've found myself in serious detox mode come Sunday night. Plus, with a plethora of veggies from my CSA, that's usually about the time that I realize that I have 20 pounds of vegetables to contend with and a 60 hour work week ahead of me. Anybody with me?

Fish tacos have been the dish of the summer. If they're on the menu, I'm ordering them, and if the vegetables on hand at home can be finagled into a slaw, it's on. I had always been nervous of making fish at home, maybe because I've always lived in the Midwest and, until culinary school, believe those devious folk who say good seafood can't be made well in Chicago. It's not true! Any white fish (I've used tiilapia and halibut) lightly seasoned, dredged in corn meal and fried in a little vegetable oil is just about the easiest fresh prep there ever was. Plus this slaw is just about the easiest thing you'll ever grate. The recipe below is for 2, but you'll easily have leftovers and can double ingredients to your own taste.

Fish tacos
1 lb white fish (halibut, tilapia), cut into 1 inch chunks
3 limes, juiced
1 t dried oregano, cumin, onion powder, coriander
3/4 t Tabasco, divided
pinch of salt and pepper
8" flour tortillas

Slaw
1 kohlrabi (or 1/2 head of cabbage), grated
1 red or orange pepper
1 medium zucchini, grated
1 clove garlic, pressed
dash of white wine vinegar
1 T dried oregano
pinch of salt and pepper

Place fish in a medium bowl. Sprinkle herbs, 1/2 t Tabasco, salt and pepper over fish and toss to coat. Pour over juice of 1 lime. Cover and refrigerate for 10-30 minutes.

Set oven to broil. Set whole pepper (red or orange) just below the broiler a top a small piece of foil. Blacken on all sides, then remove from oven. Allow the pepper to cool slightly, and then put it in a ziplock bag, sealed. Set aside. (Click here for help on how to roast and peel your own peppers).

Peel kohlrabi with a paring knife, just under the surface of the skin. Using a large sized grater, grate kohlrabi and zucchini in a medium sized bowl. Add juice of 2 limes. Once cooled, remove pepper from bag and cut out stem and seeds.Peel the skin off and cut into half inch strips. Toss with kohlrabi and zucchini, season with herbs, 1/2 t Tabasco salt and pepper to taste.

Top with cilantro, cheese, and additional Tabasco if desired.

If you are feeling hard pressed for more refreshment going into Monday morning, try your hand at this super easy agua fresca from last year's Bon Appetit. Best enjoyed on a balcony.

Simple Kale Chips

2011-07-20T19:15:00.000-05:00

Sometimes the simplest thing is the best thing. I'm finished with culinary school and if my lack of posts about that experience is at all telling, it was a serious time commitment. Culinary school is challenging, exhausting, sometimes monotonous, often times infuriating, and invigorating. So now what? Do I make bechamel and beurre blanc every night? Hell no. Sometimes the simplest thing is best. I introduced these chips to a dear group of friends last summer who kept saying, "Jo, you need to put things like this on your blog." And so here I am, culinary school over with and if I learned anything, it's that you've got to listen to your friends. They were the ones who encouraged me to go to school in the first place and boy oh boy were they right. So here you go Erin, Abbie and Melanie, who first had them last summer. Kale chips, step by step for you.

Preheat oven to 400. Peel the leafy greens from the thickest part of the stem.

Then rip leaves into palm size and spread in one layer over your biggest cookie sheets. Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with coarse salt* and finely grated parmesan or romano cheese.

Bake at 400 for 8 minutes or so. Listen for sizzling, and then watch so that the greens start to turn dark like this, but if they aren't quite crispy yet, keep cooking.

Till they look something more like this. Notably shrunken right?

Stack on a plate and add more cheese if desired. When you take a bite, first you'll get a crunch. Kind of like when you take your first bite of Crispix just after pouring milk in your bowl. Then a mouth full of salt; they are chips after all. Then a nutty sweet bite of cheese. Then the charcoal-ish, sweet, peppery bite of kale.

*A note about your salt. Use real salt. I mean, at least a Kosher coarse grain salt, but the last go round, I used some French grey sea salt and it makes a huge difference. See how big those grains are above? Yum.

PDX: A Wishlist

2011-05-24T15:26:00.006-05:00

I think the first night I met Damon, he told me I would love Portland. Culinary destination, snowy mountains and clean streams nearby, wine country, oceans, and bikers galore, Portland grew over the years to be Damon's dream city. When markets grew frenetic, work became taxing and life just felt overwhelming, Portland was Chicago's perfect anithesis.

I've been long overdue. For the past three years, I've been crossing never-before-visited cities off my list: Ann Arbor, Las Vegas, New Orleans, plus countless little spots in Wisconsin and Michigan that are a short drive away after a weary work week in Chicago. But ultimate getaway town Portland, just hadn't made the cut. Until now. Credit card deals that were too good to be true (as it happened they were true) and the itch to get out of our concrete world were too overwhelming come late March. So we scratched: bought tickets and sealed the deal for four nights at the Ace Hotel in downtown Portland. Food trucks, wineries, music and sleep were on the horizon.

We took off prepared: an excel spreadsheet, 45 lines deep with restaurants, cocktail lounges, breweries and gardens to visit. We had been gathering recommendations from pretty much anyone who would be interested to give them: Bon Appetit, Imbibe, friends like Jessi and her blogger posse (click on each of these, they're gems!), Terri from Schubas' friends, a girl I bought a new chicken from just two weeks prior, anywhere. It was a full wishlist, but treated as just that. "We can't get too crazy Jo," he knows me so well. I inherited the genetic disposition to over schedule and typically find myself planning for too much with too little time to relax and breathe.

A delayed connection in Dallas had us spending our Thursday night dinner plans at TGIFriday's, watching the Bulls clinch game six. As we checked into the Ace at 1 am, the stools along the Clyde Common bar were turned legs up, patrons long gone, shakers cleaned, ovens off. Rats. It's just a wishlist. Just a wishlist.

Friday we hit the ground running. Literally. 7:10 am found us jogging along the Willamette, then we rented bikes and found gardens, breweries, shopping and a good nap. Dinner that night was the one firm reservation of the weekend. Beast is a 26 seat, prix fixe, open kitchen, communal dining gem of a spot. It's a sort of dance to be in such an intimate space and watch Chef Naomi and her team create and present, then create and present as we nod and chew and give thanks. We strolled over to the McMeniman's Kennedy school, a 1920's elementary school turned bar/hotel/restaurant/soaking pool. How is it that every spot thus far can just seem so...Portland? We danced our dinner off to TBT at the Wonder Ballroom, with loudly tapping feet and spins to bluegrass banjo, violin and guitar in overdrive. Thrash grass is one good dance party.

On Saturday we settled into a more manageable pace. Kenny & Zuke's a causal Jewish delicatessen round the corner from the Ace provided the perfect breakfasting spot to meet a dear friend en route from Seattle to San Fran as she was driving her life down just that weekend. Afterward, a long shot from a google search turned out to be one of the highlights of the weekend. Hidden stairways weave throughout Washington Park, scurrying up through and between the graceful old houses precariously perched above the Rose Test Gardens, we toured the back allies of one of the most beautiful bits of Portland. Next time someone asks for foodie recommendations of where to go, I'll give them this. With all the food places I had to visit, stairs were what I craved already on day 2. Phew. After feeling exercised and digested what's next? Pok Pok. Thai street food elevated to James Beard excellence, drinking vinegars (honey and grapefruit), black grilled prawns, huddled over a picnic table with formica pale green roofing loosely juxtaposed to keep the drizzly afternoon cold out.

More naps, more breweries to discover and then another surprise, not on the wishlist. At a friend's wedding last summer, Damon made friends with some folks that are always looking to recruit new transplants to join them in the getaway city. We noshed at Farm Cafe, D and I much too full to give the menu a proper tasting but toasted hazelnuts in rosemary and Tabasco was a true highlight, while cooling my mouth on a GINger fizz, ie gin and tonic splashed with ginger liqueur. They took us around the corner to the Roadhouse where the jukebox is loaded with free plays of Ella Fitzgerald, Slayer, Beach Boys and Cat Stevens and a whiskey with beer back is $3.75. Portlandia hit it right on the head. This is where young people go to retire. Potato Champion's poutine and PB&J fries had been mentioned by two cab drivers and our new hosts as the best food truck food in the city and knowing we would head out of the city early Sunday morning, they had to be sampled post-Roadhouse.

Sunday cracked open with thunder and a constant drizzle that everyone told us would surely inhibit our fun, but we wouldn't hear of it. We hopped in an obnoxiously red rental and whisked out to the Dundee Hills to find the land of Pinot Noirs. Arriving too early for tastings, we cruised along the hillsides, stopping at one of D's favorites, Torii Mor for a breathe of fresh rain in a Japanese garden. I had in my head that I needed local honey, for what better gives one a taste of the land than a combination of all the sweet flowers and fruits that can grow in one place? We found Beverly's roadside stand, in front of her house. "We've been keeping for, gosh 40 years and you've gotta be crazy to do it. Sure all of us have been hit by that disappearance of hives but you just get new ones and move on." Her honey today was raspberry honey, her second favorite to a legume that grows as a purple vine, "but nobody grows that anymore. These wineries have pretty much eaten up all the good farming land out here." Luckily that monoculture hasn't hurt the bees too much. Our one tasting of the day was at Domaine Serene, a suggestion from our Saturday hosts, and judging from the package that's due to arrive at Damon's office by the end of this week, we were quite impressed with their selection. Wine fridges should never be as empty as his has been as of late.

We asked the folks at Domaine for a lunch spot and stumbled upon one of the best meals of the weekend. Surprising find number three not on the wishlist. Red Mills' Market is precisely the kind of place I could see myself owning, loving, running. A small selection of charcuterie and cheeses, wood-fired pizzas and craft sandwiches, local brew and wine for carryout or to be enjoyed with lunch, and shelves full of McClure's pickles, more honey, olive oil (who knew Oregon grew those too), kiddie foodie placemats, and pottery. Kitchen herb pots with six little herbs tucked in a hand-thrown pot line the sidewalk outside. I'm enamored. D & I couldn't leave without dragging those two brew mugs with us, plus a teeshirt or two, a set of 4 breeds of bull coasters, and a little ginger-sea salt chocolate. It was perfect. The kind of perfect where you're so comfortable and so happy you say, "if this is what it means to be with you, I want to be with you forever" and then realize what you've said, blush and look back up to see the biggest smile returning your gaze. It was a good find.

So, we got romantic. And whenever D is feeling romantic he thinks about the Oregon coast. Off we went 2 more hours spent in the car but cruising through thick pine forests didn't for a minute feel like a chore. Radio coverage was too sparse, trees too thick so a quiet, thoughtful ride was had to the shore. There it was still drizzly, still chilly but wide open beaches and huge monolithic rocks in the distance make you just want to run in the cold air like a happy dog does in a big open field. We ran, arms out wide, hoods up to cover our red ears, and grins wide. This is vacation. We called a real estate 800 number to find out about a little cottage on the market and after hearing 1.8 million decided that this item on the wishlist should probably stay there for a few more years.

Clyde Common was waiting for us upon our return. And only after a nap and long shower did I feel ready to enter back into the civilized world. Bon Appetit wrote up Jeremy's Barrel aged negroni and at one sip, I felt like we were just back in Chicago, comfortably perched at L&E. But the reminder of Portland sprung back to my mind at our food's arrival. Spring is much further along in Portland so asparagus, peas and fava beans were a welcome fresh bite.

Sunday morning we opted for a light, healthy breakfast: hiking up on Mount Tabor with Voodoo Doughnuts and Stumptown and a sun-shiny morning to send us on our way.

What a runaway. I hardly cracked my list, and have a whole slew of places to discover for next time but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I'm including my wishlist below, just in case any of you may be inspired to have your own getaway in lovely Portland and need some recommendations. It can sit there, ready for me to pick it up again when the next cheap flight comes my way. But I won't forget that the highlights were the unknowns, the unanticipated conversation with a farmer, the little herd of piglets running away from our car as we cruised up to Torii Mor, running/flying on the beach in the cold, salty air, the moments I found myself just looking at Damon, thinking my own thoughts and smiling. Good life happens in those unexpected things that aren't part of a wishlist.

the Wishlist: (those underlined are the places we actually made it to)

Breweries: Bridgeport, Deschutes, Rogue, Amnesia, Green Dragon, Belmont Station, Hair of the Dog, McTarnahan's, Lucky Lab

Bars: Kennedy Shool, Gilt Club, Teardrop, House Spirits Distillery, The Bye and Bye, Holoscope

Restaurants: Clyde Common, Pok Pok, Ping, Broder, Screen Door, Nostrana, Beast, Kenny & Zukes, Bunk Sandwiches, Le Bistro Montage

Food trucks: any at SE Morrison & 12th, Potato Chamion (PB&J fries), Crown Q, Schnitzelwich,

Wineries: Tori Mor, Domaine Serene, Erath, Anne Arnie, Cristom

Gerasimus the Trucker Tripel: DIY beer brewing

2011-04-26T06:52:00.005-05:00

My dear mother always told me that once her girls grew up she wanted them to have accomplished two things:
1. get through college and find a career to support yourself; and
2. learn how to drive stick so that we could drive a truck to save our life.
#1 makes good sense to me but #2 has always been a head scratcher. Why a truck? Why could that save my life? You can ask Mer next time you see her because I've never gotten a legitimate hypothetical for when that could come to pass. Moral of the story is my mom was always a DIY'er and wanted her girls to take on in similar fashion. When we couldn't afford big fancy birthday parties at Discovery Zone, my mom would create elaborate homemade forts, with the perfect-almost-store-bought-looking Barbie skirted birthday cake. She sewed all her own clothes up through college and to this day has some knitting project in a brown wicker basket at the foot of her bed ready to pick up and work on when she has a few spare hours.

Her daughters' apples haven't fallen far from the tree. B is an avid knitter, felter (one who felts, you know) and sewer (my birthday request was homemade handkerchiefs) while K had some bouts with pottery, weaving and knitting and has settled on quilting. Everyone makes new babies in the family clothing, blankets and toys. And then there's Aunty JoJo. Yes, she'll make zuc-choco bread for kiddos when they're in town, but presents in the mail come from Amazon and housewarming gifts usually come in the form of a 750 mL bottle.I'm working on that.

Christmas 2009 I launched my accommodating boyfriend in his own DIY direction. Damon got a full homebrewer kit and for your perusal, below are his experiments, thus far:
Freckled Nose IPA... Double IPA

E-I-Ale... American IPA

Baba's Rice Pudding Stout... Stout

Pinballhead Wizard American Wheat

Skeletor Stout

Ole Chipotle Ale

I've always played brewers assistant, helping stir the boiling 5 gallon pot of wort, hold feed lines, and cap bottles one they've been filled with our fragrant brew. Out of 37 Saturdays spent working on some part of the brewing process, my guess is on at least 20 Damon's apartment reeked of hops.

Last month's trip to Brew & Grow to pick up a seed start kit tempted me to take the reins and play head brewer, just this once. I picked up a Belgian Tripel kit and kicked off the process four weeks ago. The Tripel is a widely popular Trappist brew. Brewer law says I can't name my beer "Monk" or "Trappist" anything because Damon's place isn't technically a monastery (though by the amount of beer that's brewed in it one could argue that it could qualify as such). So my extra malty, big headed, creamy, sweet brew will be called Gerasimus the Trucker Tripel. Gerasimus is the Patron saint of Kefalonia who always has his eye over Damon's apartment and the Trucker bit is a simple nod to the random skill that could get me out of a bind someday.

The whole brewing process takes about 4 weeks until the beer is just barely ready and goes something like this: boil wort (grains as pictured above with water) and add malt, hops, sugar and yeast. Let that whole deal sit for a week, then transfer it to a fresh carboy (as pictured above) after one week, leaving the sediment that's collected in the bottom of the old one. Then after a week more of bubbling, bottle and sit for another week. Then we pop a bottle in the fridge and after two days, pour it out into a clean lovely piece of stemware.

I'll be enjoying these brews, all 42 of them, for up to year as it improves with a bit of age. While I probably won't be sending my new niece a 6 pack for her 1 year old birthday, I like the idea of little food gifts that I can preserve, put up and dish out through the year. Plus with this new subscription on my coffee table, I'm thinking my next beverage challenge will be a syrup, liqueur, or some such thing. Ahh the DIY adventures to be had. Despite my projects being slightly different than those of my sisters, I think my mom would be proud. I've checked #1 and #2 off the list and am off to find my own sort of creative home activities: non-traditional, non-Michael's/Joann Fabrics-based, not super kid friendly but me. They're appropriate to who I am and where I am at right at this moment. Barbie cakes and knitted sweaters I'll save for another day.

Seed starters

2011-03-28T21:46:00.000-05:00

There's a lamp on 15 hours a day on my three season back porch again. Didn't it just seem like yesterday that I had fuzzy chicks on my back porch, cheeping away under a heat lamp and growing exponentially every day? These days the girls are all grown up and have taken to each laying one egg a day, giving us endless delight in the form of surplus protein. If you haven't gotten eggs yet from us, ask. Last I counted, we had 4 days last week where we found 3 eggs in our little nest, compared with all winter where we'd maybe find 1.

This time around the growing things under our heat lamp aren't chirping, they're just growing steadily, quietly, faithfully under a serene piece of plastic. Seeds. Beautiful heirloom vegetables and herbs are getting their start a little early this year. Over on Gapers Block, I recommended to Chicago that they get moving on their seeds for the season and promptly heeded my own advice. I hauled myself up to Brew & Grow and, after getting a bit distracted in their beer kits and picking up a Belgian Tripel kit for next weekend, I was persuaded by B&G's knowledgeable staff to pick up starter plugs (last years peat pots and starter mix failed miserably), a one piece lighting system (that actually doesn't produce heat, rather economically efficient wavelength light for growing), and a little indoor watering pot. We picked up a few brewing freebies too-- a taste of the alt beer they had on tap and a half gallon of their house made compost tea.

On that drizzly Monday night, Melanie and I plopped ourselves down in the middle of our kitchen floor, scattered seed packets in logical planting order, readied Melanie's handmade grid and began to plant. We had 98 spots, 17 packets of seeds and felt ready to make some tough decisions. How many chive plants do we really need? And will we have room for 5 different kinds of tomato plants if we want to grow 4 of each variety? We're going to need some serious yardage. Last time I checked, little to nothing grows in my back yard (save chickens) but luckily, I snagged a spot at a newly established community garden plot just a few blocks away. Check out our grid below--I made it extra big for your reading ease. I know, we got a bit over zealous on the tomatoes but is there anything better than a tomato straight out of the garden? I could swoon just thinking about it.

Plugs are brilliant. You drop the seeds into their little pot, and voila! You're done. No mucky soil under your nails, no soil all over my kitchen floor, just seeds and plugs all neatly tucked in their little tray. I am really really hoping that these plugs prove to be the brilliant hydroponic miracle plugs that they claim. So far, things are looking fantastic.

I turn on the light on at 6 am when I leave for work and then off again just before bed to give the seeds their full 16 hours of daylight, plus keeping their plugs moist with some organic grower feed. For all the work, I'm delighted that spring has come early in my little apartment. I like having projects working quietly at home as I work and if there is anything I can do to lengthen the uber-short growing season in Chicago, I'll do it. Thus far the cucumber is winning by a long shot, followed by beets and carrots. I'm not quite sure what to do once these guys outgrow their plugs but aren't quite ready for the cold Chicago outdoors but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Actually, let's be honest. I'll probably run up to Brew & Grow and ask them what to do, and pick up another beer making kit, have another little sampler and be inspired to keep growing. That's what we should be feeling inspired to do come springtime. Keep growing.

Precious burgers in March

2011-03-11T08:32:00.003-06:00

It was a long, hard February. Our mega blizzard kicked off a bout of me being down for the count for two and a half weeks and only just lately have I felt myself again. Luckily, it was a short month and with the change in the calendar I decided I would just put the whole month behind me. I'm done, I'm breathing, let's move on.

My sister from Anchorage came to visit and brought her brand new little 2 month old baby along for the ride. When driving from O'Hare out to the western suburbs my sister says, "ok little Helen, this is Chicago. It's very flat and grey and ugly here." To which I responded, "yeah but it's MARCH! That's hardly fair!" And I think I'm right.

March is officially the worst month in Chicago. It's drizzly and cold and dark still and it doesn't feel like it will ever heat up. So, I decided I would practice a bit of denial. Sometimes I think denial is a very productive cognitive function. Last Friday night, I was craving a burger. Our cow arrived some weeks ago and Damon and I have been dying for a good old fashioned, home grilled beef burger. We already decided that this summer, all of our allotted beef should go towards hamburger experimentation, so why not begin in March? I shut my eyes really hard and pretended it was May. Bon appetit had this killer burger on the front cover a few months back. The roll was nice a nice glazed crusty brown, the burger was thick and juicy and spicy looking, lettuce was crisp and vivid green and the tomato was a nice deep straight-off-the-vines red. It's the kind of burger you can whisper over, "my precious" and not feel like you're overstating the facts.

Hard to forget, no?

To the task. Damon is officially on grill duty (I know when to acquiesce) and I was on toppings and buns duty. I pulled this recipe out of my google cookbook only because I like King Arthur Flour. Maybe it's just good marketing but I like companies that are 100% employee owned. And you know what? They turned out perfectly. We ate two and froze the rest so I'll let you know how they fare once it is actually grilling season.

Our meat was already 90% lean when the recipe (and most burgers) called for 80-85% lean so we mixed in a bit of compound butter I had from some steak the week before. May I highly highly recommend it for your next at home burger. The meat just melted in my mouth. Plus the DIY chipotle ketchup was a kicky companion to spice up your average burger and we have about a half cup left over for the next round. Here's my version of the recipe, but cut down just for two people.

Onions
1 red onion, cut crosswise into 1/3 inch rounds
olive oil
pinch of kosher salt, pinch of pepper
1 T balsamic vinegar

Chipotle Ketchup
1 c ketchup
1 1/2 t chopped chipotle chilies (from canned chipotle chilis in adobo) plus 2 T adobo sauce from the can
4 t balsamic vinegar (I used much more than the recipe recommended (2 t) but I love the stuff)

Burgers

1 lb 90% lean ground beef, at room temperature

2- 1/2 inch slices of Wisconsin white cheddar cheese

1 T compound butter, or any butter mixed with fresh herbs, salt, pepper and garlic

4 tomato slices

3/4 c spinach leaves

Prepare your barbecue (medium high heat). Lay onion rounds out on a cookie sheet, still intact and brush with olive oil, sprinkle with s&p. Carefully transfer onions to the grill, sear for 3 minutes a side, or until you have nice grill marks. Move to cooler part of the grill and cook until soft. Remove and toss with balsamic vinegar. Cover and set aside.

Mix ketchup, chillis, adobo and vinegar in a small bowl. Season with salt and pepper and add more vinegar, if desired. Cover and chill.

Form three patties, about 1/2 inch thick and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cook burgers until bottoms darken and juices rise to the surface, about 3 minutes and turn. Another 3 minutes and you're at medium rare. Top with cheese, close the lid to let that sucka melt and assemble burger. You know what to do.

Enjoy. Whisper, "my precious..."

*makes 3 precious burgers

Orange-zested Pancakes with Blueberry Syrup

2011-01-23T19:49:00.000-06:00

It's gameday and I am definitely not hungry for a cheesy omelet. The Chicago Bears are playing the Green Bay Packers, and fans on either side of NFL's oldest rivaly are ready to go. I popped out of bed this morning and rather than don the typical sweatpants and a sweatshirt for a lazy Sunday morning, I reached for my jersey. We're not lolling about today. We're getting ready. Gameday ready.

We always have about 5 or 6 eggs sitting around on the weekends and are quite good about using up our stash of eggs just in time for the next week to start. These days, the chickens are laying only 1 egg per day. One of them is molting, so the poor dear is losing her feathers mid-winter AND not supplying us with any eggs. Guh. The others have slowed down in production, so we think they alternate laying every other day. Five speckled eggs were just what we needed for this morning's pancakes.

Beautiful.

As I was simmering my blueberries in syrup and my trooper-of-a-roommate is zesting orange into the batter she exclaims, "JO!!!! These are BEARS pancakes! Orange and blue!!" We hadn't even planned it. It was almost as if the professional sports gods were shining especially brightly in our kitchen that morning. The pancakes were whisked up, syrup simmered down and our eager selves stuffed and ready for the game. Unfortunately, the results of the game were less than favorable but at least I've got a new delicious breakfast recipe from it. We are Chicagoans after all and so we are very good at saying, maybe next year Bears. Maybe next year.

Orange-zest Pancakes with Blueberry syrup

5 eggs
1 1/2 cups milk
2 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
zest of one orange

1 cup maple syrup
1 1/2 cups frozen blueberries

Whisk eggs and milk together. Then slowly add in flour and sugar. Fold in orange zest. Place batter in the fridge for 30 minutes to let it cool and thicken.

In a small saucepan simmer syrup and blueberries together until reduced to one cup. Set aside.

Pour about 1/4-1/3 cup batter onto a griddle at medium heat. Your pancake should be about 4 inches across and thin. Cook, flip, store in the oven at 200 until your through flipping. Spoon blueberry sauce atop pancakes.

Culinary School 3: Methods of Cooking

2011-01-13T11:53:00.002-06:00

Remember when I'm still in culinary school? Oh right. This Christmas break was delightfully relaxing, but reminded me that I'm about 6 months overdue in telling you all about what I'm learning. As you'll recall, thus far I had cut myself and burned myself though I had successfully learned how to cut onions, chicken, duck, carrots, celery, and make some pretty fantastic soup. It's a steep learning curve to be sure but absolutely worth the pain. By the time Methods of Cooking came a long, I finally had the basics down and made it through the whole class without any serious injuries of note. At least, none that were photo worthy. Phew.

The structure of Methods itself was radically different than the two classes I had taken previously. Rather than build day by day on the techniques that we had learned, each class was treated as one unique session, in which we had 3-4 opportunities to practice that method. The logic is this: if you can learn how to properly perform any of these methods, when approaching a new recipe, you will simply read it through and say, "oh, this is just a braising recipe with ingredients that I've never seen before. I know this method, just not these ingredients." I guess we're building kitchen confidence one step by step method at a time. So, my chef would say, you want to know how to saute? Here: take broccoli, fish and veal and see what sauteing does differently to each of these things. Then wash your pans, get new recipes and do the same thing for frying, grilling, poaching, you get the idea. So here's what I learned and what we cooked.

Saute: using high fast heat to cook quickly over a flame

Trout a la meuniere, veal scallopini, and stir-fried broccoli

Braise: sear meat and then cook in liquid, on the stove top or in the oven, using slow heat. As you slowly cook the meat, the cartilage melts thereby thickening the sauce and softening the meat.

London Broil, lamb stews, beef stroganoff

Below: Brad, gingerly pouring Guinness into our lamb stew, wishing he could have just one sip.

Fry: To cook in heated fat, either battered or simply placed into oil to crisp and brown.

fish and chips, shrimp and vegetable tempura, apple fritters.

Grill: to place food directly over a flame, no pan used to cook and then blacken.

vegetable skewers, pork chops with a grilled pineapple, red pepper salsa

Not pictured, but still practiced: Roast, and all kinds of "wet cooking" ie Boil, Poach, Blanche I suppose these just weren't photogenic enough for me to snap, or those 11pm nights in the kitchen had worn me out to the point of forgetting to take pictures.

It was finally in Methods that the actual work of cooking hit me, like a stock pot right on your non-slip shoe covered toes. Culinary school is exhausting. Forgetting to take pictures in class was the least of my worries. We had lost about 5 of our original 25 people that all started the program together. Those of us hangers-on realized that we no longer had time to work out, see friends, cook for ourselves at home (ironically) or get good sleep. Personally, on nights after class I was getting 4-5 hours of sleep and then trying to work 10 hour days. I am officially tired. To any of you reading this who I used to be friends with before March 2010, this is your formal apology for dropping off the map. I realized that with school, I had room in my life for 2-3 relationships outside of work, family and school and beyond that I had nothing left. The good news is, I can make a dang good apple fritter. These are the sacrifices we make to follow our dreams.

Meatless: Curried (not)Red Lentil & Butternut Squash Soup

2011-01-05T17:15:00.002-06:00

Photo credit: JustinC of Wikimedia

I realize the irony of this post. Here I've been waxing away about the glories of locally sourced meat and I'm going meatless on you. Never fear, it's just for one day. In the next 3 weeks, I will be the proud owner of 1/4 of a pig, 1/8 of a cow and 1/2 a goat. If anyone is in the market for some grass-fed organic meat of any kind, please consider me your #1 supplier. It's been a very meat heavy last few weeks. Christmas Eve I made New Basics 3 citrus, ginger and rosemary glazed pork loin and then noshed on pork topped fruit salads for days afterward.

There was bacon on Christmas Eve morn, New Years Eve morn and again at New Years lunch. Speaking of New Years, I celebrated the holiday in New Orleans and there found a new butcher whose pancetta mac n cheese, pork belly sandwich and gambino sandwich are still making me drool at the thought. Also I found andouille sausage alligator cheesecake and fried chicken at Jacques-Imos, steak at Commander's and lots and lots of fish, which I'm not adding to my meat tally.

Now I'm ushering in 2011 with a freezer is full of carnage and Monday night I just didn't have the heart to face it. I've been yearning for my "before cooking school days." Happy memories of those days include intentionally consuming just one serving of meat daily, under salting my food, and steering toward whole wheat products. And yet cooking school has taught me that lots of good meat is good, flavor is more important than one's shape, salt is everyone's friend and sometimes you just need a old fashioned baguette.
For Christmas, I received Soup and Bread's Cookbook and after meeting Martha through a friend, and respecting her culinary prowess, I am determined to cook my way through it. First pick went to a Curried Red Lentil and Butternut Squash Soup. After skimming the recipe and checking out the author I realize, I know this woman?! Bettina had carpooled with Damon and I to crop mob in Michigan on a cold Saturday last March. What small world this is. Bettina's recipe was one of those that you read through and can taste the flavors melding together word by word. Fresh ginger and cayenne give the soup a refreshing bite at the end, while the lentils, curry and squash mellow together for a rich, meaty base. Therein fulfilling my meat needs, meatlessly. Though I couldn't find red lentils at any of the three stores I tried, one bag of green lentils is right around 0.99. Forget buying spices at a big box store; go to your local spice shop for bulk prices. The soup is hearty enough to fill you up after these 18 degree days and cheap to boot.

Get inspired, sign yourself up for meatless Mondays and try out this soup. Or if you just can't find the motivation to cook it yourself, head over to the Hideout on Wednesdays from now until late April for more Soup & Bread favorites.

Bettina's Curried (not)Red Lentil & Butternut Squash Soup
2 T butter
1 medium butternut squash, peeled and chopped into 1 inch cubes
1 onion, diced
1 celery stalk, chopped
1 carrot, chopped
1 t salt
2 T fresh ginger, diced
2 cloves of garlic, diced
3/4 t cayenne pepper
2 t curry
1 quart water
1 cup lentils, rinsed

In a large stock pot, melt butter and saute squash, onion, celery, carrot, ginger, garlic and salt for about 15 minutes, until the vegetables have softened a bit but have not turned color. Add in 1/4 t cayenne pepper and curry. Stir well to combine and cook for another 2 minutes. Add in water, then lentils and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook for 25-45 minutes, until the lentils have evenly softened. Add remaining cayenne and salt to taste.

I served it with 101 Cookbooks' Shredded Brussels Sprouts and Apples, which also was my very first foray into the world of cooking with tofu. I used honey, rather than maple syrup, just because it is what I had on hand and the crunch of the nuts and sweetness of the apples worked perfectly with the soup.

Carnitas Y Dos Brewers

2010-12-21T21:27:00.001-06:00

Last Wednesday night, I had the honor of meeting two lovely gents, determined to make an impact on Chicago's microbrewery scene. I wrote all about their project, and how you can help at Gapers Block but I wanted to share with you all some of the more personal touches of the evening...

The truth of the story is, I wanted to hear their story and the guys (Beejay and Gerrit) wanted me to taste some of their brew, but where could we do such a thing in a public place? Last I checked, restaurants and bars don't look to favorably on you pulling out an unmarked bottle from your backpack and sipping on free suds. What's a girl to do? We could have crashed a BYOB but I was a bit concerned the guys wouldn't have enough space to showcase their wears. I settled on option #2. How better to make new fast friends than to open up your own home?

The guys arrived at 6:30 at my place, with chilled beer in hand (mostly bombers), and hungry stomachs in tow. I provided dinner and questions and brought a long 2 interested party guests. 1, a roommate (Cap'n) who is by default one of my favorite dinner party attendees. 2, my lovely resident homebrewer (Trodimon), who's experimentation has been a fun addition to my culinary adventures this year. (Ladies, if you want a gift that keeps on giving, give your boyfriend a brewer's set for Christmas-- score!)

The great thing about interested parties is that they, well, make the conversation more interesting. Cap'n had some insightful inquiries about how the business would take off and right on queue Trodimon turned into a super beer geek. "But where can I find some of those New Zealand hops?" and towards the end of the night, "yeah maybe we could brew a beer together..."

As it happens, we were all utterly charmed. Gerrit and Beejay both have an incredible head on their shoulders, and a creative vision for brewing, something that doesn't pair so naturally, I think. Since my piece in Gapers Block, they have 188 more backers, and about $1000 more dollars since before my article was published. My fingers are crossed for these guys-- 10 more days and $1,873 to go. Track there progress and donate yourself here, if you'd be interested. Every bit counts!

I know, I know. The question on all your minds is, what does one serve to guys that are into deep flavor profiles in sudsy concoctions?

Carnitas modified from last year's Slow Cooking edition of Bon Appetit
Bur's boneless pork shoulder
2 t salt
2 t ground black bpepper
2 t oregano
1 cinnamon stick
1 t Mexican chili powder
1/2 t cumin
1 large onion, cut into wedges
1 can of cheap lager

Remove any excess fat from your pork shoulder and place it in a large slow cooker insert. Rub with all your spices. Place onion wedges atop meat. Pour your beer over the whole deal. Turn on low and let it simmer for 10 hours. Go to work, come back to a delightful smelling house. Then mix up:

Guacamole
2 small dice avocados
1/2 a bunch of green onions
1 cup of frozen corn
1/4 cup of finely chopped cilantro
salt and pepper to taste

When you're ready, pull your shoulder out of the slow cooker and put on an edged cutting board (otherwise your juices will go everywhere). It should be falling apart, but use two forks to pull apart the strands. Discard onion pieces.

Serve Carnitas meat in a warmed bowl with corn tortillas, shredded monterey jack and guacamole.

(confession, this photo is actually from when I attempted the original recipe last January. My alterations made these carnitas so delightful, we snorted them down before a pic could be snapped.)

Meadow Haven Farm: a full meatwagon

2010-12-13T21:48:00.001-06:00

I'm almost at the end of my winter share CSA, and realizing that Slow Cooker season is right at my heels. And what do I need? Meat. Lots and lots and lots of meat.

The other day, Time Out ran an incredible story about Restauranteur Daniel Rosenthal. He saw Food, Inc two years ago and now, because of how heavily it impacted him, he's leading a charge to have all of Chicago's burgers come from grass fed beef. His Loop joint Poag Mahone's, ranked by GQ in "top 20 burgers you must eat before you die" is serving only grass fed beef. “Watching that documentary made me realize that I not only was participating in, but--through my restaurants-- helping to perpetuate a system that was not only not sustainable but destructive to the health of my clients and my community. And it was really a wake-up call to me to try to figure out how I, in the restaurant business, could make an impact."

How perfectly stated?! I'm not a restaurant but I'll own up to my own impact as well. So here I am, the slow cooker is ready, I'm veggied out from the fall and long over due for a car-full of meat. Good meat. Why a car-full? Because farmers can sell quarters, halves or full hogs and cows to individual buyers. Rather than trek to the farmers market ever week and buy one piece of meat at a time, I can purchase the whole hog, get an unbelievably discounted price for organic, free range meat, and shake hands with the guy who raised the hogs, cows, turkeys, you name it. Talk about a positive impact.

Mid-September, I called up Jeremy. Again. This time I wanted one of his birds. And pig. And cow. I ordered a turkey, half of a hog and a quarter of a cow. The turkey, I picked up on Wednesday for Thanksgiving, hauled all 26 pounds of fresh bird up to Minneapolis and feasted on it with 12 friends and family for the next 5 days. It was Benny expensive but decidedly the freshest, cleanest, most delicious turkey I've ever had. It's only once a year and I think it was worth every dollar.

Wilbur went to the "processor" (a gentile way to say butcher) two weeks ago and has been chopped up every which way for me to eat. The Wil part is going to my boss, Paul. He bought a deep freeze freezer and has been researching meat options for a couple months. We decided that between the two of us, we could take down that much meat. Bur is coming home with me. I asked Jeremy for all the weird bits too: tongue, heart, liver to experiment with (see picture above). I solemnly swear to report back how pig heart is best cooked.

Bessie, our quarter cow, is arriving sometime in January. Again, Paul will get Bess and I'll get Essie. Honestly, all "positive impacts" aside, meat from Meadow Haven is good. Really really really good. If you want to be in on the next round, let me know. There are plenty more cows in the pasture, pigs in the pen, fish in the sea.

Bur's Italian Sausage made it to the "number 1 thing I must try immediately upon arrival." I opened a can of some homemade tomato sauce that D and I canned over the summer, added a few extra tomatoes, a little wine from a forlorn, half-drunk bottle, and a pound of Italian sausage. Delicious.

Suckered in by a viking

2010-11-21T20:42:00.001-06:00

This man got me into some serious trouble last night. Here he is, innocently offering me a toasty beverage. He looks nice right? Kind of snuggly and warm and like you just want to hug him?

Skandis united at the Swedish American Museum last night for the official (early) unveiling of Simon's glögg. You'll remember, the Scandinavian part of me is on high alert during this time of year and a chance to get at Simon's glögg early is the best early Christmas present I could imagine. Said viking had made the traditional glögg from red wine, vodka, spices, raisins and blanched almonds and also a delightful white glögg, supposedly the new thing in Sweden. They've been trying to push it for 5 years or so but Swedes are serious creatures of habit and haven't quite taken to it. The Swedish-Americans at SAM last night, loved it though.

Across the room from the glögg temptation awaited. Silent auction items from the Chamber of Commerce of Andersonville. And there it sat. The most beautiful little stock pot I've ever seen. See??

Strawberry oven mitts, wooden spoon, a tea towel, steel tongs, a spatula, free cooking class coupon, and the most darling teal Le Creuset ever. How could a girl say no? I innocently put my name down as the first bidder, I'm just helping the auction get off to a good start.

And now, here it sits. In my kitchen. Damn viking. Truth be told, I did get it for 1/2 the true value so I owe a big thanks to the viking and Wooden Spoon.

Tonight to celebrate my newest kitchen addition, I made "what's left of my CSA box" ratatouille, and am currently nibbling away at the savory pot, and watching Pixar's version of the story. I had forgotten, this dish is just incredible. Throw some garlic, onions, peppers, tomatoes, brussel sprouts, red wine and herbes de provence in a pot and voila! I let my stew for 2 hours and am guessing that it will be even better tomorrow, after the flavors settle in.

So Merry Christmas everybody. Hope Santa is good to you this year, because his Nordic twin was awfully nice to me!!

Another Cat, Another Bag

2010-10-22T12:22:00.006-05:00

Welp here we go again, it's high time I tell you all a little something ELSE that I've found to fill some spare time.

Some of you may know but I've begun writing for a delightful online publication:

A bit of background from our editor in chief: "There are two types of websites that serve important functions in a news ecosystem: authorities and hubs. Authorities are sites that lots of sites link to, and hubs are sites that link out to a lot of places. We are listed as one of the top authorities in Chicago -- the only other news organization in the top five is ChicagoTribune.com. Even better, we are by far the largest hub in Chicago's online news ecosystem! That's not all. Another way to characterize websites is based on how interconnected they are. We are the the number one "switchboard" site, connecting otherwise un-connected communities to each other."

Essentially Gapers Block writes it's own news stories, and also sources the stories of other publications centralizing the most important, intriguing and sometimes hysterical stories to one website. Side note: if reading just one more website will put you over the edge, they have an ingenious "Party line" sent out at the end of every week highlighting the main events for the upcoming weekend and the main stories from the week before. It's an easy catchup to know what's buzzing in the city.

So, you're thinking to yourself, Jo, what are YOU doing on Gapers Block? Well they were looking for new contributors to their Drive Thru section which covers food trends, dining and all things culinary in Chicago. And I thought to myself, Jo, you spend so much time following all this news and have become a person friends go to for dining suggestions, why not be productive and do the same thing for a more general audience?!

I've written about one or two new openings, FRESH, chef competitions, Sarah's incredible project, a locavore grocer BBQ, beer school, food art, my CSA. My most recent post was a glowing review of Mia Francesca's latest casual, locally sourced sister. Let me tell you-- the place is absolutely delicious, easy and approachable. Check it out.

Please recommend new places I should review, parties that I should know about, or any general foodie info. The most valuable thing I've learned on Gapers Block is that it takes a whole broad network of people to stay current and on top of this great city, but I need a lot of help from you all!! Thanks for being a part of the adventure.

Culinary School 2: Stocks, Soups & Sauces

2010-10-08T12:27:00.001-05:00

Following up where we left off, May and June whisked me into Stocks Soups and Sauces, building on the fundamentals of cutting, dicing and prepping. See here's the issue: if you want to eat more sustainably, a bit part of that means buying whole animals (ie. a whole chicken rather than just the oh-so-coveted-breast meat) but then what to do with the rest of the bird?! Once you remove all the meat from your animal, you still are left with about 2 pounds of solid carcass and what better to make than stocks. Here are the basics. Every sauce must begin with a stock and every stock begins with mirepoix and bones. Mirepoix is a 50%-25%-25% mix of onions-carrots and celery, in that order. To make white stock, you use duck or chicken bones that have not been roasted. To make brown stock, you can use duck or beef bones that have been roasted until browned. This is what gives the stock the nice caramel color. Lastly you have fish stock, made with mirepoix and, duh, fish bones or shells from any shellfish (achoo! I'm sadly allergic).

From all of these 3 stocks come the five mother sauces: Bechamel, Veloute, Tomato, Espagnole (Brown), and Hollandaise. From these we make Mournay (in mac & cheese), Supreme (white sauce with mushrooms & cream ex on chicken), any tomato sauces, espagnole (for any steak sauce) and naturally hollandaise (Benedicts?!). Needless to say: YUM. Butter and cream flowed around the kitchen all class long. My favorite recipe was for Mornay sauce. May I just warn you this sauce poured over noodles or blanched cauliflower or pretty much anything is deadly. It's not for the faint of heart, or weak of will.

To be quite honest, I haven't used any of the skills learned from this class until two weeks ago. It was a hot summer and soup was not on the menu. But in the last week, I've made carrot and sweet potato soup with mole stock, broccoli cheddar soup from Paprikash stock and have more on the menu for next week. Now that we're in full swing of fall roast up some veggies, throw them in a pot with some stock and voila, you have dinner.

My only word to the wise is this: when you're pureeing soups, always use a towel on top of your blender or processor, because if the hot liquid comes spewing out of your ill placed lid, you burn your entire forearm. Badly. Lesson learned.

Iron Creek Farm: visiting my CSA farm

2010-10-04T21:49:00.003-05:00

In Northern Indiana, the corn is standing 8 to 10 feet tall, dried out and yellow now by the summer sun and cooling autumnal temperatures. The weeds are creeping back to find their old homes they knew last fall, as weary farmers' hands and backs allow their fields the rest they need around this time of the year.

Every Saturday morning, rain or shine, I walk over to my local farmers market to the same stall, and pick up a box of produce. For those of you that are just newly getting into this whole "know your food, know your farmer" movement, this is a great first step. I paid for my boxes in May, making a good trade for me and for the farmer. I get a whole box of produce for much less than it would cost me if I went stand to stand on market day, and the farmer has money up front to buy seeds, tools and hands needed to do the work.

On a chilly but sunny Sunday afternoon, I drove out for a little visit to see the ground where my goods have sprung from and met Tamera and Patrick at Iron Creek Farm. We went for a tour pulled along by the tractor.

Picked pumpkins...

and opened a window into the world that's been producing my peppers, tomatoes and cucumbers for the last 5 months.

Their wood-furnace heated greenhouses have vines that produce fruit from May until December. Tomato and pepper plants grow to be 30 feet tall and about 1.5 inches wide in diameter. Once fruit is picked on the lower bit of the stem, leaves are removed and the plant is trained to grow up, leaving space below for air to move through the green house and circulate.

My red and butter lettuces are grown in hydroponics and take about 6 weeks to reach full maturity.

Tamera and Patrick made the decision to grow organically after thinking about the kind of environment they wanted to raise their kids in. "Farms can be toxic," says Tamera, "and we didn't want to live in that kind of environment." Laughing she says, "don't get me wrong, organic farming has its fair share of things we put on the fields. Chicken manure, fish emulsion, most of it smells pretty funny." They started growing organically 4 years ago and are in the process to get some of their other land certified. Land has to sit barren for three years to rid the soil of chemicals. They acknowledge that it takes quite of bit of patience but say they haven't lost any yield in switching to organics.

It's exciting to be a farmer right now, Tamera says. Her bright eyes sparkle when talking about people beginning to care about where their food comes from, and who grows it. I asked her, "do you feel empowered just knowing that people like us care? I mean, do you think about that ever when you're pulling weeds." I smile. She beams back, "you know, I haven't but next time I'm pulling weeds I'll think of you!!"

Next spring, or even this fall, I really encourage you guys to subscribe to a CSA. Community Sustained Agriculture means you are face to face with your food, and directly supporting a local farm that isn't growing food in factories. You are paying for quality and nourishment for yourself and your family.

There is something transcendent in knowing face to face who is making your food. I'm newly grateful for my lettuce and peppers and beets and leeks. And while I'm cooking them tonight, I'll think about dirt on my hands and dried corn in the fields.

Coq au Vin a la Paprikash

2010-09-29T21:41:00.002-05:00

Warning to those who are skiddish about such matters: this post is about my hen which turned out to be a rooster which turned out to be dinner. If you are weak stomached, or perhaps deeply appreciate the
sterilization that our industrialized food production instills, you may not want to continue. I promise to have a slightly less bloody story for next time.

Paprikash turned out to be a boy. One ill-fated Tuesday morning, I went out to toss the girls their scraps for the day, walked down the alley off to the bus stop and "carrrraaaagh" came echoing between the garages, assailing my ears. We had our doubts about the sexuality of this one hen. She had been aggressive since day one, straining her neck and cheeping louder than the other three. Then her neck feathers started to loosen a bit and when harassed, she would flare her feathers. Her tail feather started to grow longer than the rest and started to curl over. But that sound was the final axe that fell. I had promised neighbors and my landlord that I would not have roosters. Paprikash is a boy, and he needs to die.

Marching down the alley with extra anxiety in my step, I ran the gamut of options. The Chicago Chicken Google Group often posts about lost roosters, or folks in the city having extra roosters that they don't know quite what to do with so I knew that going that route to find little Papri a new home had been over saturated. 8 of my best girl friends from college were due to arrive two days later for one of the best bachelorette weekends of all time, and beheading a cock was not on the agenda. So I called up a favor from a friend.

Bright and early Saturday morning, two friends, Paprikash and I did the death march over to Green City Market. A farmer there that I've been buying from for two years promised to take Papri off my hands. "I'm actually taking a whole lot of my hens to the processor. You want me to throw him in and bring him back to you next week?"

I said yes.

So here he is, in all his glory. He had to sit in the freezer for a few weeks until I had 5 hours to cook him, and brave friends who wanted to celebrate the end of a few good months. Most chicken we eat is three months old, and Papri lived a nice, free range, 4 month long life, well fed and well loved. And with a little help from Julia Child, he was absolutely delicious.

and for the record, I have officially learned my lesson. I will never count my chickens before they become full hens. Oops.

Detox on the Farm

2010-08-20T08:00:00.002-05:00

Please tell me summer is almost over. Mine has been chock-jammed full of weekends away, weddings, music festivals, friends in town, running about, CSA challenges, bike rides on and on and on. I wouldn't take back one single trip but August hit me hard. Really hard. Since Memorial Day weekend, I have been out of town 8 of the last 12 weekends. Oiy. It hurts more just typing that one out and rereading. Really Jo?! 8 of 12. No wonder I've been worn out.

A good detox weekend away was in order and luckily, I have good connections with the folk out in central Missouri. Hamilton, Missouri to be precise. I dare you to look at that Google map and not be jealous. I'm smack dab in the middle of fine USA soil surrounded by cornfields and soybeans for miles. My roommate's grandparents saved up for years to buy their fine 40 acre farm. Dean sold feed and Donna working at a beauty shop in town, kids went to school and the whole family would come home to tend their pigs, cattle, chickens and anything else Dean wanted to try his hand at. At their peak, they had 30 sows and would raise piglets for 6 months, then sent them off to a feed lot. Currently, D&D are hosting hoards of grand and great-grand children and only watching after a stray yellow calico cat who has yet to decide if he will adopt them as new owners.

What follows is a collection of memories from the weekend, and the intriguing farm facts that one gathers when all you do for four straight days is work and talk and swim and sleep. Wisdom to be gained grows in them fields.

Bounty from H&M Country Store, run by the Amish of Jamesport. Purchased: pineapple slices, flax seed, french burnt peanuts, whole nutmeg, candied ginger, tapioca pudding, garlic jelly, mini chocolate chips, banana chips, dried green beans, honey, local pasta, salted corn chips with flax, spicy black bean corn strings, steel cut oats, spearmint tea, agave nectar and tomato knives. Successful trip. Jamesport is full of stargazer quilts and oak furniture, funny beards and soft, unassuming smiles and the best club sandwich I've never had.

Neighbors on the north side of the fence. Black cattle are the hot commodity right now for beef raising. Dean couldn't tell me why but the black ones against any other breed are the most highly valued. For 20 cows, you only need one bull and that's a lot of action. Gestation period for cows is 9 months and typically you keep your bull away from the cows until early spring. Even at a 20:1 that guy will never stop.

D&D's best friends. We rode around their land for about 2 hours and three days later, my legs are still sore. Smokey hadn't been ridden in over a year, and never by anyone save Bob. I coaxed him around the pen a time or two but, again, heels still sore from kicking. A good stud should have eyes that are far apart, a narrow face and strong shoulders. Colts are weaned and sold between 6 and 8 months and then broken at 2 years old.

After hours of work on the farm, running around Jamesport or riding, we took naps on the dock. Above is the view from the dock up to the house from the pond. First 14 inches were bathtub warm, the rest--cool from the spring that feeds it. D&D built it when they first bought the land.

Evening walks past the neighbors' land, dogs, cattle-- we were an oddity walking down the gravel road, as if they knew we were just city girls posing for the weekend. Sunset colors orange, magenta and deep blue every night, with clear views of the Milky Way and a good handful of shooting stars each night.

Slap a sign around my neck that reads "will work for food and quite space." We dug little trenches, laid edging, trimmed trees, hauled rocks and dirt-- the burdens resting on D&D's minds became outlets to clear our minds. As it happens, nothing cures stress quite like getting sore, sweaty and fatigued.

When we pulled up, the corn had all been smashed down by a violent storm that blew through Friday night. By Monday afternoon, it had all perked back up again, pulled up by the sun, according to Dean. The green beans that I'm strolling through haven't been great this year. D&D won't be able to can a fraction of what they normally do to make it through winter. This summer, Donna had already canned beans, pickles, tomatoes and then freezes corn, peaches, strawberries and stores potatoes and onions in their basement.

Sometimes, all a girl needs is a little bit of calm space.

Culinary School 1: Intro to Professional Cookery

2010-08-17T20:39:00.002-05:00

I ran across this picture the other day and realized that I haven't really gotten into the meat of what I'm doing at culinary school. This picture is me, at Northwest Cutlery, picking up my knife kit and clothes. My very first chefs jacket. It's exciting and nerdy. The point of this whole thing is, it's high time I tell you all what cooking school is like. I'm in class 2-3 nights a week, at least 2 of those nights from 6:30 to 11:00 pm for practicum. Most of the time it's fairly exhausting and sweaty and can be a bit gross but over and above all of that, all the time it is amazingly fun. I find myself chopping carrots at 10:30 at night, knowing full well that I'll need to get up for work in 7 hours and I'm smiling. First things first: Intro to Professional Cookery was the absolute basics. For example how do you cut an onion? First, place your cutting board on a paper towel so it doesn't slide around the table. Second, align your board with the edge of the table, about 1 inch from the edge. Third, grip knife with your thumb and forefinger on the blade, the rest of your hand on the handle. Fourth, did you wash your hands before you started this project? Fifth, realign board. Sixth, grasp knife again. Seventh, put down chefs knife and pick up paring knife. Eighth, peel onion with paring knife. Nineth, pick up chefs knife, slice onion from root to nose. Tenth, realign cutting board (no doubt it has gone askew). Eleventh, using the claw formation on your left hand, claw onto the root end of your onion and make many quick, thin diagonal cuts parallel to the veins of the onion. Twelfth, cut two horizontal cuts with your knife parallel and flat to the board with your chefs knife. Thirteenth, move your claw over your onion, so you're gripping the whole thing and slice it the opposite direction, making perfect small dice.

Thirteen steps for onion cutting and don't even get me started on tournee potatoes. The photo on the left is my final from this class. Tournee potatoes, batonnee carrots, small dice potatoes and onions cut in the manner described above. All this to say, I've now learned how to properly slice onions, carrots, large chunks of beef, bone marrow, celery, leeks, potatoes, shallots, garlic, chicken, duck, flat fish (like halibut or flounder), round fish (like salmon or trout) and how to make tomatoes portuguese and all kinds of butter. Clarified butter, butter for your steak, butter for your snails, butter butter butter. It was a steep learning curve of a quarter, as evidenced by the lack of photo evidence. I do promise that in the following posts, we will actually get to recipes and more photos. For now, just the basics.

My first finger condom. Ouch.

The "how to" on urban chickens

2010-08-10T21:24:00.001-05:00

This is getting a little odd. Somehow, I didn't expect raising chickens to become a qualifier of my own identity. You know that things have gotten a little too far that while standing in Grand Park, waiting for Lady Gaga concert, you see someone mouth "that's the girl that has chickens in Old Town." No joke. Despite my protestations it has become a qualifier of my life and . No, I am decidedly not in love nor am I fixing to buy chicken diapers nor do I want little outfits, but this whole chicken thing definitely has its perks.

A friend from Atlanta emailed me the other day about this beautiful blog saying, "I want to try an egg from your stores next time I'm up there!" I started cruising 8.ate@eight and was delightfully intrigued. As it happens Ms. 8ate and I have emailed back and forth: questions about 8-stranger-dinner-parties and chickens started whipping from Chicago to New York and back. In the midst of it all, I realized that I have done you all a grave disservice. I have never really explained what all is entailed in getting all the setups, keeping chickens happy and well fed and now laying. So at her encouragement I am going to do so now. Any of you urbanites out there who have thought about having chickens, it is my sincerest intention to tell you exactly how much work is entailed, and how delightful it is to have poultry in your very own back yard.

Do you have to get chickens in the spring? It just so happened that I was ready for chickens this spring but coincidentally, I do think that it's the best time to get them. Here's the deal: you get chicks in the mail (it's true, the US post delivered a peeping box to my front door), and they need to live inside under a heat lamp for 6 weeks. They end up getting pretty big, (8-10 inches tall) and really messy trying to flap their wings and kicking up the pine shavings all over your apartment. We had a piece of dog crate to put on top of our cardboard boxes to keep them from flying out. Point of it is, as chicks, the first week their box has to be around 95 degrees, then decrease by 5 degrees every week. By the time week 6 rolled around, Chicago was around 65-70 degrees, which is what the weather ideally should be when they first get outside. I suppose you could get chicks at time when it's not as warm out, but then you'd need to keep them inside for longer. Another factor: heritage breeds start laying at 6 months old. Hens hit their peak laying season in summer when they have plenty of sunlight. I think ours started laying sooner because it was the full on summer and they were getting plenty of sunlight. I have a friend that got his in June, and they did start laying in January, but not regularly until March...

How did you decide what chickens to get and what kind of coop do you have? I chose my breeds from mypetchicken.com. They have a great little quiz about where you live and what kinds of chickens will do best for what you want (this is good Tuesday afternoon entertainment for anyone, I think). I know Rhode Island Reds & Barred Rocks are favorites among backyard chicken folks. I bought my coop at MyPetChicken also. I have a little brick patio on the main level that is about 15ftx40ft. 95% of the time the chickens are in that coop, but from time to time, I let them out and let them run around my backyard and pick through the garden. I know people that have them on top of their garages, without any dirt for the chickens to dig through, though chickens love dirt and need something to scrathc through.

How often do you check on them? I probably check on their feed and water every 2-3 days, though I like to toss in kitchen scraps daily to give them a varied diet. They eat EVERYTHING, though they shouldn't have celery (they can choke on the stringiness) or garlic and onion because it will effect the flavor of their eggs (my boyfriend still threatens to feed them ubiquitous amounts of basil and garlic just to see what happens).

How often do you clean their coop? The thing with having your coop on the ground is that you can develop a sort of natural composting process and have to clean your coop less frequently. Though, even on a terrace, you could do the same thing. I have straw down on the bottom of my coop and have changed it twice since they moved outside in April. It doesn't smell, and if you have any issues with bugs (which I've heard you can if you're on a terrace) you can use DE to discourage insect laying in the bottom of your coop. It is food grade, so it's safe for chickens to eat and scratch around in.

Can you go on vacation? I have left them for 3 days without care and they have been absolutely fine. Now that they're laying every day, I have arranged for a friend to come over and just be sure they have clean water and food, in exchange for any eggs that are laid. You'd be surprised at how your good friends turn into willing chicken sitters!

How much does the whole setup cost? This really varies. Obviously, the coop has been my biggest cost. Other than that, I'm getting organic feed delivered to my door by a local guy. I have used 3-25 lbs bags of feed that were $10 bucks each, plus $10 for one bale of hay (yes, I'm storing a bale of hay in the basement of my apartment building), $20 for the feeder and water and $10 for the heat lamp. And that's about it!

How long will chickens live for? I've heard that hens will healthily lay for 3 years but have heard of chickens living for 30!! No one really knows the life expectancy for chickens because usually they die of unnatural causes (predators animal & human)...

All I can say is, having chickens is really really great! I am completely city girl, born and raised in Chicago and Chicago suburbs and never have worked a day on the farm (save once) in my life. Though I've only had 6 eggs so far, it is SO worth it.

Here are some links you may find helpful:
http://www.mypetchicken.com/default.aspx
http://www.backyardchickens.com/
http://groups.google.com/group/chicago-chicken-enthusiasts

If any of you have questions or are curious about chickens, please let me know!

Chickens to Eggs

2010-07-29T17:48:00.000-05:00

Back in March, I made a pretty bold claim that I may need to refute. This circular question of 'which came first' got pretty complicated today. You see, back in March I had 4 little hatchlings delivered to my door for in the hopes that one day they would all grow up and produce some fine, fresh eggs. I had almost forgotten. After too many mornings of trudging down my culinary school scraps to the back yard, tossing them in the cage and wishing them a good day with thoughts of tandoori chicken on the brain, I almost forgot why I was raising them. Further complicating the issue was the day Paprikash decided to start crowing, and was promptly whisked away for a neat beheading in the countryside (he now is perched in my freezer, ready to sing his final song). But then, today after work I got home, lifted the nesting box lid like normal to give the girls fresh water and voila!?

There they were. I certainly wasn't expecting them (notice the lack of comfortable straw to help "ease the mothering transition" for the ladies). It was time and no hard wood floor was going to keep them from it. Now, I realize this is rather an odd question but, who's the babies momma?

Any takers? Tetrazinni looks a little spry and curious with her brown head cocked to the side but she's still a bit too finicky to be the first layer. Pollo is having a peacock-esque day, and would make a very proud momma but her comb hasn't quite grown in and she's acts a little tougher then she really is. My money is on Tandoori. She's had a rough go of it the last week, after her comb was bloodily half-severed in a pecking order duel but she's the biggest and has all the right curves for laying.

So here's hoping for contagion. Dinner tonight was March's summer version of eggs on toast-- I just couldn't resist. Half a peach, rather than grapefruit, whole grain bread from Treasure Island, and eggs. My very own eggs. Yes I will be sharing so please place your name in queue.

A Newly Minted Ending

2010-07-26T19:33:00.000-05:00

Nothing finishes a barbeque quite like mint. It doesn't matter if we're post-Mufaletta hot dogs during the world's best homemade bachelorette weekend,

Or taking the little town of Fremont, IN by storm with barbeque after barbeque on the green,

Or post-wedding cook out, whipped up for hungry, long-missed and now faraway friends,

There's only good way to cap off any of these occasions, and that is, with mint.

I like it on top of watermelon, peaches, strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, pretty much any good freshness I can get my hands on. The Chicago chickadees chowed on mint atop grilled steak skewers. Folks in Fremont feasted on watermelon freshly minted. The Minneapolis mass mowed white peaches, creme fraiche and mint. And so far that M has topped all the rest.

What do you like to top with mint? Anyone else have good recipes for our most prolific summer herb?

Help me vote for Green City Market

2010-07-20T12:29:00.000-05:00

It's no surprise to you all that I do dearly dearly love the Green City Market. From last week's fantastic BBQ, (arguably Chicago's best event in the summer) to my easiest pick up spot for local, sustainable food, this market has been unbelievably formative in my locavore switch.

Help me make Green City a better market-- this vote helps market managers connect with customers, new vendors, community leaders and local media. America Farmland Trust helps support farmers, farmland and food through strengthening local economies and encouraging healthy farming techniques.

And yes, I know Green City is the biggest market in Chicago so maybe that means you don't think it needs our help, but you know what? Without GCM, we would lose so much support for all of the other farmers markets in Chicago, the restaurants that source from it and the buyers that learned what it meant to go local at the sight of their burgeoning bumper crops.

To vote for Green City Market*, all you have to do is:

1.) Go to www.farmland.org/vote

2.) Type in 60614 (for GCM's zip code) and,

3.) Click “Vote”

If you aren't a local Chicagoan, please vote for your own too and let me know so I can be sure to check your local market out when I'm in town!!

Grilled Pizza beats the Heat

2010-07-11T18:19:00.003-05:00

All Chicago can talk about is the Heat these days. The whole city feels as though a fast, hot one was just pulled on us. I guess the memories of 91-92-93 and 96-97-98 will have to stay memories and we won't be hoping for the golden third three peat anytime soon. The intersection of Damen and Madison just cooled off-- and quick.

However, back up in Old Town we have had a steady stream of days in which you walk outside and feel like a large piping hot pizza paddle is smacking you in the face. This heat sends moisture seeping out of your body in one hot nano second. Times like this I balk at the thought of cooking. Who wants to stand in front of an oven or stove when you could be sitting on a patio drinking something cool. This is what we Chicagoans survive winter for?! Forget cooking. June, July and August are for drinking, chilling and grilling. No dishes, no cooking. Minimal prep and grill.

I'm a total sucker for pizza in general and grilling pizza outside sends me straight to my happy place. By the time Thursday rolls around, I'm full aware that a whole 'nother round of veggies is coming my way on Saturday morning so I had better use up the rest of it-- and quick.

I had depleted my stash of homemade pre-frozen dough, so when in a pinch store-bought crust will do. I really like Rustic Crust pre-made crust. Bobboli is a bit too sweet for my taste as is Pilsbury's canned stuff, but Rustic Crust is heavy enough to go straight onto the grill (no stone needed) and can absorb the voluminous amounts of olive oil I like to use as a base.

I'm a big fan of Quatro Stagioni, mainly because I'm too American to limit my pizza with just a few toppings and this way I can get the best of all worlds. Four different slices of pizza means three times the usual amount of creativity and ingredients I can play with. Plus what else were you going to do with that one half zucchini that you had used earlier in the week?!

Last nights was: olive oil base with finely diced fresh garlic. Quarter 1: heirloom yellowy-orange tomato, feta, fresh basil Quarter 2: zucchini, vine tomato, pesto provolone, basil

Quarter 3: zucchini, sheep's milk cheese, purple sage Quarter 4: heirloom yellowy-orange tomato, vine ripe tomato, herbed brie, fresh basil

Scrounge up what you've got in the fridge, toss it on and grill for 10-15 minutes with your grill around 425.

It's almost laughable all of the dishes I used for prep: cutting board and one knife. Trust me, your resident dishwasher will be assuming this position for all of 15 seconds. Just long enough to snap a pic.

Pate de Bicyclette Around the Corner

2010-07-07T18:26:00.003-05:00

I just was in the mist of typing an email to my academic advisor and my gmail window showed me "Back to School" meaning, back to the folder that I labeled "School" but this one hit me square across the face. How appropriate?!. I've been out of class for two whole weeks, in the midst of my third and am having one of those nervous moments where you realize something really dramatic could be just around the corner, or it could just be another silly corner with a path leading in the direction you were already going. I had forgotten that around my next corner is three nights of classes a week, and significantly less social time.

When you start pursuing something new, work at it for a bit, and then break in pursuing that adventure; returning back can be a bit tricky. All of a sudden I start to think, "is this really what I want to be doing?" or "what if at the end of it all, the only thing I really get out of this is making REALLY good croissants?!" Today I am decided that even if the latter is all I gain, it will be a pretty significant accomplishment. Onward ho around that corner.

Latest corner accomplishment has been whittling down the local preserved goods in my little Frigidaire. My freezer is a little like a mini-GreenSugar treasure chest: hand-picked lingonberries from Alaska, some reserved bacon grease, 2 ziplocks of frozen roasted corn from last week, black walnuts from the Cap's grandparents place in Missouri, and seven little chicken livers that I've been nestling away since early last summer.

Seven chicken livers is a lot of iron. In retrospect, I probably should have taken on this adventure with a bit more timeliness. Regardless, 7 chicken livers felt like approximately half a pound which is exactly what my dear friend Jacques' recipe called for and what with Garde Mange class coming up next quarter, I thought it may be wise if my first liver experience was in the privacy of my very own home, rather than in class in front of Chef Pierre's gleaming eye.

I flipped things around a bit, hoping that Jacques will forgive me. I used fresh thyme, and lots of it, rather than dried. Plus, I upgraded a bit with my Johnny Walker Black. Quite frankly, I've never known a frenchman to be discouraged in using fresh herbs vs. dried and good quality whiskey.

For your own personal reference, pate is delightfully portable, even when biking up 25 miles to the North Shore. *Photos are actually en route to the 4th of July Lake Bluff parade.

Pate de Bicyclette
1/2 lbs chicken livers
1/2 onion, medium diced
1 small garlic clove
1 bay leaf
2 T freshly chopped thyme
Kosher salt
1/2 c water
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 T Johnny Black
Freshly ground black pepper

In a medium sauce pan, brown livers just slightly, about 2 minutes. Add onion, garlic, bay leaf, thyme and salt and sweat onion, without browning it for 3 minutes. Add water and bring to an easy simmer. Simmer for about 5 minutes, keeping your livers soft to the touch- you should get a nice bounce back off your spoon. Remove from heat and allow to stand, covered for 5 minutes.

Discard bay leaf. Using a slotted spoon, transfer onions, thyme and livers into a food processor. While blending, add butter, in 2 tablespoon pieces at a time so that they are evenly incorporated. Add whiskey and process until smooth and creamy. Season with salt or more thyme if needed.

In 3 medium sized rammekins (or whatever you may have) coat their insides with butter and pour your pate liquid into them. Cover with saran wrap, or, as I did, 1/8" melted butter. These will keep in your fridge for 1 week or in your freezer for 2 months.

I made three and have already given one to my dad for his SIXTIETH birthday, and another equally as important occasion.

Jacques' Pate found here.

Eggplant: Convincing the unconvincable

2010-06-16T21:45:00.005-05:00

I subscribed to a CSA this year. First time, long time coming. While it means deliciously fresh, local (ie. guilt free) produce, organic (in this case), well loved, lip-smacking good, it also means.....a little bit of strife. Box number one glared up at me with it's purple sheen, hiding beneath butter lettuce, pressed between English cucumbers and heirloom tomatoes. Eggplant. Can you see it?

Eggplant

What to do with this gummy, oddly seeded, tough, flavorless aubergine? Wikipedia tells me that this lovely little veggie (sometimes a fruit) only arrived in the west circa 1500, hardly a time when my people were developing their palates. Clearly mine still has not developed a taste for this. As a matter of fact, neither has the Cap'n nor Trodimon's. We have three non-believers that need to be converted. Nothing from box #1 will go to waste.

I stumble upon this little recipe and the wheels start to turn. I wasn't craving an Asian taste. Last night's soup satisfied that taste bookmark for the week. But I like the idea. Cut a slit in 3/4" eggplant rounds and stuff it full of...something. This I can work with.

Stuffed, eggplant, Italian-- and fennel pops in my head. One of my coworkers has recently fell head over heels for Mario Batalli, or more particularly the man's use of fennel. Like any good Italian knows, fennel is not just for our Italian sausage but can be blended into almost anything for that little non so cosa (Italian for je ne sais quoi). .

So what if we combine ricotta cheese, hot Italian sausage and fennel and stuff eggplants with that. Then grill it. Throw it on a bed of marinara pasta...

And top with garden-grown Italian parsley and vodka marinara. Presto! We were converted. This tastes nothing like that gummy, gross, overly breaded flavorless, gelatinous mass that I hate. This eggplant is fresh and firm and earthy. And, much to Mario's delight, full of fennel. Delicious. I think for round two lunch leftovers I may even spoon the extra filling on top of the eggplant.

And here you have it. Our inaugural meal on my newly built picnic table. May the delicious combination of CSA challenges and convertible palates begin on my soon-to-be-blue picnic table!

Italian Stuffed Eggplant
1 eggplant, sliced into 3/4" rounds, and slit 2" wide
1 cup ricotta
3 links of hot Italian sausage, de-cased, browned and broken into small bits
2 t freshly ground fennel
1 medium zucchini, sliced into 1/8 inch strips
8 oz whole wheat thin spaghetti
1 jar vodka marinara
2 T chopped Italian parsley
Salt & pepper
Olive oil

Prepare spaghetti according to package instructions. Toss with 1/3 c marinara sauce to keep the pasta from sticking. Fire up your grill. Combine ricotta, sausage, fennel, and salt and pepper to taste. Stuff eggplant rounds with ricotta mix. Brush eggplant and zucchini with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Grill zucchini and eggplant for 5 minutes each side, or until nice char marks develop. Plate pasta, cross 2 zucchini strips and place eggplant atop pasta pile. Spoon extra marinara atop eggplant and sprinkle with parsley.

*line your grill with aluminum foil to keep your eggplant from sticking to the grill.
** to be enjoyed on a hot summer night after biking a gallon of blue wood stain 4 miles home. This is going to be a picnic table deserving of such hard-fought-for-meals.

An academic approach to cooking: Philosophy & Food

2010-06-09T08:33:00.002-05:00

Well folks the cat is out of the bag. I'm currently attending Kendall College to obtain my Certificate of Professional Cookery. No, I don't really think that I want to work the line in a restaurant. No, I don't think this will change my day job. But damn do I hope it makes me one hell of a dinner party host.

My plan had been to wait until near retirement for this bucket-list-pursuit. But as I've been reminded lately, life is too short for waiting later in life to pursue what you love and, as un-American as it sounds, maybe it's ok to throw money and time and energy at something just because you love it and not because it's going to take you to the right career path. I am interested in developing myself as a passionate, interesting person, which sometimes can include, but does not always include the diligent, focused worker. So there.

This weeks assignment in Stocks, Soups & Sauces was "write about your Philosophy of Food." Period. Chef Pollin gave us little direction when he simply added, "you know, I jus laiike to 'ear about what it eez zat makes you want to cuuk." So here goes.

I am passionate about food because I am passionate about taste. Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin says in The Physiology of Taste, “taste invites us, by arousing our pleasure, to repair the constant losses which we suffer through our physical existence. [And] it helps us to choose from the variety of substances which Nature presents to us those which are best adapted to nourish us.” For me, the taste of food, the experience that happens when we taste food drives me too cook, to seek out new adventures in taste, to store memories in a way that flavor is what marks time and keeps me in place and drives me to new places.

Food in our culture is often abused as it is such a comfort for when we feel pain. Brillat-Savarin is right when he says that taste repairs losses. The concept of comfort food itself validates this. For me there is a place in my brain where I store memories of taste and most frequently those flavors are tied to an emotion. The taste of asparagus brings me to the early green shoots of daffodils poking their way up on a dreary April morning. The taste of a hearty stew reminds me of coming home from college to a supportive, encouraging mom. The taste of peppery goat cheese sends me straight to a garden in the Loire Valley where I ate the best cheese I ever had on a drizzly afternoon sitting under a pine tree. It is through taste that I can recall my life and mark time through the flavors of seasons.

Taste has an incredible forward-moving component to it as well. As a thrill seeker and adventurer, I likewise am always on the hunt for a new taste. Being passionate about food means you are always after something just a little bit different, just a little bit better than the last dish you created. As I find new flavors, I think about layering and combining flavors and textures in a new way, playing with those combinations in my head. The crave of taste has lately brought me to farmers markets and to raising chickens in my back yard. It has begun playing a formative role for my hobbies and interests, much to my surprise and delight.

Food is my medium for showing people that I care about them as I provide a space and a carrier for them to hold good memories. Through sharing food and the experience of taste, I think we share one of the most fundamental acts of being human: feeding ourselves. Through this nourishment, we do repair the ‘losses of physical existence’ and in so doing, create a lasting bond between ourselves and those we eat with.

Best of the Spring: Swing Away

2010-05-31T14:51:00.001-05:00

I've been on a good run lately. Hittin' it outta the ball park, taking it all the way, killing it, taking names, destroying it, hitting it spot on, nailing it. No matter what double entendre you use, I've been freaking good at picking out recipes lately. Of course, it's always a community effort so thank you Jessi, Trodimon, MelCC and others who have contributed: this good run is for you.

Bo Ssam

First up, way back in March when the days were drizzly and 40 degrees seemed like a heat wave, there was a tweet that started it all. "Just saw this on @hungrynation (via @food52). Needs to be a pork shoulder dinner experiment. http://bit.ly/9Ts8x2" from @tokissthecook. Our experiment worked so well, I made it again for my mom's 60th birthday. Talk about momentous. Talk about delicious. Talk about hitting one way out of the park.

Ginger scallion sauce, jalapeno garlic puree, soy sauce.

Salty, sweet shredded pork shoulder, sugar-vinegared sushi rice

Fingerling, Asparagus, Goat Cheese Pizza
Right around this time, farmers markets are getting a little bare bones, until aspargus appears. Bright green shoots just after our last snow bring smiles to the faces of drearied, wearied farmers market shoppers. We were long overdue for a meeting of the minds: Trodimon vs some dear friends from college days: MelCC and her indy filmmaker. They met the chickens and the man and gorged on some outstanding, local, fresh pizza. I appreciate the foods and friends that take you from one season to another. Talk about easing transition.

Supplemented by, not-so-local but oh-so-savory Spicy Sausage & Gorgonzola Pizza.

Red Snapper
Up next, something that's been staring me straight in the eye lately.

I've never filleted a fish. Until 3 weeks ago. Picking up cooking school certainly does keep you on your toes. I've made a promise, or at least a sincere effort to use one skill per week in my everyday cooking that I have learned and now that we're past julienne carrots, I've had to get my game face on. One sunny, warm, fatigued Friday night I found myself leaning over the counter at Whole Foods asking the fish monger if I could touch and smell the fish he presented. The folks next to me who were buying pre-seasoned and breaded cutlets of cod, thought I had gone a bit over the deep end. Nick the monger was obliging saying, "Yeah this snapper is from the Gulf-- err, not near the oil though?!" Slick to the touch, firm flesh and glossy eye told me this little guy was a keeper.

Dragged home, butterflied leaving one side of the flesh still attached to the bones, and nestled on a bed of Spanish White Beans & Spinach. It stared me in the eye, and I stared right back.

Chicken al Mattone
This one hasn't been staring me in the face, but lingering in my mind for almost a year now. It happens frequently that my memory stores flavors and images, a little more realistic than I believe is normal. This cover of Bon Appetit from September 2009 has been taunting me since then.

I'm on the hunt for whole chicken recipes since making friends with a chicken farmer at GCM last summer, and finding that oven roasted whole chicken could get me through a whole week of salads, wraps, sandwiches and more. Pre-cooked chicken is the perfect summer fare. For this one, you remove the backbone, butterfly the whole chicken and stick it under a brick. Forget the "marinate for 24 hours"-- none of us have the forethought for such things in summer. Rub on the oil, herbs and garlic and let it go. It's hands down the best roasted chicken I've ever had. So good, I didn't get to snap a picture of it plated before it was inhaled. I killed this one real good.

I'm just saying, when it comes right down to it, sometimes on momentous occasions, you've got to just hit it out of the park. Mama Green Sug says, "go big or go home!!"

Our hens are growing up

2010-05-08T17:38:00.002-05:00

Please tell me if you are a pet owner, that it is perfectly normal and healthy to track life on the stages of your pet's growth. Just as I type that phrase, it feels that this whole 'chickens in the city' is me feathering my nest much more than I had intended. I swear I'm not nesting. I'm still running about, taking weekend trips to microbreweries just to get out of the city and see the horizon for a bit. I have only gone to one Cubs game this year and plan to multiply that number shortly. However. Sigh. I'm starting to mark time by this kind of growth:

They started hand-held:

They were little and cute and chirping away in our back porch.

Fluff started disappearing, feet and feathers grew

they learned to how to make friends.

and how to perch.

And then, my dear girls got a real home, not just a cardboard box, brought to you buy mypetchicken.com.

We're calling a chicken condo, rather than coop. And since they're Old Town hens, they'll probably be getting little Tiffany's bracelets for their second birthday. Classy ladies.

The hens are happily nested, though still won't be laying until September. In the meantime I tossed in a few strawberry tops and asparagus ends and the girls went wild.

So I have housed-soon-to-be-nested, happy chickens. And somehow, as they're now the size that's a bit too large to be held, but not quite yet laying, I think I had better think about where I will grow my beans this year, and when to move the herbs outside. We're mid-spring-sized chicken.

Crop Mobbing

2010-04-11T10:37:00.005-05:00

Friday afternoon as the markets slowed down and the grain brokers came back to the office after spending the day on the floor of the CBOT, I was cornered by one of our grain brokers. Rumors have been running through my firm that 'Joanna was raising chickens'--and this guy hunted me down. "Really?!" he said, "I thought that all was a big joke! But I've been thinking about raising them myself?!" I'm shocked and delighted all at once and the conversation begins: "I mean, how shocking is it that this is the first generation in the history of humanity that doesn't know how to grow it's own food?!" "Yes and since that bothers me and I want to do something about it, I've been named the crazy one on the desk?!"

I've been running into a lot of kindred spirits lately. Turns out, raising chickens in Chicago has two reactions: there are those who are shocked, appauled, disgusted, incensed that you would DARE to do something that dirty in their backyard. "What are you going to do with all that poop!!" is the most common question. My answer: I'm not intending to pick every last piece of it up with a ziplock baggie. (no offense to the dog lovers out there but honestly, it seems like a funny logical block) The other response is one of comraderie. I'm finding more and more folks who have been thinking about composting/buying local/cooking more/raising chickens even. And my chickens, have become the avenue for having these kinds of conversations.

I ran across this NYT article in mid-February and immediately thought-- is there anyone in Chicago doing this? As a periphery member of the AUA I am slowly finding more and more ways to meet like-minded folks who are passionate about knowing where food comes from and who are interested in helping the traveling between there and here. So... a few weeks ago this thread was posted:

    *Kismet Fruit Farm*, a 6 year old fruit farm, needs to salvage raspberry
    shoots and canes and strawberry crowns from their previous farm site.
    Their commitment to support community food production anywhere,
    aligns them with Cob Connection for this great opportunity for our
    supporters - to go home with the fruits of their labors.

    Most of the digging work will be done by tractor, so mostly we will bend,
    collect, and organize while we talk, laugh, sing and get to know each other.

    In exchange for your hard work and eagerness to get out of the city and onto
    a farm this spring, you will be fed dinner, breathe fresh air, and share in
    the bounty!

And so I did.

7 am on Saturday morning Trodimon and I went cruising up to Western Michigan to help. As it turns out, Kismet has been sharing land with a pair of established farmers and needed to move crops from the land-share to their own land. Land owners Joan and John were there to help, much to Kismet's surprise. There seems to be more going on in this relationship but since we're there to pick canes and crowns, we save our questions for later.

Joan and John are the kinds of farmers that look like a postcard: she's out there in a skirt, a SKIRT in the fields! in a dress that looks delightfully homemade. His grey beard grazes his chest as he bends slowly to pick up the canes left by those without such a careful eye.

We talk about my chickens and how to preserve eggs in a crock for your pantry in the 19th century manner with a kind of limewater something. We talk about my one failed attempt at making mozzarella from scratch and her goat cheese made from her three momma goats. "Oh we have 9 babies that are just one month old, would you all like to come and see them? Sure, you can come see the whole place-- our solar panels and wind turbines and everything." Joan & John's bread and butter is their organic blueberry farm but they also have a team of oxen for maple syruping, three momma goats for milk and 15-ish chickens (it's hard to keep track when they keep having chicks and turning up on the dinner table).

They have lived off the grid since they moved onto the farm 30 years ago. Wind and solar power the electricity for the house. Heat comes from wood that John mills from the trees on the land. They are building a beautiful new farmhouse and John is milling all of the wood for flooring, wainscotting, porches, the list goes on. They're incredible people. Like-minded, doesn't even begin to describe it. Through the tour of their farm, I'm realizing: you are precisely the people that I'm changing my life to be like. I'm not able to live off the grid or make all of my own goat cheese, but I'm learning lessons in home preserving and raising chickens and talking to the farmers that I'm buying from because of people like you.

It's a funny thing when you imagine a life that you're trying to shadow and then find yourself meeting those very folks.

All this to say, I just wanted to show you all what their life looked like. No, I don't think I'm ready to move to a nineteenth century farm house. But I do want to live a life as responsibly as Joan and John. I want to be proud of the life that I'm living and take ownership of what I'm using. I want to live in a way that creates conversation and inspires other people to do the things that they've been thinking in the back of their minds.

We returned home to grid-powered apartments and a fridge full of store bought food. I think we even ordered out pizza because we were both too tired to cook. Baby steps. We brought back strawberry crowns of our own for planting. This summer, as my strawberries fruit, I will make jam and when the blueberries are in season, I plan to make a run up to Joan & John's to pick my own and chat with Joan about the very best kinds of blueberry preserves.

Any and all are welcome.

Eggs to Chickens

2010-03-21T19:46:00.000-05:00

Now isn't that the natural progression? The cyclical question for me is quite easy. The egg ALWAYS came before the chicken. It all started here:

Eggs on toast is my absolute favorite homemade breakfast. If I could have two eggs, sunny side up and a piece of whole wheat toast for breakfast every morning I swear I would be the most productive, alert broker there ever was. Punching the clock at 6:30 am leaves little room in my morning schedule for breakfast, let alone one that's pan-fried, so I have resigned myself to every Saturday and Sunday morning making a pretty looking breakfast for myself. Either like this one above or this one here or the ones here, it's a must to keep my early morning habits consistent and healthy.

The breakfast above is a particularly memorable one. This winter, I finally visited an old friend from college whose side hobby had been an intriguing point for quite some time: he owns two little Rhode Island Reds that live in a coop, outside his apartment in Lincoln Square. After greeting the ladies, watching them poke around in the dirt and brick patio for the better part of an hour on a chilly grey January Saturday morning, we ventured back to the kitchen where he retrieved from his freezer three lovely brown eggs. "Here" he said, "I've got much more than I know what to do with."

Sometimes when you see someone else doing something that looks crazy and impossible, something clicks in your mind and makes it seem like you yourself could actually do it too. Didn't you ever get into something you never dreamed of because someone that you knew was already doing it and that somehow took some pressure off? I will not be so naive or foolish to pretend that I'm the first one ever doing this (puh-lease people have been raising chickens for centuries!) nor even the first in Chicago (check out this lovely google group for more info), though I may be the first in Old Town...

4 little peeping chicks, nay, squawking chicks were delivered to my doorstep on Tuesday morning. They had been injected with a LOT of electrolytes and packaged up with some heat packs and straw in a box and shipped overnight from a hatchery in Naperville. I believe they were born on Sunday, which would make them exactly one week old today. Here is Paprikash on her first week birthday with daffodils that just bloomed today:

So here's hoping that you're along for this adventure too, and prepared for many an egg recipe come October. In the girls honor, I threw a petit "wine and chicks" evening for some girlfriends. What's better on a dreary Friday night in March than a little red wine and chirping hens (human and gallus families). And what better dessert should one have with Easter heavy upon us, than coconut cupcakes.

Thanks to Ina Garden for always knowing precisely what I should cook for parties and having the best cupcake recipes there ever were.

Chickadee Coconut Cupcakes
3 sticks unsalted butter, at room temp
2 cups sugar
5 large eggs, at room temp
1 1/2 t pure Mexican vanilla
1 1/2 t pure almond extract
3 c flour
1 t baking powder
1/2 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
1 c buttermilk
14 oz sweetened, shredded coconut

For the frosting:
8 oz cream cheese at room temperature
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter
1 t Mexican vanilla
1/4 t almond extract
2-3 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted

Preheat oven to 350.
Cream together butter and sugar with an electric mixer on high until light and fluffy as a little 1 week old chick. Add eggs, one at a time, beating slowly between each add. Add vanilla and almond extracts and mix well.

In a separate bowl, whisk together, flour, powder, soda, salt. In threes, add the flour mix and buttermilk to the sugar & butter mix, in shifts. Mix just until combined. Fold in 7 ounces of coconut.

Line a muffin tin with paper liners, fill liner to the top with batter and bake for 25-30 minutes. Allow the cakes to cool in the pan for 10 minutes before moving to a cooling rack.

While cakes are baking, cream together cheese, butter, vanilla and almond with an electric mixer on low. Add confectioners' sugar and mix until smooth.

Frost the cupcakes and sprinkle with remaining coconut.

Espressos In Brazil

2010-03-15T17:31:00.002-05:00

Last week, I was in Brazil for work and in true "when in Rome" fashion I found myself consuming up to 6-10 espressos a day. Two for breakfast, 2 during morning meetings, 1 with lunch, 2 during my afternoon meetings, and one after dinner. Hang on, that's decidedly 10. Shameful. While I cut my caffeine consumption back to normal levels, I thought I'd share with you all just how representative my consumption levels were displayed throughout my photos of the trip. Here are a few smatterings for your viewing pleasure:

Breakfast at Praia Ipanema Hotel (much recommended for any stay in Rio, stay away from Cococabana)

Breakfast meeting & mid-meeting cafes

Alright alright, so I wasn't drinking coffee the WHOLE time: Chopp: cheap delicious cold Brasilian lager & Ipanema Beach

How does the phrase go? An espresso a day keeps the sleepiness away?

And just for kicks: water & a biscotio de polvilho watching futevolle

Guarana, amazonian fruit soda & pao de queijo. The view from the top of Pao de Acucar

I'm missing the flavors of Brasil already.

Mexicana to Thai: a carnitas/cabbage study

2010-03-13T09:50:00.006-06:00

I solemnly swear to those interested parties that this is my last publicly sung praise of my slow cooker. I'm moving on to bigger (physically) and better (come on, it's JOHN!) cookbooks, namely this one. It was a delightful peace offering from a biz trip to NOLA and I'm quite eager to get at it but before I do, Trodímo̱n please allow me this final last tribute to my lovely slow cooker.

I received this slow cooker from la maman de Trodimon for Christmas. As a matter of irony, I was incidentally so vocal about my desire for a slow cooker that I also received one from my culinacurious father. On December 26, 2009 I was the proud owner of TWO slow cookers-- and sometimes I still wish I had two, if only because it would be a physical manifestation of my true love. Alas, practicality calls and I really needed new cutting boards, knives, a slotted spoon-- you know, the essentials. For those that are still using old cutting boards that are warped and don't have the fancy stick-ems on the bottom: UPGRADE! It makes all the difference.

Back to the matter at hand, she who gave the slow cooker happened to be celebrating une petite anniversaire, and naturally it was not enough to only have a stellar lunch here; we needed to have a two day celebration. I personally believe that birthdays should be week-long extravaganzas, so a two-day is a must. With the last evening of slow cooking ahead and a birthday at hand, a new recipe was needed.

Bon Appetit ran a spread on slow cooking in their latest issue, much to my delight, and in it was a lovely recipe for carnitas. With a pork shoulder in the freezer from a local farmers market, it seemed an easy choice. I left my slow cooker on low for 8 hours, and then at warming for another 3-- final tip to the slow cooker: when it comes to meats, the longer on the warm setting, the better. Don't be afraid of a 6 hour cook time-- you can go longer. In fact, this recipe doesn't call for any liquids to add and I was a bit nervous about the meat drying out. When you're throwing together salt, pepper, oregano & pork, having good quality meat is key. I picked up a pork shoulder from Jake's Country Meats at the Logan Square Market and it was phenomenal.

But then, here I am with 3/4ers a head of cabbage and where to go from there? I've fallen in love with the Brassicaceae family, so I could not leave such a delightful specimen alone. New challenge: how to cook with cabbage. But let's be honest, none of us like cooked cabbage. I can handle a little saurkraut every now and again but cooked, wilty cabbage? No merci. Call in for backup: I have two friends at work that have been a delightful discovery. Turns out, when you start to be vocal about your love of food, you never know what effect that can have on a friendship. One of these you've heard of before but the other, a delighful franco-fille has been an incredible source of new recipes and ideas and cooking dates. (*note to self, we're WAY overdue for another one... ) So Tweedle-dee and Tweedle dum came in to save the day. Try this they suggest. Both ladies made this last summer and it won top prize at their respective July 4th celebrations.

But since a cabbage salad cannot stand alone, it came with a side of Thai curry shrimp and Trodimon's homebrew.

Winter Seasonal Thai Cabbage Slaw adapted from Bon Appetits
1/2 head of green cabbage, shredded into 1/4 inch strips
1 1/2 cups frozen corn
handful baby carrots, chopped
handful of cilantro, chopped

1 T fresh squeezed orange juice
1 T canola oil
1 T asian rice vinegar

Toss veggies and cilantro. In a separate bowl whisk oj, oil and vinegar. toss together and voila! Serve with one of those cheap asian pre-fab noodle dinners.

Locavore plug: I can't barely stand buying wilty greens from the grocery store these days but am growing fairly weary of potatoes 24-7. This salad is delightfully seasonally appropriate: cabbage is being sent in most CSAs during this time of year; I used fresh squeezed orange juice from oranges I picked in CA three weeks ago and dragged in my carry-on all the way back. The frozen corn from the Cap's grandparents' farm (which has appeared before), carrots from a farmer's market and err... cilantro. Forgive the one exception.

Comforty Chocolate Cake

2010-02-01T21:59:00.002-06:00

January has been hard. A dear friend lost her mother-in-law. Another lost his brother-in-law. Another lost an 'aunt/mother/sister/friend.'

Why is it that so often when life gets messy, friends and good food are the things we turn to? This Christmas, I was given a lovely book called The Physiology of Taste. A delightfully philosophical Frenchman belabored over the development of taste, digestion, restaurants and all the social interactions which surround food. Imagine if you will, my delight on Christmas: food?! french?! and philsophy?! This is going to be my main book of choice on my next jaunt cross-country, I wanted to share with you a bit what he says about chocolate:

It has been shown as proof positive that carefully prepared chocolate is as healthful a food as it is pleasant; that it is nourishing and easily digested; that it does not cause the same harmful effects to the feminine beauty which are blamed on coffee, but is on the contrary a remedy for them; that it is above all helpful to people who must do a great deal of mental work, to those who labor in the pulpit or the courtroom and especially to travelers, that it has produced good results in cases of chronic illness and that it has even been used as the last resource in diseases of pylorus.

And I think he could have gone further. I think chocolate does mighty good for those in grief. Please, make this for those you love. It's comforting and thick and good and can be a rest and remedy for those who are belabored and need it.

Comforty Chocolate cake with coffee ganache
adapted from Moosewood Restaurant Low-Fat Favorites
1/2 circle of Abuelita Mexican Chocolate disc
1/4 c canola oil
1 1/2 c flour
1/4 c unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 t salt
1/2 t baking soda
1 t baking powder
1 c packed brown sugar
1 large egg
2 large egg whites
1 t Mexican vanilla extract
3/4 c buttermilk

Preheat oven 350. Grease a 10 inch pie pan.
In a small saucepan, heat oil and melt chocolate-- watch carefully!! (I burned my first batch) Pour into a medium sized bowl and set aside to cool.
In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa, salt, soda and powder. Set aside.
Add sugar to melted chocolate and beat until well blended. Add egg and whites, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla. Add 1/4 c of buttermilk alternating with adding 1/3 c of flour mixture, beating well after each addition.
Pour batter into pie pan and bake for 40-45 minutes or until your toothpicked center comes out clean.

Coffee Ganache
6 t of this morning's coffee
1/4c powdered sugar

Beat well to combine. Add more coffee if too thick, conversely more sugar if too thin.
Drizzle atop each piece of Comforty Chocolate cake.

Day trip to the Bayou brought to you by Tasting Table

2010-01-25T15:55:00.004-06:00

Slow cooking for the entire month of January has been incredible, and probably will continue well into February but at some point, a girl needs a break. Through a rare stroke of genius this summer, I discovered about 10 different emailed subscription newsletters that send me a little somethin, somethin on food, new restaurants or new ingredient trends every day. Daily Candy, Thrillist, and Tasting Table are my absolute favorites and if you are new to Chicago, or sick of going to the same 4 bars around the corner from you since moving to Chicago 6 years ago, it's TIME! Time to expand horizons, go to grand opening parties and socialize with the 70 year olds who are hotter on the scene than you are (true story, met the cutest couple at Branch 27's opening night- she was a hard core Daily Candy supporter and loved dragging her husband to all the new restaurants on opening night).

Recently TT has pulled solidly into the first place spot. They have sent me pieces on Eco-tourism, farm-to-table meals and most recently a delightful, albeit hair-brained, suggestion for a 'Day Trip to the Bayou.' Just what the doctor ordered. We drove 130 miles deep into the flatlands of Illinois, out into the fields where all those plants are labored over, cared for, processed and rapidly fill my grocery aisles. It's good to get out there and remember where all this food is coming from. On I-55 about 30 miles outside of Chicago, the highway lights disappear and there's little between you and the earth again. We coasted through some thick fog, with about 50 feet visibility for 45 miles on I-55 and 45 miles on I-80 to the Uttica exit.

About a mile south, and a mile east of the exit, there arose from the thick mist Ron's Cajun Connection.

The sign for restaurant hours tells you how good the food is: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday- CLOSED. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, OPEN 4-9. That's a 20 hour work week my friends. I'm instantly jealous.

We stroll into the Louisiana kitch bedazzled dining room, and the white board reads: Dungeness Crab, Shrimp Etouffee & Crawfish Jumbalaya $18,95 as the main special. I can hardly believe my eyes. It's the middle of January and we're in the middle of the dark fields of Illinois and they have fresh crab here? A wheat Abita, Boudin sausage, Boudin balls and four quarters in the jukebox and I'm already starting to slur my words, just enough to sound southern-ish, but these locals take one look at my boots and know I'm not from around here.   Everything, including the hot sauce on the table Ron has made himself. Boudin balls were to die for. I think I'd make the 2 hour trip just for that warm cosy blend of rice, boudin sausage and cajun spices all rolled up and fried. Delish. My trusty frosted mug helps cool down the heat that's building in my mouth and my ears are humming with creole. I love this kind of music. Bluegrass mixed with French folk music and a little Afro-Caribbean rhythm thrown in? What's not to love.

For main courses I headed straight to frog legs and gator. I swear I haven't had frog legs since I was 13 at my uncle's house in France so I'm feeling justly overdue. We dragged along someone who was hungry for the taste of home and so our resident NOLA judge (born and raised) was my true benchmark for authenticity. Ron strolls into the dining room, takes one look at us and starts narrowing in on NOLA "how'd you like that etouffe, son??" "and those Boudain Balls?" NOLA ranks Ron's place a solidy 7, maybe even an 8 against his local favorites. Not all bad man. We tried the gumbo, jumbalaya, crawfish etouffee, fried gator, shrimp creole, french fries, Christmas, Wheat & Lager Abita. Oh! and every plate comes with Ron's raspberry barbecue sauce for dipping, or drinking cause damn it's that good. Next time, I'm gunning for some blackened catfish.

We polished off the meal with one piece of pecan pie with cinnamon ice cream to split between the three of us. The pecans are unbelievably fresh, crust is delicately buttery and hmmm what IS that? The cinnamon in the pie seems more forward-- not that he's used more, it's just...louder... What'd you do Ron?? "You want to know dear? You want to know my secret ingredient in that pecan pie? It's right there on that table girlie." He picks up the tiny red bottle on the table and slams it back down on the table, "TOBASCO!?!?"

Next time we GO, I'm planning on making it an all day affair, running around the lovely little state park nearby and then treating myself to a delightfully spicy fried dinner to appropriately balance the day.

Turkey Chili & my slow cooker infomercial

2010-01-13T17:38:00.003-06:00

It's cold. Winter is upon us. I get out of work and if the sun isn't shining, likely as not, neither am I. But today, the world vertices have aligned. Today is the first day since before Christmas that the blustery city of Chicago has seen temperatures above 32. Today is the first day in I can't remember how long that I can see full, blue sky between skyscrapers.

And today is the first day that I came home to delicious dinner, already prepared by my alter ego. 7 pm last night, "Tuesday night Joanna" sauteed onions and meat. She opened up can after can of tomatoes, spooned out heaping teaspoons of spices, dug old ice cubes of cilantro made over the summer out of her frosty fridge. She begged her roommate for the privilege to use Grandma's frozen corn: grown, shucked and frozen by the Captain's very own grandparents in Hamilton, MO. And then, that Joanna went to bed.

I woke up this morning, pulled my crock pot, already full of uncooked chili out of the fridge, clumsily slammed it into the slow cooker and set it on low- 10 hours. (Grumbling, I thought to myself, 'I wish I had that kind of setting. I'd like to be on low for 10 hours.' Sigh.) Instead I strutted out of my apartment, down the stairs to my bus stop, lightly hopped on the bus and beamed at my alter-ego productivity. All day, I bragged to coworkers. I sung the glories of my productive slow cooker. One colleague immediately called his wife and said, "hey how come we don't have a slow cooker?" "We do!!!" she retorted. "YOU!!"

With an extra spring in my step I walked up my stairs and put the key in the door...ahhhh, I can smell it from the hallway even. Was some dark-haired, argyle-sporting man cooking something deliciously steamy in my kitchen for a mid-week surprise?! No no no, it's the slow cooker! (I realize this might be slightly anti-climatic but honestly, I'm seeing him later tonight and daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn look at that chili).

The brilliant machine has simmered on low 10 hours and now has cleverly switched itself to warm mode. It's beautiful. It's cozy. It's healthy.

Whoever you are. Put down the computer right now. Stop reading and check your cabinet if somewhere in the depths of your pantry you have a slow cooker. If you don't, BUY ONE NOW. You know I'm going to just keep taunting you for the rest of January, and probably February considering the success thus far.

Turkey, Corn, White Bean Chili

1.25 lbs turkey, defrosted
1 large white onion
3 t dried oregano
2 t cumin
1 1/2 t hot chili powder
3 t cornmeal
6 cilantro ice cubes or 1/2 cup finely chopped
1 can cannelli (white kidney) beans --or 2 if you really like beans
1 medium bag of frozen corn (I think I had around 2 cups, but I love love love corn)
1- 16 oz can diced tomatoes
1- 28-32 oz tomato sauce (though I used only 12 oz can tomato sauce & leftover sauce from the Southwestern Beef Rolls)

In a medium saute pan, heat 2 T olive oil. Add onions and spicing (excluding cornmeal) and saute until onions are well browned. Pour into crock pot insert. Brown turkey in saucepan, using more oil if needed. Add to crock pot insert. Add remaining ingredients and stir to combine. Cook on low for 10 hours and it will patiently wait for you.

If you like, feel free to prep the night before, refrigerate all the ingredients in your fridge and pop into the slow cooker the next morning.

And yes, it's not even 5:30 and I've already finished my bowl. And I'll probably have another at 8 tonight. And 11 AM tomorrow...

January: A Month of Slow Cooking

2010-01-11T20:04:00.002-06:00

It's time I slowed down a little bit.

If New Years Resolutions (NYRs) could talk, this one would be bouncing off all 4 walls of my apartment, ceiling and floor shouting, "Isn't it time yet you fanatic?!?! You've been going going going non-stop since you began to walk, getting triangles (think: worse than a check minus) in self-control on your report cards!! Pick me this year! Slow life down a bit!!! Learn to SIT STILL!!!!!" Well little NYR, you just got lucky because this year, is your year. Or, err, depending on my diligence, maybe decade.

I love a new year, if only for the excuse to make some drastic ridiculous change to your life and watch your friends do the same. So many become overwhelmed by the daunting task of picking resolutions. While it may be a pretty failed concept (I'm supposed to actually rehearse all the things in my mind that I had failed at over the past year and decide which ones I want to pick up again, which ones I'm ready to scrap and what new things can I add to my now overflowing plate???? Breathe...) I think I may just spring for ONE this year. I don't believe in resolutions. Last year I picked 5 words that would shape the way I took care of myself. This year, I've got only one. Slow.

I move fast at work- trying to keep up with markets (which can be quite the daunting task when you're at it 10 hours a day). I move fast at home- I clean my apartment Tasmanian Devil style, driving forward on Lady Gaga beats. And of course, I move really fast in the kitchen. I'm used to cooking by myself and learned to cook by whipping away and throwing things into the dishwasher, cleaning while I cook. I have this sick obsession with sitting down to a meal and already having 75% of the dishes done, or at least already in the dishwasher. Friends calmly sit and drink at my kitchen table, sipping on margaritas, wine, what have you, all while I cling and clang away, whipping up something lovely. This is the way I've cooked. This is what I know.

Until January. I asked Santa for a 5.5 qt digital Slow Cooker for Christmas and my oh my did he deliver. I picked up a modern, well designed, ethnically creative, 'not-your-1950's' slow cooker cookbook and have begun to tag the recipes I'll start with and swore to myself that the entire month of January, I was only allowed to cook out of the slow cooker. Prep early, cook for hours and forget about it, and when my friends arrive, I will sit: calmly, serenely, sipping on wine and letting my slow cooker do the work for me. Well, at least that's the idea.

Thus far, I've made Southwestern Beef Rolls, horridly named (I'm imagining the 49 cent menu at Taco Bell) but this was quite far from it. Take a roasted green chili, stuff it with chorizo, wrap a round steak around the whole deal, secure with toothpicks and roast in tomato puree, 3 kinds of peppers and hot pepper seasonings. Straight forward, not too much prep, good. I'm still using all the tomato sauce on pastas and pizzas.

Next up: Chicken Breasts stuffed with Boursin and Spinach (recipe modified below). A bit clunky to prepare (read: this is not the recipe you choose to prep before going to work in the morning) but everything turned out splendidly. Yes, the chicken was unbelievably moist and because I pounded it flat enough, I didn't need toothpicks to secure them shut. No, the cheese didn't melt all out of the chicken and into the white wine sauce. It stayed in its proper place, wrapping itself around the spinach and cozily nestled inside chicken. No, my spinach wasn't too wet! The cookbook suggested I used a ****potato ricer**** to squeeze all the extra liquid from the spinach and for all of you spanikopita makers out there-- this WILL WORK! And yes, I did use a whole cup of heavy whipping cream. It's winter and I need to keep warm.

Just a suggestion for all of you cooks out there who are looking to be healthier, stay warm, have leftovers, save on buying lunch out-- embrace that slow cooker. I'm planning on using ONLY this lovely little cooker for the next month, or maybe two depending on how cold February is, with more recipes to post on. Stay tuned...

Chicken stuffed with Boursin and Spinach

6 chicken breasts, pounded to 3/4 inch thick
1/4 c shallots, minced
16 oz frozen spinach, defrosted and squeezed dry ****
1 5.2 oz Pepper and Herb Boursin Cheese
2 t nutmeg
3 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup white wine
1 cup heavy cream
1/4 c chives, finely chopped

Sautee shallots in 1 T olive oil for 2 minutes. Add spinach and saute until spinach is dried and flaky. Pour into a medium sized bowl and allow it to cool. Meanwhile, pound chicken breasts to about 3/4 inch thick. I use 2 sheets of clear plastic wrap and place my chicken inside, pounding in it with my rolling pin and listening to Lilly Allen for extra motivation. Sprinkle each chicken with salt and freshly ground pepper. Combine Boursin, spinach mix and nutmeg. Scoop about 1/2 cup of mixture onto each chicken. Roll lengthwise and tuck the ends underneath the roll. If they don't sit flat (ie. come unrolled) use toothpicks to secure. Place in your slow cooker. Cover with chicken broth and wine and add a little extra salt and pepper for good measure. Cook on high for 2 1/2 to 3 hours. When chicken breast reads 170 when poked at with a meat thermometer, remove from the slow cooker and keep warm. Pour remaining broth into a medium saute pan and reduce by half. Add cream and reheat. Add chives and serve over chicken. I served with steamed lemon brussel spouts and whole wheat pasta shells.

Christmas time for the Uber-Swede

2009-12-20T20:19:00.000-06:00

Am I the only one that, upon the holiday season, digs into her little ancestry and therein, finds the most over-the-top, ethnic-loving, tradition-embracing, uber-Swede there ever was? I'm a staunch supporter of celebrating Christmas during the Christmas season so there are no Christmas carols or ornaments or gift shopping (to be honest) before Thanksgiving. But man oh man, on Black Friday I awake with a little Swedish flag painted over my heart. I don the right clothing (Scandinavian sweaters, don't you DARE say they're Norwegian), place little clogs and straw goats under my tree, make the only Swedish foods I know of (which, for the record are all poor man's food made to stick to your ribs and get you through the brutally dark cold winter). I convince myself that I thoroughly enjoy winters in Chicago because it reminds me of the years of bitter winters and famine up in the dark north. Where else do you find a saint honored for feeding people with candles on her head?

This year, I maybe went a little over the top. Now most folks for Christmas like to go to the beach. Hawaii, Florida, California-- anywhere that's warmer than here. Who, after all, needs a white Christmas when we've been having a white November, white December, and Lord knows we'll get a white January, white February, white March and goodness knows maybe even white April. I must seriously be a glutton for punishment because this year, I decided I wanted to spend my Christmas week in Anchorage. One of my sisters ran away up to Alaska after college and never came back and I hadn't been there in the winter since 2001. It was time. I needed more darkness, and more cold. So I happily spent the shortest day of the year in the darkest state in the US. For the record, the sun rose at 10:14 AM and set at 3:41 PM. That's a whopping whole 5 hours, 26 minutes and 57 seconds.

Enter uber-Swede. I loved it. We went cross country skiing everyday while I was there. Normally Katherine and I take little Jack Jack the wonder dog hiking and backpacking with us (he has his own little camping pack that holds doggie treats and his shovel to bury the things he leaves behind) but this time, we took him out to skijor. He was a little unhappy with the booties but was quite excited to be out with us in the cold snow, skiing past moose seen and unseen.

The sad, or rather, fantastic part of it all is, I loved it. I loved skiing in dim twilight at 2:30 in the afternoon. And mostly, I loved cooking my little Swedish heart out with my sister. Before I even arrived she had made 6 loaves of Swedish coffee bread, so we skipped that one this year. But we made pepparkakor and Swedish meatballs. And you know what? it's lovely being a wanna be Swede over the holidays. It's incredibly good to point to life-long traditions and know they were there even before little me. So, uber-Swedes unite! And I'll see you again in December of 2010.

Alaskan Pepparkakor

3 3/4 c flour
2 t baking soda
1 t ground cinnamon
1 t ground coves
1 t ground ginger
1 t ground cardamom
1 c butter
1 c sugar
1/2 c brown sugar, packed
1 egg, beaten
2 T birch syrup (to be bought at
the Alaska state fair)

Whisk flour, salt and four spices together in a medium bowl. In a separate large bowl, beat together butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Mix in egg and syrup. Slowly add flour mixture until evenly blended.

Divide batter into 4 equal portions, form 2" x 4" x 8" bricks and wrap in clear plastic wrap. Refrigerate overnight.

Preheat oven to 375. Using one "brick" dough at a time, allow the brick to sit on the counter for about 5 minutes or until maleable, just barely. Roll out on well floured space, about 1/4 inch thick (or thinner if you're Cynthia Erickson and have mad pepparkakor skills). Use as much flour as you need so that the dough does not stick to the pin, the counter, or you. Cut into cookies using a star or heart shaped cookie cutter. Using a silpat (I'm a new convert!!) place on cookie sheets and bake for 5 minutes. Watch closely!!! you don't want the edges to brown at all, so if you have a hot oven, watch them!

Consume with lots and lots and lots of good coffee. Preferably Kaladi Brothers.

Swedish Meatballs

Florence Nightingale Soup

2009-12-09T21:55:00.001-06:00

It must have been a miserable fall for the healthcare community. Not only have these folks been in the spotlight in terms of new legislation (which let me tell you, as part of the financial community, that's NEVER a fun spotlight to be in) but they've also been swamped with more patients than ever. My mom aka. Best Public Health Nurse in the State, has been doing double duty helping low-income women find breast and cervical cancer screening and moonlighting as a flu shot provider on the weekends. Craziness.

I'm officially up to using both hands to count the number of people in my office who have caught H1N1, and while I really want to call this soup by that name, I think I should opt for inciting, rather than funny, no? Flo Night Soup it is.

My Scandinavian genetics have been holding strong and diligent vitamin popping has certainly paid off this fall. No serious colds or influenza, yet, hand-sanitized-fingers crossed. I picked up this recipe from Coco Pazzo's chef demo at the Green City market this summer and so far, have made it for 2 under-the-weather loved ones. I've been reading lately about how fantastic mushrooms are for your immune system and I may say that this soup is proving their point. It will stick to your ribs, pump you full of vitamins and is much much much better on the second day. I have used fresh herbs and even the frozen ice cubes I make every summer from abundant herb producers on my windowsill and both are equally flavorful-- quantity of herbs is the key here. The caramelized butternut squash adds a nice sugary snap to the deep salty flavored mushrooms.

Florence Nightingale Soup
2 cups 1/2 cubed butternut squash, peeled
2 t cinnamon

2-3 T olive oil
2 onions, chopped
4 celery stalks, chopped
1 leek, chopped
3 carrots, chopped
2 c mixed mushrooms
1/2 c dried porcini mushrooms

1/2 c mixed herbs (tarragon, sage, rosemary, basil) chopped
2 cups bulgar
3 quarts chicken stock
salt & pepper
1 bay leaf

In a medium saucepan, heat 1 T oil. Add butternut squash and cinnamon and sautee until carmalized well, about 5 minutes.

In a large soup pot, saute onion, celery, leek and carrots until the onions turn translucent. Season with salt and pepper. Add sliced mushrooms and saute, stirring occasionally until the mushrooms release some of their liquid. Add dried mushrooms and bulgar and caramelized butternut squash. Add chicken stock and bay leaf and bring to a simmer. Adjust seasoning and cook until bulgar is tender (probably about 20-30 minutes).

Starch from bulgar will thicken up this soup A LOT!! I always buy a whole extra carton of chicken stock to add to each serving as I reheat. Add about 1/4 to 1/2 cup stock to each full cup of soup.

Again, this soup is much better the next day and promises to be a lovely healthy kick in the butt for your loved ones. A votre santee!

The Harvest Is Nearing Its End

2009-11-16T19:23:00.006-06:00

It was a tough summer for gardens. My little experiment on my back patio was quite a disappointment. Our grand old ash tree that shades the patio provides a quaint intimacy for dinner parties on a bricked-in, high-walled patio but it shaded my little peppers, cucumber, strawberries and tomatoes a bit too much. I think at peak summer light, I was getting about an hour and a half of sunlight.

My Chicago Avenue community garden plot was a whole different story. Zucchini, beans, peas, peppers, tomatoes, swiss chard, spinach, basil, basil, basil, we had a bit of abundance starting in early July. But regardless of where your garden was, wasn't it a hard summer? I heard tragic stories of green tomatoes never turning red with our rainy cold August. Deer attacked a meticulously tended patch up on the North Shore and those tomatoes definitely never had a chance. Beef steak grew to the size of plum varieties and quit. Lost potential.

I've written an awful lot lately about processes, cycles and seasons. There is something wonderful about having a time for this and then having a time for that. Last week, I sent all my little plants, those that had given me plenty of flavors and calories to play with and those that withered in the dark, damp patio back into the ground. There they will rest and contribute to the soil that served them this summer. Next spring we'll have another chance. In the meantime, I'll pour over seed catalogs. Study up on what, if any, fruit bearing plants grow well in the shade. And I'll tend them better next year. I've learned lessons about watering, dedication to the ground and trying not to force my silly plants to grow where they want to. Isn't that just a helpful image for this year? Yes my friend, we have lots of potential and most of us have the gift to see that potential before us. But just because you see it, doesn't mean it'll grow there. Just because you seized that opportunity, doesn't mean that it worked out, just this time. Never fear my love. You'll have another chance next spring. The warm gusts of March will blow those golden leaves right off of your beds and you'll see new potential there that you hadn't seen before. And it will grow.

Fall Harvest Bread
1 1/2 c whole wheat flour
2 t cinnamon
1 t nutmeg
1/2 t salt
1 t baking soda
2 T white sugar
1/4 c brown sugar
2 eggs
1/4 c milk
1/4 c applesauce
1 T canola oil

1/2 can pumpkin puree
1/2 bag of fresh cranberries
1/2 c chopped pecans
1 apple, peeled and chopped

Preheat oven to 350. In a medium sized bowl, whisk together flour, spices, salt and soda. Set aside. In a large bowl blend together sugar, milk, applesauce and canola oil. Beat in eggs, one at a time. Add dry ingredients to wet, 1 cup at a time. Fold in pumpkin puree, cranberries, pecans and apple. Pour into a 5x9 pan and bake for 50 minutes to 1 hour.

I like to make two at once to share with friends.

adapted from Good Things Catered

Acorn Squash-stravaganza

2009-11-09T21:09:00.001-06:00

This is a tribute to newly found bloggers, food friends and recipes that exalt the lowly squash. It seems to me that there are a few uber-health freaks who are in on the secret of how good squash really is. Carbohydrate, vegetable, vitamin, mineral all packed into deep flavor, squash is my absolute favorite fall vegetable. And normally, I keep eating it until well into March when asparagus comes along and finally tells me that my 5 month winter food favorite has run its course.

A stands for A nod to Heidi: From one swede to another, her stuff rocks. Dinner inspiration often comes from her incredible photography and natural, fresh, seasonal foods. I made her Roasted Corn Pudding the day after she posted it and loved it. Thanksgiving this year will likely land on Saturday and gracing my table will be this recipe, next to the old faithfuls of green bean casserole and cranberry chutney. I didn't use anise as she suggested but threw in some extra nutmeg, fresh thyme that grows in my windowsill and in my humble cooking opinion, I think you need to bake the squash for upwards of 40-50 minutes. I had plenty of additional pudding to make in a separate rammekin to augment lunch the following day. The proof (that I made it) is in the pudding. Er... photo:

B is for boyfriend's brother's babe. Chalk it up for another Kevin Bacon-esque connection that just keeps giving. She's one of the lucky few who gets to do this food thing for a living. And in the midst of work, keeps up with eating well and graciously encouraging others to do the same. I love a good foodie who is gracious: no pretension about what you can and have and will make. No no. So thanks TKTC. You tweeted this recipe some weeks ago and it was fabulous.

Martha Stewart's Moroccan-Style Stuffed Acorn Squash

1 acorn squash, halved
2 T olive oil
3/4 lbs ground chuck
2 T ground cinnamon
2 t ground nutmeg
2 t kosher salt
1/2 medium white onion, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1/2 c bulgar wheat
1 c water
1/4 c golden raisins
1/4 c flatleaf parsley
2 T toasted almonds

Coat open flesh side of squash with olive oil and bake at 400 for 40 minutes.

In a medium saucepan, heat 1 T oil. Add beef and spices and simmer until browned, 6-8 minutes. Remove from pan and discard all but 1 T drippings from the pan. Reheat and saute onion and garlic. Add 1 t salt and bulgar and stir to combine. Add water and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer, cover and cook for 15 minutes, or until all the water is dissolved. Fluff with a fork and combine beef, raisins, 1 T almonds and parsley.

Scrape out the flesh of the squash and combine with bulgar/meat mixture. Divide in half among two shells and sprinkle remaining almonds. Bake for another 10-12 minutes or until the tops have nicely browned.

And feel free to use as brain power reading market commentary at work during your lunch hour the following day:

originally here

I'm long Red Cabbage

2009-10-29T19:41:00.002-05:00

Please, forgive the market terminology but sometimes it's annoyingly appropriate. I made 101cookbooks.com's Tassajara Warm Red Cabbage Salad this evening.

And while my intentions were to make just a few servings enough to tie me over for lunch for the week, I had ubiquitous amounts of cabbage. Recipe reads: slice into ribbons 1 pound of cabbage and silly Jo, 1 pound does not mean 1 head. No no no. After beginning to saute 1/4 of my head of cabbage in my large saute pan, I realize that large isn't an accurate enough description for the size of pan needed. I flip my 1/4 head into my monster wok and still can only fit one more 1/4 head into the pot. I saute, I sample, I delicious. But damnit. Here I am with massive amounts of warm cabbage salad. Had I the strength to eat this much cabbage for lunch day in and day out this week I would undoubtedly turn a lovely shade of violet. "You're turning violet Violet?!" echoes in my head. What to do with so much cabbage?! So much cabbage. Too much cabbage. And half of it is still staring me in the face.

I turn to old faithfuls. There are few ingredients that I consistently keep in my fridge. My constants have to endure years of screening to become a part of the chosen few. I live in Chicago with no car and a grocery store 3 blocks away and I still prefer to shop only a meal or two out, buying just what I need. My little metal grandma cart that bumps noisily down the sidewalk can only hold so much, and often I find I never cook with the things that I bought without framing them around a meal I intend to eat in the near future. I hate the package of french benet mix, Harry & David chicken curry soup mix from last Christmas and minute miso that are in my cabinet taunting me to make something with them but utterly lacking their sister ingredients that would create an entire meal!!

There are a few things that ARE part of the necessary ingredients that live on my shelves. For me they are eggs, milk and puff pasty sheets. Whenever I have 1/2 dead vegetables, leftover chicken from two-days-ago's roast, fresh herbs from the grocery store that are about to go, that last 1/3 cup brick of cheese that doesn't seem to go with anything or exorbitant amounts of cabbage, I toss them into a quiche.

80% of the time, it works every time. This was one of the best 80%'s yet.

Violet Beauregarde Cabbage Salad adapted from 101cookbooks.com

1/2 c pine nuts

1 t brown sugar

kosher salt

2 T olive oil

1 red onion, chopped

3 medium cloves fresh garlic

1/2 large head of cabbage, cut in 1/2 again and chopped into 1/4 inch ribbons

1 T fresh rosemary, chopped

1/2 cup golden raisins

2 T balsamic vinegar

4 oz feta cheese

In a LARGE wok, roast pine nuts and just before roasted, toss in sugar and a pinch of salt. Swirl until covered and browned and remove from pan. Set aside. Heat oil in wok and saute red onion for 5 minutes. Add garlic and saute another minute. Add cabbage and 2 pinches of salt. Saute until the cabbage just barely starts to soften, stirring constantly. Add raisins and balsamic and cook for another minute. Remove from heat and gently stir in crumbled feta. Top with nuts, if eating it as a salad.

for the Quiche:

VB Cabbage Salad

cooking spray

1 defrosted puff pastry sheet

5-6 eggs

1 1/2 cups of milk

vegetable/meat/herb/cheese combination of your choice

Preheat oven to 375. Spray pie pan with cooking spray and spread out puff pastry. If you have large corners folding over the sides of your pan, cut those off and patch up your inside rim so that it's mostly covered with pastry. Spoon 3-4 cups of cabbage salad onto your crust. Loosely whisk together eggs and milk and a touch of salt and pepper, pour over cabbage mixture. Depending on the size of your pie pan, you may want to add another cup of cabbage so that you have enough sticking out the top of the egg mixture. Bake for 40 minutes. While eggs still haven't quite set, sprinkle roasted pine nuts on top and bake for another 5-7 minutes until eggs are set. Allow to cool.

The Process of Apples

2009-10-25T22:31:00.001-05:00

There's something incredible about participating in a process. I think so much of the current food movement is a direct reaction against the segmentation of our ground to wagons to factories to packages to grocery stores to fridge to stove to tummy fragmentation. As are most movements, someone has seen that this segmented chain of events leaves a disconnect that is discomforting. From where and how many hands and how has it scatter across your brain, but because we've been trained to trust the chain as it's the only thing we've known, those thoughts scamper away as quickly as they've come.

Today is a tribute to the process. I confess that living in the midst of an urban landscape there is little green space for me to process often. Sometimes I wake early enough to run over to my farmer's market on a Saturday to chat a bit with my chicken farmer about his baby that was born this summer and return emptied egg cartons and pick up steak, chicken and eggs. And sometimes, I participate in the chain because I don't have the drive to give energy or time to the process. Today is a string of pictures about a process. If you haven't been a part of the whole process lately, give it a try. Apples are in season and just about an hour away from our bricked in world.

Crisp, uber sweet Gala apples piled atop grainy begging to be baked Jonathans from Jollay Orchards in Coloma, MI. And let's get one thing straight: I am not so delusional to believe that in this conquest and cooking of fine, shiny, healthy apples that I am participating in even upwards of 10 percent of the process. I readily admit that I have exchanged money for the right to come and reap the benefits that others have sown. And the only appropriate response to this is genuine gratefulness for the farmers that have spent seasons amongst those trees. From their hands to my fridge drawers.

First use: Smitten Kitchen's breakfast granola apple crisp made extra good by Penzey's spice. If you cook at all and are feeling adventurous (or have a foodie to gift to for Christmas this year), cruise through Penzey's website. The 4-jar Indian curry gift set given as a maid of honor gift 3 years ago has lead to many a lovely Indian dinner and my cinnamon improves and knock's the socks off of my McCormick shiz...

Confession: it was so delightful, I forgot to snap a final shot. Had it for breakfast for a week solid and never grew tired of it. In fact, I've run out of oats and probably should run to the store now to make a fresh dish. After all, tonight is not the night to run to the fields, sow, dry and flatten my oats.

Delightful surprise outta Telluride

2009-10-21T21:15:00.001-05:00

And I can’t help but share the irony of this lovely evening on which SMLSSSS was made. An old friend was whisked away to Seattle last year by the evil empire. No not that one. This one. And while I was cleaning up dinner, SBUX noticed a Dunkin Donuts coffee bag in my cabinet.

A gasp went out.

“Innocent!! Innocent!!” I shrieked. “we were in a bind and the Cap’n (my roommate) was grabbing breakfast so she picked up a bag. I swear we have NEVER had this before.”

In order to make amends, I knew my peace treaty had to be EXTREMELY generous. Such an offense is not easily forgiven. But! The evening before, I was given the most aromatic, freshly roasted coffee I’ve had since my trip to Oregon last May. I love the kind of coffee that is so full-smelling that after it sits in the car for an hour you almost have to take a step back before getting in. As it turns out, the town of Telluride, Colorado isn’t only about skiing. Through a connection of someone who's connected to someone who knows someone, there's someone who trades commodity futures and roasts his own coffee. Now there’s a profession-pairing I can get behind. In honor of a lovely Kevin Bacon-eque connection, I’m shamelessly promoting. If you’ve run out of Christmas present ideas for your crazy over-caffeinated Aunt this is the ticket.
Steaming Bean Coffee Co.

Now SBUX knows a little somethin' somethin' about coffee and is my favorite kind of SBUX employee-- one who will eagerly stop in the little local shops, rather than swear undying loyalty (hopefully his boss is not reading this). Secondary bonus: SBUX knows a million delightful ways to spice up an ordinary cup of Joe. After sampling some pure espresso and deciding that my little Krups machine had never produced a cup so flavorful, we decided upon SBUX's suggestion to combine our dessert and coffee. To do so scoop a small, melon baller size scoop of ice-cream into an espresso cup and top with piping hot espresso. You get a nice froth on top of your espresso, a creamy thickener and if you're brilliant enough to have Moose Tracks on hand, a lovely turtlely residue in your cup.

Mick, forgive me for tainting your coffee... but next time you're in Chicago, I will gladly serve you a little cup yourself and you can see if SBUX's combo is worth a hill of your beans.

An Unsung Hero. Vol 1. Spaghetti Squash

2009-10-21T20:39:00.007-05:00

I’m beginning a mini series. Every now and again, we need cohesion and not a random stream of thoughts from my brain to these electronic letters. I am refraining from promising how many installments you shall receive, since really, this is the first one that I can think of so far. My intention is to introduce you to some of my old favorites, which are not sprawled across the pages of Bon Appetit every fall. Here’s to the unsung heroes whose praises we don't hear often enough. And to the new regulars: for your grocery basket to cabinet/fridge to tummy.

Our first hero: the spaghetti squash. I wish I could tell you some wistful story about how I found the spaghetti squash but it landed in my lap during my senior year of college when I had graduated to my second kitchen which was on Kedzie and Foster: still tiny, loud, dusty and had to be serviced with a college budget. Childhood meals were prepared by my public health nurse mom who made most things she could from scratch to save money and fill our tummies with healthy things. This all meant that my budget for groceries was carefully crafted, and guilt ensued if I had ramen too many nights in a row, knowing my sodium consumption would be seriously out of control. Out of desperation rather than a streak of creativity, I turned to cheap root vegetables. Enter squash. Wading through memories of Heiddeger and Hobbes from the semester, I can vaguely recall that I found spaghetti squash after getting sick of night after night of plain noodles and sauce. There had to be something I could do cheaply to spice this up. My sincerest apologies to whoever was so good to introduce me to this food item. The glory is yours my friend. All yours.

While its lovely yellow shell does make a nice contrast against an acorn and butternut squash in one’s fall cornucopia, the nutty, crunchy, stringy squash turns regular spaghetti dinner to a deeper flavored, vitamin-filled pasta dinner. Go ahead, carb up and don’t feel a hint of shame.

I slice my spaghetti squash hot-dog style, straight in half and lay both halves face down in a 9x13 pan with 1 inch of water in the bottom. Bake at 375 for about 45 minutes. Notice the yellow meat of the squash will have turned a little bit darker around the rind, telling you it is fully cooked. When in doubt, under cook it. I think it can quickly become a coagulated mass if you overdo it and will release too much protein into your sauce. Take a large metal spoon and run the spoon as close to the rind as you can, separating the meat of the squash from the rind. Leave the meat in your rind, and use a fork to break apart the strands. You should have something that looks like this:

Now look around in your fridge. Do you have ¼ of a red bell pepper? ½ an onion that you used for tacos last night? Maybe some zucchini? Eggplant? Spinach in a bag that looks like it needs to be eaten by tomorrow otherwise it’s all gone to waste? Throw all of that in a large sauté pan and brown nicely in some olive oil. Here were my odds and ends:

When fully cooked, add a jar of your favorite tomato sauce. I swear by the Vodka Marinara at Trader Joes. It’s the best bottled-vodka marinara by far and speaks nicely with the nuttiness of the squash. If you’ve hunted through the whole bin of squashes at the store and you’ve happened upon the loveliest, and largest of all squashes and it suddenly seems like your sauce won’t quite go far enough, throw in a can of tomatoes, whole or diced.

SkyMall lovin’ Starbucks Supporting Spaghetti Squash

1 spaghetti squash

1 green bell pepper, chopped

1 zuccini, chopped into ½ inch discs and halved

½ white onion, chopped

½ c Kalamata olives

2 T Olive oil

1 jar of Trader Joe’s vodka marinara sauce

1 T dried oregano

1 T dried basil

1 t crushed red pepper flakes

salt & pepper

3 italian-spiced turkey sausages

1 4 oz package of goat cheese

Preheat oven to 375. Cut squash in half long ways and place in 9x13 pan side by side in 1 inch of water. (note, if they don’t fit use two different pans, and they can spill over the top… I’ve used a pie pan before!) Bake for 45 minutes until the inside flesh is stringy when pulled from the edge. The outside rim of the squash meat will have turned two shades of a darker yellow.

Meanwhile, heat ½ inch of water in a large sauté pan and cook sausages for 15 minutes, covered. If you don’t have a tightly fitting lid, keep adding water so you maintain your steam in the pan. Remove from heat and cut sausages into 1/3 inch discs. Set aside. Heat 2 T olive oil in sauté pan and sauté onions for 1 minute. Then add peppers and zucchini. Sauté until browned.

Stir in a marinara sauce. If, by looking at the size of the squash vs. your sauce it looks like you won’t have enough, you can add a can of diced, stewed tomatoes. When doing so, double your spices. Heat until warmed thoroughly.

Scoop out spaghetti squash and stir into sauce. Serve warm, topped with sausage, goat cheese and olives and lots of good red wine.