The Amateur Gourmet

Michael Jackson Tribute Cookies

2009-07-03T04:01:43Z

My mom was the one who called me last week with the news. I was working with a friend and totally unprepared for the message my mom had to deliver. "Did you hear who died?" "Yes," I said, "Farrah Fawcett." "No," she said. "Did you hear who else?" "No, who?" I ran through possible celebrity deaths in my head. Or was it someone we knew? "Michael Jackson," said mom.

Almost instantly I repeated those words: "Michael Jackson." And my friend's wife yelled out from the other room: "Michael Jackson died?" It was the kind of sentence you don't expect to say and then when you do say it, or when you hear it, you liked it better when that sentence didn't exist. Such was the case with those awful words, "Michael Jackson died."

Michael Jackson became a superstar just when I was growing up. So his fame directly overlapped my childhood, and the other day I was at Taro Sushi in Park Slope and a jazz record was playing and one of the songs on it sounded awfully familiar. Like the kind of song that makes you tingle because it reminds you of something personal, something from your childhood. When I realized what it was I ran home (well, first I paid) and loaded it up on YouTube. Do you remember this? Michael Jackson and Roberta Flack singing "When We Grow Up" from "Free To Be You and Me":

This was the soundtrack to my childhood and as I got older, Michael Jackson got older too. I vividly remember seeing the "Beat It" video for the first time, and owning the vinyl version of "Thriller. I remember when Michael Jackson's hair caught on fire shooting that Pepsi commercial and I remember when "Dangerous" came out, I was in high school. Michael Jackson's existence was just something I took for granted, and now that he's gone I'm realizing how much I liked knowing he was alive.

So here's my attempt at a tribute: a cookie based on that most iconic Michael Jackson symbol, his white glove.

They're pretty simple to make: all you need is a shortbread recipe. I used one from The Barefoot Contessa, cutting it in half (which yielded about 8 cookies). Take 1 1/2 sticks of butter (at room temperature: that's important) and put it in a mixer with 1/2 cup of sugar.

Mix that with the paddle attachment just until combined (about 20 seconds). Add 1 tsp vanilla (I didn't have vanilla, so I used almond extract which worked nicely). Beat that in and then sift 1 3/4 cups of flour with 1/8 tsp salt (just a pinch) into the mixer. Beat just until the dough comes together:

Now flour a cutting board, plop the dough on it and form a disc.

Wrap the disc in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

In the meantime, print this image:

(Right-click and open in a new window if you want to print it without all this surrounding text.)

Cut out the glove:

Strangely, while I was doing all this, Craig was watching a Michael Jackson tribute concert from about 10 years ago and during his rendition of "Billy Jean," he opened a briefcase and pulled out his jacket, his hat, and--of course--his glove, which he slipped on as all the fans went crazy. (Here's a picture I snapped, to prove this really happened while I was making these cookies!)

Ok, now you're ready to roll. Preheat the oven to 350. Take the dough out of the fridge, place it on the floured board, flour the top of it (lightly) and flour your rolling pin. Now roll it out, pushing out from the middle and moving the dough around as you go so it doesn't stick. This part is tricky and as you can see, I'm not quite an expert yet.

Once it's rolled out, place the glove on top:

Use a paring knife, and trace around the glove. Just like this, see?

Continue doing this with the rest of the dough:

Clear away the surrounding dough with your hands, and use a spatula to carefully lift the gloves on to a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. You can re-roll the remaining dough and cut out more gloves if you'd like. Here they are before they go into the oven:

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or just until the edges turn brown (this happened faster for me, so make sure to check).

Now let them cool completely and, once they do, place them on a rack above a cookie sheet lined with aluminum foil.

Mix together 1 cup of powdered sugar with just enough water to make a runny mixture. If it's too thick, you'll lose definition in the fingers and they won't look like Michael's glove: they'll look like weird oven mitts.

Now here's my main regret--I couldn't find silver glittery cookie sprinkles, only white glittery cookie sprinkles:

So if you can find silver sprinkles, take pictures of your cookies and put the link in the comments!

As for mine, I used a pastry brush and brushed the icing on to each cookie (I found if I used a spoon, the cookie got too coated and, again, you couldn't see the definition in the fingers). I just put a light coat of icing on and then sprinkled the cookie with the white glittery sprinkles. See?

And that's how you make Michael Jackson Tribute Cookies. Please let me know if you give them a whirl or if you improve on them somehow. (I think, besides glittery sprinkles, using a hand cut-out with spaces between the fingers would probably be smarter: then you could use a thicker white icing and the glove would look more like Michael's). Please link your version in the comments!

Anyway, this was just my humble attempt to tip my hat to a man who provided much of the soundtrack to my childhood. Watching him tonight in that concert from just 10 years ago, I'm pretty convinced--like many others are out there too--that we won't see another talent like his in our lifetimes. Here's to you, Michael Jackson. We'll miss you.

Fresh Pasta with Spicy Tomato Sauce

2009-07-02T15:19:12Z

Lounging around on a hot Saturday afternoon, you don't want to think too hard about dinner. You read your book, you cheat and start the Sunday crossword puzzle a day early, you watch old episodes of "Lydia's Italy" on Tivo. Perhaps it's that last fact, though, that propels you--hours later--off the couch, into your kitchen, scratching your head. It's 7 PM and what are you going to make? You see a bag of flour. You see eggs in your refrigerator. You spy a can of tomatoes on the shelf. "Might I?" you ask yourself. "Noooo." But then you consider again and you settle on it: you are going to make fresh pasta--yes, pasta from scratch--and serve it with spicy tomato sauce.

Yes, this really happened to me this weekend. It all happened very fast. Granted, I had some practice learning how to make fresh pasta in this pasta video for food2.com, which I hope you've already watched 8 times:

The key, really, is confidence. If you believe you can make fresh pasta easily, you will make fresh pasta easily. Here's how I did it this time around:

I mounded 3 cups of flour on a cutting board and created a well, Mario Batali style. Into that well I cracked three eggs (effectively halving Chef Forgione's recipe). I poured in 1 Tbs of olive oil, 1 Tbs of water, and a sprinkle of salt. With a fork I beat the eggs together and slowly incorporated the flour. This process is not for the faint of heart: if you're nervous, use a bowl---it's very possible your flour well will fall apart and the eggs will drain on to the flour. But, again, this is all about confidence. Be confident! This will not happen to you!

Once it all comes together, lift up the mass of dough that's together and dump all the remaining shards and gunky stuff into the trash. Flour the board and knead your pasta dough for several minutes. It's fun! It should become smooth and glutinous and almost rubbery. Stick a finger in, as the chef shows you in the video: if the hole seals up relatively slow, your dough is ready.

Wrap it in plastic and let it rest 20 minutes.

While that's happening, bring a big pot of water to a boil and start on your sauce.

I sliced 6 cloves of garlic and placed them in a saute pan with 1/4 cup olive oil. I turned on the heat and here's the key to making the sauce spicy: I added a bunch of red pepper flakes. 1 Tbs, probably, which will make your sauce very spicy. Do this to taste, though. If you don't like spicy, use less. But this is a spicy tomato sauce, after all.

As those toast in the hot oil (make sure the garlic doesn't burn) add 1 Tbs of tomato paste, which should also heat in the oil. Stir everything around and then add one can of San Marzano whole tomatoes which you can cut up a bit in the can. Careful! The oil will sputter and spatter and then calm down. Add a big sprinkling of salt, stir everything around, and turn down your heat. You will let this simmer, probably for 20 or 30 minutes, while you go make the pasta.

To make the pasta, you need a pasta machine. I realize not everyone has one, but they're pretty cheap. Mine cost somewhere between $30 and $50 and it's excellent. I wish I had the more expensive kind that latches on to your KitchenAid mixer, but I don't. This will suffice.

Only thing is, the clamp is really bad. It doesn't clamp to my table so I had to call Craig in to hold it down while I passed the pasta through each of the settings.

Cut your pasta dough into 3rds. Stretch the first 3rd flat and crank it through the widest setting on your machine. Do that again. You may even fold it in half and do that again. It's all very casual.

Proceed to crank the dough through each setting, making the gap smaller and smaller each time, until you're in the thinnest setting. Make sure to flour your dough here, it's about to get stretched super thin. Once you got it through the last setting, flour again, fold up like in the video--in thirds--and cut into strips. I cut this pasta dough into wide strips creating what the Italians among you might call "pappardelle." I thought the wide noodles would match well with a chunky, spicy tomato sauce.

Ok, so do this with the rest of your dough and that's it! You've got fresh pasta and your sauce is almost ready.

Now everything happens very fast. Add salt to your boiling water. Check your sauce: is it ready to go? It should be chunky and flavorful (make sure to taste it). I had some fresh mint in the refrigerator, so I took it out and sliced up a few leaves which I added to the sauce to temper the spice. It worked nicely.

Drop your pasta into the boiling water. It'll cook really fast: 3 minutes or so.

You can check to see if it's done by lifting a noodle out and tasting it. If you're wimpy like me, run it under cold water first. If it's still chewy but cooked through, you're good to go.

Use a spider and lift all the noodles into the sauce:

Let it cook in there for another 30 seconds so it absorbs some of that sauce. Now turn off the heat, drizzle on good olive oil (it brings out the flavor) and sprinkle on some cheese (we had Pecorino).

Voila! Fresh pasta with spicy tomato sauce in less than an hour. Does this post put me one step closer to losing the "amateur" in my title? I think so. I really think so.

Red, White and Blue

2009-07-02T14:24:06Z

Pledge allegiance to this month's banner, designed by our brilliantly patriotic illustrator, Lindy. Thanks to her and thanks to Justin for installing it. Now for a very important question: what's Blue Nun??

Molly Stevens Makes Porchetta

2009-07-01T15:58:12Z

I was delighted to see that Molly Stevens, author of one of my favorite cookbooks ever, All About Braising, left a comment on my Porchetta post yesterday. "Glad you made it to Porchetta. It is truly amazing. I got so inspired on my last visit that I endeavored to make porchetta at home." And, indeed, here's a link to Molly's porchetta post, with a recipe forthcoming. Who among you will attempt to make it first?

Porchetta

2009-06-30T15:33:52Z

My Twitter followers are a fervent bunch. A few weeks ago, I mentioned that I was in the East Village, getting a haircut at Sei Tomoko (the best haircut deal in town), and thinking of going to Porchetta for lunch. "Ooooh!" they cheered, "you've gotta go!" "I'm jealous!" "Porchetta is AMAZING." Then, later, when I confessed that I skipped Porchetta for Hummus Place--where I had a lighter, healthier lunch--the Twitter crowd was not happy. "Boooo!" they booed. "Grrrr!" they growled. "Hiss!" they hissed. (Wow, this post sounds like a children's book.) I thought they'd unfollow me and spurn my name forever, but now they should be appeased: I went with Diana to Porchetta for lunch last week and now I get what got them so worked up.

Porchetta the food, according to Porchetta the place's website, is: "roasted pork with crispy skin, highly seasoned with aromatic herbs and spices, garlic, sage, rosemary and wild fennel pollen. Typical plate of the Roman cuisine. Slow cooked Italian fast food."

Here's what you see when you walk into Porchetta:

That's right: those are big bundles of pork, filled with herbs and spices, cooking slowly and filling the air with the most enticing smell. Diana and I looked at each other then back at the pork then back at each other like two people, down on their luck, who just inherited a house. "Whoah," I said. "Wow," said Diana. We immediately decided to order a bunch of food. Here's the food we ordered:

A porchetta sandwich, a salad (it says on the website menu chicory salad, but that doesn't look like chicory, does it?) with garlic dressing, and crispy potatoes with "burnt ends." What are burnt ends? I imagine they're the end pieces of the porchetta, too cooked for the sandwiches, but the kind of thing a chef pops into their mouth when no one's looking.

Let's look at the sandwich up close.

This is one killer sandwich. The most exciting thing about it, when I think back on it, is that the meat is the big event; there are no condiments, no toppings, it's just the meat and the bread and, to use a legal expression: the thing speaks for itself. There's so much flavor in that meat, so much juicy fat and seasonings and caramelized skin, it's a revelation. You will want to keep eating it and eating it and eating it and you'll rue the day you ever decided to share that sandwich with Diana.

And the potatoes with burnt ends? My God, this place is after my soul!

Crispy and salty, with surprising bits of meat, these are the devil's potatoes. Wouldn't you sell your soul for just a few bites?

Suffice it to say, my Twitter followers were right: the next time I get my haircut and I forego Porchetta for hummus, I will boo, grr and hiss myself into submission. Porchetta's where it's at.

Porchetta NYC
110 E. 7th St.
New York, NY 10009-6108
(212) 777-2151

Easy Biscuits

2009-06-29T17:36:05Z

It's a good thing to know how to make biscuits. I mean, at what point of the day would you say "no" to a hot buttermilk biscuit, fresh from the oven? The answer is: "No point of the day, Adam. I would eat a biscuit any time."

I'm right there with you, imaginary person. I love biscuits and I try to make them whenever I can, especially on Sunday mornings when I send Craig to the store to buy eggs. "Buy some buttermilk too," I often say because, really, if he buys buttermilk, I have everything else I need to make biscuits. To make fresh biscuits all you need is butter, buttermilk, flour, baking soda, baking powder, sugar and salt. Everything else is technique.

I've always used the same recipe for making biscuits--this recipe from Cook's Illustrated--but my technique has changed. That original recipe has you incorporate the butter and flour in a food processor, spill it into a bowl, add the buttermilk, then scoop mounds on to a cookie sheet coated in flour and, finally, into a sprayed cake pan which you place into a 500 degree oven. By the time you're done, you have 12 biscuits and 3,000 dishes. As much as you may love biscuits, you won't be very happy.

Over time, I've discovered I can really do everything in two bowls. Here's how:

Preheat the oven to 500 degrees. Spray a cake pan with non-stick cooking spray. Melt 1 Tbs butter in a small pot or pan (ok, ok, that's an extra dish BUT you can use that same pan to make eggs while the biscuits are cooking. Aha! Clever!)

Now, in the first bowl, whisk together: 2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, 1 Tbs double-acting baking powder, 1 Tbs sugar, 1 tsp salt and 1/2 tsp baking soda. Take 4 Tbs cold, cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4 inch cubes and add to your flour mixture. Now take two steak knives and cut cut cut that butter into the flour, dragging the knives across the bowl over and over again for a full minute until the flour looks like coarse meal (or, as Anne Burrell says, "Parmesan cheese.") Now pour in 1 1/2 cups cold buttermilk and stir together with a rubber spatula just until it forms a dough. You're done with your first bowl!

In the second bowl, just dump in a bunch of flour (about 1 cup). Now spray a 1/4-cup measuring cup with cooking spray, scoop up the biscuit dough, drop it into the flour bowl, roll it around and place it in the sprayed cake pan. Keep doing this until you fill the perimeter and inside of the pan with 1/4-cup sized biscuits, just like this:

That's a manageable amount of dishes, right? Now you remember that butter you melted? Brush it on top of the biscuits and pop them into the 500 degree oven. Let them cook for 5 minutes, then lower the temp to 450 and cook 15 minutes more. They come out looking like this:

Those are some pretty scrumptious looking biscuits, you've gotta admit. So let them cool for 2 minutes then turn them out on to a clean kitchen towel or paper towels. That's it! Easy biscuits, very little mess.

Watermelon Salad

2009-06-29T16:56:50Z

Have you been watching "The Next Food Network Star"? It's a good show: an honest look at what it takes to become an on-air food personality.

Last week's loser, Eddie, forgot what show he was on--he probably thought he was on "Top Chef"--when he razzed working mom Melissa in the kitchen. Eddie, this show is all about image: you can't pick on sweet, warm mother figures if you want to go far! Plus, for his dish, which he served to the grandest dame on FoodTV, Ina Garten, he pilfered a recipe from Paula Dean; a watermelon salad that I've shared with you before. Except, in Eddie's version he used way too many onions. Those onions sent him packing: no one gives Ina Garten onion breath. But that salad is worth revisiting--it's one of my favorites.

You can make the salad with three ingredients and four pantry staples. The ingredients are: watermelon, mint, and a Vidalia onion. The pantry staples are: olive oil, red wine vinegar, salt and pepper.

When I was craving this salad the other night, I simply bought watermelon already cut-up from the store (it cost $4). I cut the already cut-up pieces in half one more time, to make them even. I put them in a bowl with half a Vidalia onion sliced into half-moons (but use the onion sparingly, as Eddie will tell you). I rolled up 6 or 7 mint lives like a cigar and then chiffonaded like crazy. I threw the leaves in the bowl and then glugged in olive oil, a splash of red wine vinegar, a sprinkle of salt and pepper; I tasted and swooned. It's so summery and satisfying; the mixture of watermelon juice, olive oil, and red wine vinegar is bewitching and strange. You'll want to wear it like a perfume.

Now many among you familiar with this salad will shriek at your computer screens: "You forgot the feta!!!"

It's true! Well, I didn't forget the feta: I was cheap. The feta cheese--the good kind--cost $6.99 and since I was making this salad just for myself (Craig was out galavanting) I couldn't justify it. But you know what? Both versions of this salad are worthy: the kind with feta and the kind without. When you do add feta, it creates a creamy, salty counterpoint to all that fruity flava.

But make this salad, be sparing with the onions and be kind to blonde mother figures and you too can be the next Food Network Star! Or at least eat like one.

Food Inc.

2009-06-25T16:54:56Z

What are you having for dinner tomorrow night?

It's a simple question, isn't it? Tomorrow's Friday night, so maybe you have plans? Are you going to meet friends? Cooking a romantic dinner at home? Going out for pizza?

So let's say you go out for pizza with a big group. Your group, including yourself, is made up of happy carnivores and as you're sitting around the table, yelling out toppings, someone shouts out "sausage!" Everyone cheers, "yeah!" and 20 minutes later your pie arrives, glistening and bubbly from the oven, and that sausage looks perfect on there: meaty and brown and substantial. This is food that'll fill you up.

Only one problem. You've just seen "Food Inc.," the fantastic new documentary by Robert Kenner, and like a war vet going for a game of paint ball, suddenly you're having intense flashbacks, flashbacks that put you into a cold sweat, and make it impossible to participate in this activity--in this case, the eating of sausage-topped pizza.

A question is haunting you, screaming loudly in your head: "WHERE DID THAT SAUSAGE COME FROM?"

The voice is so loud and fervent because the flashbacks you're having are flashbacks from the 2nd half of the movie, the half that takes you into Smithfield's processing plant, the biggest meat processing plant in America. Perhaps the most miserable place ever captured on film, this dank metallic slaughterhouse is overrun with pigs squealing and screaming, covered in their own urine, blood and feces. Faceless workers guide the screaming pigs into square boxes where they are lowered to their death; the workers who handle the carcasses get so many diseases from touching these filthy, tortured animals their fingernails fall off. Then, many of these workers--who were brought in by Smithfield from Mexico through a government loophole--return home, hoping for a few decent hours of rest, only to have government agents beat down their door, taking them away in handcuffs and shipping them back to Mexico. Their names are turned in by Smithfield executives who get to keep the large majority of their workers if they turn over a few names every now and then.

What this movie exposes, gracefully but mercilessly, is the ugly, rotten heart at the center of the American food industry. A giant machine with dollar signs in its eyes, the corporate monster that tortures these pigs and workers, that fattens chickens so quickly and ruthlessly, they can't support their own weight, that keeps cows standing in piles of their own manure, manure that gets into our food supply, causing E. Coli outbreaks that take the lives of innocent children (another harrowing sequence in the movie)--this is a mighty foe, the most nefarious of villains. And the most insidious thing of all, is that this machine exists because of us: because of our own helpless appetites.

Which brings us back to that pizza. It's so easy, in a group, to say "yeah!" when someone calls out for "sausage" as a topping. As Michael Pollan points out in the movie, we're wired to enjoy food that's sweet, salty, and fatty: sausage is all three.

But what this movie makes you realize is, aren't you complicit in the crimes big business commits when you don't ask where your sausage comes from? This movie isn't telling you not to eat sausage: it's telling you not to eat anonymous sausage. Anonymous sausage is anonymous for a reason: you don't want to know where it comes from. But that doesn't have to be the case--as this movie points out, you can be an informed consumer. If you go to a farmer's market, for example, you can buy sausage directly from the person who made it. You can ask them questions. You can feel good about what you eat.

And that's this movie's greatest lesson: to be an informed consumer. Your dollars are votes--every time you shop for food, every time you go out for dinner, you are casting a vote for the way food is produced in America. If you insist on making that pizza half mushrooms and onions, to the chagrin of your friends, that restaurant is selling less sausage that night. They're going to buy less sausage if more people do that. And if enough people explain why, perhaps the pizza place will start buying sausage from a more humane producer? And won't we all benefit?

So let's return to my opening question: what are you having for dinner tomorrow night? It's a simple question, but hopefully after reading this and seeing "Food Inc." the answer to that question will require more thought than just "whatever's cheap and easy." Your dinner might be cheap or expensive, easy or difficult, but whatever the case, just make sure that your dinner is right.

Sweet and Sour Chicken

2009-06-24T17:26:22Z

My proudest kitchen moments are the ones where I am at my most resourceful. On Sunday, I opened my refrigerator to find two raw chicken breasts leftover from a chicken segment we shot for food2.com. The easy option would've been to roast them in the oven (I was going to write "bake them in the oven," but doesn't roasted chicken always sound better than baked chicken?), but instead I decided to channel my inner Chinese cooking goddess. I flipped open my copy of "The Breath of a Wok" by Grace Young and looked for recipes you can do easily with chicken breasts. I found one for Sweet & Sour Chicken and, even though I didn't have a wok or several of the ingredients, I proceeded anyway. This is my story.

It's interesting because I had a conversation recently with my friend Brendan, a barrista at Joe The Art of Coffee on Waverly, about The Zuni Cafe Cookbook. He said it was his favorite book to cook from and I said I really liked it, but I didn't have the patience for it. "I'm an instant gratification kind of guy," I explained, "I think I'm better suited to fast, spontaneous cooking."

The kind of cooking I was talking about, it ends up, is Chinese cooking. It all happens very fast and I love that.

You prep your stuff, you heat up your wok (or in my case, your non-stick skillet) and when a drop of water sputters and spatters you do your thing.

Like this sweet and sour chicken. The hardest part is all the prep (full recipe below): first you cut up your chicken breasts into one-inch pieces. You put them in a bowl with 3 or 4 cloves of slivered garlic. Add soy sauce, rice wine (I didn't have that), corn starch, sugar, salt and pepper. In a separate bowl, you mix together chicken broth (I didn't have that so I used water), black soy sauce (I just used regular soy sauce), sesame oil (didn't have), rice vinegar (I used red wine vinegar), ketchup (I mixed ketchup and Sriracha, which made it spicy!), corn starch, sugar and salt. You cut up your vegetables--which might include broccoli and a red bell pepper, but I didn't have that either--so I just chopped some scallions. Here's my prep.

After that, it all happens so fast, it'd take twice as long to order Sweet and Sour chicken from your local take out. You heat your pan (or your wok), you add vegetable oil, and add all the chicken.

You let it brown on all sides, then remove it to a plate. Then you add your vegetables, cook those for 30 seconds. Then you stir in the sauce, swirl it all around, add back the chicken and cook two minutes. You're done! Congratulations: you've made homemade Sweet and Sour Chicken.

This isn't as cloyingly sweet as the Sweet and Sour chicken you're used to. It's got deep, robust flavor and, if you sub Sriracha for some of the ketchup, a bit spicy. We really liked it and subbing ingredients here and there, I didn't have to spend 2 cents to make it. So give it a whirl and indulge that part of you that enjoys instant gratification, your inner Chinese cooking goddess.

Sweet and Sour Chicken
from The Breath of a Wok by Grace Young & Alan Richardson

12 ounces skinless, boneless chicken breast, cut into 1-inch cubes
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
4 teaspoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon Shao Hsing rice wine or dry sherry
3 teaspoons cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon plus 1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon ground white pepper
1/3 cup Homemade Chicken Broth
2 teaspoons black soy sauce
2 teaspoons sesame oil
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
2 tablespoons ketchup
1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons vegetable oil
1 green bell pepper, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 red bell pepper, cut into 1-inch cubes
3 scallions, cut into 2-inch piecs

1. In a medium bowl combine the chicken, garlic, 2 teaspoons of the soy sauce, the rice wine, 1 1/2 teaspoons of the cornstarch, the 1/2 teaspoon sugar, 1/4 teaspoon of the salt, and the pepper. Set aside. IN a small bowl combine the broth, black soy sauce, sesame oil, rice vinegar, ketchup, and the remaining 1 tablespoon sugar, 2 teaspoons soy sauce, 1 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Set the sauce aside.

2. Heat a 14-inch flat-bottomed wok over high heat until a bead of water vaporizes within 1 to 2 seconds of contact. Swirl in the 1 tablespoon vegetable oil and carefully add the chicken, spreading it evenly in the wok. Cook undisturbed 1 minute, letting the chicken begin to brown. Then, using a metal spatula, stir-fry 1 minute or until the chicken is browned on all sides but not cooked through. Transfer to a plate.

3. Swirl the remaining 2 teaspoons vegetable oil into the wok, add the peppers and scallions, and stir-fry 30 seconds. Stir the sauce and swirl into the wok. Return the chicken to the wok and stir-fry 1 to 2 minutes or until the chicken is just cooked through and the sauce has slightly thickened.

Serves 4.

Roasted Rhubarb

2009-06-23T15:59:27Z

Another quick, seasonal recipe from Dorie Greenspan. Take one pound of rhubarb, cut it into 2 inch pieces, place in a pie plate with 1/2 cup of sugar, orange zest (or lemon zest) from one orange or lemon and let sit for five minutes. Preheat oven to 400, cover dish with foil, and cook for 15 minutes. Check to see if sugar is dissolved: if not, stir around, and let it go a minute or two more. Then remove the foil and cook another five minutes. That's it! Let it cool and serve with yogurt. A lovely, healthy spring snack.

Skoaling

2009-06-22T18:16:00Z

A few weeks ago, Steven Shaw of eGullet invited me, along with Adam Kuban and Deb Perelman, to speak to his food blogging class at the French Culinary Institute. After we answered his student's questions about traffic and advertising (quick tip: if you want to make money, don't go into food blogging!), we were ushered into a secret room where we were asked to skoal on camera. "Skoal?" we asked. "Skoal!" they answered and we all looked at each other, wondering if our reputations would ever recover. And then they explained skoaling and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

You see, skoaling is a Scandinavian ritual derived from their word for making a toast: Skål. Two chefs at the French Culinary Institute, Nils Noren and Dave Arnold (who I had the pleasure of dining with later), developed The Skoal Project as an homage to that most masterful skoal-er, Max Von Sydow (who you see in the above photograph, skoaling with style).

The way it works, when you're brought into the secret skoaling room, is they pour you a small glass of Aquavit (caraway flavored liquor). You are told to gaze at the camera seductively, as von Sydow does in the first photo, then to tilt your head back and down the Aquavit (which most certainly burns your throat), and, finally, to look back at the camera defiantly. Nils and Dave spell it out quite clearly on their blog:

"Skoaling is serious business. Don’t be goofy; don’t smile like it’s prom night. On the other hand, there is no reason to be morose or look like a psycho. Remember: You are sharing a drink-and a little bit of yourself—with the viewer."

Deb, who's pregnant, was able to opt out of the skoal, but Adam Kuban and I quickly took our positions. (For Adam's account, click here.)

The best part of the whole experience, though, is to study the archive of those who've skoaled before us; luminaries, not just in food, but in every field, including morning talk show hosting.

Yes that's Regis, and here's Christine Baranski.

And one of my writing heros, Marshall Brickman, who co-wrote my favorite movie, "Annie Hall":

Here's Jeffery Steingarten:

And Jacques Pepin:

At last, Adam Kuban of Serious Eats:

And yours truly, skoaling like no one's skoaled before:

So thanks to the good people at the French Culinary Institute for letting me skoal. It's an honor to be in such distinguished company; I shall skoal my thanks to you presently. Cheers!

A Picnic in the Park

2009-06-22T17:39:04Z

There are random acts of kindness and then there are random acts of picnics. Or random picnics of kindness. I need to work on the name, but here's how it works: you have a friend or loved one who works in midtown Manhattan. You offer to meet them for lunch. When they say, "where?" you say: "Let's meet in Central Park, I'll bring the food."

Then you go to the Time Warner Center, which is right there, and ride the escalators up two floors to the Bouchon Bakery. If you're strapped for cash, you can ride the escalator down to Whole Foods, but it's worth the splurge for the food at Bouchon (it is Thomas Keller food, after all.) Order two tuna nicoisse sandwiches, one chocolate chip cookie and two bottles of water (though it's cheaper to buy the water in the park). Pay (it'll run you $22) then meet your loved one outside by the golden horse statute at the southwest entrance to the park. Walk in, find a rock, climb it, sit and eat your sandwiches. Aren't they good?

If you want to be extra indulgent, I bet you can sneak in some wine. Wouldn't that be lovely?

Finish your lunch, breath in the fresh park air, and as your loved one goes back to his or her job pat yourself on the back for committing a random act of picnic. A picnic act of kindness. Ya, I really need to work on the name.

Reader Survey 6.18.09

2009-06-18T13:02:44Z

Hey Readers, every now and then I like to do a survey to find out who's reading my site, what you're liking and what new stuff you'd like to see. If you get a chance, please fill out this survey in the comments!

Amateur Gourmet Reader Survey
(June 18th, 2009)

Name:
Location:
Age:
Sex:
How Long You've Been Reading Amateur Gourmet:
How You Found The Site:
Favorite Post of All Time:
Favorite Recipe You Found on the Site:
What topic haven't I covered that you'd like me to cover?
What restaurant/dining establishment haven't I visited that you'd like me to visit?
If we had children together, what would we name them?
What are you having for lunch today?
Anything else you'd like to say?

Thanks, everyone. I appreciate your feedback.

Eggs Adam Roberts

2009-06-16T16:52:17Z

Immortality is not something food bloggers can look forward to. Even though the internet feels permanent, who knows where we'll be in ten or twenty years? These posts that you love and cherish so much might vanish into the ether and then what? What will food bloggers have to show for themselves? Nothing, I tell you, nothing! That is, unless we start naming recipes after ourselves. Which is why I bring you a recipe that should hit restaurant menus as soon as I click "post": behold, Eggs Adam Roberts.

I made these eggs this weekend and they were good. They were so good, in fact, that Craig--unaware that I was vying for immortality--said, upon eating them, "these are the best scrambled eggs I've ever had." You believe him, don't you?

What are they? What makes them so great?

Let's let the ingredients speak for themselves:

There you see scallions, sour cream, cheddar cheese and milk. But in the middle? What's that in the middle? There, in the middle, is the secret ingredient.

That, my friends, is a jar of pickled jalapenos. (Specifically: Heat Seekers from Rick's Picks.) And pickled jalapenos are what make these eggs unlike any you've had before (unless you've been to Austin, Texas where I got the idea!)

The vinegary kick from the pickled jalapenos are what make these eggs good enough to call Eggs Adam Roberts. Like their namesake, these eggs take you by surprise; they charm you, they put you at ease, and then, suddenly, when you least expect it, they pounce! These eggs are lovable and dangerous at the same time: just like me.

Before I give you the recipe, promise me this: if you own a restaurant, you'll put this on the menu! Seriously, if you put this on the menu somewhere, I will be so happy I will make a special trip to come visit you and sign the menu. Ok? Do we have a deal? Eggs Adam Roberts, take it away.

Eggs Adam Roberts
a recipe by Adam Roberts
serves 2

Ingredients:
6 large eggs (preferably organic, free-range)
1/4 cup whole milk
1/4 cup sour cream
Salt
Pepper
2 Tbs. butter
3 scallions, sliced thin (white and green parts)
1 pickled jalapeno, chopped
1 cup grated cheddar cheese

1. Crack the eggs into a bowl, add the milk and sour cream and whisk powerfully for approximately one minute until foamy. Add salt and pepper to taste, whisk a few more times and set aside.

2. Place the butter in a non-stick skillet and heat on medium heat until the butter is foamy.

Add the whites of the scallions and saute 30 seconds or so, until soft. Then add the eggs and IMMEDIATELY lower the heat. You want it on medium/low heat so it cooks slowly.

3. Stir, stir, stir and keep stirring as it goes. You want them to cook slowly but not painfully slow. If you've made scrambled eggs before, you know what I'm talking about. Once the eggs start to harden significantly but there's still some liquid in there, add the rest of the scallions, the pickled jalapeno and gradually add the cheese. Stir, stir, stir and add the rest of the cheese.

When they're just set but not dry, scoop them on to a plate. Toast some bread and serve!

* * * * *

What do you think? Are you impressed with Eggs Adam Roberts? Immortality is just a pickled jalapeno away.

Cold-Brewed Iced Coffee

2009-06-16T16:31:38Z

Two things rattle me on weekends: waiting in line for brunch and waiting in line for coffee.

I avoid the first by cooking brunch at home (it also saves us money), but the second is hard to avoid not because I can't make coffee at home, but because we live just a few feet away from a truly excellent coffee shop. This coffee shop is so excellent that Craig won't drink coffee when I brew it, he gets his ritual latte no matter how long the line. So when it comes to Sunday coffee, unless I'm making lattes, Craig's not having it. Which is fine because since he's waiting in line anyway, I just have him pick one up for me too. That is, until this weekend, when late Friday night....

...I stumbled upon this recipe for cold-brewed iced coffee on The Internet Food Association.

Here's the deal. It's very easy: the night before you want the iced coffee, grind up your beans coarsely and measure out one cup. Put that one cup in a bowl and add 4.5 cups of water. Stir it around. Cover it and put it in the fridge. You're done!

The next morning, put a coffee filter in a sieve and place that sieve over a pitcher (as seen in the above photo). Pour the coffee slowly into the sieve and let the coffee drip down. When it's all strained, you've got cold-brewed iced coffee.

If you drink your coffee black, just serve over ice. If you want milk, add milk. And if you want sugar? Mix equal parts sugar and water in a little pot and bring to a boil, simmer a few seconds. That's a sugar syrup. Add to your iced coffee and you're all set!

Thanks Internet Food Association: Craig doesn't know what he's missing.