Lately, The Man o'the House has been making simple oven fries. Just potatoes, sliced fairly thin, then tossed in oil & salt.
Cheap ingredients, you can make it in your own kitchen, and ONCE YOU START YOU CANNOT STOP. These fries are the crystal meth of snack foods. And you don't even need to go all Breaking Bad and enlist high school burnouts to unload the stuff: I promise you'll want it all for personal use.
Almost embarrassingly easy, and so very tasty. Frites they are not, but they're SO much less of a hassle to make - plus it's almost possible to convince yourself they're not as bad for you. These turn out a nice crispy golden brown with some really dark crispy edges and a few pillowy soft parts as well. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm getting a little twitchy. I think I need to cook up some of my new addiction.
Oven Fries
5 medium sized Russet potatoes ¼ cup canola oil salt to taste
Preheat oven to 375ยบ
Peel the potatoes and rinse. Slice each potato in half lengthwise and then place cut half side down on cutting board. Then make thin lengthwise slices (about ¼ inch thick) on all the potatoes. Toss with oil and place in a single layer on a baking sheet.
Place in oven and forget about them for about 45 min. Not messing around with them is the secret to success with these. You'll think that they're sticking and you'll try and loosen them up – but all you'll accomplish is breaking them into a million pieces. So just leave them alone! After 45 min. - flip them over and maybe rotate the pan. After another 15 min or so, check on them to see if they're done to your liking. When they are – pull them out and drain on a paper towel. Season to taste.
Make it fancy! ~ Drizzle with truffle oil after cooking ~ Sprinkle with a cajun or BBQ seasoning ~ Microplane some fresh garlic over them
Mustard is so easy to make that once you try it, you'll have trouble paying for it ever again. Here is a basic mustard with the addition of some fresh rosemary. You can vary the recipe to suit your own taste by changing the vinegar, liquid, seasonings to whatever kinds you prefer. You can use all kinds of different liquids to flavor the mustard: beer, white wine, juice, or water. I usually just use water if I'm adding in herbs to the mustard. If you're using a strong flavored liquid (like wine or juice), you might want to cut it with some water so as not to overpower the mustard. Try using different herbs, here it's rosemary - but sage is great, so is tarragon, and thyme too. I usually buy my mustard seeds from an Indian market where I can get them for crazy cheap. But if you don't have one of those around, you can find them at a lot of natural food markets, online, or any spice market. You can get all snazzy and use a blend of yellow and brown mustard seeds, really the variations are endless. This Rosemary Mustard goes great with sausages and is absolutely fantastic on a chicken sandwich.
Basic Mustard ¼ cup yellow mustard seeds ¼ cup vinegar (I used rice vinegar) ¾ cup liquid (I used water) 1 tbsp sugar 2 tsp salt
1 tbsp fresh rosemary
Soak the mustard seeds in the vinegar preferably overnight, but at least for an hour. Pour all into a blender with all the other ingredients and blend until it reaches the consistency that you like. It takes a little while – maybe 5 minutes, but that's it. You've made mustard!
Saturday is a natural night for pizza, apparently. In Nashville, my dear friend/relative BookCuz was hunkering down to homemade 'za just as we were preparing for the same here in Seattle - some connections run so deep that you end up sharing experiences from thousands of miles away. I promised her a pictorial review of our dinner, so here goes!
Pizza night begins with a poolish - a long fermented yeast starter, that eventually becomes dough for very fine pizza crust.
It's alive!
The Man of the House used a new recipe, and this one was decidedly more wet and tricky than the ones he's used in the past -
Mise en place ("everything in it's place") for the pies -
We also used this absolutely PERFECT wee tomato - the only one our garden produced:
We made 4 pizzas - first, a classic Margherita, with fresh mozzarella, the aforementioned tomato, fresh basil, and homemade tomato sauce - before:
After:
My favorite is the unlikely-sounding, but utterly scrumptious potato, blue cheese, caramelized onion, bacon, and rosemary - before:
After:
This one was baked with the homemade sauce and fresh mozzarella, and when it came out, we topped it with paper thin slices of prosciutto and some fresh arugula:
Finally, we had a great bacon and egg pizza - the eggs are cooked soft, so you can take the crust and dip it into the yolk-y goodness:
At some point BookCuz and I will be in the same city (we're hoping for the holidays), and we'll finally get a chance to break bread again. When we do, I'm hopeful that she'll eschew her usually healthy and reasonable eating habits so I can make something really good!
Serendipity was one of my beloved grandmother'sfavorite words. And it is the perfect way to describe the meal we had on our wedding night.
First, I think it's important to set the tone of the day. We were married at the walk-up window of a chapel across the street from the courthouse, with a bail bonds agent located conveniently next door (one stop shopping!). I wore a dress and hat made just for me by the genius designer/burlesque dancer, Jamie Von Stratton, and the groom wore vintage paisley:
Clearly, a classic steak dinner would be in order. We chose Tom Colicchio's CraftSteak, in the MGM Grand. We're fans of Top Chef (previous post here), and even though last year broke my heart, we spontaneously decided to give it a try.
The place is gorgeous - modern, but masculine and clubby, with loads of leather and soft lighting. The service is impeccable; attentive without being intimidating, and warm without being too chummy. We chose the tasting menu (which was a STEAL! no kidding!), and it was incredible.
There was grilled quail, Buffalo mozzarella, fennel salad, Persian cucumber salad, 2 kinds of delicious steak (skirt and flat iron), scallops, mushrooms, corn, and potato puree. The final two items deserve special attention.
Corn is an everyday side for a gal from Indiana. A good solid side. But not one that is expected to get a wow, especially in a fine dining establishment.
WOW! No kidding, this dish of corn was fucking amazing. Crisp and fresh, seared just a touch so that pieces started to caramelize and darken, with lethal amounts of good butter. And it was seasoned to absolute perfection. I know now what Judge Colicchio means when he complains (or compliments) about the correct seasoning of a dish on Top Chef. Suddenly, it was all clear. Wow. Wow.Wow.
And the potatoes were obscenely good. My Pop is the master of the spud, and all mashed potatoes I eat are compared to his. CraftSteak's are the only ones that I think stand up to dear old Dad's, and I'm pretty sure it's because there are just enough potatoes in there to act as a gentle binder to the massive whallop of butter and cream.
Dessert was lovely, and there was a special message in chocolate sauce:
Sadly, I do not have many pictures of the rest of the meal, as I was distracted by eating and enjoying my handsome dining companion -
But I don't need pictures. I can remember every detail of this evening with perfect clarity. When we talk about our honeymoon in Vegas, and the many fine meals we had, this one is most frequently cited. We hadn't planned ahead of time to go there, and we certainly never anticipated that a dinner of meat, potatoes, and corn that would mark us both the most deeply. It was just sweet serendipity.
The Rat Pack era of Vegas in the '60's gave way to the fat-tourist-at-the-buffet '70's. The '90's brought the most ridiculous idea ever - Vegas as a sort of Disney-esque family destination, which was obviously doomed from the start.
Happily, the new trend for tourism is fine dining. Really fine dining.
The Man of the House and I recently got hitched in Las Vegas, and we spent the honeymoon eating our way through the city. Our first stop was a holy place that we both fantasized about for years: Nobu.
Frankly, I never expected that I would have a chance to eat from a menu designed by the venerable Chef Nobu Matsuhisa, and created by his team of gifted artists. It was a particularly religious experience for The Man of the House, whose soul is Japanese. We'd both spent many years reading about his restaurants and innovative style, and so I had built up the idea of this meal in my head like an adolescent virgin imagines losing it to a sparkly Robert Pattinson beneath a canopy of rainbows held aloft by unicorns. Which is why I had a total mental freak out on our way over.
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the notion that I had put the place on such a pedestal that heartbreak would be unavoidable. A good meal - hell, even a great one - would somehow be disappointing. Too much thought had gone into it, and I had developed unrealistic expectations.
Except I hadn't.
Nobu is located in the Hard Rock, which is extremely cool. We started off with lychee martinis in the bar, a tiny but gorgeous space with lighting low enough to make me think I might look fabulous.
(you're going to need to forgive the crappy quality of all of these pictures, but I wasn't about to use a flash and ruin the mood)
The dining room is a study in Zen sophistication (courtesy David Rockwell), with a hand-set wall of perfect river stones. Even the ceiling is beautiful:
We ordered several small plates to share, starting with the yellowtail sashimi with jalapeno:
It was transcendent. This is a dish with like, 4 ingredients. But each one is perfectly balanced, perfectly presented, in perfect harmony. One thin slice of fish, one thin slice of jalapeno, one small leaf of cilantro, and a touch of soy sauce. But the mouthful is so much better than the simple sum of those elements - something had happened to them, and they were incredible. My fears were erased, and the rest of the meal was so good it felt like a drug.
Next, we had the "New Style" scallop sashimi - meaning that the traditional raw slices are doused in hot oil flavored with sesame, yuzu, and soy. This is the mouthful that made my brain explode a little:
The heated oil mixture had a magical effect on the texture of the thin slices of scallop. Sadly, I have no words to express how good it is - just try to envision how it would feel to be passionately kissed by Cary Grant (for those of you who prefer the ladies, go ahead and replace Cary Grant with Angelina Jolie).
After that little bit of heaven, we moved on to the black cod with miso. This classic dish is umami-licious, and lives up to the reputation that precedes it. Cod cooked to idyllic perfection, and laced with just enough miso to heighten the fish rather than mask it.
Our final dish was a lobster shiitake salad with a spicy lemon dressing. Precisely enough citrus and heat to keep your palate interested, and studded with medallions of succulent lobster. The shiitakes had been seared so that their full mushroomy goodness acted as a meaty contrast to the lightness of the other ingredients.
Throughout the meal, every individual component handled with great care and respect, so that the whole is made exponentially greater. A perfect dinner to begin a new marriage.
Whenever vague melancholia sets in (or in my case, crippling depression), it's good to look for natural remedies. At times like this, I like to take The Gravy Cure. While it may not actually "cure" anything in the technical sense, I can prescribe it without reservation as a soothing unguent for life's downturns.
A dear friend of mine, CarmelCorn, coined the term many years ago, when we worked together in the book world. He is a kind and wise man, knowledgeable in all matters related to ethics, parenthood, American music, and The Simpsons. He also held the regional record for meal charges to his expense account, so he knows a thing or two about good grub as well.
The first time I recall hearing about it, we had just gone through some brutal layoffs (er, "restructuring" was the term they used, I believe), and our tight knit posse of hilarious geeky intelligentsia was feeling battered and broken. We were a smart bunch, with a tendency to be socially awkward and difficult to employ in the traditional sense. Multiple employees were over 30 and lived with their parents, and one had watched The Exorcist in its entirety every single day for well over a decade. Then there were the real weirdos.
It was a tough blow, as many of us had begun working for the company in its heyday, when times were booming for giant bookstore/cafes. The news was shocking, and we were all pretty upset. Since we were already drinkers - we put the fun in functional alcoholism! - something more than a good bender was called for. CarmelCorn suggested that we indulge in some good, hearty Midwestern fare, and that it should be covered in gravy, because one's mood is always improved after ingesting gratuitous amounts of gravy.
I'll be damned if he wasn't right. We ate huge amounts. Enough to feel padded against the shock. And it worked.
As a result of the upheaval, my job changed from managing the events and outreach for a single store to managing many locations in a large area. This meant I had to travel a lot, often with my boss, the Zen Master. I turned him on to The Gravy Cure, and we began spreading the news throughout the land. All were converted, and still stand by the potent remedy even now. CarmelCorn's simple idea has reached far and helped many an ailing English major, and it is my belief that we should erect a monument in his honor.
I've been given plenty of mood elevators and antidepressants by doctors, and all they did was make me numb. But good gravy has mysterious properties that can, for a short time, loft one out of the darkness. It's like a warm hug, from the inside out. It may not have kept Sylvia Plath's noggin' out of the oven, but it can definitely make the day go better.
If you live in the Midwest - or the South, or any rural area with good diners or cafeterias, you'll be fine. In the morning you can go for biscuits & gravy, and later meals can vary: chicken fried steak, roast beef manhattan, fried chicken w/potatoes & gravy. Just think of the waitress as a gentle nurse who will help heal your suffering.
If you live in a place that does not have ready access to home-style cooking, you're going to need to make your own. DO NOT open a jar, or use a packet, or do anything that that demon harpie Sandra Lee would approve of. You're gonna need to do it, and you'll need to do it right if it's going to work.
For everything you could possibly need to know, please consult the bible, McGee's On Food and Cooking (if you don't own this, you should. you really, really should.). Simply open to Sauces: Sauces Thickened with Flour and Starch: Gravy on page 619, where the perfect method is outlined in detail. Do what he says. You'll be fine.
Sadly, not every kitchen is equipped with this indispensable tome (seriously, you should get this one), therefore I offer you this tutorial from Alton Brown. Learn how to do it, and enjoy the cure - it's good for what ails you.
There are a lot of important things to discuss with a potential mate - finances, religion, children, etc. I think that vinegar needs to be on this list.
It is my long-held belief that 7 is the minimum number of vinegars one should have in the pantry.
Plain white vinegar Apple cider vinegar Red wine vinegar Rice wine vinegar Sherry vinegar Champagne vinegar Balsamic vinegar
They are all essential, and they all do different things; rarely can one be substituted for another. I myself once tried to justify this need to a lovely man who was reasonable and intelligent in most ways...but he was utterly dumbfounded by my need for so many options.
You really should address the basic pantry expectations in the early stages of dating, when you're determining the other important compatibilities, like Democrat vs. Republican, Black Sabbath vs. Led Zeppelin, and Gas vs. Charcoal.
I'm starting to get excited, because autumn is my favorite season (wooly berets! crackling fires!), and my favorite part of my favorite season is Halloween.
As a barely reformed aging goth who would happily walk around every day dressed like a chubby extra from a Tim Burton movie, this time of year makes me giddy with delight. It also means that it's easier to source fantastic items like these salt and pepper shakers by designer Chris Stiles - - -
This brain mold just begs to be filled with jello shots! Imagine all of your friends, gobbling up gelatinous, boozy grey matter! Drunk on brains! Dario Argento would be proud...
My Mum never really wants presents for special occasions, because she'd much rather have a good meal. Whenever I ask her what she wants, she just says "cook".
I love 2500 miles from my folks, so this can be tricky. Happily, the entire family has conspired to fulfill her birthday request this year. If there's anything we enjoy more than eating, it's conspiracy.
Actually, that's not true. There's nothing we enjoy more than eating.
It came to my attention recently that Mum has never had posole, the traditional Mexican pork and hominy stew known for its therapeutic effects (especially by hangover sufferers). Perfect! Mum loves Mexican food! And pork! And drinking!
If all has gone according to plan, a package was delivered, Pop reheated the contents and prepped the garnishes, and birthday dining is in progress. Putting it together made me feel just like Kevin Spacey in Se7en! Only instead of coordinating decapitation and wrath, I sent a delicious savory stew.
ANYWAY.
For the full effect, please follow along with the pictures below, and imagine pithy repartee and endearing cooperation. It'll be just like we were there in your kitchen, only there will be fewer dirty dishes.
Please note for the record that The Man of the House is entirely responsible for the creation of this fantastic posole. He deserves 100% credit for it. I only deserve credit for being clever enough to marry a chef.
Since I've had some extra time on my hands lately, I put my devilish mitts to work crafting a special idol for the tiki party - - -
The basic shape was made from a cereal marshmallow treat - I doubled the standard recipe, and used chocolate cereal plus a healthy spoonful of dark chocolate cocoa powder:
It was super soft and gooey at first, so I formed it into a basic loaf and left it to set up for a few hours:
Once it was solid enough to work with, I formed a his face (completely based on my acute memory of the taboo idol from Brady Bunch episode in Hawaii):
I covered him in fondant I tinted green, and started to paint in the details:
Just upstairs from Root headquarters, Gamergrrl has quite the elaborate Tiki Bar permanently set up - she's been feeding this fetish for years. It's perpetually stocked to the hilt with a huge variety of top shelf liquor, and the glassware and accessories have been carefully curated to reflect the perfect mid-century Polynesian aesthetic. When she and the Fashionista announced a party, The Man of the House went full tilt kitsch, and created a very special sacrifice to appease the island gods -
Troll-caught Coho salmon meatballs (panko, sauteed onion, ginger, garlic, scallions, and a little egg to bind):
...all rolled up, and ready for baking (and served with a maple/ginger/horseradish glaze):
Fresh pineapple, slowly drying in the oven, so it can be incorporated into the Big Kahuna snack mix (bacon, Japanese rice crackers, toasted cashews, dried pineapple, soy sauce, cayenne, and brown sugar):
A gaggle of chicken wings, soon to be slathered in home-made teriyaki sauce (soy sauce, sugar, rice wine vinegar, mirin, water, ginger, garlic)
Beef skewers with lemongrass and home-made teriyaki sauce:
Pig candy! (bacon, cayenne, and brown sugar):
The chef was a little late to the party, because he had spent the afternoon frying fresh, home-made crab rangoons and spring rolls. However, his offerings pleased the Tiki gods, and he was rewarded with many fermented beverages.
Both The Man of the House and I grew up within a few hours of Detroit (he actually lived there when he was in culinary school). For the greater part of our lives, Detroit has been suffering - even the Convention and Visitors Bureau opens with a nod to their bleak post-auto reputation:
It's not exactly the post apocalyptic vision from Robocop:
...but it still sucks.
The once booming city is falling to ruin, and it's becoming what's widely known as a "food desert" - an urban area devoid of places to purchase fresh, healthy groceries. As of early July, all of the major grocery chains have left the city -
So now there are neighborhoods with more than 2 dozen places to buy liquor, and zero places to buy fresh food. But there is a glimmer of hope in this grim visage of the near, dark future - and it's not Soylent Green.
Peaches & Greens is a retrofitted ice cream truck that delivers quality produce into the neighborhoods that need it the most - - -
Apparently there are other, similar projects (Guernica: Food Among the Ruins ) happening in the area, and I sincerely hope they get the attention and support they deserve. Nourishing a once-great city back to health is no easy task.
