salt and love

grilled fish tacos

2013-05-16T23:41:00.002-04:00

This past weekend, I was struck by an irresistible craving for grilled fish tacos. So I did what any girl would do - hop on a bus to Jersey one day early for Mother's Day, commandeer my future in-laws' kitchen, and impose my craving upon the whole family.

I had some people to persuade. Future mom-in-law Jill was amusedly skeptical about the whole concept, and I started to realize while we were in the supermarket that I was filling our cart with ingredients she would never voluntarily eat. Fish? A touchy subject, as it seems contingent on the type of fish (white only), the place (the fancier restaurants tend to get the fish just right), and her mood. Cilantro? She has always picked out the leaves and stems, leaving little piles of green on her plate. Poblano peppers? It took me a while to even get her past the fear of "burning" black pepper.

After her third enunciation of the phrase "fish TACOS," I started to get the idea that maybe, just maybe, she was a little bit nervous. At the checkout line, I prodded and pushed, finally extracting the admission that she had "never heard of tacos being filled with fish!"

Sometimes I forget, as I think all food-lovers do, that the meals I consider normal, commonplace, and maybe even a bit boring are exotic, new, and challenging to others. As the torch-bearer for fish tacos, I felt pressure to make these particular tacos especially gorgeous to look at and delicious to eat. The challenge breathed new life into a meal I might otherwise whip up as a weeknight meal, and it made the thrill of a successful dinner taste even sweeter.

P.S. She loved it.

grilled fish tacos adapted from Epicurious

1 cup chopped white onion

3/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro, divided

1/4 cup olive oil

5 tablespoons fresh lime juice, divided (3 for marinade, 2 for red cabbage)

3 tablespoons fresh orange juice

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 teaspoon dried oregano (preferably Mexican)

1 teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon cumin

1 pound tilapia, striped bass, or sturgeon fillets (I used cod and it was perfect)

Coarse kosher salt

red cabbage slaw

1 cup Greek yogurt

1 tablespoon mayonnaise

1 tablespoon milk

chile flakes

Corn tortillas

2 avocados, peeled, pitted, sliced

1/2 small head of cabbage, cored, thinly sliced

Lime wedges

Stir 1 cup onion, 1/4 cup cilantro, oil, 3 tablespoons lime juice, orange juice, garlic, paprika, cumin, and oregano in medium bowl. Sprinkle fish with coarse salt and pepper. Spread half of onion mixture over bottom of a glass baking dish. Arrange fish atop onion mixture. Spoon remaining onion mixture over fish. Cover and chill 30 minutes. Turn fish; cover and chill 30 minutes longer.

Whisk Greek yogurt, mayonnaise, milk, and remaining 2 tablespoons lime juice in large bowl. Cut the red cabbage into shreds and toss with the yogurt mixture.

Brush grill grate with oil; prepare barbecue (medium-high heat). Grill fish with some marinade still clinging until just opaque in center, 3 to 5 minutes per side. Grill tortillas until slightly charred, about 10 seconds per side.

Coarsely chop fish; place on platter. Serve with the red cabbage slaw, tortillas, remaining 1/2 cup cilantro, avocados, and lime wedges. Feel free to modify the recipe to reflect your favorite Mexican condiments.

eating montreal

2013-04-30T21:00:00.001-04:00

This post is only eight months late. Better late than never, am I right?

After taking the bar, I languished around the house for a week, my soul having been drained of all happiness and light. Rob waited until the worst of it was over and then made his big reveal: two tickets to Osheaga, a Montreal music festival with just about every act I had wanted to see for the last year AND a customized meal itinerary created through countless hours of research. I've never been prouder.

Rob wanted to live at Dieu du Ciel microbrewery. We went a total of three times over the weekend, and because we could never get the hours straight, we were always waiting outside the front door for it to open. Rob loved his beers, and I was happy to watch him drink so long as those nachos were in front of me.

Dieu du Ciel Microbrewery

259 rue de Villemure
St-Jérôme, Qc, J7Z 5J4

Open Monday to Thursday from 11:30 AM - 2:00 PM.

Friday and Saturday from 2:00 PM - 3:00 AM.

Sunday from 2 PM - 1:00 AM

I compare every bagel I eat to the ones at Ess-A-Bagel, my favorite Sunday morning haunt in New York. I'll ruin the surprise for you - they always fall far, far, short. Montreal bagels are a different breed altogether - a tad sweeter, smaller in size, and less chewy. We ate our everything bagels at a picnic table on a sunny morning, and forgot to draw any comparisons at all.

Fairmount Bagel

74, avenue Fairmount Ouest
Montreal, QC H2T 2M2

What kind of couple are we? The kind that leaves in the middle of Snoop Dog's first performance as "Snoop Lion" to go eat veal sweetbreads and duck heart tartar with foie gras shavings. The entire menu is in French, but our awesome waiter translated every menu item with such warmth and excitement that we felt warm and fuzzy inside. (Excuse those pictures - it was dark and romantic in there!)

Au Cinquieme Peche

4475 Rue St-Denis

Montreal, QC H2J 2L2

I never order chicken when I'm out at a restaurant, but secretly I have an undying love for rotisserie chickens always. They beckon to me under their glaring heat lamps at the even the crappiest of grocery stores. The Portuguese roast chicken at Romado's is a must - juicy, garlicky, and perfect with a mountain of fries that beg to be dipped in the chicken grease.

Rotisserie Romados

115 Rue Rachel E

Montreal, QC H2W 1C8

Do you ever feel like a restaurant just gets you to your very core? That is how I feel about Au Pied de Cochon, a place that feels no shame about piling on slabs of foie gras and every other gluttonous fatty meat under the sun on a flakey, buttery crust or cooking a fat-slicked duck in a can with more foie and dumping it onto a plate at your table. More foie for everyone!

Or creating this obscene sandwich of battered soft-shelled crabs with soft goat cheese, fresh zucchini, and drizzled with maple syrup. How can something that sounds so wrong be so right?

Au Pied de Cochon

536 Avenue Duluth E
Montréal, QC H2L 1A9

Covered in mud, sweat, and general music festival funk at 11:30pm, we took a cab to Schwartz's deli for these smoked meat sandwiches. Thankfully, the night time crowd was weird-looking enough that we fit right in. Bonus points for not having to wait in line! Pure bliss.

Schwartz's Deli
3895 St-Laurent Boulevard
Montreal, QC H2W 1X9

Pâtisserie Rhubarbe is a bit out of the way in a residential neighborhood, but our long trek through the wind and rain was beyond worth it. The caramel mille feuilles and the apricot-pistachio layered cake blew our minds. Each flavor was thoughtfully captured and the execution was impeccable. Best pastries I've had in Montreal by a long shot.

Pâtisserie Rhubarbe
5091 De Lanaudière
Montréal, QC H2J 3P9

Oh Lallouz - if you only knew how many failed attempts we made to eat your food before finally getting a taste. If there's one piece of advice I can give you about planning a meal in Montreal, it is to check whether or not it is open - especially in the summer! On our third trip to Lallouz, we were handsomely rewarded with the $12 per person lunch deal, which included a a kebab each, unfettered access to delicious vegetable salads, pita, and mint lemonade.

Lallouz Café & Kebaberie
4561 Boul.St-Laurent

1327 Rue St-Catherine Est

I should mention that, in addition to criss-crossing the city to eat all of this, we listened to some life-changing music, felt way too old to be there, and danced away all those calories.

As a final parting gift, we treated ourselves to a hand-picked selection of twenty macarons from the Point G stand at the Jean-Talon market. They were gone by the time we pulled into our driveway.

P.S. My close friend and fellow inner fat girl has started a food Instagram account - follow her at foodtographer!!

kappo at ma peche...with puppies!!!

2013-04-01T21:04:00.000-04:00

I am known for launching a full-scale investigation into everything I am about to eat. Most nights, I fall sleep with phone in hand, looking up menus, reviews, and pictures of food that I envision myself eating in the near or distant future. This applies not only to celebratory meals, or date nights out - but also to the $4 omelette I plan on getting from the deli next to my office, or the almond croissant I've already committed to spoiling myself with later this weekend. Rob thinks it's neurotic, and I'm inclined to think that he is right.

When I first read about the new Kappo counter at Má Pêche a few weeks ago, I was shocked how little information there was to be found, despite my best researching efforts. Believe it or not, there are people out there even crazier than me and before every momentous meal, I usually spend hours drooling over their professional-quality pictures and meticulous descriptions. But for Kappo there was no information at all, except for the fact that they had just begun offering a 10-course menu with the price tag of $95 a person - a great value for a 10-course meal, but expensive enough to make a risk-averse researcher like me reluctant. I love David Chang and all he does (I fantasize about him catering my wedding), but I decided to wait it out until I could read more reports from others.

The next day, I realized that I had completely forgotten our four year anniversary. I felt terrible, made a reservation, and pretended like I had planned it for weeks.

It. Was. Awesome. I am incredibly fortunate to have tried a fair number of tasting menus in this city. Some of them may have had more life-changing food, but Kappo stood out for being bold, unpredictable, and fun. Chef Carmichael is completely chill and personable, making it the least fussy and pretentious tasting I've ever had. Normally I would be all up in those plates with my camera like a typical hipster taking pictures of food, but I was so engaged in my meal and the surroundings that I kind of just lost myself in the moment. Isn't that one of the best compliments you can give to a restaurant? It was an adventure from beginning to end, and if you're still dying to be surprised in an age where everyone has tweeted, instagrammed, and written a 1000-word essay about their meal at Eleven Madison (the pot calling the kettle black), then get here quick.

So here is an account of what we ate, accompanied not by fuzzy IPhone pictures with bad lighting, but by pictures of puppies! Each puppy's level of happiness corresponds with my happiness with that particular course (you might note that they're all pretty darn happy).

1st course:

John Dory with kombu and horseradish

2nd course:

Cobia with pickled jalapeno and pear

3rd course:

Squid with popcorn, brown butter, chrysanthemum...

so strange and insane that it made absolute sense.

4th course:

Lobster with cucumber, habanero, and breadfruit

5th course:

Challah bread with smoked duck fat and salt...

freshly baked in a small oven around course two or three and placed in front of you gorgeously browned and steaming.

6th course:

Congee with quail egg, shrimp, and mushrooms

7th course:

Barbecued pig tail with scrambled eggs, scallion, and peanut

8th course:

Mofongo with garlic and chiccharon.

I don't want to ruin any surprises but be prepared to

roll up your sleeves and get involved in this one.

9th course:

Striped bass baked in a salt crust with herbs, dill chips, and lemon

10th course:

Peanut butter frozen mousse with apple, elderflower, and meringue.

I haven't even mentioned the other little snacks and palate cleansers that delighted us in between courses. Let's just say Chef Carmichael is the kind of guy that sneaks in a bite of luxurious uni as a bonus. The menu changes according to availability of ingredients, the season, and whatever the hell Carmichael feels like making. There are only eight seats at the bar, and only one seating per night. If you want to taste what it is that made all these puppies so damn happy, get on making that reservation.

(I'm thinking the world might be a better place if we just start using puppy pictures for no particular reason at all.)

kitchenless..but still hungry

2013-03-23T01:10:00.001-04:00

Well, it's been a long, long time and lot has happened. I graduated school, moved back home, took the bar exam, lost fifteen pounds, passed the bar exam, ate all of the above, gained five pounds, got engaged, started a job in New York, and moved to an apartment...WITH NO KITCHEN. Don't ask me to explain...it hurts enough as it is.

Given that last bit of unfortunate news, I suppose that it seems like a strange time to start a food blog back up again. The truth is that the routine of working a full time job has left me aching for that sense of escape I got from my continuous, and sometimes neurotic, obsession with food.

In trying to figure out a new direction for salt and love, I realized that, in a somewhat enlightening moment, that it never had a true direction to begin with. All I ever wanted to do was document my love life with eating and food, so that one day, when I am old, senile, and inevitably obese, I can look back on this blog through my Google specs and relive my dearest memories of stuffing my face.

So, kitchen or no kitchen, onward and upwards we go!

eating san francisco

2012-03-18T16:09:00.000-04:00

When I travel, I'm much less concerned with the must-see tourist sites than I am with I'm about to eat. I figure that the best way to see and really experience a place is to zig-zag across town to get from one meal to another. In preparation, I spend way more time than is normal poring over Chowhound message boards, digging up old bookmarked Serious Eats posts, and looking up any old friends in the area to mooch off their expertise.

We spent four glorious days in San Francisco last week. All this time I thought I was an angry tense New Yorker who thrived on that certain cynical edge you can't find anywhere else. Now I'm not sure who I am anymore. Maybe what I really need is a bike, a puppy, and a good Acme baguette.

Anyways, while I deal with this inner turmoil, allow me to share the fruits of my researching labor. By no means is this an exhaustive list - I just couldn't physically eat any more.

Let's start with the obvious: In-N-Out. We may or may not gone there three times during our stay. The first two times - a double double, animal style (pickles, extra spread, grilled onions, and mustard fried onto each patty) with an extra toasted bun and extra well-done fries. I couldn't swing the double double the third time, so here is one sad patty as my final farewell to one of the finest chain burgers in the country. (Shake Shack still holds the key to my heart.)

We picked up these tasty Italian sandwiches before eating them in one of the five thousand parks dotting the city, where we witnessed lots of dog running and a couple of drug deals. Molinari Deli in the North Beach area, 373 Columbus Ave (between Grant Ave and Vallejo St).

Left: Molinari Italian Special with the works. Right: fresh mozzarella, prosciutto, coppa, sun-dried tomatoes.

Tartine Bakery gets a lot of hype and I have to admit that although none of the flavors were particularly novel, the execution of these pastries is damn impressive. We did our best to eat three of them (they're huge), and got some pretty incredulous stares while we stuffed our faces at one of the few sidewalk tables outside. The famous morning bun was scented with cinnamon, sugar and orange zest, and was a beautiful play in textures with caramelized crunchy bits and pillowy insides. The frangipane tart tasted just as we thought it would, but what really blew my mind was the pastry shell, which remained impossibly crisp and flakey beneath the moist almond paste. The shell was also the star of the banana cream tart, the bottom of which was cleverly coated in dark chocolate and caramel. Tartine Bakery, 600 Guerrero Street, Mission District.

Top: morning bun. Middle: almond frangipane tart. Bottom: banana cream tart.

I had a hard time figuring out where we should go for Mexican, but I finally settled on a dive in the Mission called Taqueria Vallarta. And by dive, I mean discovered by mustached hipsters but also populated with locals in the area. It's a full restaurant with a taco cart tucked into the front corner; we never made it past that little cart. The man behind it valiantly dipped corn tortillas in a bit of water to order, steamed them quickly on a flat top, and scooped up stewed meat from a glorious meat wheel. We ordered a cabeza (head), lengua (tongue), buche (pork neck), carnitas, al pastor, and suadero (tender beef). We couldn't tell which was which, but does that ever matter when you're eating the best tacos of your life? Taqueria Vallarta, 3033 24th Street (between Balmy St. and Treat Ave.), Mission District.

I had heard and read some good things about Pizzeria Delfina, but secretly, I was highly doubtful. After all, I studied in Rome for six months, and then lived in New York where I gorged regularly on Motorino, Co., Fornino, and the like. But this was some majorly good Neapolitan pizza; so good, in fact, that we managed to eat two of them within a mere hour after those tacos (the other one - a broccoli rabe pie with caciocavallo cheese and olives). Yet again, I was knocked over on my skeptical elitist ass. Pizzeria Delfina, 3611 18th St. (between Guerrero & Oakwood St.), Mission District.

Napoletana pizza: tomato, anchovies, capers, olives, hot peppers, oregano, and added cheese

During his layover in SF, Anthony Bourdain made a stop at a tiny fifteen-stooled place called Swan Oyster Depot where he ordered crab back off the menu. I drooled as I watched him dip his crusty sourdough into that pool of murky yellow liquid, a buttery complex mixture of crab guts euphemistically known as the "mustard." After waiting in line for half an hour, I planted myself on one of those coveted stools and ordered the same. I threw in a combination seafood salad for good measure, since that seemed to be the popular choice among the locals. Who knew a sloppy pile of seafood smothered with a creamy Thousand Island-like condiment (dubbed "Louie" sauce) on a big mound of shredded iceberg lettuce could be so comforting and delicious? Swan Oyster Depot, 1517 Polk St. (between California St. and Sacramento St.), Nob Hill.

The Ferry Market certainly doesn't need any more publicity, but I feel compelled to mention the amazing lunch we cobbled up there. First, an ode to the Acme baguette - the perfect (and I mean perfect) vehicle for the two small squares of goat's milk cheese the staff at Cowgirl Creamery curated for us, and the sexy meat cone lined with mortadella, salami, and coppa from Boccalone. Added a steaming container of mac and cheese and a fizzy vanilla egg cream from Cowgirl to make it a balanced meal. Ferry Market, One Ferry Building.

We had a positively earth-shattering meal at Mission Chinese, a ridiculous hipster scene in an unassuming storefront with a broke-ass yellow awning. We arrived at eight o'clock on a Thursday night and joined the mustached crowd, who had scribbled their names on a clipboard attached to the front window and all seemed to be brown-bagging it outside on the sidewalk. An anxious hour went by before we were summoned inside to a dimly lit room with a red paper dragon snaking along the ceiling, which accounts for the poor phone pictures. In typical fashion, we ordered way too much (our waitress kind of rolled her eyes), but I REGRET NOTHING. If I lived near this place, I'd be there once a week. By the end, our eyes were watering and we felt high on spice and exhilaration. Mission Chinese (Lung Shan Chinese Restaurant), 2234 Mission St., Mission.

savory egg custard with sea urchin, scallops, winter melon, and citron

cold poached chicken breast, seared chicken hearts, and szechuan pepper

kung pao pastrami with chili, potato, celery, and peanuts. amazing...

smoked beef brisket noodle soup with cheung fun, bok choy, and cardamom broth.
not pictured: thrice cooked bacon with rice cakes, bitter melon, tofu skin, scallion, black bean, chili oil.

We left on a Saturday night, so our last hurrah was another trip to Ferry Market for their famed Saturday farmer's market. As we browsed the row of white tents in the front of the building, I think I turned to Rob and snidely said something like, "Well, I feel good about the fact that the Union Square Green Market in New York is way bigger than this." We turned the corner and realized that we hadn't even really entered the market yet. There were stands and stands of produce, salts, spices, olive oils, jams, heirloom beans, dried tomatoes, and pickled everything. The sting of humility was quickly extinguished by a mouthful of kimchi-laced hot dog blanketed in crispy chicharrones and a killer burger from 4505 Meats.

I was further humiliated by this open-faced lox sandwich from Cap'n Mike's. Surely this cheerful, long-haired non-Jewish hippie couldn't make passable lox - smoked fish is firmly in New York territory. Each bite was joyous and painful; It really wasn't supposed to be that good, but it was - an apt analogy for our entire stay in San Francisco.

pineapple and macadamia nut tart

2012-03-02T10:00:00.000-05:00

I was this close to making a chocolate something-or-another as an end to our porchetta meal. It would have been a fatal mistake. Just one slice of that succulent pork belly can send even the greediest of gluttons running for a pair of stretchy pants. Our stomachs and arteries thanked us (well, really, just me) when we sat down to something fruity, fresh, and bursting with sunshine.

I don't remember the last time I sought out a bag of macadamia nuts. I feel like they've gotten a little lost in the shuffle as far as nuts go, since the almond and the walnut get so much attention for their healthy attributes. I have no idea if macadamias are as "superfoody" as those other nuts - I'm guessing no - but what I can tell you is that after tasting this dessert, I really couldn't care less. They impart their butteriness into both the crust and the filling of these tarts, and the honey-and-rum-coated pineapple slices just sweeten the deal.

I was gifted this blowtorch in December and it's taken me two months to actually use it in an appropriate way. Until this point, I had played with it longingly, every once in a while feeling its weight in my hand, pushing the button to produce that beautifully blue flame, and recklessly torching pieces of paper towel. It's not even a necessary step for this recipe, but I saw an opportunity and I took it.

For those who don't know me, I'm severely allergic to all alcohol unless it's cooked out (yes, I feel sorry for myself too). Even so, I flirted with death by topping these tarts with a dollop of Malibu-spiked whipped cream and some toasted coconut flakes. Luckily for all of you, I lived to tell the tale of this tart's deliciousness - a crumbly shortbread-like crust beneath a smooth toasty nut filling and a lightly caramelized layer of bright tropical fruit. You're welcome.

pineapple and macadamia nut tart recipe from Fine Cooking

makes one 9-inch tart

(I halved the recipe to make two 4½ -inch tarts. I still had a little bit of crust dough left over, which I rolled into a cylinder, froze, sliced, and baked - delicious macadamia nut cookies.)

crust:

1/2 cup macadamia nuts, toasted
1/4 cup granulated sugar
4-1/2 oz. (1 cup) unbleached all-purpose flour
Kosher salt
1/2 cup (4 oz.) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 large egg, lightly beaten

filling:

3/4 cup macadamia nuts
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg, at room temperature
2 oz. (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, softened
1-1/2 Tbs. unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon light or dark rum (I used Malibu Rum and loved the coconut flavor it added)
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

topping:

1 tablespoon unbleached all-purpose flour

1 medium fresh pineapple (about 3-1/2 lb.), peeled, cut lengthwise into quarters, cored, and cut crosswise into 1/8-inch-thick slices

3 tablespoons mild honey, such as clover

2 tablespoons light or dark rum

Crust: In a food processor, pulse the nuts and sugar until finely chopped, 12 to 15 one-second pulses. Be careful not to overprocess; you want to keep some of the crunchy nut texture. Add the flour and 1/4 tsp. salt and pulse to combine. Add the butter and pulse just until the dough resembles coarse sand and starts to gather into clumps, about 8 one-second pulses. Drizzle the egg evenly over the mixture and pulse just until blended in, 5 to 6 one-second pulses. Do not overmix.

Turn the dough out onto a piece of plastic wrap and shape it into a disk (it will be very sticky). Wrap it tightly and chill for at least 2 hours or overnight.

Using your fingers, press the dough evenly into the bottom (not the sides) of a 9-1/2-inch fluted tart pan with a removable bottom. If the dough sticks to your fingers, dip them in water. Freeze the crust for 20 minutes.

Filling: In a food processor, grind the macadamia nuts until they resemble coarse sand. Add the remaining filling ingredients and process until completely smooth, about 2 minutes.

Assembly: Position a rack in the center of the oven and heat the oven to 375°F.

Using a small offset spatula, spread the filling over the bottom of the tart shell, leaving a 1/4-inch border, and then sprinkle with the flour. Working from the outside in and leaving a 1/4-inch border, arrange the pineapple tightly in overlapping concentric circles over the filling. (Each circle should overlap the previous circle by 1/2 inch.) Use larger pieces of pineapple for the outer circles and smaller pieces as you work your way toward the center. If necessary, trim pieces to fit. You may not need all of the pineapple, but it’s better to use more rather than less, since it will shrink as it bakes.

Bake the tart, rotating the pan after 20 minutes, until the crust is light golden-brown, 30 to 35 minutes. If the edges brown too quickly, cover them with foil.

Meanwhile, combine the honey and rum in a small saucepan. Cook over medium-high heat until just slightly reduced, 1 to 2 minutes. Remove from the heat.

Brush half of the honey syrup over the pineapple topping, taking care not to move the pineapple slices. Continue to bake the tart until the crust is deep golden-brown, 5 to 15 minutes more.

Transfer the tart to a rack and brush a bit more syrup on the top (you may not use it all). If you have a blowtorch, fire up that baby and go to town! It’s ok if the tart looks liquidy in the center; it will thicken and firm up as it cools. Let cool completely and serve.

Strong suggestion: top with rum-spiked whipped cream and toasted coconut flakes. It's like a trip to the islands.

porchetta

2012-02-29T19:13:00.002-05:00

What have I been doing since December? A fine question. The depressingly boring answer is that I've been eating quick and healthy meals of quinoa, farro, and whole wheat grains (and then guiltily binging on take-out burgers on the weekends). Some people are uniquely blessed in their ability to take sexy pictures of grains. Not I.

So welcome me back with my unapologetically obscene re-entry into blogging - a crispy, crunchy, herb-perfumed, juicy porchetta. This was our Valentine's Day meal, which fit nicely into our annual tradition of cooking an ambitiously fatty meal as a demonstration of our love.

We were home in New Jersey a couple of weekends ago, and when Rob's mother asked if there was anything we needed at Fairway, I thought of the porchetta recipe I had lusted over for weeks, and blurted out, "A pork belly?" She brought home a 6-pound slab of gorgeous fat-streaked belly, which I cut in half for the porchetta (the other half sitting tight in my freezer for some lucky dinner party invitees in the future).

On another note, I've had more than one argument lately about the difference between pork belly and bacon. Pork belly is a cut of meat; bacon is pork belly that has been cured and smoked. They are not one and the same. People should know better than to get into a debate with me about pork and expect to win.

The inside of the belly is scored, and then seasoned aggressively with salt and a heady paste of toasted spices, garlic, and herbs. Feel free to adjust flavors; I might try some grated orange zest next time.

After tying it up neatly, it was wrapped in plastic wrap and sat in the fridge overnight. It was hard to say goodbye.

It cooked in a 300 degree oven for close to five hours. Being the nurturing mother I am, I bathed it in its own fat every half an hour on the dot. I even dragged a little stool over to the oven so I could watch it while reading my homework.

After a quick skin-blistering fifteen minutes in a 500 degree oven and another painful fifteen minutes of resting, it's time to slice.

I kept the sides simple - some garlicky mustard greens with vinegar, and potatoes roasted in pork fat are all you need. It was worth every minute of kneeling on the ground and staring into the oven.

porchetta recipe from Serious Eats

serves 12-15 (I halved the recipe, and it yielded seriously amazing leftovers)

1 whole boneless, rind-on pork belly, about 12 to 15 pounds

2 tablespoons whole black peppercorns

3 tablespoons whole fennel seed

1 tablespoon crushed red pepper

3 tablespoons finely chopped rosemary, sage, or thyme leaves

12 cloves garlic, grated on a microplane grater

Kosher salt

2 teaspoons baking powder

Toast the fennel seeds and black peppercorns in a small skillet over medium-high heat until aromatic, about 2 minutes. Transfer to a mortar and pestle or spice grinder grind until roughly ground. Add the microplaned garlic and the chopped herbs; mix to combine into a paste.

With the skin face down on a cutting board, take a sharp knife and score the flesh in diagonal lines. Turn the knife 90 degrees and repeat, creating a diamond pattern in the flesh.

Season the flesh liberally with salt and rub the spice mixture all over the flesh, pushing it into the crevices.

Roll up the belly into a tight log and place seam-side down at the top part of your cutting board. Cut 10 - 12 pieces of kitchen twine long enough to go around the pork and lay them vertically on the cutting board, about 1-inch apart. Lay the pork seam-side down across the twine, and tie them tightly, starting from the outermost strings and ending with the center. Cut off any excess string at the top.

Coat the skin with a liberal amount of salt and the 2 teaspoons of baking powder. Wrap the belly tightly in plastic wrap and let sit in the fridge for at least a couple of hours (preferably overnight).

Adjust the oven rack to the lower-middle position and preheat the oven to 300 degrees. Line a rimmed baking sheet with a wire rack and set the belly on top. Roast for around 4-5 hours, or until a knife inserted into the pork shows very little resistance (aside from the skin). Once the fat starts coming off, baste it every 30 minutes. Mine took surprisingly long to render its fat, so don't be alarmed - just check on it every 30 minutes anyway.

Increase the oven temperature to 500 degrees and roast an additional 10-15 minutes to blister the skin. Watch this process carefully; if your oven runs hot, it will burn quickly.

Tent with foil and allow it to rest for 15 minutes. Slice with a serrated knife into 1-inch slices and serve.

Leftovers make a killer sandwich. Sear slices in a hot skillet, and lay on top of warm ciabatta rolls with some mustard, hot peppers, and some greens.

rainbow cupcakes

2011-12-06T09:00:00.000-05:00

I'm here, guys! Drowning in federal income tax, but still here…

This wasn't meant to be a post (so excuse the crappy phone pictures) , but the finished product came out so surprisingly well that I had to share.

I've been babysitting a lovely girl named Emily for the past year and a half. In between flute lessons, drama practices, and homework, we guiltily indulge in salami, Tostitos, and Oreos (not all at once). She was my trusty assistant for that outrageous White Chocolate Oreo Peanut Butter, which she aptly named Parent Trap Peanut Butter. This past Friday was, very sadly, my last day with her. It was only fitting that we went out with a bang.

The most surprising thing about this cupcake is just how easy it is. All it requires is some organization, precision, and a familiarity with good ole' ROYGBIV.

I guess we should have reversed the order of the colors to actually recreate the order of the rainbow. Ah, the beauty of hindsight. And yes - orange is missing. This was very vexing to one of Emily's friends, who fiercely defended the color and almost boycotted the cupcakes altogether - that is, until we started eating them.

We were a little too ambitious and tried to make 12 cupcakes. Hence, some of the cupcakes turned out a little runty as we ran out of our batter towards the end. Emily called those "adult cupcakes" because adults are "always on a diet." She's a smart girl.

rainbow cupcakes
makes 8

1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
3/4 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon vinegar
food coloring
your choice of frosting

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees and prepare your cupcake pan with cupcake liners (or spray pan with cooking spray).
Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt; set aside.

Add 1/2 teaspoon vinegar to the milk and set aside for about 3-5 minutes.

In another bowl, add the 2 eggs and mix with handmixer. Pour in the sugar and continue to mix for a minute. Add vanilla extract and vegetable oil; mix to combine.

On low speed, add half of flour mixture, beat, then add half of milk mixture. Repeat until everything is combined and well mixed, scraping down the side of the bowl as necessary. The batter should be pretty thin.

Divide the batter as evenly as you can into 6 small bowls (or however many colors you want to make). Follow the instructions on the back of the food coloring box to make the colors you want.

After all your colors are mixed, put about a tablespoon of your first color (in our case, red, which will end up on the bottom) into the bottom of each of the cupcake molds. Then, take your next color and drop a tablespoon of that right on top of your first. You'd think the colors would mix, but they won't. Just try to drop the tablespoon in the center of each cup and let it spread out on its own.

Repeat with the following colors until all your batter is used up and each mold is 2/3 full of batter. Don't worry too much about proportion; just try your best to divide each color by 8, which is the number of cupcakes you will end up with.

Bake in the oven for 12-15 minutes, or until a toothpick in the center of the cupcake comes out clean. Let the cupcakes cool completely. To remove, run a knife around the edges and lift out.

Top with your favorite frosting.

thomas keller's buttermilk fried chicken

2011-11-16T13:14:00.001-05:00

I know that Thomas Keller's Fried Chicken from his Ad Hoc cookbook has been done to death all over the food blogosphere. But as I was looking through some of my old photos and reminiscing about times where I used to eat fried foods without abandon, I re-realized how friggin amazing this chicken is.

And I'm not just saying that because it's fried chicken. Well, to be honest, I can't recall a time that I've ever turned down a piece of fried chicken. I'll eat it from the grocery store, Pop Eye's, KFC; I might even get it from a gas station, if given the opportunity. (Don't we all have a trashy side?) Even so, my usually discerning palette can recognize that this particular fried chicken is something special. It doesn't just taste of grease and chicken skin (although there is certainly nothing wrong with that), but explodes with clean and discernible aromatic flavors with each crunchy, crispy, and seasoned bite. And it damn well better, what with the multi-ingredient brine that Keller demands.

12 bay leaves. For real.

I apologize for the lack of visual narrative. There are steps in between - letting the chicken sit in the brine overnight, dredging with seasoned flour, frying in batches - that just aren't that photographically appealing (plus I was trying to entertain guests while covered in flour and frying chicken in two huge vats of oil - not exactly a good opportunity for taking pictures).

I've often wondered if Keller's obsession with detail would make him an excellent serial killer, and have cursed his name to the culinary gods when, knee-deep in a middle of a recipe, I read: "Now, caramelize onions, stirring occasionally, for 5 hours."

As with all Thomas Keller recipes, buckle down, focus on the endgame, and hope for the best. This one is worth it.

buttermilk fried chicken

8 pieces of chicken

brine*

1/2 gallon water

1/2 cup kosher salt

1/8 cup honey

6 bay leaves

1/2 head of garlic, cut horizontally

1 tablespoon black peppercorns

1/4 of a bunch of thyme sprigs

1/4 of a bunch of flat leafed parsley sprigs

Grated zest and juice of 2 large lemons

coating

3 cups all purpose flour

2 tablespoons garlic powder

2 tablespoons onion powder

2 teaspoons cayenne pepper

2 cups buttermilk

vegetable oil, for frying

kosher salt

Thyme and flat leaf parsley for garnishing

Brine: Combine all the ingredients in a large pot, cover, and bring to a boil. Boil for 1 minute, stirring to dissolve the salt. Remove from the heat and cool completely before using.

Rinse the chickens and place the chickens in the cold brine and refrigerate overnight or for up to 12 hours. Remove the chicken from the brine, rinse and pat the chicken as dry as you can, removing any herbs or spices sticking to the skin. Let the chicken come to room temperature outside of the fridge for 1.5 to 2 hours. Do not skip

Frying: Drain the chickens and pat dry. Scrape off any herbs or peppercorns stuck to the skin and cut each bird into 8 pieces, keeping the breast meat on the bone.

In a large bowl, combine the flour, garlic powder, onion powder, cayenne and the remaining 2 teaspoons of salt. Put the buttermilk in a large, shallow bowl. Working with a few pieces at a time, dip the chicken in the buttermilk, then dredge in the flour mixture, pressing so it adheres all over. Transfer the chicken to a baking sheet lined with wax paper.

In a very large, deep skillet, heat 1 inch of vegetable oil to 330°. Fry the chicken in 2 or 3 batches over moderate heat, turning once, until golden and crunchy and an instant-read thermometer inserted in the thickest part of each piece registers 160°, about 20 minutes. Transfer the chicken to paper towels to drain, and keep warm in a low oven while you fry the remaining chicken pieces. Transfer the fried chicken to a platter, garnish with the herb sprigs and serve hot or at room temperature.

*I scaled down the original quantities of this recipe, but it still makes a lot of brine - you can double the amount of chicken if necessary.

plum frangipane tartlets

2011-11-09T10:00:00.000-05:00

Back in good ole' Jersey, there is a magical highway called Route 17. Do you need to get your oil changed, re-carpet your living room, and buy a puppy in one afternoon? Go to Route 17 - it's got everything you could ever possibly need in life in one, very unsightly, highly congested road.

Besides for the puppy store, my favorite place to frequent on 17 is an overwhelmingly large kitchen store called Chef Central. Sure, it's excessive and overpriced, and at any given time, there's always a clueless suburban housewife buying a $20 bamboo skimmer she could have bought at a Chinese market for $3. But it's also endlessly entertaining to skim the aisles and marvel at those unnecessarily specialized products, like a hard-boiled egg slicer. Back where I come from, they call those knives.

I was lucky enough to receive a Chef Central gift card a while ago, and spent the better part of a year thinking about perfecting my list of how I was going to spend it (I'm really weird about lists. I blame GoogleDocs). When it was time to put it into action, I was really good and stuck to the plan of buying practical things that I really needed: a pastry scraper, some cheesecloth, a new meat thermometer. But then, I got to the register and the impossible happened - I was under the gift card amount by $4. Unable to live with such a reality, I ran to the aisle of pretty things I had avoided, and grabbed two shiny tartlet molds with removable bottoms that made me swoon. (And yes, they cost more than $4. Paying out of your pocket is better than leaving a minuscule amount on a gift card, am I right?) Since then, I've obviously used these more than anything else I got that day. These plum frangipane tartlets were my first attempt, and I have to say - I did really good, guys. Top-accomplishments-of-2011-good.

First step - the pastry crust, or if you want to sound extra fancy, the pâte brisée. I've made crust a couple of times, but generally I avoid making it for a really silly reason: I just hate seeing in person all the butter that goes in there. Like, this much butter...

But I got over it this time, and I don't think I will ever go back. The difference is really unbelievable (although I will still always have a frozen Trader Joes crust in the freezer for emergencies). The secret, I think, is the coldness of all the ingredients.

This recipe makes enough dough for a large tart, but since I was only making two mini tartlets, I wrapped half of it tightly in plastic wrap and froze it for another time (which turned out to be only two days later. So long, diet).

After rolling out the dough, I placed it carefully over the mold, and really took care not to stretch it out at any point, especially when pushing it gently against the sides. If you stretch out the dough, the crust will experience shrinkage...and no one likes shrinkage.

My favorite part was pushing the rolling pin over the top of dough-draped mold, which perforates the edges perfectly against the dainty scalloped edges.

Pre-baking ensures a crisp, flaky crust with structural integrity to counterbalance the moist stickiness of the frangipane filling. Using a fork, I pricked the bottom of the crusts, lined them with parchment paper, and filled them with rice (dried beans will work too).

I fall head over heels for anything involving almonds. This frangipane isn't as custardy as other ones I've tried, but it is amazing in its own right. Dense, sweet, and intensely nutty, it was a perfect bed for the slices of tart plum.

It's hard to imagine a fruit tart looking any prettier than it does once it comes out of the oven, but taking the extra step to glaze the top does just that. Most recipes call for some warmed up apricot jam, but I didn't have that on hand. What I did have was an extra plum, which I grated in a small saucepan with some water and sugar to make a quick syrup.

I'm not what most people would consider a lady of elegance and grace. But hot damn, did I feel like one when I pulled this one out. Talk about an absolute showstopper - and all thanks to a leftover $4.

plum frangipane tartlets

makes two 4½ inch tartlets (double the recipe for a full tart)

pâte brisée crust

1 ¼ cups all-purpose flour

3 tablespoons sugar

½ teaspoon kosher salt

6 tablespoons (¾ stick) cold unsalted butter, diced

2 tablespoons shortening

¼ cup ice water

frangipane filling

½ cup almonds, roughly chopped

3 tablespoons butter

8 teaspoons sugar

1 egg

glaze

1 plum

2 teaspoons sugar

1/2 cup water

(or use apricot jam)

1 medium to large ripe plum

Crust: Combine the flour, sugar, and salt in a small bowl and place in the freezer for 30 minutes. Put diced butter and shortening in a separate bowl, and freeze as well. After 30 minutes, put the flour mixture in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Add the butter and shortening and pulse about 10 times, or until the butter is in the size of peas. Add the ice water slowly through the top of the processor and process until the dough comes together. Dump on a well-floured board and form into a disk. Wrap in plastic and chill for at least 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 375F. Roll out the dough and fit into greased tart pans with removable sides. Don't stretch the dough when placing it in the pans or it will shrink during baking. Cut off the excess by rolling the pin across the top of each pan. Prick the bottom of the crusts with a fork. Line the tart shells with a piece of parchment paper, and fill them with dried beans or rice. Bake for 7 minutes, remove the weights and paper, then bake naked for another 4 minutes.

Frangipane: While the crusts are cooling, combine the almonds, the butter, and sugar in the food processor until the almonds are finely ground. Add the egg, and process until it becomes a paste.

Halve the plum and remove the pit. Slice into very thin wedges.

Spoon the frangipane evenly between the two tart shells, and arrange plum on top in a spiral shape. Bake at 375F for 30-35, or until the top is golden brown.

Glaze: If making plum glaze, combine grated plum, water, and sugar in a small saucepan. Bring to boil, then reduce heat and let it reduce. Taste and add more sugar if necessary (depending on the sweetness of your plum). If using apricot jam, warm a little in a saucepan or microwave.

When tarts come out of the oven, brush the fruit with the glaze. Let them cool to room temperature, and serve. Of course, some fresh whipped cream would be absolutely lovely, but I simply couldn't wait.

korean bulgogi sloppy joes

2011-11-06T22:29:00.001-05:00

Every time I hear the word "fusion", I die a little inside. It's one of the most carelessly overused words in the culinary world, and unfortunately, this label often gets slapped onto forced, gimmicky food that almost never rises above mediocrity. It's such a shame, really, because I love the idea of mixing unexpected cultural ingredients and flavors together in a way that is familiar, bold, and surprising at the same time. Some execute the concept in amazing and revelatory ways, like David Chang of the Momofukus, without attempting to sum up their food in one neat, overly simplistic word. Let's just stop using the word as a trend, and embrace it as the wonderful concept that it is.

We can start with these seriously delicious Korean sloppy joes.

Paper-thin slices of beef, julienned carrots and onions sit overnight in a salty sweet marinade that smelled so good on its own that I literally had to hold myself back from drinking it. I'm sorry, I'm a little gross.

Aside from the time it takes to prep the marinade, this is a pretty quick meal to pull together. A brief sear in a large grill or sauté pan is all it takes to brown the beef, and the sugar from the pear and mirin caramelizes in the pan to make a savory syrup that coats every strip.

I know I just talked a lot of good game about the beef, but the scallion salsa, spicy mayo, and cilantro each contribute to make this sandwich something really special and nuanced. The original recipe didn't call for the cilantro, but I'm one of those lucky ones who thinks it makes everything better. If you're with me, don't omit it - it lends that powerful herbal punch that rounds out the deeply savory flavors of the other components.

Hamburger buns would do just fine, but I upped my game and picked up some fluffy Portuguese rolls. They had the perfect combination of crispness and airiness when toasted on both sides.

Like their namesake, these sloppy joes dripped down our fingers and got all over our faces. We didn't speak until we had each finished our share, when we guiltily looked at each other and asked almost simultaneously: "Want another one?"

korean bulgogi sloppy joes adapted from the New York Times

serves 6

1 cup soy sauce

2 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon garlic, peeled and grated

1 tablespoon sesame oil

3 tablespoon sake (I didn't use this and it turned out fine)

2 tablespoon mirin

1 asian pear, peeled, cored and puréed in a food processor

1 small carrot, peeled and sliced Into julienne

1 medium white onion, peeled and sliced thinly

½ cup apple juice

2 pounds sirloin steak or brisket, chilled in the freezer

for the spicy mayonnaise:

1 cup mayonnaise

1 tablespoon soy sauce

3 tablespoons sriracha

for the scallion salsa:

½ cup soy sauce

2 tablespoons water

¼ cup sugar

2 tablespoons gochugaru (korean red-pepper flakes, which I didn't have. I used normal red chili flakes)

2 tablespoons grape seed oil (or another neutral oil)

2 tablespoons sesame oil

3 tablespoons rice vinegar

2 tablespoons mirin

1 tablespoon sesame seeds

2 bunches scallions, sliced on the bias

6 soft hamburger buns or rolls

cilantro to taste (optional)

Take the beef out of the freezer and cut it as thin as you possibly can. This can be painstaking if your beef isn't properly chilled, so if you're having trouble, pop it back in the freezer and try again later.

In a large, nonreactive bowl, combine the soy sauce, sugar, garlic, sesame oil, sake, mirin, pear, carrot, onion and apple juice. Add the sliced brisket, stir to combine, cover tightly and place in the refrigerator overnight or for at least six hours.

In a small, nonreactive bowl, combine the mayonnaise, soy sauce and hot chili sauce and stir to combine. Taste and adjust flavors, then cover and store in the refrigerator until ready to use.

When you are ready to make the sandwiches, set one very large sauté pan (or two large ones) over high heat. Using tongs, lift meat from marinade in batches, allow to drain well, then cook, turning occasionally until the excess liquid has evaporated and the edges of the beef have started to crisp.

Meanwhile, combine all the ingredients for the salsa except for the scallions, then stir to combine.

Toast the buns under the broiler until golden. Spread a good-sized dollop of the spicy mayonnaise on both the top and bottom of the buns, and using tongs, cover one side of each set of buns with bulgogi. Add a large pinch of scallions on top of each burger and drizzle with the dressing. If using cilantro, add a couple of leaves and stems on top.

healthy pumpkin muffins

2011-10-25T02:01:00.001-04:00

I've never been a "holiday spirit" kind of person. Growing up, my family never made an occasion of anything; each year, I heard my friends talk about decorating sugar cookies, baking pies, dying easter eggs, and setting off fireworks. I think it was childish jealousy directed at all that unbridled holiday joy over the years that has faded into general indifference. I guess that makes me kind of a humbug.

But all that has changed, because this last weekend, after a quarter of a century of existence, I finally carved my first pumpkin for the First Annual Freehand Jen and Rob Pumpkin Carving Competition.

Drum roll, please, for my entry...

I know. It's awesome. You can say it. Does it maybe play into some stereotypes? Sure. I'm Asian and I have a soft spot for Hello Kitty. Some stereotypes are just plain true.

And now for my worthy competitor's entry:

Are you slightly confused? For clarification, refer to the following picture for a glimpse into the artist's "inspiration."

A fine effort, for sure, but not really quite there, I'm afraid. After this crushing defeat, Rob has vowed to come back with a vengeance next year. Until then, we will also be going head-to-head in Thanksgiving pies, Christmas cookies, and Hanukah latkes.

I'm sure the rest of you veteran pumpkin-carvers know how unbelievably messy the whole process is. After four hours of intense concentration, I was covered in stringy goop and and could not escape the overwhelming smell of pumpkin. You'd think that this would deter me from pursuing all things orange for awhile, but instead, I am a woman possessed.

First up: pumpkin muffins. I used mostly whole wheat flour, and cut down on the usual amount of sugar, although you can add more if you prefer a sweeter treat. I think they're perfect for breakfast with a cup of tea, especially on mornings where the fall chill in the air makes getting out of bed a bit harder than usual.

healthy pumpkin muffins

makes 12 muffins

1 ½ cups canned pumpkin puree

⅓ cup vegetable oil

2 large eggs

2½ teaspoons pumpkin pie spice*

½ cup brown sugar

½ tsp baking soda

1 tablespoon honey

½ tsp salt

½ cup all-purpose flour

1 cup whole wheat flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

Preheat oven to 350 F. Line cupcake pan with baking cups or parchment paper. (Cut squares of parchment paper and press into cups.)

Mix together pumpkin, oil, eggs, pumpkin-pie spice, sugar, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl until smooth and homogenous.

Stir together the flours and baking powder.

Add dry ingredients to the pumpkin mixture. Mix until just combined.

Pour batter into each muffin cup, filling each to about ¾ full.

Bake for about 18-20 minutes, or until muffins are puffed and golden brown. When muffins are done, a wooden toothpick inserted into the center of the muffin should come out clean.

*Note: if you don't have pumpkin spice, make your own!

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

linguine with garlic butter roasted mushrooms

2011-10-22T18:29:00.000-04:00

I think it's really such a shame when I hear that someone doesn't like mushrooms. As with all other food dislikes, my theory is that mushroom-haters have had the misfortune of having a badly prepared version; those pale canned mushrooms on top of a bad takeout pizza can traumatize just about anyone. But when they're done right, mushrooms somehow are both deeply complex and humbly simple at the same time. I just can't wrap my head around what there is to not like.

In this quick pasta dish, their heady aroma is easily coaxed out through the addition some of my favorite ingredients - garlic, butter, capers, lemon, and parsley.

I can't really pick a favorite mushroom; that would be like picking my favorite cut of pork, or Beatles song. Different occasions call for different types; this time, I chose a mixture of white buttons and creminis, who both have the structural integrity to stand up to a good roasting.

When have chunks of butter ever led to a bad thing?

Pre and post the oven. You know you've done right when your mushrooms have darkened and shrunk, concentrating in flavor, and your butter has melted to make a sauce worth drinking with a spoon. But don't. We'll need it for the pasta.

Brightened with that fresh zing of lemon and parsley, briny with the little bursts from the capers, and perfumed with the intoxicating combination of garlicky butter, these mushrooms can make a convert out of anyone.

linguine with garlic butter roasted mushrooms adapted from Gourmet.com

serves 2

1 pound of cremini or white mushrooms (or a combination), halved lengthwise or quartered if large

2 tablespoons capers, chopped

3 large garlic cloves, minced

2 tablespoons olive oil

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces

2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice

1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley

1/2 pound of linguine, regular or whole-wheat

Get a pot of water on boil.

Preheat oven to 450F with rack in the middle. Toss mushrooms with capers, garlic, oil, 1/8 teaspoons salt, and several grinds of black pepper in a shallow baking dish. The mushrooms should fit in the dish in one layer with some space in between; crowding the pan too much will result in boiling/steaming as opposed to roasting. Top with butter and roast, stirring occasionally, until the mushrooms are tender and darkened, 15-20 minutes.

While mushrooms are roasting, boil your pasta according to directions. Drain pasta and return to pot.

When mushrooms are done, stir in lemon juice and parsley. Add to the pasta in pasta top, and toss to coat. Serve immediately.

raw carrot cake bars

2011-10-10T02:00:00.002-04:00

I've always wished that I were one of those girls that just loved carrots. You know the type I'm talking about - they're perpetually pulling Ziplocs full of them out of their purses and munching on them with glee while I lick burger grease off my fingers. Carrot cake, however, and all variations thereof is something I wholeheartedly endorse. Unfortunately, eating a slice of cake doesn't quite have the same effect on the body as a handful of carrot sticks. Enter this amazing raw version, which hit all the familiar warming flavor notes of a carrot cake without the cloying sweetness that weighs you down.

By the way, my increasing willingness to try recipes that have the words vegetarian, vegan, or raw associated with them has surprised me more than anyone else. To all the skeptics out there: whatever is holding you back - an undying love for meat, a distaste for salads, contempt for snobby hipsters - I've been there too. Making one raw recipe every once in a while does not make you a raw foodist. It just means that you are open to trying new things, with the added benefit of maybe losing a pound or two.

If I've just convinced you to give a raw recipe a go, try this one first. I made it only a couple of hours ago, and couldn't wait to share the wealth.

These misshapen carrots at the farmer's market were rustic-looking, but tender and sweet.

Convinced yet?

The cashew icing is tangy, creamy, and plays the perfect counterpart to the moist, spiced cake, which in itself is a wonderful interplay of textures. This recipe makes only eight little squares, which should last me until...2 hours from now. Go ahead and double the recipe to prolong the joy.

raw carrot cake bars recipe adapted from ZOMTBAKES

cake

3 small to medium sized carrots (to yield 1.5 cups once processed)

1 date, chopped roughly

2 tbsp maple syrup (or agave/honey)
1/2 cup whole raw walnuts

2 tablespoons rolled oats

1/2 cup dried coconut flakes

1 tsp cinnamon, ground

1/2 tsp allspice, ground

1/2 tsp ginger, ground

icing

1/2 cup raw whole cashews

1 tbsp honey

2 tbsp lemon juice

1/2 tsp vanilla essence

water (to drizzle into icing for consistency)

1 tablespoon coconut oil (optional)

Cake: Pulse the carrots in a food processor until finely chopped. Remove and set aside. Process walnuts, coconut, oats, and spices until finely chopped. Add the date and maple syrup/agave/honey and process until combined. (You may have to scrape the sides to make sure everything gets processed to the same consistency.) Add 1 cup of the chopped carrots (keeping aside 1/2 cup) and continue to process until the contents pull away from the side of the processor and a dough is formed. Remove from processor and mix in remaining 1/2 cup of chopped carrots.Press the cake dough into a parchment paper lined loaf pan.* Preheat your oven to 170, crack the oven door open, and dry out the cake for an hour.** Cool the cake in the fridge for another hour.

Icing: Clean the food processor and add the cashew nuts, vanilla, honey and lemon juice and process (scraping down sides as neccessary,) until it is smooth (may take a minute or two). Drizzle in water until you get a smooth icing consistency (could be anywhere from 3-6 tablespoons). If you have coconut oil on hand, add a tablespoon to get a glossy sheen and a subtle coconut scent.

Assembly: Lift out the parchment paper and smooth the icing over the cake. Garnish with some fresh lemon zest, coconut flakes, and walnut pieces. Cut into squares and

*If you doubled the recipe, use a square brownie pan.

**If your oven doesn't go to 170, preheat it to the lowest temperature it goes, turn it off, and put the cake in it with the door open. This sounds fussy, but just remember that you're not trying to bake the cake; the goal is to extract moisture to achieve a more cake-like texture. If the cake pan is too hot to touch while it's in the oven, it is too hot; open the oven more to cool it down.

guest post: smoked haddock chowder

2011-10-07T18:30:00.001-04:00

It took me two years to muster up the courage to start this blog. With so many beautifully executed websites out there, I couldn't help but continuously ask myself a series of discouraging questions: Who will read it? How am I unique? What could I possibly have to offer? With Rob's persistent encouragement, I registered a domain name, took pictures of what I was already planning to cook that night, and started it up. And I've realized since that even if not a single person reads what I put out, it is still worthwhile because it simply makes me happier.

This is all a long-winded way to say this: if you're thinking of starting a blog, do it. The world of food is big enough for us all.

I had no idea that my dear British friend Alex was into food until I started noticing the pictures he would post of his dinners. He is thinking of starting his own blog, so I wanted to give him a head start by having him write a guest post here. What he sent me was amazing, complete with drool-worthy pictures and wonderful descriptions. I anxiously await his blog, and will update you all when he gets it up and running. Without further ado, here is Alex's gorgeous smoked haddock chowder...

__________________________________________________________________________

A typical English summer is a lot like playing a game of Operation. There is a loud timer ticking away, but you really have no way of judging when all the fun will come to a sudden and abrupt end. Living in northern England has taught me that you have to squeeze as much out of these rare sunshine filled months as possible. But with so much pressure put on enjoying yourself, the whole experience can end up being quite stressful. As you watch the weeks of sunshine slowly tick by, you begin to panic and worry that you haven’t accomplished all of the summer weather activities you swore you were going to do this year. As a result, much like with any board game, you resort to trying to cheat the system. You try and add more time to the clock and extend the summer as much as possible. If you continue to act like it is the summer, surely the sunshine will stick around…

Last year, well into the middle of October, you would have found me outside, stretched out on a deckchair, shivering away in the drizzling rain, stubbornly clutching an ice cold beer.

This year, rather than risking catching some sort of hypothermic-related illness, I decided it was time to throw on another layer of clothing and to start embracing the changing seasons. What better way to celebrate the end of a sunshine filled summer and the beginning of a crisp red and golden coloured autumn than by putting together a brilliantly flavourful and warming chowder packed with chunks of smoked haddock, potatoes, corn and shrimp.

If you end up purchasing a piece of smoked haddock that still has the skin on, it is best to take the skin off before you start working on the rest of the chowder. This can be slightly fiddly and I promise that you will smell like fish for the next few days. With the skin side of the fish facing down, begin by separating the skin and the fish using a sharp knife. When there is enough skin to hold onto, get a good grip and pull it taut. Continue to slide the knife between the skin and fish while pulling on the fish skin with your non knife hand.

smoked haddock chowder recipe from Recipe Rifle

serves 4

300g smoked haddock – ideally pin-boned and with the skin off

4 slices of bacon

2 mild chillies (optional – definitely can add a nice kick to the chowder though)

4 scallions

200g waxy potatoes – chopped into 2cm chunks

4 corn on the cob – or 1 large can of sweet corn

200g peeled cooked shrimp

3 bay leaves

1 sprig of thyme

1.5 pints of chicken stock

150ml single cream (no harm in adding more if you want creamier chowder)

Chop all of the bacon up (a good pair of kitchen scissors does this job brilliantly). Start the bacon off in the saucepan with a good lug of olive oil over a medium heat. Finely slice the spring onions and chillies (if using) and add to the pan. While keeping an eye on the pan and stirring often, chop the potatoes up into 2cm chunks. Add these into the saucepan and give it all a good mix.

If you are using corn on the cob (I like your style), place a tea towel on the cutting board with the edges of the towel ruffled up. Slice off one end of the cob cleanly so you have a solid base to rest on the cutting board. While holding the cob upright on the board, gently work the knife down the edge of the cob to the base. The tea towel should be collecting the kernels as they are cut off. Repeat this process with the rest of the cobs. Then tip all of the kernels from the tea towel into the saucepan.

If you have taken the easy way out and used corn from the tin, open and pour the contents from the tin into the pot. Have a small giggle at the thought of someone else going through the effort of using actual corn on the cob. Then feel slightly ashamed for mocking someone who is putting the extra effort in. So rude. Honestly.

Give everything a good stir. Place the haddock on top of everything in the pan. Throw in the bay leaves and thyme. Then pour all of the chicken stock over everything. Cover the saucepan with a lid and cook for 12 minutes over a medium flame. Stir occasionally.

After 12 minutes, add all of the single cream and the peeled shrimp to the chowder. Give it all another good stir. If you bought a chunky bread loaf to go with the chowder, put the bread into the oven for the last 10-15 minutes to heat it up. With the lid back on the saucepan, cook for another 5-10 minutes on a low heat.

The chowder is ready to serve or you can use a potato masher to mash everything up together. I tend to mash half of the contents up and mix everything together to give the chowder some great texture.

*Isn't he cute, with all his silly British measurements? Here's a grams to ounces conversion website.

almond flour chocolate chip cookies

2011-09-26T16:56:00.000-04:00

If I ever go missing for a couple of hours, don't call the authorities. You're likely to find me in the kitchen with crazed eyes, covered in flour, and mumbling something about cookies. I'm trying to cut down on the habit, but the longer I stand in the kitchen, the more time I have to evaluate the ingredients I have on hand and to unexpectedly make desserts under the principle of "needing to use up that butter!".

Well, this time it was almond flour lovingly made from leftover almond pulp, and the only natural thing to envision when faced with a surplus of such an ingredient is a chocolate chip cookie.

A glass of cold vanilla almond milk with a warm chocolate chip cookie. I should go missing more often.

almond flour chocolate chip cookies recipe from The Bojon Gourmet

makes 1 1/2 dozen 2" cookies

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled

3/4 cup brown sugar

1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

3/4 cup whole wheat flour

1/3 cup almond flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

3/4 cup chocolate chips (semisweet or dark)

Position racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven and preheat to 325º. Line 2 cookie sheets with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flours, salt and baking soda. In a large bowl, whisk together the butter, sugar, egg and vanilla to combine. Gently stir the wets into the dries until almost combined, then fold in the chips to combine.

Scoop the cookies into 1" balls (I use the purple-handled ice cream scoop) and space 2" apart on the lined cookie sheets. Bake for about 12 minutes, rotating once, until puffed all over and just set around the edges. Let cool, then use a thin metal spatula to remove from the sheet.

These stay moist for several days after baking, stored in an airtight container.

almond milk

2011-09-24T13:03:00.000-04:00

Milk and I - we have a weird relationship. This is how the vicious cycle usually goes: I buy it for a specific purpose, such as this mac and cheese. Maybe a couple days later, I'll have a craving for Indian food, so I'll get to making some homemade paneer. And then, if there's enough left to fill a glass, I just have to make brownies and/or cookies because, I mean, what else is a glass of milk good for? Basically, milk makes me do terrible terrible things to my thighs.

But almond milk...almond milk is different. I would never devise ways to create something sinful from it; it's too pure and wholesome. Almond milk was going to help me break the cycle.

Wrong. After I made the milk, I turned the leftover almond pulp into almond flour, and guess what that went into? Cookies. Turns out almond milk goes really well with cookies too.

You might be thinking, "Why wouldn't you just buy one of those boxes of almond milk at the store? Who in their right mind suddenly decides to make something like that? Go back to cooking pork."

Store-bought almond milk isn't bad, but I always found the original flavor bland, and the vanilla flavor artificial. When I saw recipes popping up for the homemade stuff, I was lured by my undying love for almonds and gave it a try. I'm really glad I did.

With seriously minimal effort, I ended up with two mason jars full of creamy, nutritious, and delicious almond milk. I sweetened one batch with a squeeze of honey and a hint of vanilla extract, which I drink after dinner as a refreshing dessert (and chased by an almond flour chocolate chip cookie).

almond milk

makes about 4 cups

1 cup almonds

honey or maple syrup (optional)

vanilla (optional)

Soak almonds in cold water for at least 24 hours in the fridge. Drain almonds and put in the blender with 4 cups of water. Blend until almonds are completely ground (may take a minute or two, depending on the strength of your blender). Pour the mixture, which will be frothy, into a pitcher lined with a nut bag (which I don't have because honestly, who has a nut bag?! I bought a pair of pantyhose, and cut off one legs. Worked great.). Squeeze the pulp until it has exuded all its liquid. Save the pulp for almond flour (below). If you so desire, sweeten with honey or maple syrup and vanilla to taste.

almond flour

Preheat oven to the lowest temperature. Spread almond pulp on a sheet pan and bake until completely dry and sandy in texture (about 2-3 hours). Blend in the food processor until the particles are very fine, and then sift into a container.

kind of healthy mac and cheese

2011-09-21T09:00:00.000-04:00

It seems that the more I commit myself to this mostly vegetarian lifestyle, the more I indiscriminately crave cheese in all its forms. After loading up my shopping cart with mounds of leafy greens and apples, I linger in the cheese section, picking up every chunk and holding it up to my nose for a deep sniff of nuttiness, fruitiness, or just plain funk. Then, I dream up ways that I can incorporate the cheese into my new hippie-dippie lifestyle - perhaps a salad with grilled vegetables and goat cheese, or an open-faced portobello sandwich with melted Gruyere? And finally, when I'm alone at home, I hold myself back from filling a casserole dish with nothing but handfuls of cheese that will melt, blister, and crisp at the edges, begging to be scraped out with a spoon.

This mac and cheese meets me somewhere in the middle. Is it a winning combination of cheese and pasta? You bet. It certainly isn't one of those cauliflower fake-outs, which inevitably leaves me sad and unfulfilled. Instead of being a nutritional black hole, this mac and cheese redeems itself with the healthy addition of butternut squash instead of a traditional butter-and-flour-laden béchamel. The squash lends a slightly sweet, vegetal quality that offsets the richness of the cheese; with a sprinkling of fresh parsley, a plate of this mac and cheese tastes almost light.

A not-to-be-understimated bonus of using butternut squash is its vibrant color; it's almost embarrassing how mentally comforting it is to eat mac and cheese that shockingly yellow.

kind of healthy mac and cheese recipe from Cooking Light

serves 8

3 cups cubed peeled butternut squash (about 1 1-pound squash)

1 1/4 cups chicken broth

1 1/2 cups fat-free milk

2 garlic cloves

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoons fat-free Greek yogurt

1 1/4 cups shredded Gruyère cheese*

1 cup grated Pecorino Romano cheese*

1/4 cup finely grated fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

1 pound uncooked pasta (I used whole-wheat elbows)

Cooking spray

1 teaspoon olive oil

1/2 cup panko bread crumbs

fresh parsley for garnish

Combine squash, broth, milk, and garlic in a medium pot; bring to boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat to medium, and simmer until squash is tender when pierced with a fork, about 25 minutes.

Pour milk and squash mixture into a blender. Add salt, pepper, and Greek yogurt. VERY IMPORTANT: secure the blender lid on the blender, but remove the center plastic piece of the blender lid. This allows steam to escape; if you don't do this, your blender will explode, spewing very hot (but delicious) liquid all over you and your walls. Place a clean towel over the blender lid, and blend until smooth. Pour the mixture into a large bowl and stir in the Gruyère, Pecorino Romano, and 2 tablespoons of the Parm. Stir until the cheese has melted.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Cook pasta for 2 minutes less than the package directions. Drain well, and then add it to the squash mixture, stirring to combine. Coat a baking dish with cooking spray, and spread mixture evenly into it.

Heat olive oil in a medium pan over medium heat. Add panko, and cook, tossing occasionally, until golden brown. Remove from heat and stir in remaining 2 tablespoons of Parm. Sprinkle evenly over the pasta, and lightly coat the top with cooking spray.

Bake for about 25 minutes. Sprinkle with parsley and take to the face.

* Use whatever cheese in whatever proportions you like or have on hand - just don't skimp on it!

raspberry cashew "cheesecake"

2011-09-16T16:19:00.000-04:00

I've been really proud of myself lately. I bought myself a nifty little juicer (which is, apparently, an excellent way to entertain drunk house guests) and drink a green foamy concoction every morning. I've been eating all-vegetable meals five days out of the week, albeit often smothered in cheese. I haven't exactly been exercising, but I do have to carry a lot of books up a little hill every morning to get to class.

To ensure that this isn't just a phase, I have sought inspiration from a number of beautiful and enlightening blogs; some are raw-food based, some are vegan, some are vegetarian, and some just health-conscious. A particularly lovely blog, My New Roots, featured a cake that looked so breathtaking, it...well, it took my breath away. And after recreating it, with a few minor changes, I will attest with breathless exhilaration that it tastes as good as it looks.

"Cheesecake" is in quotations because it really isn't one, in the traditional sense of the word. This cake contains not one ounce of cream cheese, not one egg, nor one scoop of sugar. Does it taste like cheesecake? Not exactly. But it is delicious in its own right, with a familiar silkiness and tang that makes it taste both light and decadent at the same time. The ingredient list is refreshingly short, and it's seriously hard to mess this one up. Apologies for my failure to take pictures of the process; it was so easy that I literally forgot, since putting it together only involves a couple of whizzes in your trusty food processor/blender and a stint in the freezer.

You could use whatever fruit you'd like to flavor the top layer (my next goal: green tea!), or even make additional layers to really impress the pants off of everybody.

raspberry cashew "cheesecake" recipe adapted from the amazing My New Roots*

crust:

1 1/2 cups cookie crumbs, pulverized in a food processor (I used crispy oatmeal cookies)

1 tablespoon butter, melted

1 tablespoon coconut oil, melted**

filling:

1 1/2 cups raw cashews, soaked in water for at least 5 hours, but preferably overnight

juice of 2 lemons (or more for texture)

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1/3 cup honey

1/3 cup coconut oil

1 cup raspberries (if frozen, thaw completely and drain)

In a bowl, mix your cookie crumbs with the butter and coconut oil until it resembles damp sand. Depending on what cookie you use, add a pinch of salt to taste. Press into a 7" spring form pan, making sure it is relatively even throughout and covers the bottom completely. By the way, my spring form pan is 9", which is why my cake is flatter and a bit sadder than the original. Next time, I will try increasing the amount of filling so I can get that height. (If you don't have a spring form pan, line a pie plate with saran wrap.) Chill in the refrigerator while making the filling.

Warm the coconut oil and honey in a small saucepan over low heat, whisking to combine.

Drain the cashews, and blend them in the food processor/blender with all of the filling ingredients except for the raspberries. Blend until very smooth - it may take a couple of minutes, so be patient and scrape down the sides periodically. If the filing looks too thick to pour, add a little more lemon juice.

Pour about 2/3 of the mixture on top of the crust, smoothing with a spatula and tapping the pan on the counter to ensure that it forms an even layer. Add the raspberries to the rest of the filling and blend until smooth. Pour it over the first layer, and smooth the top with a spatula. Freeze until solid.

Take out of the freezer 30 minutes before serving. Run a sharp knife under hot water and cut into slices.

*The original recipe was entirely raw, but I changed the crust a little to ease myself into the idea of a healthy cheesecake.

**You can find coconut oil at Whole Foods and other specialty stores. It's a little pricey, but can also be used as a healthy alternative to other oils. I've been using it for stir-fries. And it really smells like coconut!

baked eggplant parm + excuses

2011-09-12T09:00:00.000-04:00

I have a mouth full of excuses. The gloriousness of New York, a full-time job, an apartment without a kitchen, a broken computer, and a three-week backpacking trip to Asia does not a good blogger make. I'm sorry. Really, I mean it.

If it makes you feel better, I'm now back in Boston and starting my final year of school. And no offense to everyone who loves Boston and law school, but those two things in combination usually leads to one thing: losing myself in food, recipes, and cooking to distract myself from misery. My stress is your gain!

One more minor, administrative, trivial matter. I've started eating...healthier. I know what I named my blog. I know that the last 3 posts have been pork saturated/deep-fried. I still love (and crave) pate, cheeseburgers, bacon egg and cheeses, and pancetta. But my jeans are begging me to exercise some moderation, and I've made a resolution to myself to make some changes.

So what's healthier than breaded eggplant baked with cheese?? Baby steps.

baked eggplant parm recipe from good ole' Martha

serves 4

1 large eggplant

1 cup shredded low-fat mozzarella

3/4 cup Italian bread crumbs

1 egg

handful of parm

sauce: (you can also use your favorite store-bought sauce)

1 onion, diced

1 garlic clove, minced

1 can whole tomatoes

dried herbs (thyme, oregano, parsley)

red pepper flakes

brown sugar (optional)

Sauce: heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Sautee the onions and garlic, stirring frequently, until they are fragrant and translucent. Add a sprinkling of red pepper flakes, and whatever dried herbs you have on hand. Crush the tomatoes with your hands into the pan (wear an apron for this - I have splattered tomato pulp onto my face and clothes every single time without fail). Simmer for 30-40 minutes until thickened, stirring occasionally. Sometimes I find tomato sauces to have an acidic tinny quality; a sprinkling of brown sugar dissolved into the sauce usually does the trick.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Spray the bottom of a baking sheet with oil. Whisk the egg and a splash of water in a wide shallow bowl, and season with salt and pepper. Fill another wide shallow bowl with the breadcrumbs. Cut the eggplant into 1/2-inch slice rounds. Dip each round into the egg mixture, letting excess drip off, dredge in the breadcrumbs; place on baking sheet. Spray the top of all the eggplant slices with oil before baking them. Bake for 25 minutes; turn all slices and bake another 25 minutes. Remove eggplant from oven and raise temperature to 400 degrees.

Get to layering! The number of layers you have may depend on your eggplant parm vessel. I used a circular casserole pan, which gave me a lovely three. Just remember the pattern: sauce first in the bottom of the pan, layer of eggplant, sauce, cheese, eggplant, sauce, cheese. Sprinkle your top layer of mozzarella with a dusting of parm.

Bake until the cheese gets those amazing brown spots and the sauce is bubbling, about 20 minutes. Let stand 5 minutes before serving.

orange and cardamom sugar donut holes

2011-06-13T21:38:00.002-04:00

It occurred to me that some people eat other things besides for pulled pork. To each his own, I suppose. More recipes involving the leftovers from the pork shoulder are coming, but let's break things up with something deep-fried.

There is something so comforting about canned biscuits. It's not that they bring back nostalgic memories of the dinner table; Chinese families don't serve fluffy buttery biscuits with a dinner of braised sea cucumber and tofu. It's that soothing knowledge that the can, once popped, yields compressed contents that bake into large puffy carbs in no time at all. And as if that weren't white-trash enough, I recently discovered that deep-frying pre-made biscuit dough yields a poor man's donut hole.

Ditch your expectations of those familiar yeasty, saccharine sweet confections painted with multi-colored glazes and sprinkles. Krispy Kreme donuts these are not. But on this particular night, they perfectly filled the deep gaping void in my life caused by law school finals.

I love the perfume and fragrance of cardamom, and I needed its exotic spice to make me feel better about buying a Pillsbury product.

Sugar scented with the cardamom and orange zest, ready and waiting for hot fried dough.

Against all recommendations, I did this without a deep-fry thermometer (I buy three a year, and then promptly melt them by using them improperly). May I suggest from the bottom of my heart - do not do this. I burned eight donuts before I perfected the temperature. Be a big spender and buy one for $4 the next time you're at the grocery store for, let's say, canned biscuits.

Out of the hot oil and into the scented sugar...

If greed-caused injuries reveal anything about food, I burned the hell out of my mouth after hastily taking a bite, as well as my fingers while taking this shot.

Let your imagination run wild - roll them in cinnamon sugar, coat them with a dark chocolate glaze, stuff them with an almond cream, or recreate your favorite Krispy Kreme and bathe them in rainbow sprinkles.

orange cardamom sugar donut holes

makes 32 donuts

1 can of store-bought biscuits (8 biscuits to a can)

2 cups sugar

3 cardamom pods, ground

zest of one orange

vegetable oil

Mix cardamom and most of the orange zest, saving some for garnish, in a shallow pan or plate.

Place oil in a deep pan until it comes up about halfway up the side of the pan. Heat the oil to 350 degrees F.

Separate the biscuits, cut each biscuit into quarters, and roll them into balls. Working in batches, fry them until golden, from 6-8 minutes, turning every once in a while to make sure they fry evenly. Transfer the hot donuts into the sugar and roll around (with a spoon, not your fingers!). Serve with some fresh zest on top.

pulled pork empanadas

2011-06-03T13:49:00.004-04:00

When your fridge houses a huge vat of slow-roasted pork shoulder bathing in its own fat and juices, it’s hard to think of anything else. While in the shower, in class, and in the midst of conversation with others, I mentally pored over my pantry ingredients and had a mild epiphany when I remembered the frozen pie crust I had stashed away in the freezer for, well, a pie. But one cannot be constrained by such silly original plans; this crust would serve a higher purpose – it would be the vehicle by which I would shovel more of that wonderful pork into my pie-hole.

If I were a better food-blogger and a worse student, I might have made my own dough; it’s really not as intimidating as you’d think. On this particular weeknight, this was not the case. But I will have you know that I do not haphazardly buy pre-made products; I researched this Trader Joe’s pie crust extensively on Chowhound.com (an excellent resource for home cooks). When I unfurled it from its package, I saw squares of butter dotting the dough. I took this as a very good sign of things to come.

With a sprinkling of flour on my board, I rolled out the crust slightly since the it naturally puffs up to be rather thick and flakey – beautiful for a fruit pie, but potentially distracting for a pork and cheese filled pastry.

Shredded pork shoulder - just as lovely as when I saw it last.

Enhanced with chopped cilantro, shredded Monterey Jack cheese, and fire-roasted green chiles.

I don’t own a ring mold, so I cut around a plastic cup that was about 4-inches in diameter (it was a Solo cup, in fact – classy).

Dolloped with a tablespoon of pork, dabbed with a bit of water around the edges, and sealed with the tines of a fork.

A light coating of egg wash and a sprinkle of salt before being baked on a parchment lined sheet.

A buttery pie crust always needs some acidity and brightness, whether it is from the fruit it covers or from a fresh lime-spiked pico de gallo.

Let’s call this one a method or inspiration, rather than a recipe. If your stars perfectly align, meaning you have leftover pork (or chicken or beef) and a handy pie crust, get creative with your filling additions. Throw in some potatoes, chopped hard-boiled egg, or your favorite barbecue or hot sauce.

I like to pretend that my portions are limited to what I lay out in pictures, but let’s be real here – I ate four of these for dinner.

pulled pork empanadas

serves 2 as an entrée, 4 as an appetizer

1 disc of frozen pie crust (the Trader Joe’s box comes with two discs)

1 cup of pork

3/4 cup of shredded Monterey Jack cheese (or any kind you like)

1 tablespoon chopped cilantro

2 tablespoons of fire-roasted green chiles (also sold at Trader Joe’s)

1 teaspoon cumin

1 teaspoon paprika

1 egg, beaten

Defrost your pie crust according to instructions, and preheat the oven to 400°. Don’t let the crust get too warm or it will be difficult to handle. Ideally, it should be cold, firm, but still pliable.

Mix the filling ingredients together – the pork, cheese, cilantro, chiles, cumin, and paprika. Season to taste with salt and pepper. This may make more filling than you will actually end up needing for the empanadas, but I saved the filling for an omlette the next morning. I don’t really throw anything away, in case you haven’t noticed yet.

Making sure to flour your board, roll out the pie crust until its about 1/16” thin. Cut out circles with a diameter of 4 inches for 8 empanadas; bigger for a heartier empanada and smaller for a more snack-sized empanada.

For each 4-inch round circle of dough, dot with a heaping tablespoon of filling. Using your finger, lightly wet the edges of the dough and fold over, using the tines of a fork to seal. Lay empanadas on a parchment lined baking sheet, and lightly brush with the beaten egg. Sprinkle each empanada with a bit of salt.

Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until golden.

cuban pork shoulder

2011-05-23T19:48:00.008-04:00

When you’re a grad student who loves to feed others almost as much as she loves to feed herself, you run into a couple of obstacles. One – money. Oh, you haven’t heard? We law students are broke from forking over our savings and borrowed funds for tuition, and we’re going to be broke later, what with the lack of jobs and forever-looming student debt. Two – a tiny little kitchen. It has produced truly delicious food, but cooking in my apartment kitchen requires some truly creative space management and motivated spurts of cleaning throughout.

Behold the solution: a pork shoulder. This inexpensive, behemoth hunk of meat has gained me some undeserved fame since I rely on it often to feed a crowd. It doesn't take up counter or stove space - it sits quietly in the oven while it performs its magic and is a hell of a showstopper when it comes out. I’ve done it with Italian spices and topped with a parsley pesto, used it for pulled pork sandwiches with homemade barbecue sauce and spicy mayo, and served it nestled in corn tortillas with pico de gallo and avocado tomatillo sauce. This time, I smeared it with a citrus garlic paste and served alongside rice, beans and fried plantains. It fed my five-person dinner party and yielded three more amazing meals that week (posts to follow). And honestly, no, I didn’t get sick of it.

As if huge mounds of meltingly-tender meat weren’t enough, the skin of a pork shoulder gets beautifully lacquered and crunchy (it’s my favorite part, unsurprisingly). Taking a sharp knife and scoring the skin in a cross-hatch pattern ensures that the fat between the skin and meat renders, basting the rest of the shoulder while it cooks.

After making the garlic citrus paste in the food processor, I took out a very sharp paring knife and thought about Boston drivers and Securities Regulation while stabbing the shoulder repeatedly, making 1-inch long incisions. The paste gets pushed into these slits and massaged on the meaty parts not covered by the skin.

Into my cast-iron dutch oven it went (it was a tight fit, but we made it work). It goes in the oven without the cover for the first hour to brown the skin, and with the cover for the rest. Your house will be permeated with the intoxicating smell of pork for hours, which in itself is an accomplishment to be proud of.

I can’t give you an exact estimate as to when your pork shoulder will be done since they are of varying size and weight, but believe me, you’ll know. Somewhere between four and five hours, the meat becomes so tender that it has completely separated from the bone. There is never any shame in sampling to determine doneness, so go ahead and pick off a chunk. It's one of the many privileges of cooking.

After taking the pork out of the oven, I cut off the skin, which comes off easily and is conveniently portioned from the scoring, and send those glorious little squares back into the oven in a cast-iron skillet to finish crisping.

A side of golden, starchy, and slightly sweet plantains.

And the rice and beans...from a package. If the packaging says it's authentic, it usually is, right? Listen, sometimes you have to give yourself a break, especially when you've made something that looks and tastes like this meal. I will not hang my foodie head in shame over this one.

cuban pork shoulder - adapted from Epicurious

serves up to 10 people

an 8-10 pound bone-in fresh picnic shoulder with skin

5 limes

1 orange

8 garlic cloves

3 tablespoons salt

1 tablespoon dried oregano

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 tablespoon chili powder

1 tablespoon onion powder

3 cups water

6 tablespoons vinegar

Wash pork and pat very dry. Using a very sharp knife, score the skin of the pork in a cross-hatch pattern to make 1½ inch squares of skin. Make sure not to cut into the actual meat; the incision should just pierce the skin and fat beneath the skin. With a sharp paring knife, make 1-inch incisions all over the skin and meaty parts of the shoulder, about every 2-inches. Leave the pork shoulder out at room temperature for an hour and a half before cooking.

Preheat oven to 400°F.

In the food processor, pulse 1 cup of lime juice, the juice of the orange, garlic cloves, salt, oregano, cumin, chili powder, and onion powder until it makes a loose paste. Using your fingers, push bits of the paste into the slits you made, and rub the remainder on the meaty ends not covered by the skin. (If you get the skin too wet, it will steam rather than crisp, which is massively disappointing).

Put into a dutch oven pot or roasting pan just large enough to hold the shoulder, and pour the remaining juice from the limes around it. Roast uncovered for about 30 minutes, or until the skin puffs up and starts browning.

Pour water and vinegar around the pork. Lower the oven to 350°, put a cover on the pot/cover the roasting pan tightly with foil, and roast for another 4 or more hours. Check on it periodically to see if there is enough liquid in the pot – if it is too dry, add more water. When the bone has separated from the meat, the shoulder is done.

Carefully cut off the skin from the meat, and lay it out on a cast-iron skillet. Turn oven back to 400°F, and put back in the oven to crisp up. Watch it carefully – the skin can very quickly turn from perfectly crisp to burnt and too crunchy.

Pick meat off in chunks with tongs or a fork and serve with rice and plantains.

linguine with clams and pancetta

2011-05-18T01:11:00.002-04:00

We had the very good fortune of spending a week in Barcelona this last spring break. The architecture and the vibe of the city were gorgeous in every way, but what we really remembered, as is usually the case, were the meals – some refined and revelatory, and some just strikingly beautiful in their simplicity. Of course, we had been researching for months, and so when we got a beachfront table at an infamously hard-to-get-into neighborhood hotspot, we went a little overboard with the ordering. Grilled cockles were especially reminiscent of the sea, served simply with a parsley-flecked oil and lemon juice. Well, twelve hours later I had my first case of food poisoning. I am very proud of my iron stomach – it can take the spiciest, greasiest, street food around with no complaints. I guess I was overdue for some humility, but did it really have to be clams? That’s just cruel.

I refuse to be a victim of taste aversion. Despite the boyfriend’s pleas to give it more time, I brought home three pounds of clams and got to work. You gotta make your own destiny, people.

I went in looking for littlenecks, but mahogany clams were on a crazy sale so I happily switched gears. They’re bigger and meatier than littlenecks, but really I just thought they were very pretty. I always get strangely attached to my clams when I bring them home. You have to put them in a nice bowl of water, feed them a bit, then wash them - it's like a temporary, very delicious pet.

What better way to get over trauma than pancetta? I’m sure you’re sick of seeing it by now, but now you know I wasn’t kidding about always having some on hand. Pork and shellfish are wonderful together – the salty notes of all the spices in the pancetta temper the brininess of the clam juices.

A quick saute of shallot, garlic and red pepper flakes in the rendered pancetta fat and a splash of white wine before it's time to tumble in the clams. I hope you didn't get too attached.

After a couple of minutes, they open and release a surprising amount of juice which creates a lovely milky broth. Bonus points if you take the pasta out one minute before al dente and let it simmer in the sauce so the pasta itself soaks up that flavor.

Clams, I forgive you.

linguine with clams and pancetta - adapted from Mario Batali's Simple Italian Food

serves 4

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 shallot, finely diced

1 1/2-inch thick disc of pancetta, cubed

4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 teaspoon crushed red chile flakes

2 pounds clams (I used three because mahoganies are bigger. Also, I had something to prove.)

1 cup dry white wine

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 pound linguine

1/4 cup parsley, finely chopped

Let the clams soak for an hour in a big bowl of water with a handful of flour or cornmeal. They'll eat up the cornmeal and spit out sand. Scrub and rinse them.

Bring a large pot of water to a boil; salt the water heavily.

Heat the olive oil until it ripples. Throw in the pancetta, shallot, and garlic over medium heat until the shallot is very soft.

Add the chile flakes, clams, white wine, and butter. Bring to a boil and cook just until the clams have opened, discarding the stubborn ones that remain closed. Take off heat.

Boil linguine until just short of al dente. Drain the pasta and mix it with the broth, allowing it to soak up all those juices in the last minute of cooking. It may still be a little brothy - that's what you want. You and those clams worked hard for that broth.

Add the parsley and serve immediately.

hainanese chicken with rice

2011-05-13T23:38:00.001-04:00

Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I'm not a very Asian Asian. I played the piano and I have a weird skill for origami, but I'm terrible at math and feel no attraction to Dance Dance Revolution. I'd sooner cozy up to a vat of mac and cheese than a bowl of noodle soup. But I've been making an effort to get more in touch with my roots (just booked a ticket for my third trip to the motherland - this time with the very white boyfriend in tow). To get us in the spirit, I've been trying my hand at some Chinese dishes, like this Hainanese Chicken, a mainstay in Singapore.

Never had it? Well, it's boiled chicken served at room temperature over rice. Doesn't sound very exciting, I guess. Maybe even downright unappealing. But let me tell you - try it once and you'll be a fan for life. Refreshing, savory, and beautiful to look at, the entire dish is a celebration of chicken at its best.

It's not often that I take care to trim off all the fat from a piece of meat, but it is crucial here because it will be rendered later and used to flavor the rice. The cavity is stuffed with scallion and ginger and submerged in a big hot tub of boiling water.

Lavishing in an ice bath. This is one pampered chicken.

Mesmerizing swirls of chicken fat floating atop the broth, which will be used to cook the rice and will also be served to sip in between bites of chicken.

Not only does the rice get a good dose of chicken flavor from the broth, but it is toasted in that chicken fat we so carefully hoarded earlier. You'll never want non-chickeny rice ever again.

The final component is the chili sauce. You can make your own, but I was tired from all the fawning over my chicken. This chili paste is my jam. I added some lime juice, minced garlic and ginger and called it a day.

The rest is just assembly. Don't ask me why I put the soup in a pitcher - I get in these moods sometimes.

Drizzled at the last second with some soy and chili sauce...it's enough to turn anyone Asian again.

hainanese chicken with rice - recipe from droolfactor

serves 4

chicken

one whole chicken, around 3-4 lbs (preferably organic)

5 inches ginger, sliced

2 stalks of scallion

rice

3 cups jasmine rice

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

2 tsp salt

2 tablespoons chicken fat (or canola oil if you don't have enough)

6 cups chicken broth

chili sauce

1/2 cup chili paste

1/2 lime

1 tsp garlic, minced

1 tsp ginger, minced

Stuff chicken cavity with ginger and scallion stalks. In a big pot, boil salted water and immerse chicken in breast-side down, making sure there is enough water to cover the chicken. Let water come back to a boil, lower heat, and simmer slowly for 45 minutes.

Prepare an ice bath (a gigantic bowl with cold water and ice cubes). After 45 minutes, lift the chicken out of the broth and submerge it in the ice bath for 10 minutes. After completely cooled, cut off the breast meat and tear off the dark meat in chunks.

Toss the chicken fat in another pot on medium-low heat until most of the fat has liquified. Remove any remaining solid pieces and add the garlic, frying until fragrant but not browned. Add the rice, stirring it so that every grain is coated in the chicken fat until the rice is slightly translucent. Cover with the 6 cups of chicken broth, bring to a boil, then cover and let simmer for 20 minutes until done.

Combine ingredients for the chili sauce.

Top a scoop of rice with some pieces of chicken. Garnish with scallion slices and drizzle with soy sauce and chili sauce.