Media pass for Chicago Gourmet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.