Nomad With Cookies

chocolate lychee coffee cake

2012-01-25T21:32:00.003-05:00

Lychees have somehow managed to become both extremely over hyped and underrated at the same time.

Poor things, they seem to only surface in large bins on a Chinatown corner or in a $14 lychee "martini". They deserve so much more facetime.

Lychees, primarily native to Southeast Asia but are now grown in the States, are small fruits with a bumpy red skin. Peeling off the skin reveals a delicately sweet and perfumed fruit. When lychees are season (which is right freaking now), I could mow through a pound of them like peanuts leaving nothing but a pile of red peels and black pits behind. The flavor just can't be matched by those other stone fruits (you know who you are).
Check out the rest of this post >

why you should eat more garlic

2012-01-11T17:59:00.000-05:00

Excuse my Swahili, but garlic is f***ing awesome.

It's the one ingredient that appears in almost every culture around the world. Garlic is not only an incredibly versatile "seasoning", but provides endless health benefits.

So why aren't you eating more of it?
Check out the rest of this post >

kale, tomato and chickpea soup

2012-01-09T13:19:00.000-05:00

Soup is my cop out.

I can cover all of the nutritional bases and still only wash one pot and perhaps a cutting board afterwards. It's low maintenance cooking at its best.

Like many of you out there in TV land, I am responsible for providing sustenance to my family on a daily basis. I have to come up with a plan, do the shopping, and, hopefully, at the end of the day produce a tasty and reasonably healthy meal.

But on occasion, work drains your soul, or errands drag on longer than expected, or there is something really good on television and the very thought of putting together a 3-course meal makes your eyes run green and consider throwing anyone who asks about dinner out the window.

You are not alone. The solution is soup.

Soup can be made ahead.
It can be made in bulk, meaning more meals you don't have to make.
It reheats beautifully.
You can pack your soup full of veggies (and meat if you are into that kind of thing).
And most importantly, there is little dishwashing involved.

The hardest part is deciding what kind to make. You could try fire-roasted eggplant and tomato, or spicy paprika and cauliflower, or something with peas or coconut milk, or a mixture of whatever is on the verge of rotting in your fridge.

Lately, I've been particularly infatuated with a shockingly easy-to-make soup of kale, San Marzano tomatoes and chickpeas. Super simple, little chopping, ready in 30m.

The kale slowly cooks in vegetable stock with sweet Italian tomatoes, rosemary, garlic and onion. Chickpeas give the soup a bit of meat for when oxtail just won't do.

What is your favorite cop out meal?

Kale, Tomato and Chickpea Soup

2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 medium red onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 spring rosemary
4 c (1 qt) veggie stock
1 can chickpeas, drained
1 lb kale, stemmed and chopped
1 14oz can whole tomatoes (San Marzano preferred)
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp salt

Heat oil on medium heat. Add onions and cook until translucent and soft, about 5m. Add garlic and cook for 1m. Add the stock, rosemary and kale. For the tomatoes, hand crush the tomatoes as you add them. Bring soup to a simmer and cook for 20m to soften the kale. Remove rosemary sprig.

Add chickpeas, salt and pepper. Cook for another 5m. If you are feeling saucy, sprinkle a little parm on top.

spaetzle with gruyere and bacon

2012-01-02T16:13:00.000-05:00

I have been wanting to make spaetzle at home for a very long time. Years, in fact, of which there is simply no excuse.

In 2003, my aunt and I spent 24 lovely hours in Vienna, Austria and we ate spaetzle at a nearby pub...TWICE. It was just soooooo good.

Tender dumplings were tossed with crisp bacon, gruyere and emmantaler cheese, then baked in cast iron until gooey and bubbling.

I had to have it again.

Check out the rest of this post >

lemon ricotta pancakes with mint honey syrup

2011-12-29T11:06:00.000-05:00

Back in the ambiguous days of my childhood, my mom and dad always cooked up a big pot of black eyed peas for New Year's Day. They would soak the dried beans on the "eve", then simmer them gently all day with ham and other aromatics. This simple ritual made the house feel so warm.

The thing is I do not like black eyed peas. Never have, likely never will. I don't care how much pork is in them. Feel free to take a moment to gasp. I'll wait.
Check out the rest of this post >

new orleans: episode two

2011-12-06T18:15:00.000-05:00

Downtown New Orleans is a flat out loud place. Music almost continuously emanates from clubs and bars. People in the midst of celebration crowd the streets. Enjoyment always seems to be going full force here. The ongoing excitement and distraction is why many people to come here for Mardi Gras, music festivals or just a vacation.

One of my best experiences in New Orleans was not at a bar guzzling a hurricane. It was not jazz club hopping or searching the city for the best jambalaya. It was at 6:30am when the city was still waking up. The streets were empty except for the humming of street sweepers and the breakfast cooks having a smoke. It was perfectly quiet.
Check out the rest of this post >

austin or bust: episode two

2011-11-27T21:49:00.000-05:00

Austin is truly a feast for the senses. I haven't stopped ruminating about my recent visit, which could be attributed to the greatness of the town, or my compulsive nature. Regardless, the food experience in this Central Texas hub is well worth your perusal.

Last we spoke, we chewed on trailer park Thai and boozy Kahlua ice cream. Today, it's homegrown and cheesy.
Check out the rest of this post >

my favorite cheese

2011-11-22T21:11:00.000-05:00

I am a total whore for cheese.

All kinds. As much as I can get. Yellow, white, moldy, creamy, hard, smoked, grassy, old, young. There is no discrimination.

But there is one cheese that consistently makes my eye wander. A cheese so addictive that once my supply was cut off, intense therapy was needed. I thought maybe a crystallized aged Gouda would suffice as replacement...to no avail. You can't duplicate true love.

So I searched far and wide for 4 years, and today I found it. It called out my name in a sultry voice from the cheese case at Whole Foods as if to say "I've been waiting for you. Let's do this."
Check out the rest of this post >

paprika and cauliflower soup

2011-11-20T23:18:00.000-05:00

It is the best of times, it is the worst of times.

Made loudly public by the now global Occupy Wall Street movement, many Americans are going through a pretty rough time. Wages are low, jobs are hard to get, the price of everyday items are ever increasing.

Throughout history, it has been times like these that have spawned some pretty great food. Poor communities were forced to be incredibly creative with the low cost ingredients they could either afford or grow themselves. Spices and herbs were used to inject flavor into these peasant dishes to make them more appealing.

One such dish is Karfiolleves, a meatless Hungarian soup of paprika (a spice) and cauliflower. Cheap to make, but full of flavor because of the spicy paprika, sweet carrots, hearty cauliflower, bright parsley, buttery dumplings and fresh lemon.
Check out the rest of this post >

new orleans: episode one

2011-11-15T16:48:00.000-05:00

I was truly overwhelmed by New Orleans—by the people, the energy and, of course, the food. It would take 4 lifetimes to experience everything this gastronomic center has to offer. This was especially evident when I asked fellow food extraordinaire and former New Orleans resident The Vicarious Food Whore for a couple dining recommendations. She responded with a list of a dozen places that all sounded magnificent, but couldn't possibly all be reached in the 24 hours I had in the city. So I was forced to pick and choose, something I'm not a fan of doing. Because I want IT ALL.

TVFW seemed particularly emphatic about Cochon, a Cajun bistro on an unpronounceable street in the Warehouse District. I'll be clear on this up front, this is not the most vegetarian-friendly place. It's not like they'll be egged upon entry, but meat is the truly star of the show here. Without even planning it, I ended up with an almost entirely pork-ified meal.

A peek at the cocktail menu gave me goosebumps, and I zeroed in on a drink appropriately named The Swinekiller. Gin, rhubarb, limeade. Dear Lord, it was goooooood.

And then the free food came out. Hogs headcheese, spicy whole grain mustard and pickled banana peppers. Yes, I did say FREE, simply because I was sitting at the chef's counter overlooking the kitchen. Hint, HINT.

Pork serving #3 came in the form of pork and black bean gumbo, which was absolutely phenomenal. It was smoky and spicy. The intense flavors were a welcomed smack in the face, and I wanted to go back for more abuse.

The grand pork finale was braised pork cheek with sauerkraut potato cakes, goat feta and pears. The richness of the tender cheek was cut by the sourness of the sauerkraut and tangy goat feta. It was truly a perfect dish and was the final nail in my food coma coffin. I was now at peace.

good ol' new orleans

2011-11-07T21:23:00.000-05:00

The first and last time I visited New Orleans was in 2005 just 2 months after Hurricane Katrina eviscerated the city. It was a ghost town. At that moment in time, exploring this pedestrian-friendly city by foot was simply out of the question.

So instead, my parents, whom have been to New Orleans no less than a dozen times, toured my brother and I around by car to see what was left. Even though 2 months had passed, the sight was indescribable and unimaginable. Twenty minutes was all I could take before a lump of anger, sadness, shame, and empathy rose up in my throat and practically choked me. The floorboards quickly became my focus until we hit Baton Rouge. And I was just passing through.

It was one of the few times in my life when food was the last thing on my mind.

As the city's residents began putting their lives back together in the weeks following the storm, I was amazed to hear how food played a vital role in the rebuilding. Even before electricity was back on, a handful of restaurants started serving again (albeit limited menus). Some locals even set up mini-cafes in tents or out of their homes serving just a couple of dishes, but the impact was huge.

In such a food-centric city, it was tremendous to see and hear how people were coming together over the simple enjoyment of a good meal. I was absolutely in awe.

Last week, I had the opportunity to go back. I could feel the lump rising in my throat as a I drove in nervous to see what had been fixed, and what hadn't, as my first impression six years ago was just plain heartbreaking.

As I roamed the French Quarter, Garden District and Frenchman's District, there were some visible scars. There were a few tattered buildings and a handful of homes that will likely be torn down rather than rebuilt, but much looked restored as if nothing had ever happened. Esplanade Avenue is no longer littered with broken refrigerators and unidentifiable remnants from people's homes.

Of course, the restoration and reparations are still a work in progress. One local attributed the remarkable recovery to the intense devotion of residents to their city, which is truly a rare find.

What really took me aback was the effervescent life of the city. It was overwhelming. This is what I had always envisioned the historic New Orleans to be, and I couldn't wait to jump in.

In a post coming soon, I'll share with all of you the INCREDIBLE food I had the pleasure of devouring during my brief return to this great city. For now, I'd just like to say that I am truly humbled by the residents of New Orleans and Louisiana for not allowing such a horrendous tragedy to change the way you eat, you celebrate and you live. Thank you for letting me experience it the way it was meant to be seen.

Sincerely,

Sara from Texas

austin or bust

2011-10-25T23:57:00.000-04:00

Over the past couple years, my friends have lobbied like a tobacco PAC to get me to move to Austin, the capitol of Texas. They casually slip into conversation nuggets like "Austin is your kind of town" or "I could really see you there". Then, knowing my weaknesses, they would try to lure me with vivid tales of authentic tacos. Rinse and repeat.

Having not been to Austin since I was 7, it was easy to shake off their bribes. I had formed no attachment. But with all the hoopla about Austin, I decided to give it a weekend to show me its stuff. And this is what I found...

Austin has jumped into the food truck phenomenon head first. The city is saturated with mobile cuisine of all types and flavors. There are several "trailer parks" where food trucks congregate in one lot, giving hungry Austinites the ability to mix and match to create their unique and eclectic meal.

One such park is located on South Congress. Even on such a drizzly day, there were still 6 trucks alive and ready to hock their goodies. One sold only cupcakes, one sold only fried foods, another only sold food that came in a cone shape. Seriously. But the word was that Coat & Thai (awesome name) serves up authentic Thai including some pretty killer Green Curry.

We grabbed some deliciously neon Thai iced tea and sat at green picnic tables to munch on Green Curry. Big chunks of zucchini, chicken, green beans, bamboo, and bell pepper were drowning in a freshly-made spicy curry and coconut milk sauce. The fact that I was able to recognize the vegetables I was eating was refreshing, given that is such a rarity these days. But then I found it to be tasty...very tasty.

With my mouth on fire, ice cream was the next order of business. We waddled (daintily) a couple blocks down Congress til we found Amy's Ice Creams. Amy's makes homemade ice creams in flavors that change daily. The blackboard covered in that day's flavors dominates the blue brick building, pulling you in as you pass. Kahlua? Yes, give it to me. NOW.

The Kahlua was a punch to the head. If I had a gallon of it, there would be serious repercussions for my motor skills. I've heard rumblings they've made an ice cream flavored with Shiner Bock.

I can now die a happy woman.

the perfect sandwich

2011-10-10T14:31:00.000-04:00

I have been craving this sandwich for 2 years, 4 months, 7 days, and around 12 hours.

Unfortunately, the original is over 6,000 miles away. It's been a long haul, but I've reached my tipping point. Suffice to it say, I broke down and made the perfect sandwich at home. This may sound a bit dramatic, but I think by now you've come to expect a certain amount of embellishment from me, so who am I too disappoint.

I understand it's a pretty tall order to call one sandwich "perfect" over all others. It's not a meatball sub with rich marinara and gooey cheese, or the infamous Thanksgiving leftover sandwich, or even a pastrami on rye from Katz's. It's vegetarian....and it blew my mind.

It is made by the brilliant minds over at Small World Catering (no relation to the mind-numbing Disney ride) located on small side street in the Jordaan neighborhood of Amsterdam. Their delectable sandwich inspired me to make my ultimate knock off.

There is no one star in this sandwich's show. First, I drizzle a couple slices of Black Pepper Bread with olive oil...

then I toast it under the broiler until golden...

then it gets a schmear of pesto...

and a hefty swipe of fresh ricotta...

and I'd be crazy to leave out garlicky roasted red peppers...

Oh man, this is getting good. But we still need some grilled eggplant...

and red onion marmalade...

Now that's a sandwich I feel comfortable voting for in 2012.

Forgive me, but I'm outta here for now as I have a date with a sandwich.

red onion marmalade

2011-10-06T00:23:00.000-04:00

There are some people who say a watched pot never boils. I find that to be a sack of garbage.

To me, watching food cook is the best part. There is just so much excitement. Everything starts off slow, dormant even. Then a bead of juice pops here, garlic starts to sizzle, sauce begins to simmer, and cheese begins to crisp.

Before you know it, there is a symphony of orchestrated cracks, bubbles, searing, steaming and rises all working together to produce one harmonious dish. Or sometimes you get bursts, burning, splatters and explosions. Either way, it's better than prime time television. At the end of it all, you have produced something far greater and almost unrecognizable from the original ingredients you started with. For good or for worse, it's absolutely entertaining.

I'm certain my husband thinks I'm a complete crackpot every time he sees me sit on the kitchen floor in front of my oven to watch a lasagna cook as if I'm settling in to watch the Super Bowl. But being a food voyeur is no different than a boy taking apart a radio to see how it works or trying to mimic the moves of your ballet teacher. How else can you learn not to burn things.

Watching is how I overcame red onion marmalade. Too many times, I listened to recipes that essentially said "set it and forget it" resulting in unwanted crispy onions. This was not meant to be a topping for green bean casserole. So I said no more, and instead paid attention to the point of rubbernecking. My reward was soft, melt in your mouth, red onion marmalade. It's all about looking at the right time.

Red Onion Marmalade

2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
4 medium red onions, 1/4" slices
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/4 c sugar
1/2 tsp fresh thyme
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper
2/3 c balsamic vinegar

Toss oil, onions, salt and pepper in a saute pan over medium heat. Cook for 20m until onions are soft, stirring occasionally. Turn heat down to medium-low. Stir in sugar, thyme and crushed red pepper. Cook for 10m until all liquid has evaporated and onions are dry. Reduce heat to low and cook for 1 hour until onions are super soft and a bit gooey. Keeps in the fridge in a sealed container for up to 3 weeks. Spread on sandwiches, toss with hot pasta and goat cheese, top bruschetta or sprinkle on pizza. Don't be surprised if you start adding it to your oatmeal. You won't be the first.

the southern route - tucson, las cruces, midland

2011-09-26T23:24:00.000-04:00

What...were...we thinking. Even though we're still in the middle of it, I look back at the last 4 weeks and think, "I am simply unhinged".

What possessed us to initiate a transatlantic move immediately after returning from our honeymoon? I keep trying to answer that question and all I can think of is that we are raving loons. But life takes us where it wants (with a little push from our subconscious) and sometimes you just have to jump.

So I packed up the few belongings we wanted to keep and set off from Orange County at 5am on a Saturday headed towards Texas. I was surprisingly looking forward to the solo 23-hour drive. I had my 21-hour playlist and was determined to find some good eats along the way.

There are two main routes between Texas and California - north and south. Having already done the northern route, I was off to Tucson, AZ to see a long lost friend from elementary school. She was definitely prepared for my arrival.

We walked through downtown Tucson to find Sparkroot. At its heart, Sparkroot is a coffee shop with a focus on Blue Bottle Coffee out of San Francisco but their standard fare will bring you back. Their sandwiches are anything but ordinary. I had a pressed sandwich of ciabatta, Welsh cheddar, chive and CUCUMBER. Now, before I had this, the thought of warm cucumber made me want to yak, but it was surprisingly delicious. Alongside, was a chilled, yet fresh, garlicky tomato soup, which proved to be quite refreshing on a hot desert day and perfect for sandwich dipping.

Since this was a road trip, I needed a snack that would travel well. They wrapped up the other half of my rather large sandwich and it was a nice roadside snack as I entered New Mexico later that day. SCORE.

Since I couldn't possibly drive 23 hours straight without the aid of narcotics, I stopped for the night in Las Cruces, NM. Las Cruces is a beautiful city that sits at the foot of some amazing mountains, and is only 20 miles from the Texas border.

My friend in Tucson had recommended a great traditional New Mexican place for dinner, however they had apparently decided to close early on a Saturday night. So through the magic of modern technology, I quickly found a back up in the historic town of Mesilla. Mesilla is filled with old adobe architecture, and history every where you turn including the courthouse where Billy the Kid was tried and sentenced.

Just off the plaza was La Posta de Messilla. The restaurant was a maze of unique dining rooms all covered in fiesta and Day of the Dead decor. It was definitely my kind of place. Considering I was in New Mexico where chiles are a staple, Chile Relleno was a must. Fresh green chiles are stuffed with cheese, dipped in an egg batter, fried on the grill and coated in a red chile sauce. And of course, I had to wash it down with a Chile-Rita - a margarita spike with blackberry habanero sauce. It was absolute chile overload and I loved every minute of it as my tongue proceeded to melt.

On Day 2, I was refreshed and ready for the last 9 hours. Midland in West Texas was the halfway point and I'd heard about a burger. A burger with Bearnaise. Could this be true? Oh sweet gentle snowflakes, I came, I saw, I conquered and can say that it is so.

Burgers, Fries and Cherry Pies caught me by surprise. A great burger, fries and milkshake joint took it one step further and added a selection of ethnic burgers to their menu including the sought after French Connection. The FC is served on a housemade jalapeno cheddar bun and topped with Bearnaise, a sauce of clarified butter, egg yolk and fresh herbs whipped into creamy goodness. Beef just got buttery.

On the side were the crispiest tater tots one can find. You see, I appreciate the simple things in life too. My meals are not all duck liver and sea urchin. Which is why I had them put cheese on my tots. Now we're in business.

When you are driving across the country, you need a meal that is going to stick with you. Salad just isn't going to do it!

Split, Croatia

2011-09-07T02:11:00.000-04:00

Even though the food of Zagreb was spectacular, Split made it look like McDonald's and Spaghetti-O's in comparison. Split cuisine blew our minds.

Split is on the Adriatic coast and the gateway to some of Croatia's most beautiful islands. The heart of Split is made up of Diocletian's Palace, a two THOUSAND-year-old Roman city where people still live, drink, eat and work today.

Just out of reach beyond the touristy palace walls, some absolutely incredible food was waiting for us. I'll let the photos speak for themselves...

First, their was Buffet Fife, a true locals place overlooking the marina with a large terrace with long benches meant for sharing. One trip during our stay was just not enough.

Salty Dalmatian smoked ham, similar to prosciutto, served with local olives. To be clear, "Dalmatian" doesn't mean I enjoy the taste of little spotted puppies. It is in reference to the region of Dalmatia, although that is where the dog gets its name as well. And yes, this is what they considered to be a serving. MEAT SWEATS.

Croatian meat and potatoes. On the right, "Pašticada" which is similar to pot roast but with an even longer preparation and more flavor served over mashed potatoes. On the left, beef goulash over handmade (and giant) gnocchi.

Freshly caught fish grilled whole and finished with olive oil and parsley. The red mullet was out of this world.

Then we found Konoba Hvarnin. It doesn't look like much on the outside, which helps keep the tourists away. For this, they get extra bonus points for keeping it real. The father runs the kitchen, the son runs the bar. Definitely a hole in the wall worth a stop or two.

I dreamt about this gnocchi for days. Huge pillowy gnocchi coated in the sweetest fresh tomato sauce. Imagine the best tomato sauce you've ever had, then multiple it by 50. Then it will be somewhere in the neighborhood of this sauce.

Next we had grilled crawfish, or as they are called down south: "mudbugs". Buttery and rich, they were doused with lemon juice and had the perfect amount of char.

To finish it off, we had the octopus salad. The incredibly tender octopus was marinated in vinegar and olive oil, and tossed with arugula and onion. I never thought octopus could ever melt in your mouth. I will now admit that I was wrong, and that makes me unbelievable happy. We mowed through this dish like candy at a movie theater.

And since we were in Croatia, there had to be more pizza. Pizza Galija raised the bar. We watched as the man in the chef had huddled around the wood burning oven churning out pizza after pizza after pizza, every one a perfect work of art.

To get us in the mood, we started with beef carpaccio drizzled with lemon and olive oil and buried under arugula, mushrooms, local (and incredible) olives and huge slices of parmigiana reggiano. This is my nirvana dish.

The pizza was topped with fresh tomato sauce, wild spinach, mozzarella and house made ricotta cheese. One bite made my eyes roll back in my head. I may need to go to Pizza Anonymous soon because I think I have a problem.

If you are still wondering why we chose Croatia, go sit in the corner and think about what you've done.

Everybody else? Next up is Hvar Island, the billionaire's paradise.

Zagreb, Croatia

2011-08-24T07:31:00.000-04:00

When I told people we were going to Croatia for our honeymoon, we always received one of these three reactions:

"Why?"
[Blank stare as they try to figure out where Croatia is]
"Isn't that in California?"

To me, it was a no-brainer. The coastline looks like Amalfi on steroids. Beaches abound with crystal clear blue water. When there isn't a beach, people will just pull off the road and dive in the water wherever they can find a spot. There was not a suit in sight, just families and friends enjoying the sunshine and cool water, work be damned.

In between the beaches are hoards of family-run restaurants, or "konobas", serving up local delicacies, beer and some of the best wine you'll ever have all served up on open-air terraces that are always overlooking something spectacular, whether it be a Roman castle, a vineyard or the Adriatic sea. Take your pick.

So, why pick Croatia? Why the hell not!

This place changed our life, and it all started in Zagreb, the capital. It was here that we first discovered the Croatian obsession with pizza. Everywhere we looked, pizza was being served, Italian-style. We have eaten so much pizza in the last 10 days I still fear we may turn into pizzas.

Some of the best was at Spaghetteria Nocturno, a cafe uniquely situated on a steep slope leading up to Zagreb's central farmer's market. Layered with mozzarella and porcini mushrooms and crisp from a stone oven, Italy didn't seem like it was a sea away.

The pizza came alongside some incredible gnocchi tossed with spinach, Dalmatian ham, cheese and cream. Gnocchi is another Croatian staple that may also be served doused in a homemade tomato sauce or alongside goulash. The gnocchi is not dainty or petite, but elephant-sized and meaty yet still light as a feather.

After a long afternoon of exploring Mirogoj Cemetery, we were in need of a hearty dinner. We heard rumblings that the best Bosnian food outside of Bosnia could be found in a residential neighborhood a short car ride away from the city center. So we hopped a taxi and within minutes we were at Sofra. Our waiter led us to a large patio with dark wooden booths accented with grandma's embroidered linens.

We started with a bottle of Bosnian red wine (excellent), which led to a cold plate of housemade cheeses and salumi. The kajmak, a soft tangy cheese similar to clotted cream, was so incredible that scooping it up with a fork for a bite seemed like the natural thing to do.

The cold plate was followed by a warm veal burek and a roasted red pepper salad marinated with vinegar, garlic and parsley. Burek is a thin pastry common in Eastern European and Middle Eastern countries, with their filling of minced mean, cheese or vegetables varying by culture.

The main dish was chicken schnitzel stuffed with cheese and Dalmatian ham covered in a mushroom cream sauce.

Our meal was finished with espressos. The Croatians are coffee fanatics, as so every cup you get is never anything less than perfect whether it be from a restaurant, cafe or kiosk on the ferry. Fragrant with a thin layer of crema, it jolts you back into reality from your food coma.

Next, we'll explore Split on the Adriatic Coast...stay tuned.

the wedding feast

2011-08-15T19:00:00.000-04:00

I have survived a hurricane…but just barely.

Every inch of my body hurts, my nerves are shot and I have completely lost my voice. I'm still trying to digest where I am. A week ago, we left our little beach hamlet in Orange County, and are now halfway across the world. Still not sure how we made it here in one piece.

On Saturday I officially wed the Significant Other, and boy was it exhausting. Juggling vendors, shuttling from function to function, having to be perfectly photogenic all the time and dealing with 3 relatives in the hospital were all incredibly draining. Luckily it's all in our rear view now.

Despite the crushing sensory overload of Kamikaze Wedding Week 2011, it was one of the most memorable weeks of my life.

Let's start with the barbecue…

Most of our wedding party was composed of non-Texans. They came from New York, San Francisco, and Miami to celebrate our union in suffocating triple-digit Dallas heat. They were troopers.

It only seemed right to immerse them in Texas culture right out of the gate, rip off the bandaid and dunk them in the pool. That meant barbecue.

Our rehearsal dinner was at my favorite joint, Feedstore BBQ. Although oddly placed in sprawling upscale suburbia, a walk through the doors is a reminder that you are in another country entirely.

Of course everything is great here, but a real Texan orders the brisket. Smoked beautifully, tender and succulent, the brisket shines. The ribs, however, are a close second.

And then there were enchiladas….

As the RSVPs came pouring in for the wedding, they always seemed to be accompanied by a "I wouldn't miss this, the food is going to be excellent!" The bar had been set.

However, tradition and me are not friends, colleagues or even mere acquaintances. Our "theme" was Dios de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, which is a Mexican celebration of life, family and friends. It was perfect.

There would be no sit down, 5-course meal with bone china and penguin waiters. No stuffy caterers charging exorbitant amounts for mediocre food. No chicken or beef. It had to be a fiesta, a backyard party safely tucked away indoors from the stifling August heat.

With the help of my mother, we found a family-owned local Mexican restaurant called Ojeda's that's been doing this since 1969. We got all the staples: sour cream chicken enchiladas, brisket tacos, tamales, guacamole. It was a magnificent feast and a fraction of the cost of using a caterer.

But, wait, there was cake…

It was the piece de resistance and crown jewel of the reception, at least for me. Being a pastry chef, I was the pickiest customer. If the word "frosting" was uttered on a bakery's web site, they were removed from the list.

If you are now wondering why I didn't make my own cake, shame on you. I am not superhuman!

Then I found Frosted Art, cake baker to the Dallas socialite scene. The air inside their studio smelled of sugar. This was a good sign.

Each tier was a different combination of flavors: lemon lavender, vice cake with bourbon and chocolate, opera cake with crushed hazelnuts, and the most to-die-for red velvet I've ever tasted. I'm salivating as I type.

So here I am, looking out at the twinkling lights of Zagreb, Croatia, in a nearly comatose state. We've only just arrived, and tomorrow we begin our exploration of this fascinating and breathtaking country. But first, a good night's rest.

Stay tuned…

plum cobbler and a carbetbagger

2011-07-10T23:57:00.000-04:00

I will be the first to admit that the South is another country, especially Texas. People can joke about Texas all they want, but when a Northerner steps onto Texan soil, they can feel it. They feel nervous that an angry cowboy is going to lasso them, or that they'll get run over by a horse, or get caught in a gunfight, or some other type of stereotypical, yet totally unrealistic, redneck danger is going to come there way upon entry.

Frankly, I find it hilarious. However, on occasion, some of these outsiders stay long enough to realize that even though we do things a bit different, and that we love to combine words that don't need combining like y'all and sumbitch, it can actually be a nice place to exist with welcoming inhabitants. And the food's not too shabby either.

My yankee dad was one of those people. Born in Chicago and raised in Cleveland, he came to Texas at the sparkling age of 21 looking for work, as the industry of the North was waining and the Texas economy was booming. May I just say, best decision he ever made.

He took to Texas like a crackhead to, well, crack. He picked up the Southern drawl and figured out how to cook properly. You will NEVER find beans in his chili. 'Cause that's something a yankee would do.

He also learned how to make the best cobbler. When we were kids, he would make vats of it for church functions. I'd come around the church kitchen hours before the event to sneak a spoonful of filling or whatever I could get my hands on. Most of the time it was peach, all bubbly and gooey, with a thick slightly sweet pastry crust. It was heaven on earth.

So as a salute to my yankee-turned-Texan dad, I took advantage of another summer stone fruit and made an insanely scrumptious plum cobbler. A mix of tart and sweet plums are baked until bubbly under a moist pastry crust and finished with a dollop of cream. Of course, real Texans finish it with Blue Bell.

Plum Cobbler

3 lbs plums, pitted cut into 1 1/2" segments

1/2 c (100g) sugar

1 1/2 tbsp cornstarch

4 tbsp (60g) butter

1/2 c (100g) sugar

2 eggs

2 tbsp baking powder

2 c all purpose flour

1/2 tsp grated nutmeg

pinch of salt

1 c (220g) heavy cream or buttermilk or half and half

Stir together 1/2 c sugar with cornstarch, then toss in the plums. Set aside. Preheat oven to 375F.

With a mixer, cream together butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add 1 egg and mix to combine. Add remaining egg and mix to combine. In a separate bowl, stir together baking powder, flour, nutmeg and salt. Add flour mixture to egg, butter and sugar. Mix until barely combined. While mixing, stream in the cream until combined. Should be a thick batter.

Pour fruit and juices into a 9" x 9" pan. Top evenly with batter. Personally, I like to sprinkle sugar on top of the batter which gives a nice sweet crust, but you do what you like. Bake for 35-40m until bubbly and the crust is golden brown.

NOTE: I highly recommend sitting your cobbler on a sheet pan, as the juices will likely bubble over and make a nice charcoal smoking patty on the bottom of your oven if you don't.

chicken fat potatoes

2011-06-29T02:24:00.000-04:00

A Brit taught me how to cook.

Believe me, I just was just as shocked as you are. But before you start writing that angry letter, please indulge me whilst I explain.

Her name was Emma. A tattooed fiery little thing from Scarborough that I'd met while trying to find a roommate in Amsterdam. Both of us were about to be homeless. Through our mutual plight in a foreign land, we decided to be homeless together.

We squatted in various homes under the guise of "housesitting" until we could find a place of our own. Even though we were watching someone else's television, sleeping in a bed that was not ours, and eating at another person's table, we made ourselves at home by cooking.

I cooked for her. She cooked for me. And we scoured the market for foods to play with that were new to both of us.

And then we had our first fight...over how to cook carrots. She swore up and down that the only way to cook carrots was to boil them. That is how her mother had done it, and how her grandmother had done it, and so on ad nauseum. I insisted that they be roasted. It got ugly. Then the great America vs. Britain debate entered the conversation, and all hell broke loose.

Despite our differences, we made peace. She liked my roasted carrots. And she taught how to make potatoes that I continue to swoon over...with chicken fat.

Yes, you read that correctly. And they are as sinfully delicious as they sound. Baby potatoes are parboiled, then roasted (practically fried) in chicken fat until the edges are golden and crispy, and the insides melt with fatty goodness.

These potatoes changed my life....and it was all thanks to an excellent British cook.

Chicken Fat Potatoes

There are two ways to procure some chicken fat for this recipe. Buy it jarred, or the lovelier and fresher method, roast a chicken. As the chicken roasts, the fat begins to melt off which then "frys" the potatoes. I prefer the latter. Here's what you do....

2 lbs new or baby gold potatoes, peeled

1 3-4lb chicken or 1/2 c chicken fat

salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 450F. Boil peeled potatoes until outside is tender, but center is still partly raw. Drain and put potatoes back in the pot. Put lid on the pot, and holding it firmly, shake the pot so it makes the surface of the potatoes "furry". This creates little ridges that will become crispy in the oven.

If using store-bought chicken fat, pour fat onto a sheet pan and toss in the potatoes, salt, and pepper. Roast in oven for 35-40m until golden brown, turning halfway through cooking.

If using a chicken, pat down the chicken until dry. Generously salt and pepper it's insides. Using twine, truss the chicken. Place chicken in center of sheet pan. Salt and pepper the skin generously. Spread potatoes around pan and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast chicken for 50-60m until internal temp reaches 165F. Toss potatoes half way through cooking to coat in rendered chicken fat. Once chicken is done, transfer to plate and loosely cover in foil to rest for 15m. Cover potatoes to keep warm or continue roasting if needed.

You will not regret these potatoes. Despite their classy name. Incidentally, the chicken is not bad either.

f*** up bread

2011-06-20T00:27:00.000-04:00

I have the worst luck with bread.

It's quite unfortunate because despite my love (weakness) of devouring a beautiful loaf, I never fail to screw it up.

Sometimes the salt is forgotten. Or the dough doesn't rise. Or instead of adding only 2 tablespoons of water, 2 cups of water get dumped in with reckless abandonment. When it comes to bread, the majority of the time, my head is up my ass.

The doughs have been very forgiving and my constant blunders sometimes do produce edible results. Black pepper bread was once of those successes.

The on-purpose part was the addition of freshly ground black pepper for a little bite. The not-on-purpose part was adding too much water. In the end, the intended Greek farmer's loaf became a peppery pain de mie instead and it...was...marvelous. Especially toasted with extra virgin olive oil and and sprinkling of fresh Parm.

So for those afraid of bread-making, give it a shot. Even if you screw it up, it may still turn out great!

Black Pepper Bread

3 3/4c (28oz) unbleached white flour
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
4 tsp instant yeast
2 tsp sugar
2 c lukewarm water
1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 1/2 tsp salt

Combine flour, yeast, black pepper, sugar and water in a mixing bowl. Gently mix. Cover and let rest in a warm place for 15m. Knead the dough while adding the oil and salt until dough is smooth. The dough will be on the wet side so use a mixer or wooden spoon to knead. Cover and let rest for another 15m.

Knead the dough for 5-10m. Lightly dust a baking sheet with flour. Transfer dough to the baking sheet. Dust the top of the dough with thin layer of flour. Lightly cover with plastic wrap and let rest for 15m. Remove plastic wrap. Place bread in cold oven and turn on oven to 375F. Bake for 40-45m until golden brown. Remove from oven and let rest for 20m before slicing.

strawberry cardamom jam, no pectin required

2011-06-13T21:56:00.000-04:00

I know what you are thinking.

And yes, I'm still and forever will be in the midst of my never-ending love affair with the strawberry. She is a mistress that just won't let go.

So when I picked up a few pints of them at the market, jam inspiration took over. For a long time, I avoided making jam. It always seemed like such a laborious process, the long cooking, the canning and of course, I'd "have" to have pectin on hand to thicken it to a jammy consistency. But who really has pectin "on hand". If you do, you might be a freak or Martha Stewart....who is also a freak.

What I came to realize is that it doesn't take long to cook unless you are making a couple gallons (which I wasn't). And you don't have to can it unless you plan to store it for months at a time (I'd rather enjoy it immediately). And you don't need pectin. Some stockholder at the Pectin company, no doubt, has been spreading this filthy lie for decades.

So if you have fruit and sugar, jam is only moments away...

Strawberry Cardamom Jam (makes 1 1/2 pints)

3 pints strawberries, stemmed
5 cardamom pods, left whole
1/2 c sugar
1/4 c filtered water

Combine all ingredients in a deep heavy pot. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer until liquid becomes a thick syrup, about 20m. Let cool. Remove cardamom pods and store in a glass mason jar or other resealable container in the fridge.

For more pics showing what the jam-making process looks like, check out the Facebook page.

green beans with shallot and tomato

2011-06-06T00:44:00.000-04:00

I have no idea where this recipe came from. It wasn't passed down by an older generation. Not sure if it was suggested by a friend, or if it was discovered in a laissez faire session on the interwebz. As far as it's origination, I'm truly at a loss.

As a Southern girl, I thought the only way to cook green beans was with some kind of pork product or doused with cream of mushroom and topped with fried onions. I was pretty sure Texas law forbade alternatives. And yes, salty pork pairs incredibly well with green beans but I was happy to learn in my early 20s that there were more options.

Tempura. Amandine. Garlic-infused. And the star for today, green beans with shallot and tomato, one of my all-time favorite dishes. Fresh green beans are simmered with white wine, shallot and tomato creating a surprisingly simple and rich (yet healthy) side dish.

So whoever you are out there that gave me this recipe, thank you a gazillion times over. This one has taken up residence in my stockpile.

Green Beans with Shallot and Tomato

1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 tbsp unsalted butter
2 medium shallots, in 1/2" slices
1-2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 c dry white wine*
1/2 - 3/4 lb green beans, trimmed
1 (15oz) can stewed tomatoes (or diced) with juice

Heat oil and butter on medium heat until butter is melted. Add shallots and cook for 3m until it begins to soften. Add garlic and cook for 1m. Add the wine and raise the heat to medium-high until most of the wine has evaporated, leaving around 1/3 c left in the pan. Add green beans and tomatoes, then reduce heat to low.

Let simmer, stirring occasionally for 8-10m until green beans are tender but still crisp. If the liquid appears to be disappearing too quickly, add more wine and/or lower the heat to slow evaporation. Serve! This dish is also pretty tasty straight out of the fridge the next day, which means it could also work as a cold salad to take to a barbecue.

*Feel free to substitue chicken or vegetable stock for the white wine. I'm no alcohol dictator, just merely suggesting.

How, pray tell, do you cook green beans??

pineapple upside down yogurt cake

2011-05-31T22:01:00.000-04:00

Something about Pineapple Upside Down Cake always rubbed me the wrong way.

When I was a child, I didn't understand what made it "upside down" and that bothered me. As a teenager, it seemed odd that the same combination of pineapple and maraschino cherries were also used as an adornment for ham and that bothered me. And as an adult, I took issue with the use of corn syrup-drenched canned pineapple and neon red (as seen from space) color of the cherries. It just seemed so unnatural.

Some of these reasons may seem slightly ludicrous, but, hey, we all have our ticks. But I digress...

Thus here is my paradox. One of the major components to Pineapple Upside Down Cake was caramel. Caramel and I go way back, how could I possibly keep it out in the cold?

Desperately determined to not judge a cake by it's cover, it was time to soldier on and modify this cake using fresh ingredients, not canned ones that expire in 2025. Using fresh pineapple alone made the biggest difference and it only adds maybe 2 minutes to the prep time. Fresh pineapple is sweet enough without the infusion of corn syrup - it's just not needed.

What else is different? A gooey homemade salted caramel creates the perfect bed for the sliced pineapple and bubbles up through the batter as the cake bakes live caramel lava. If that is not what sells you, then I don't know what will. The cake itself is a moist French yogurt cake (I used Greek yogurt as I tend to break the law).

As I've turned the other cheek today, I implore you to give Pineapple Upside Down (Yogurt) Cake a second chance.

Pineapple Upside Down Yogurt Cake

1/2 fresh pineapple, quartered, cored and sliced

1 tsp butter, for greasing

Caramel

1 1/2 c (340g) sugar

1/4 c (55g) unsalted butter

1/2 c (120ml) filtered water

pinch salt

Cake Batter

2 c (250g) cake flour

2 tsp baking powder

pinch salt

3 eggs

3/4 + 1/8 c (175g) sugar

1 c (225ml) Greek yogurt

1/2 c (100ml) vegetable oil

Preheat oven to 350F/180C. Grease a 9x9 square pan with the butter. Have the pineapple sliced and ready for when the caramel is done. For step-by-step pictures of how to clean a pineapple and make the cake, check out the Facebook page.

For the caramel: Combine the sugar and water in a sauce pan with high sides. Gently stir to combine. Bring to a boil. Once boiling, stop stirring the sugar as this may cause the it to crystallize. When the sugar begins to caramelize, gently swirl the sugar around in the pot so that it will brown more evenly. Once the caramel has reached a medium amber, remove it from the heat and whisk in the butter. It WILL bubble up violently. Hense the need for a pot with high sides. Once the butter is in, whisk in the salt. Pour the caramel immediately into the bottom of your 9x9 pan.

For the batter: Sift together the flour, baking powder and salt in a small bowl. Don't have a sifter? Use a whisk to mix and aerate the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and sugar. Then add in the oil and yogurt and mix.

Quickly whisk the dry into the yogurt mixture until just combined. There may be lumps, but that is no reason to get crazy. NOTE: The longer you whisk, the tougher the cake will be.

Now that the caramel has cooled slightly, gently place the sliced pineapple on top of it in the pan. Try and get the pieces close together. Top with the batter and bake for 50-55m until cake springs back to touch.

You'll need to unmold the cake fairly quickly as the caramel will begin to harden with every passing moment it sits on the counter. Place your platter or plate upside down on top of the cake pan. Using pot holders or a towel to prevent burning your delicate hands, sandwich the plate to the pan and quickly flip them over so the cake drops onto the platter. Set both down on the counter before removing the pan from atop the cake to prevent scorching caramel from exploding all over your kitchen.

Now for the Do's and Don'ts of Caramel - Since we are on the subject of caramel, it seems like the perfect opportunity to surface what to do and what not to do when you get a burn from caramel or hot sugar.

Don't even think about...

Sticking your finger, or hand, or elbow, or whatever has the hot sugar on it in your mouth. You'll not only still have a burned finger, but you'll also have a burned tongue.
Trying to rip or peel the sugar off your skin while it's hot. It will take your skin with you.
Touching hot sugar. Sugar caramelizes at 350F!

But please don't hesitate to...

Run your finger, or hand, or elbow under cold running water until the sugar has completely cooled down and hardened. Only then can you peel it off.
Treat it like any other burn when letting it heal.
Learn from your burn. Believe me, that first caramel burns can be your last. Safety first!

chocolate chip risotto cake

2011-04-25T21:36:00.000-04:00

My beloved KitchenAid mixer is upset with me.

Lately, it's been excluded from the party. I've become addicted to "one pot cakes" - cakes made entirely in one bowl or pot with nothing but a big spoon. No mixer needed.

And boy have I been paying for it. Dirty looks at breakfast. A roll of the eyes every time the wooden spoon comes out of the drawer. An endless cold shoulder.

What can I say, it's been nice to have a cake in the oven in under 10 minutes. Forget about frosting! It comes out of the oven perfect and ready for enjoyment.

But don't worry about poor KitchenAid. I've got some birthdays coming up soon in need of some high-powered cake-work.

Between you and me, my go-to list of one-pot cakes has been growing. As a young pastry cook, I made an Italian dessert called Torta di Riso or "rice cake" a few times. It was made up of nuts, dried fruits, chocolate and arborio rice, which is used to make risotto. Essentially it's like a baked rice pudding.

But the additions of nuts and fruits just seemed like overkill. There was way too much going on, and it was making my head spin. Why not just appreciate the creamy rice itself with maybe a bit of chocolate. Simpler seemed like the way to go.

For this cake, arborio rice is cooked in lemon-infused milk until creamy. Then dark chocolate chips and vanilla are added for a little extra flavor. Once baked, the rice becomes tender and mildly sweet. This torta is a must with a double espresso.

Take the easy route to cake.

Chocolate Chip Risotto Cake

3 c whole milk
zest of 1 lemon (peeled into strips)
3/4 c arborio rice
2 tbsp + 1/2 tsp unsalted butter
4 large eggs (not XL)
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 c sugar
1 c (100g) chocolate chips (or 1 bar, chopped)

In a deep sauce pot, bring milk and lemon zest to a boil stirring frequently to prevent scorching. Remove from heat. Using a slotted spoon, remove and discard the zest. Add pot back to heat and bring to a simmer. Add rice. Stirring frequently, cook rice at a gentle simmer for 20-25m until the rice has absorbed all of the milk and it resembles risotto. Remove the heat and stir in the butter. Set aside and let cool.

Preheat oven to 350F (175C). Line a 8" or 9" spring form pan with parchment paper, then grease the sides with butter to prevent the cake from sticking.

In a small bowl, whisk together the vanilla and eggs. Once the rice has cooled to touch, stir in the sugar. Then add the eggs in 4 additions, stirring in between each addition to incorporate. The "batter" will be very loose. Gently stir in the chocolate chips. Add "batter" to the pan. Bake for 50-60m until puffed and golden brown.

Once cake is cool, remove from the spring form pan. Serve with lightly whipped cream or fresh strawberries. Check out more photos detailing how to make this cake on the Facebook Fan page.

Want another one-pot cake? Here's an oldie but a goodie.