Burghilicious

The Best French Toast Sandwich

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 21:10:35 -0500

Growing up, Cleveland was the kid-swap zone, halfway between where my mom and I lived in Michigan and where my dad lived in West Virginia. Our customary meeting place was a Friendly's at Ohio Turnpike exit 10. I liked the Friendly's because I always got to have a mint chocolate chip sundae in a tall glass with a long spoon. I saw that specific Friendly's four times a year until I was in college, and never, in my recollection, another Cleveland restaurant.

Fast forward 20 years, and now I can drive myself back and forth between Mom's (now in Indiana The State) and Dad's (still in West Virginia). There's little Cleveland in my life now, except for that my college roommate Lisa lives there. Last Christmas - yes, almost a year ago! - Scheidt and I finagled a stop to see Lisa in the Land of Cleve as part of our holiday trip. Lisa, in her infinite wisdom, knew exactly what restaurant she wanted her food blogger friend to try: Melt, the grilled cheese restaurant.

Oh yes, you read that right. There's an entire restaurant in Cleveland devoted to capital-G Grilled Cheese. A restaurant so tasty and special that our the Burgh's own Pop City included it in a list of things that Cleveland has that Pittsburgh wants. I second that.*

Lisa's boy had a Monte Cristo, I had a grilled vegetable grilled cheese, and Scheidt ordered something that wasn't a grilled cheese because, well, his priorities are whack. But Lisa was the hands-down, no-contest unanimous winner with her Grilled Banana and Peanut Butter sandwich. The sandwich was the star at a brunch that Scheidt and I hosted a few weeks ago, and is almost silly-simple to make, particularly if you just buy the challah at the store.

Banana geometry. Half-slices essential.

Grilled Banana and Peanut Butter Sandwich
First tasted at Melt Bar and Grilled

I decided to make my own challah for this because the loaves at the store are usually too large for Scheidt and I, though they work perfectly well. The smaller loaf gives me control over the size of the sandwich. At Melt, it was gigunda, so if you want the authentic version, the store-bought size is fine, so long as your jaw is on hinges.

Quantities for this are infinitely variable and expandable. For the brunch, we used two of my small loaves, which made more sandwiches than 20 people could eat. Feel free to expand or contract to your eating habits. One sandwich will be enough for most appetites, even mine.

8 slices challah, 1/2 inch thick
2-3 ounces cream cheese, softened
2-3 ounces peanut butter, at room temperature
1-2 bananas, sliced no thicker than 1/4 inch
2 eggs
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1-2 tablespoons butter for the pan
Warm raspberry jam, to serve

To prepare the sandwiches, evenly spread four slices of challah with cream cheese and four slices with peanut butter. I'd say you want maybe 1/8 inch thickness - not bagel-schmear thick but also not too thin. Depending on the size of your challah loaf, you might not use all the cream cheese or peanut butter. Arrange banana slices on the peanut buttered bread so that most of the peanut butter is covered. Use your geometry skills or cut banana slices in half to fill the cracks. Put a cream cheese slice on each stack, and voila:

In a wide-bottomed bowl, lightly beat the two eggs. Mix in the cinnamon and vanilla.

Melt the butter in a large stainless steel skillet** over medium heat. Dunk each sandwich into the egg mixture, turning so that both pieces of bread are nicely coated, then put them in the pan. Cook for 3-4 minutes or until the first side is a French-toasty golden brown, then carefully flip. Cook 3-4 minutes or until the second side matches the first.

Serve piping hot from the pan with warm raspberry jam for dunking.

*The other thing is a restaurant owned by an Iron Chef. I second that, too. What up, Kevin Sousa! Get your Iron Chef on and represent!
**You could totally use a nonstick skillet, but I prefer to just use more butter.

Challah for the Goyim

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 17:54:10 -0500

My new favorite bread to bake is challah. And it makes me holla.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's not even an original joke, yet I can't resist.

This is the first in a two-part post, and let me assure you, this challah is going to turn into something that you really want to eat. But first, I wanted to sing the praises of challah by itself. I've made it three times now - each time gets a little better - and this goy girl knows that challah is the bread for brunch.

Challah is an enriched yeast bread traditionally served on the Jewish Sabbath. While there are a number of possible variations - you might use milk instead of water, add raisins or poppyseeds, use more or less sweetener, add additional enrichment like butter or oil, etc. - two things seem to hold steady: first, the loaf is always braided, and second, it's given a good dose of egg wash, which gives the challah its trademark golden-brown crust. Inside that crust, challah has a fine, absorbent crumb, which makes day-old challah perfect for French toast or bread pudding. In fact, there's some waiting in my freezer for just that purpose right now. It's also amazing fresh and steaming from the oven with a little butter and jam. Part two, due to arrive later this week, will put this challah to great use.

Challah
Adapted from How to Cook Everything with additional instruction from Smitten Kitchen

In the loaf above, I swapped whole wheat pastry flour for 1/3 of the white flour, and used water instead of milk. I've also made it with all white flour using milk, which gave me a richer, yellower loaf. I've also fooled around with skimping on rise time, and while I don't recommend it if you can avoid it, the bread turns out just fine. I'm giving you two rising periods, one of which is in a warm oven for speediness. If you add an additional rising period or slow the rising down on the counter or in the fridge, your bread will be even better. This recipe yields one large or two smaller loaves.

5 cups (1 1/2 pounds) flour
2 teaspoons salt
3 eggs
1 1/3 cups water or milk, heated to about 70 degrees F
1 tablespoon honey or sugar
1 ounce fresh yeast
3 eggs
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon poppyseeds
Butter for greasing the bowl

Butter a large, ovenproof bowl. Preheat the oven to the lowest temperature your oven will allow.

In a large bowl, whisk together flour and salt. Measure the water or milk into a 16 ounce Pyrex measuring cup and heat as necessary to reach the required temperature. Add the honey or sugar and stir until dissovled. Crumble in the fresh yeast and stir until dissolved.

In the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine half of the flour mixture, the yeast-water mixture, and the three eggs on low speed. Add additional flour about 1/2 cup at a time, switching to the dough hook attachment when the dough ball gets too big and tough for the paddle to handle. Let the dough hook knead the dough for 5 minutes, or until the dough forms a smooth, elastic ball. Transfer the dough ball to the buttered bowl, butter the top of the dough ball and cover with a towel. Put the bowl in the oven and turn the oven off. Let rise for 90 minutes or until at least doubled in bulk.

Deflate the ball and divide the dough into six equal pieces.* Shape the pieces into balls and let them rest on a very lightly floured surface, covered with towel, for 15 minutes.**

Lightly grease a baking sheet. Using your hands and without adding any additional flour, roll each piece into a snake about 14 inches long and one inch thick. To make two smaller loaves, braid three strands together on the baking sheet. Some recipes recommend starting the braid in the middle; others say to start at one end. I did both, and both were fine. To make one massive six-stranded braid, follow the instructions on Smitten Kitchen. In either case, do not braid too tightly or you may get unsightly stretch marks in the oven. Beat the remaining egg yolk with one-two teaspoons water and brush half of the egg wash over the loaves before letting them rise another hour.***

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Brush the loaves with the remaining egg wash and sprinkle with poppyseeds if desired. Bake 40 - 50 minutes, or until the bottom of the loaf sounds hollow when you give it a good tap. Cool on a wire rack. Freeze if not eating within 36 hours.

*To be super-duper anal retentive like me, you can use your kitchen scale to measure precisely equal pieces.
**Or longer. DO NOT add much additional flour or you will have trouble make the balls into ropes in the next step - the dough will slip in your hands.
***This last rise is the one I skimped on for the pictured loaves. I think that the crust would have come out better if the loaf had a longer time to rise before baking. The second coating of egg wash post-rise would have also helped the crust. But it was still 100% edible, so if you need to save time, go for it.

Giant Eagle's New Grocery Hangar

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 23:48:52 -0500

Sometimes, when you go to something huge like the Grand Canyon or the Louvre, you realize that your camera lens isn't wide enough to get the whole thing into the shot. This is exactly what happens when you enter Giant Eagle's brand-new Robinson Market District.

The savvy folks at "the Iggle" were kind enough to invite a group of illustrious food bloggers* for a special tour of the new facility tonight. And as I alluded in the title, this is not a grocery store. This is a grocery hangar.

First of all, the prepared foods cafe in this Market District is ginormous. In addition to a truly massive traditional salad bar, there is a hot bar and also a cold bar featuring things like lentils, curried couscous and hummus. But then there's also a crepe stand, sushi, a rotisserie, tossed-to-order salads, a pizza counter, a curry and stir-fry corner, and more options that I am not able even to remember, let alone enumerate. Plus free wifi.

Next to this, there is a (sound the trumpets) carryout beer section. Oh wait, maybe you didn't hear me. THERE IS A CARRYOUT BEER SECTION AT A GROCERY STORE IN PENNSYLVANIA! Did the apocalypse occur and I missed it? Is it particularly blustery in hell today? While I didn't have time to get deep into the selection, just the fact that it exists at all is enough to make me squeal with joy.

The produce section occupies the major portion of the Honey, I Shrunk The Kids-scaled grocery store. There were Buddha's hands citrus, which I have always wondered how to eat, and a plethora of Asian vegetables and other items that might be hard to find at smaller stores. And just for kicks, there's an entire hydroponic system right in the middle of the room.

Frankenlettuce... It's alive!

Moving on, you'll find a lengthy meat counter selling all the usual plus rabbit, poussin and Jamison Farm lamb. There's a cheese locker where Market District ages its own cheeses, a two-story glass cabinet full of dry-cured charcuterie, and barrels full of pickles like you hear about in New York stories.

Why, yes, that's a Pittsburgh skyline carved in a giant wheel of cheddar.

And of course, if Hamburger Helper and frozen sausages wrapped in pancakes are more your thing, there are aisles and aisles of that stuff, too.

But since it would take several posts to even scratch the surface of everything that's going on at this store, I am going to stop listing features, because perhaps the best thing about the whole store is this guy.

Tom Pometo** has been working in produce at Giant Eagle since before I was born. He's Johnny on the Spot with vegetable jokes and produce puns, and was quick to bring up how much Giant Eagle's local sourcing strategy has changed while he's been with the company. (In short, it's come a long way in recent years.) And I highly suggest, if you ever see him wandering the produce section, that you stop him and ask him how to tell if a cantaloupe is ripe. His big tip: if you're wondering if something is ripe at Giant Eagle, ask an employee for a taste.

The new Market District location - all 150,000 square feet of it - is located in the Settler's Ridge development off the Ridge Road exit of the Parkway West. I'd imagine it's going to be pretty packed for the first few weeks, but it's open 24 hours.

Giant Eagle Market District
Settler's Ridge

*Great to meet yinz guys: EatPgh, FoodBurgh, BurghBaby, Plus Size Mommy, Crafty Mama of 4 and many others! Faces with names is such a nice thing.
**Tom, I am really sorry. I snapped 10 pictures of you and you were making a goofy face in every one of them. So at least in this one you were holding a cantaloupe, too.

Daring Bakers: Macarons

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 08:00:00 -0500

Well, that does it. I am officially a lemming. I have made macarons.

You see, you can get away with cupcakes. Sure, they're faddish, but everyone likes cupcakes. Once you've ventured into the territory where average people (in this country) don't know what it is you are making, however, and you are making something you've never really* eaten, something the entire internet seems to shout from its virtual rooftop is THE BEST COOKIE EVER, well, you've reached a new level of collective foodie infatuation.

The 2009 October Daring Bakers’ challenge was brought to us by Ami S. She chose macarons from Claudia Fleming’s The Last Course: The Desserts of Gramercy Tavern as the challenge recipe.

So what's a macaron? Not to be confused with the American macaroon, the oh-so-French macaron is an exceptionally delicate almond meringue sandwich cookie, which Parisian grand poobahs like Pierre Hermé and Ladurée combine in seemingly infinite combinations. My own kitchen is decidedly more finite, so I made just two different flavors: an orange cookie with white chocolate-strawberry ganache and strawberry jam, and a chocolate cookie with peppermint white chocolate ganache.

Macarons are said to be very well made when they are smooth, puffed but not domed, and have ruffly little feet. I made four batches (two of each flavor), first following the recipe exactly, then experimenting with various technical enhancements. All four batches used egg whites frozen during summertime ice cream making, so the materials were the same.

The results, however, were not the uniform:

Batch 1 (orange): Followed the recipe exactly as given. Dried in the oven, then baked at 375 F. The resulting cookies had nice little feet but were cracked on top. Highly edible.
Batch 2 (orange): Dried the piped macarons on the counter for 30 minutes, then in the oven for 5 more. Baked at 340 degrees F for about 10 minutes. Came out perfect, hence all the photos. Definitely edible.
Batch 3 (chocolate): Used David Lebovitz' chocolate macaroon recipe, but baked according to the method that produced near-perfect cookies in batch 2. Alas, batch 3 macarons domed, did not have feet, and cracked. Barely even macarons, and yet, quite edible.
Batch 4 (chocolate): Used Lebovitz' baking instructions (plus a 30 minute drying period on the counter), baking at 375 for 15-18 minutes. Still domed and no feet, but no major cracks. And super edible.

So all in all? It's hard - dare I say a crapshoot - to make picture perfect macarons. I'm not even sure that following the recipe that worked for me on Batch 2 would yield beautiful macarons again. But I'm going to try, because, a. I get to use my pastry bag! and b. even the mistakes are delicious. Effort to deliciousness ratio: highly favorable. And double-bonus for using up egg whites, giving me an excuse to make more ice cream.

I'd share the filling recipes with you at least, but I combined about 3 white chocolate ganache recipes (not wanting to reproduce the viscous goo of the flourless white chocolate cake) and then added flavorings (peppermint extract or minced strawberries and their juices) until I liked how they tasted. You can find the challenge recipe here.

*The hilarity of this is that I distinctly remember trying a macaron while in Paris a decade ago - they are beautifully displayed - and I hated it.

Scheidt's Cincinnati Chili

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 22:44:20 -0500

Sometimes, good things do come from Cincinnati.

Lo these many years ago, back in college, a certain roommate introduced me to a pleasure previously unknown to my northern tongue: Skyline. Even back then, there wasn't a lot of fast food that I would go for. But Skyline Cincinnati-style chili was something else. First of all, it was on noodles. Second, it was topped with a veritable mountain of shredded cheese. But most importantly, the seasoning was unlike any other chili I had ever had: mildly smoky but almost sweet, as if chili and pumpkin pie had a meaty lovechild.

Fast-forward an undisclosed number of years, and here I am, with a man with some deep Cincinnati roots* and the uncanny ability to produce quantities of meat stew suitable for entire military battalions, as evidenced by the New Year's sauerkraut. Naturally, he has a Cincinnati chili recipe that's fantastic. Even more naturally, I beg him to make it as soon as the weather turns even the tiniest bit autumnal. Hands off, ladies. I'm eating it all.

However, before you run off and make it, you must promise to adhere to the Five Commandments of Cincinnati Chili that I just made up.

1. Thy chili shall be very meaty, practically a ragu, but also with a very thin sauce that pools in the bottom of the bowl.
2. Thy chili shall not contain beans, making it palatable to young, old and picky. If thou truly desirest beans, see commandment 5.
3. Thy chili shall be sweetly seasoned with allspice, cinnamon, cloves and chocolate.
4. Thy chili shall be served upon a bed of spaghetti topped by a serious mountain of shredded yellow cheddar. here should be so much cheese that the heat from the chili cannot melt it all. This shall be known henceforth as a Three Way, and is a fine place to stop.
5. If thou truly desirest kidney beans, thou may put them atop the cheese to compose a Four Way. Alternately, shouldst thou prefer chopped raw onions, thou may put them atop the cheese instead. The overly devout top their chili with both red kidney beans and onions, the inimitable Five Way.

If you are prepared to keep this covenant, you can make the chili. It's actually quite easy, as you'll see in the instructions - all it takes is an afternoon to simmer, and maybe a football game and a houseful of friends to share it with.

Scheidt's Cincinnati Chili
Just another Scheidt family recipe pirated on Burghilicious

4 cups water
2 pounds ground beef
2 medium onions, finely diced
2 8-ounce cans tomator sauce
1 16-ounce can diced tomatoes (optional)
4 or more cloves garlic
2 tablespoons vinegar
2 teaspoons Worchestershire sauce
5 whole allspice
1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper (or to taste, depending on your heat tolerance/desire)**
1 teaspoon ground cumin
4 tablespoons your favorite chili powder
1 ounce unsweetened chocolate
1 bay leaf
5 whole cloves
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Salt and pepper, to taste

To serve:
Prepared spaghetti (at least a pound)
Shredded yellow cheddar cheese (at least a ton)
Chopped white onion (optional)
Strained, canned red kidney beans

In a large pot, bring water and ground beef to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer, stirring often to break up the "meat noodles"***, for 30 minutes. You want the final chili to have no noticeable meaty lumps, so this is your chance.

Add the rest of the ingredients. Simmer uncovered for 3 hours, then cover for 30 minutes.

Serve atop a generous bed of hot spaghetti and smother with shredded cheddar. Top with chopped white onion and kidney beans, if desired. Chili freezes beautifully.

*Don't worry, his football allegiances are easily swayed. OH SNAP!
**Scheidt recommends substituting ground chipotle for the cayenne, particularly if you want something a little less spicy.
***Yeah, I said meat noodles. What about it?

Food Businesses and the Social Web

Sun, 11 Oct 2009 21:08:06 -0500

Disclaimer: while I have smelled the donuts, I haven't tasted them. This post isn't about the food. On most of the links in this post, it's important to read the comments to get both sides of the story.

Over the last two weeks, online controversy has raged about a new business operating in the miniscule Strip District location that used to be home to Caffe Intermezzo. It brings up some important questions about the PR side of running a foodie business, business questions of maintaining a personal presence on the web, and the politics of where we choose to spend our money.

Here's the story:

Ron Razete had blog on which he espoused his political beliefs, alignment with the religious right, and disapproval of homosexuality. Much of the political content was vitriolic. After posting for about 18 months, he opened a food business named Peace, Love and Little Donuts, with the tagline, "Feed your inner hippie." Foodies patronized the business happily for about 6 weeks. But then, some foodies who really liked the donuts but also happen to be gay found his blog.

The gay foodies were pretty upset. They felt betrayed that someone with a hippie-themed donut shop could actually be, well, anti-hippie. They began a public campaign to discourage patronage of Razete's business. The campaign included using the site Urbanspoon to make (legitimate, supported) claims about his beliefs. Razete felt unfairly targeted, and said he didn't think that his political and religious beliefs should be brought into a conversation about the food he makes and the business he runs. He took down the blog and petitioned Urban Spoon to remove negative comments, a move that only fueled the debate.

Now, I am certainly in a quandary. I want locally-owned food businesses to succeed, but I'd rather not buy anything from people who broadcast hatred for the GLBT community and say that people with my political beliefs are stupid, evil, un-American and/or immoral. Do I want his business to fail? Not really. But I can't say I'm excited for his success now, either.

So since I can't have it both ways, I think what I really wish is for business owners to be more responsible for their online persona. Then I wouldn't have to make anti-donut choices. I'm a publicist and marketer by trade, and my first thought on reading Razete's blog was OMG Dude should have deleted this blog as soon as he decided to start a business.* For about 50 reasons.

But I get the other side, too: why should I be expected to build a brick wall between my personal life and my business life? And after attending an awesome Podcamp Pittsburgh 4 last weekend, I've come to this conclusion: You can do anything you want online, but you've got to be prepared for the consequences.

If you want to have separate professional and personal lives on the web, you can do that. Keep your blog private or blog anonymously.** Protect your Twitter updates. Use super-secret security settings on Facebook. Confine conversation topics that could alienate customers to face-to-face interactions with close friends. Generally avoid saying things online that could negatively impact your business. Strive for your product - in this case, donuts - to be the focus of conversations about your business.*** Remove the static about your personal life.

If you want to bare your soul online, you can do that, too. You can, as Ron Razete did, broadcast your political opinions to the world (thanks, First Amendment!). It's totally legal to say things that offend people. But you have to realize that some of those people might be your customers, and that they have no obligation to support your business if you have offended them. If you choose not to compartmentalize your personal life and your business, you can't be angry when others don't compartmentalize it for you. And on the web, your detractors have just as much of a right to say their piece as you had to say yours.

Dear readers, I'm very interested in hearing from you about this (new and rare) intersection of food, business and politics here on Burghilicious. What responsibility do restaurant owners have to maintaining their online presence? I'm particularly interested in how other restaurants and food businesses manage their online presence, and if they think about these issues.

And then we'll be back to our regularly-scheduled navel-gazing gluttony. I'm wondering if homemade donuts might be in order.

*In an unrelated-to-the-political-story tangent, Kevin Sousa did a similar thing recently in a post called Stop Reading Food Blogs. I've interviewed Kevin on this site and gone to some of his private dinners, so I'm making the assumption that he wasn't talking about me, but it was an... interesting... post from someone who is in the process of opening a restaurant. Kevin is on the other end of the popularity spectrum and is basically a darling of the Pittsburgh foodie establishment. The publicist in me disagreed with posting this at all; the Kevin Sousa fangirl cheered another great rant; the food blogger was sad and confused. To feel better, I went and scarfed some Yo Rita tacos.

**The practicality of anonymous blogging, particularly if your blog gets popular, is still up for discussion.

***That's where I really feel for Razete, because by all accounts the donuts are good, and that's where he wants the focus to be: on his tasty donuts. But his personal writings have totally overshadowed his product.

October 19: Post-script: Oh looky, the Post-Gazette chimed in on the issue. And 2 out of 2 publicists agree that publicists rule.

Mobilize for Istanbul Grille!

Sun, 11 Oct 2009 18:18:42 -0500

I know, I know: for something that I have the audacity to call "Pittsburgh's yummiest blog," I sure don't write enough about places. I navel-gaze and ooh and aah about the stuff that Scheidt and I cook up. And a lot of that is yummy, to be sure, but it's just one piece of my Pittsburgh food experience.

Another piece of my Pittsburgh food experience, for at least the last year, has been a delightful little establishment called Istanbul Grille. Scheidt and I were first drawn in because at the time, it was a block away from his apartment in Friendship. Then, in the same meal, we ordered the baba ghanoush and the doner kebap platter. After wiping our plates entirely clean with our pitas, we knew we'd be back.

Doner kebap - a gyros platter

But my friends, there is a problem: Owner Coskun "Josh" Golkap had to close his Shadyside location* this summer, leaving just the takeout shop downtown. And while Josh will tomorrow open in the space that used to hold Your Inner Vagabond in Lawrenceville, the challenge still remains: neither of these places has a full kitchen.

This is a travesty against Turkish food in Pittsburgh, and indeed, against the entire Pittsburgh dining scene. After all, over the last 18 months Istanbul Grille enjoyed the Pittsburgh print media hat-trick, with glowing reviews from China Millman and Munch over at the Post-Gazette, Jason and Angelique at City Paper, and at least three different writers at the Tribune-Review.

What Istanbul Grille can pull off without a full kitchen is admittedly pretty amazing. Josh plays it down, calling it "Turkish fast food," but puh-lease: putting Istanbul Grille on the same plane as McD's or some burrito shop is morally reprehensible.

For instance, remember when I mentioned the baba ghanoush three paragraphs ago? I don't tend to go for eggplant, but I think the baba ghanoush at this place is transcendental. So luscious and richly flavored, it seems like it must contain a quart of cream, but no, it's vegan-safe.

Back: chunks of lamb. Front: zucchini pancake direct from heaven.

Also: the "doner kebap," which most Burghers would call a gyro. There is at least lamb (yummo!) or chicken (omg!) available daily, and sometimes both downtown. The meat is layered in slices on a vertical spit, then roasted so it bastes itself in its own fat. The crispy edges are sliced off and served to you in a pita or atop rice or bulghur. It's accompanied by a salad of crisp iceberg lettuce with a simple yet delicious vinegar dressing and a mysterious herb mixture. And for the record, iceberg lettuce (like eggplant) is something I don't usually go for, yet I lap it up at Istanbul Grille.

After that, there are the zucchini pancakes, stuffed grape leaves, hummus even creamier than the baba ghanoush, and the lamb kofte (little meatballs) and baklava and

CLUNK

I just fainted.

So, Pittsburgh, hear my cry: I would like nothing more than to take a bottle of wine and a table-full of friends to a new, full-kitchened, dining-room-with-a-waitress, sit-and-laugh-for-hours incarnation of Istanbul Grille again. To make that happen, I think we need to patronize the existing locations over and over again until Josh is so flush with cash that he just has to open a bigger shop with a full kitchen that really lets him work his magic. I think he'd be down with it.**

Istanbul Grille
643 Liberty Avenue, Downtown
Weekdays only, Cash only

Istanbul (Formerly Your Inner Vagabond)
4103 Butler Street, Lawrenceville

*All the photos in this post are from the Shadyside shop. Le sigh.
**I might be putting words in his mouth. But I really just want the kofte. Don't they look yummy?

Daring Bakers: Puff Pastry

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 22:45:41 -0500

Hi, I'm Lauren, your friendly neighborhood glutton for punishment, and I have three words for you:
it puffed, #$@%*.

The September 2009 Daring Bakers' challenge was hosted by Steph of A Whisk and a Spoon. She chose the French treat, Vols-au-Vent based on the Puff Pastry recipe by Michel Richard from the cookbook Baking With Julia by Dorie Greenspan.

Now, my kitchen has seen its fair share of disasters. Wedding-shower cream puffs. Shortbread that fell on the floor instead of the cooling rack. The flavorless strudel that was such a Daring Bakers disappointment. Puff pastry was far from a disaster, but it was the most physically demanding challenge to date, as I had to push so hard on my rolling pin that the heels of my hands were bruised for two days afterwards. After suffering* thusly, you can bet I would have broken a window or a least eaten some ice cream right out of the carton if the darn stuff hadn't puffed. But it did puff. #&@%*.

The basic procedure for puff pastry is thus: First, you make a very basic dough. So basic, in fact, that it is play-doh: just flour, water and salt. You make that dough into an envelope and stuff a pound of butter inside it. Then, you roll out** and fold that packet time and time again, until you have whisper-thin sheets of dough separating even thinner sheets of butter. When you bake it, the dough releases steam which causes the rise, result is flaky, airy, and intensely buttery.

But the big question: was it worth it?

On the one hand, it took most of the day. The last wisps of summer were hanging on, making it just too warm in the kitchen to do 2-3 turns at a time as the recipe suggested. While I've been hoping to get a marble slab for a while - and this would have been the perfect challenge to justify the purchase! - it just wasn't in the checking account stars, le sigh. So to keep the butter cold enough to not squish out in a most undignified fashion, I had to do one turn every 30-45 minutes, doubling the waiting time. This meant dinner was late.

Behold the flaky layers of my vols-au-vent!

That said, this recipe made more than two pounds of puff pastry. TWO POUNDS! Made with butter... and right there lies the difference.

See, the affordable kind of store-bought puff pastry is made with shortening and runs $4-$5 a package. It has the puff, but alas, it is not buttery. Of course, you can get butter-based puff pastry at fancier stores, but you can also expect to shell out $10-$12 for a 15-ounce package.

The homemade kind requires a pound of butter and about a pound of flour. So for $5 in ingredients and a day around the house,*** I can get a huge quantity of real, buttery, amazingly delicious and flaky puff pastry.

Therefore, effort to deliciousness ratio for this Daring Bakers challenge: favorable, particularly once costs are factored in. If you want to try it yourself, I suggest this Julia Child video to see how it's done.

*I'm not sure what kind of sympathy exists for bodily harm caused by one's own baking.
**I swear, really, that rolling out fridge-cold butter really does require a great deal of pressure. Right? RIGHT?!?!?
***And some bruises.

Pea Salad is So 2007

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 20:41:22 -0500

Two summers ago, I think I took this salad to every summer potluck I attended. I couldn't get enough: sweet, bright-green peas... savory, earthy mushrooms... crunchy almonds... and a tangy, nutty Asian vinaigrette. Frankly, the only reason I hadn't blogged it earlier is that it was never around long enough for a photo shoot.

Most of my friends got seriously sick of pea salad, except for Mysty, who loved it as much as I did. Mysty and her husband turned to making pea salad with whatever salad dressing they happened to have on hand. I can't vouch for that approach, but apparently peas and almonds are good together no matter what you put on top.

This is another one in the category of "easy veggie dish to take for the work potluck," which I did last week. And while I am obviously not vegetarian, it's good to consider bringing a vegetarian dish for a potluck, as here in 'Burgh many potlucks are out-of-control carnivorous orgies* that many vegetarians leave hungry (not to mention mildly nauseous).

This recipe is based on Drew's brand Shiitake-Ginger dressing. You can do that for a near-instant salad fix. Unfortunately, I've had a hard time finding that dressing on a consistent basis.** I taste-tested this at-home version against the original, and they are close to identical. It only takes about 15 minutes longer to make, and the recipe makes enough for two batches.

Pea Salad with Shiitake Ginger Dressing

2-pound bag frozen peas, thawed
4 ounces shiitake mushrooms
4 tablespoons peanut oil, divided
Pinch Chinese five-spice
1 tablespoon dijon mustard
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon ginger root, grated
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1 teaspoon toasted sesame seeds
1/2 cup slivered blanched almonds, toasted

Place the thawed peas in your serving dish.

To prepare the mushrooms, discard the stems. Finely chop two mushroom caps and set aside. Thinly slice remaining caps. In a small skillet, heat 2 tablespoons peanut oil. Saute sliced mushrooms until cooked through. Remove the sliced mushrooms to the serving dish, reserving the oil in the pan.

Add the minced mushrooms and pinch of Chinese five-spice to the already heated oil. Saute 2 minutes, until fragrant. Add additional 2 tablespoons peanut oil and turn down the heat. Let the mushroom flavor infuse into the oil over very low heat for 2-4 minutes.

Meanwhile, combine mustard, garlic, apple cider vinegar, coriander and ginger in a small bowl. Whisk in the the mushroom-infused oil, followed by the sesame oil and sesame seeds. You can stop and save the dressing at this point.

Just before serving, add the slivered almonds to the peas and mushrooms. Spoons about half (or less) of the dressing over and stir to combine. Eat immediately or the almonds will get mushy.

*Which is generally fine by me.
**Whole Foods seems to carry it regularly. Giant Eagle Market District usually carries the Drew's brand, but not always the Shiitake Ginger variety.

Black, White, Red, Eaten

Wed, 09 Sep 2009 21:09:09 -0500

I admit, I was hanging on as long as I could. After all, summer never seems to last long enough. And I had to have strawberry shortcake at least once. Chocolate strawberry shortcake, that is.

Imagine this.

First, the easy part: instead of just plain whipped cream, what we have here is half cream, half sour cream, whipped until it just barely holds together.

Second, also easy: strawberries macerated in orange juice and Grand Marnier liqueur.

And finally, not too much harder: chocolate cream biscuits, almost black as night. So deep and dense, they were too dark to take a sharp photo whole. So I had to take a bite.

And another.

Done properly, the sweetness of the strawberries is balanced by the richness of the biscuits and the tang of the cream. If you're clever, you'll adjust the amount of sugar you use to the ripeness of the berries. The whole recipe takes no more than an hour to prepare, tops, if you prepare the strawberries and cream while the biscuits are in the oven.

And if you double up on berries like me, you may even have a biscuit or two to crumble into your next batch of vanilla ice cream.

Chocolate Strawberry Shortcake
Adapted from Epicurious

1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 1/2 cups chilled whipping cream, divided
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 pounds strawberries, sliced or quartered
8 tablespoons powdered sugar, divided
Freshly squeezed juice of one orange
2 tablespoons Grand Marnier
1/2 teaspoon orange zest
1/2 cup chilled sour cream
A few pinches of salt

Preheat oven to 400°F. Line baking sheet with parchment. Put a metal bowl in the freezer to chill for making whipped cream.

In a large bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa powder, sugar, baking powder and a pinch of salt. Using an electric mixer, beat 1 cup cream and vanilla extract until firm peaks form. Very gently stir the cream into the flour mixture until it just barely holds together in moist clumps.

Transfer the mixture onto a lightly floured surface. It's going to fall apart, but that's ok. Keep gathering and regathering the mixture together, using gentle pressure and gradually incorporating more dry ingredients, until the dough forms into a ball.

Pat the dough out by hand to 3/4 inch thickness. Using a 3-inch round cutter*, cut out biscuits. Gather the remaining dough, pat it out again, and cut out more biscuits. You should get at least six.** Place biscutis on prepared baking sheet. Bake until a toothpick comes out clean, about 15 minutes. Transfer to a rack to cool.

While the biscuits are in the oven, stir together strawberries, 6 tablespoons (or less) powdered sugar, orange juice, Grand Marnier, orange zest and a pinch of salt. Refrigerate, covered, until ready to serve.

Whip together remaining 1/2 cup cream and sour cream in the frozen bowl until soft peaks form. Do not overbeat to stiffness.

Serve biscuits whole, topped with a generous helping of strawberries and a dollop of whipped cream. Store biscuits in a bag on the counter.

*You can also use a smaller cutter, if you wish to end up with more biscuits. Just watch them in the over so they don't overcook, if they're smaller.

**After you've cut them out, immediately eat any remaining dough. It's amazing.

Tomatoes Simply Satisfy

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 19:59:48 -0500

Last Saturday, Scheidt and I bought two pounds of heirloom tomatoes at Farmers @ the Firehouse. In this case, two pounds meant only three tomatoes: big, knobby, heavy, juicy, amazing tomatoes. We also got a huge bag of basil and a giant ball of fresh mozzarella from Penn Mac.

So when I was about to eat cake for lunch, Stephen (that's Scheidt's first name, and what I call him in real life) said, "Um, why aren't we having tomatoes and mozzarella?"

To which I replied, "I don't feel like doing all that cutting."

Stephen practically fell down the stairs he laughed so hard. "Too much cutting" was apparently the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard me say in the kitchen. I suppose I understand, as I'm the one who's tackling the Dobos Torte or lasagna that takes two days to make. But sometimes, I really don't want to cook, OK?

That's when a reminder to savor the simple things is most welcome.

As soon as he had composed himself, Scheidt set out to prove to me that tomato-mozzarella on toast was, in fact, not too much cutting. He cut one dripping slice off one of those gargantuan tomatoes, and as soon as I saw it, I came to my senses. He toasted bread - we love the multigrain ciabatta from Mediterra - while I made fast work of two tomatoes and the mozzarella. Add a few cracks of pepper, a drizzle of olive oil, and we're on the porch noshing in less than 10 minues.

And Oh. My. God. We were slapping the table, these tomatoes were so amazing, and congratulating each other on what great cooks we are.* Late August tomatoes, apparently, are about all you need.

It's barely fair to call this a recipe, but there are people in the world who want step by step instructions, so here you go. Quantities are totally up to you. Just cut as much as you want to eat!

Tomato and Mozzarella Toasts
An un-recipe

A good, crusty, flavorful loaf of bread, sliced
Extra virgin olive oil
Very ripe, fresh, seasonal tomatoes**, sliced
Fresh basil leaves
A ball of fresh mozzarella, sliced
Salt and pepper

Preheat the broiler. Place bread slices - as many as you want to eat - on a cookie sheet. Drizzle with olive oil. Broil a few minutes, until lightly toasted.

Layer tomato slices, basil leaves, and fresh mozzarella slices on your serving plate. Sprinkle with salt and a few grinds of fresh-cracked pepper. Drizzle with olive oil.

To eat, load up a slice of bread with tomato, mozzarella and basil.***

*Do not fear, we know this is ridiculous.
**You must swear - SWEAR! - to never, ever attempt this with winter tomatoes.
***Seriously, did you really need instructions?

Daring Bakers: Dobos Torte

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 22:05:31 -0500

This, dear friends, is a Dobos Torte: layer upon layer of vanilla sponge cake separated by rich chocolate buttercream, then topped with a caramel-covered cake layer and garnished with hazelnuts. And I have the Daring Bakers' August challenge to thank for it!

The August 2009 Daring Bakers' challenge was hosted by Angela of A Spoonful of Sugar and Lorraine of Not Quite Nigella. They chose the spectacular Dobos Torte based on a recipe from Rick Rodgers' cookbook Kaffeehaus: Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Caffés of Vienna, Budapest, and Prague.

Dobos Torte Effort-to-Deliciousness Ratio: 2 for 3 to the good. Sponge cake layers, yummy. Chocolate buttercream frosting: changed my life, but more on that later. Caramel fans on top: meh. This is the first caramel I've made that didn't have some kind of fat in it, and it came out more like hard candy than caramel, with a distinctively bitter, citrusy bite. It looked pretty beautiful, but I didn't want to eat it.

Now, as for the aforementioned life-changing frosting: I've made my own frosting on many occasions, but this was the first time that I've ever made a cooked buttercream. Basically, you beat together eggs and sugar until light and creamy. Then you gently cook that mixture in a double boiler, then add the chocolate. Once everything has come to room temperature, you whisk in ounce after ounce of butter. The result is an intensely buttery frosting with a silky, unctious mouthfeel - no stiffness whatsoever, not even chilled, not even after the bowl sat on the counter overnight once the cake was finished.

As I’ve noted before, my monthly Daring Bakers challenge gives me an excuse reason to purchase kitchen gear. This time, I got an offset spatula, the kind that Mrs. Memmer in 6th grade home ec would say is a real spatula (and those other things are called rubber scrapers and pancake turners). It may have taken 20 years and a whopping $7, but color me convinced: frosting this cake was so much easier with an offset spatula than it would have been with either a knife or the rubber kind.

The full cake recipe, including the caramel layer, is available here, but I've just got to share the buttercream recipe with you immediately.

Chocolate Buttercream
From Kaffeehaus: Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Caffés of Vienna, Budapest, and Prague by Rick Rodgers

4 large eggs, at room temperature
1 cup superfine white sugar
4 ounces dark chocolate, finely chopped
9 ounces unsalted butter, at room temperature (2 sticks + 2 tablespoons)

Prepare a double-boiler: quarter-fill a large saucepan with water and bring it to a boil.

In a glass or metal bowl that balances snuggly inside the saucepan, beat the eggs and sugar together for 3-5 minutes with a handheld mixer, until pale and thickened. Fit the bowl over the the boiling water in the saucepan (water should not reach the bowl) and lower the heat to a simmer. Cook the egg mixture, whisking constantly, for 2-3 minutes, until it just begins to thicken. Whisk in the chocolate and cook an additional 2-3 minutes. Scrape the mixture into a clean (larger) bowl and leave to cool at room temperature.

Once cool, use a handheld mixer to beat in the soft butter one small piece at a time. Refrigerate until ready to use.

French Green Bean Salad

Sun, 23 Aug 2009 23:48:10 -0500

A giant bag of farm-fresh green beans prompted me to solve one of the age-old questions: what dish should I take to the company picnic?

You know this picnic is going to have a variety of starchy salads, many of which use mayonnaise as glue. You can count on some pretzels and chips. Fruit salad in a watermelon bowl. Brownies. Cookies. Cake. And maybe a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, depending on the exact company we're talking about. Nary a vegetable in sight.

French green bean salad may just be the answer: simple, tangy, crisp, fresh, light, summery, and totally picnic-friendly. It guarantees there will be at least one non-artery-clogging selection on the picnic buffet, and it's a snap to make, to boot: just blanch the beans and coat with a basic vinaigrette. Toss in some garlic and sliced shallots, let it sit and voila! A chic summer salad that's both unique (at the company picnic) and classic (I mean, it's French! It's got shallots and everything!).

After first making this salad for my company picnic using Morris Farm green beans, I then made it again for my parents using Traverse City Farmers' Market green beans, and twice for Scheidt since he came home from Tenerife two weeks ago. And I don't plan to stop until the beans run out, and maybe not even then.

French Green Bean Salad
Adapted from One Pot French

1 pound fresh green beans, stem ends trimmed, halved if very long
Juice of one lemon, freshly squeezed (2 - 4 tablespoons)
1 tablespoon dijon* mustard (one large "pthtthththth", if you've got a squeeze bottle.)
1/2 - 3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon finely minced shallot
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh herbs (parsley, mint, thyme, chives, basil, tarragon, whatever)
1 clove garlic, finely minced
2 small or 1 large shallot, very thinly sliced, rounds separated
Salt and pepper, to taste

Fill a large saucepan with water and heat to boiling. Blanch the green beans until 75% cooked - just tender enough to easily spear with a fork, but still quite crisp. 3-5 minutes works for me, depending on the size of the beans. Drain the beans in a large colander and immediately rinse with cold water until the beans are cold.

Meanwhile, as you wait for the water to boil and beans to cook, mix up the dressing. Whisk together the lemon juice and the pthththththtth of dijon mustard until combined. Starting very slowly - just a drop at a time - begin to whisk in the olive oil. Whisk the first drop until completely incorporated, then add a larger drop and so on, until the dressing reaches the consistency you desire. Whisk in the minced shallot and chopped fresh herbs.

Once the beans are ready, toss together strained beans, minced garlic and shallot rings. Pour the dressing over the beans until well coated but not drowning - you want most of the dressing to cling to the beans, not pool in the bottom of the dish.** Season with salt and pepper, then chill for at least 1/2 hour before serving. Serve on the same day.

*Do not substitute bright yellow mustard. Dijon is really best here, and there's no excuse for not have a $2 bottle of it in your fridge.
**You may very well have a good deal of dressing left over - I find I can get 2 pounds of beans coated with one recipe's worth of dressing, but your mileage may vary.

Pizza, Finally

Thu, 13 Aug 2009 19:30:00 -0500

File this under "excuse to use the dough hook attachment."

Combine an itch to try out the dough hook with amazingly cool summer weather, and you can file it under "perfect excuse for summer baking." After all, when you're cranking the oven to 500 degrees or higher, it's nice if your kitchen isn't already at infernal temperatures.

This crust is a take on the basic crust from Bittman's How to Cook Everything. I've used his recipe many times in the past, with various adaptations: herbs, semolina, cornmeal, tasty bits, etc. I hit the nail on the head this time with chopped rosemary and whole wheat pastry flour, which deepens the flavor without tasting too-too healthy.

It has been quite some time since I have had any luck with something requiring yeast, including several of the recipes from the Bittman Bible. My hunch is that my failures stem from a combination of tired yeast packets and a tendency to want things to rise in my chilly kitchen in the winter. But I have found the answer, and that answer is fresh yeast: the kind that comes from the refrigerated section of the grocery store in a tiny, two-ounce package. The texture is somewhere between crumbly and malleable, and the smell is heavenly, something that could be bottled and sold as "Essence of Boulangerie."

As for toppings, anything goes, but keep in mind that this produces a fairly thin-crusted pizza. If you want to put on a full pound of cheese and three piggies' worth of pepperoni, find a different recipe; this one is best for showcasing one or two premium-quality ingredients. I had great basil from the garden and the farm box, so I whipped up some pesto sauce, then topped it with grape tomatoes, fresh mozzarella and thin, peppered salami. Pizza #2 had the same salami, fontina and mushrooms with tomato sauce.

Pizza topping moonscape

Pizza Crust
Makes 2 12-inch pizzas

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour, divided
1 ounce fresh (refrigerated) yeast
1 cup warm water
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 tablespoon chopped rosemary

In a large bowl, whisk together both flours. In the bowl of a stand mixture fitted with the dough hook attachment, combine yeast, water, olive oil, salt and rosemary. Add about half of the flour mixture on top of the water. Turn the mixture on low, and let work until mostly combined. Add the remaining flour a little at a time until the mixture has become a ball that holds itself together. You may not add all the flour. Let the machine work, basically unattended, until the dough ball is smooth but still moist - about 4 minutes for me.*

Turn the dough ball onto a lightly floured work surface and form it into a smooth, rough ball. Grease a metal or glass bowl with olive oil, place the dough all inside, and coat the exposed dough with olive oil as well. Cover the bowl with a damp cloth. Let the dough rise in a warm** place, undisturbed, until about double in size, 1-2 hours. Alternately, let the dough rise until you can tell that it's working, then transfer it to the fridge, where it will rise much more slowly over the next several hours. (I did overnight.) After rising, you can freeze the dough if you'd like to save it for later.

45-60 minutes before you want to eat pizza, preheat the oven to 500 degrees F. If you are using a baking stone, preheat it in the oven. If you are using a pizza pan, grease it appropriately.

Flop the risen dough onto a lightly floured counter. Divide in half; each half will make one 12" pizza. Press the dough out by hand. If it stops stretching and starts ripping, leave it be for a few minutes to let the gluten relax. Once the oven is hot and has been hot for at least 15 minutes - you want a really hot oven for pizza! - bake the crust, naked, for 5 minutes. After 5 minutes, top the pizza and bake until dough is finished and cheese is melted, 3-5 minutes more.

Repeat if you're making the second pizza immediately!

*Watching the dough hook is mesmerizing. Don't let it hypnotize you for too long!
**If your kitchen is cold, preheat the oven to 200 degrees F when you start mixing the dough. To rise, turn the oven off and put the covered bowl inside. The oven should feel comfortably toasty, not hot. If it's undeniably hot in there, leave the door open a crack.

Eating Up "Le Grand Traverse"

Fri, 07 Aug 2009 22:32:30 -0500

Full disclosure, though I'm sure I've mentioned it before: I'm not a native Pittsburgher.

No, I grew up in central Michigan, a place where winter frequently started before Halloween and it was wise not to expect leave on the trees until Memorial Day weekend. So what did we do for vacation?

Drive north, of course!

Too many memories of childhood (and teenage and post-college summer) vacations involve the stunning area that surrounds Grand Traverse Bay on Lake Michigan, from Frankfort on Lake Michigan to Northport at the tip of Leelanau County, from Traverse City at the southernmost end of the Bay, past Torch Lake and up to Charlevoix. For the traveling foodie, there are three area staples: cherries, whitefish and wine. So if you only have three days in the area, as I did last weekend, here's the must-do list.

1. Traverse City farmer's market
Due to the vast expanses of water that surround the Leelanau and Traverse area, the climate is actually more mild than here in the 'Burgh. This means one thing for the locavore: an amazing farmer's market, particularly as far as fruits are concerned. As I mentioned, the whole northwest corner of Michigan's lower peninsula is famous for its cherries, and as you drive the gently sloping, bendy roads, you see orchard after orchard after orchard. Berries of all varieties are also popular. So this means, if you can swing it - say, if you can afford a rental house, or even better, if you have year-round resident relatives who are away and your parents are house-sitting for them - it's best to stay somewhere that you'll have a chance to cook. We got mouth-watering, so-fragile-you-can't-even-touch them raspberries, succulent dwarf peaches, green beans, broccoli, orange-yolked Amish eggs, pastured chicken and more. This helps you save money so you can...

Bubbly with a view

2. Take the wine tour
My absolute favorite Grand Traverse area winery is L. Mawby, an all-sparkling vintner located just a little ways up the Leelanau peninsula* from Traverse City. In addition to your two complimentary tastings of Mawby's methode champenoise bubbly, for just $5 you get two generous tasting glasses and a goat cheese or whitefish spread appetizer, which you take onto a picturesque barn porch that looks out over Leelanau's rolling hills and cherry orchards. I made my parents take me to Mawby within two hours of arriving in Traverse.

There are certainly plenty of other tasty wineries on the Leelanau peninsula - enough for a solid day of tasting that requires a DD - but you also won't want to miss the wineries on Old Mission peninsula, the spit of land that bisects Grand Traverse Bay. My favorite new addition is 2 Lads, where I got a delicious dry rosé , but if you go to Chateau Grand Traverse during the summer, you may have the pleasure of having your tasting with my "cousin" Brian.**

Brunch at Amical

3. Enjoy a food tradition
I overheard a waiter at a nearby table at The Bluebird in Leland, who put it best: "Of course the whitefish is good. In this area, your whitefish is your reputation!" Broiled, fried, baked, pan-seared: every restaurant in the Grand Traverse area is likely to offer this aptly-named, mild, flat fish. Whitefish, perch and walleye are the most common local fishes seen at area restaurants, and whitefish is by far the most popular.

This mean muskie weathervane guards the old fishing village in Leland

4. Eat with a view
At least one of your dinners must take place at a joint fancy enough to have a spectacular water view. On this trip, my dear parents and I dined at the lovely*** (and haunted!) Bowers Harbor Inn on the western shore of Old Mission Peninsula. Our meals were lovely, but the Traverse City cherry on top was the sun glistening off the water and shining through the trees at this historic mansion. Views are to be had wherever water is nearby, so there are countless options.

A few other places to try:
Sleder's Family Tavern - famous for a taxidermy moose head that you are encouraged to kiss
Amical - a tasty French bistro in downtown Traverse, great for brunch
Shady Lane Cellars - another favorite Leelanau winery
Morsels Bite-Sized Bakery - classic bakery treats in miniature sizes

More food pictures from the trip here.

*Leelanau is Michigan's pinky finger, for those of you who like the hand demonstration.
**We recently determined that "cousin" is an easier way to connote familial relation than "step-brother-in-law."
***For the record, I had beef tenderloin medallions with cheesy grits and patty pan squash. See?