Still Life With Food

Over Here Over There

February 10, 2008 · No Comments

Hello, hello. It’s been a couple weeks.

But that’s because I’ve been working on something  special.

It’s over here. Yes, right here.

Yes, yes I know. I’ve done the name change thing, but this is an act of devotion for my fat little food blog.  Now he has an armchair designed just for his round little bottom.

It’ll be a collection of  stories, reviews, news and of course, recipes. Though this time around you might find a bit of a twist—something some might call fabrication, but I call elaboration.  But you can find out for yourself. Come visit me.

Go ahead. It’s right here.

→ No CommentsCategories: Food

World peace, one cookie at a time?

January 28, 2008 · 2 Comments

I was alone today. Alone, but not frightfully so. More of a lulling, languid lonesomeness. Mike is away in a silly place by the name of Gulfport, Mississippi playing urban planner to the hurricane stricken town. The poor guy has been holed up in a casino (the nicest accommodations around), and utterly bowled over by the city’s quality of life (or maybe lack thereof). I’m convinced he may save the world, one plan at a time.

Me, well, I suppose I could work on saving the world one cookie at a time. But that seems rather silly doesn’t it? Some of us can’t afford to eat, let alone eat cookies. I’m learning slowly, but learning, our American food system is not in the least efficient. Since my great food awakening, I have been reading everything from which I could possibly learn: M.F.K. Fisher and Julia Child to Michael Pollan and Barbara Kingsolver. But the field of food is ever so big, and growing. Celebrity chefs may always outshine the importance of sourcing a responsibly grown ingredient, and the food genre may never catch up to all of the ambitious local/organic/green goals and research, but fortunately, food is not a passing fad.

img_0357.jpg

Back to my solitary day and (maybe) saving the world with cookies—

I awoke to a gray and cloudy 7:30 a.m. sky, sending me off to the gym to work out the chill. Two canvas bags full of fruits, veggies and wine afterward had me trekking home wondering why the folks at Wild Oats are always so grouchy. Is it because they too are confounded as to whether the brand ‘USDA Organic’ is truly meaningful? No, it’s probably more like the meager hourly wage.

A few chapters of Michael Pollan, 2 loads of laundry and an unexpected call from an ex-boyfriend hours later, drove me to the mixing bowl and with a fiendish craving for chocolate. A mix, a chop, a roll, and a little friendly advice from Dorie, had me throwing a batch of World Peace cookies into the oven.

Now, I know, I know— cookies are not going to save the world, but I must say, they sure as hell make it better while I’m trying to figure it out.

 

This recipe has been posted by one of my favorite blogs already (for a good reason!), but a recipe like this cannot be reiterated enough, so I too shall post it for my tiny little audience. And I’d like to add a note: Dorie Greenspan procured the recipe from Pierre Hermé, a French pastry genius, whose shop I happened to pass almost every day on my way to school in gay, old Paris. My friends Alex, Monica and I would all crane our necks into the narrow little patisserie smelling the fresh burst of macaroons, and wondering if we were too shabbily dressed to snatch a couple of post déjeuner madeleines. Thank you, thank you Dorie and Pierre. You were perfect company on such a quiet afternoon.

World Peace Cookies
from Baking: From my Home to Yours, by Dorie Greenspan
 
Ingredients
1¼ cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
1 stick plus 3 tablespoons (11 tablespoons) unsalted butter,
at room temperature
2/3 cup (packed) light brown sugar
¼ cup sugar
½ teaspoon fleur de sel or ¼ teaspoon fine sea salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
5 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped into chips,
or a generous ¾ cup store-bought mini chocolate chips
Makes about 36 cookies
 
Sift the flour, cocoa and baking soda together.

Working with a stand mixer, preferably fitted with a paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer in a large bowl, beat the butter on medium speed until soft and creamy. Add both sugars, the salt and vanilla extract and beat for 2 minutes more.

Turn off the mixer. Pour in the flour, drape a kitchen towel over the stand mixer to protect yourself and your kitchen from flying flour and pulse the mixer at low speed about 5 times, a second or two each time. Take a peek — if there is still a lot of flour on the surface of the dough, pulse a couple of times more; if not, remove the towel. Continuing at low speed, mix for about 30 seconds more, just until the flour disappears into the dough — for the best texture, work the dough as little as possible once the flour is added, and don’t be concerned if the dough looks a little crumbly. Toss in the chocolate pieces and mix only to incorporate.

Turn the dough out onto a work surface, gather it together and divide it in half. Working with one half at a time, shape the dough into logs that are 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Wrap the logs in plastic wrap and refrigerate them for at least 3 hours. (The dough can be refrigerated for up to 3 days or frozen for up to 2 months. If you’ve frozen the dough, you needn’t defrost it before baking — just slice the logs into cookies and bake the cookies 1 minute longer.)

Getting Ready Bake: Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Line two baking sheets with parchment or silicone mats.

Working with a sharp thin knife, slice the logs into rounds that are 1/2 inch thick. (The rounds are likely to crack as you’re cutting them — don’t be concerned, just squeeze the bits back onto each cookie.) Arrange the rounds on the baking sheets, leaving about 1 inch between them.

Bake the cookies one sheet at a time for 12 minutes — they won’t look done, nor will they be firm, but that’s just the way they should be. Transfer the baking sheet to a cooling rack and let the cookies rest until they are only just warm, at which point you can serve them or let them reach room temperature.

Serving: The cookies can be eaten when they are warm or at room temperature — I prefer them at room temperature, when the textural difference between the crumbly cookie and the chocolate bits is greatest — and are best suited to cold milk or hot coffee.

Storing: Packed airtight, cookies will keep at room temperature for up to 3 days; they can be frozen for up to 2 months.

→ 2 CommentsCategories: Cookies · Cooking · Food · Other Blogs · Recipes
Tagged: , , , , ,

Market Finds: Upper Eastside Green Market

January 24, 2008 · 1 Comment

A quick little market note:

The Upper Eastside Green Market at Legion Park opened a couple of weeks ago, and excited to have a go at a real, live market in Miami, Mike and I dashed up to have a look-see. We arrived to the mid-morning buzz of vendors setting up their wares along Biscayne, and some early birds already grazing over copious samples and bantering like neighbors.

Maters Greens

Peppahs Breads

A couple of Italian specialty food vendors offered fresh pastas, olive oils, breads and mozzarella. I picked up a big round of the freshly made cheese, which turned out to be fantastic— subtly salted, lusciously smooth with a velvety texture— overall a classic example of the big moz.

Mozzarella is well and good, but since arriving to the city, I have been searching for a vendor who offers local, responsible produce. This green market borders on both, as much of the produce is local (think Florida, and maybe Georgia), but not organic. However, I picked up a monstrous heirloom tomato, some delicious, crisp sugarsnap peas, a funky purple pepper, and the most deliciously fragrant basil I have yet to find at Wild Oats. A long table with a beautiful array of greens displayed haricots verts, baby bok choy, heads of romaine and pretty little leeks.

As we fished around in buckets of greens, some other vendors started to set up with plates of soft, fragrant cookies, baskets of crusty, rustic bread and platters of empanadas and other Latin pastry puffs. The standard flower tents dotted the foodscape, as well as a spice seller and a coffee bean table— a lovely, neighborhood turnout from the Upper Eastside.

It’s good to see Miami turn out a market or two—I’m still waiting on the phantom downtown gathering, supposedly at Flagler and Miami— but will trek over to the Gables or Grove this week for the height of the season. My only caveat with this market is the lack of organic wares, and a farmer or two, but I suppose that’s why it’s called a ‘green market’ instead. Still holding out on an opening in the among the CSA shares, but until then, I think I’ll return for another round in the Upper Eastside.

Check out Mango & Lime’s review, as well as the Daily Candy write-up. The Upper Eastside Green Market is located at Northeast 66th St. and Biscayne, every Saturday for the next two months.

Here’s a simple, but classic and delicious recipe for a Caprese salad. It’s enough for a meal when you have a tomato and ball of mozzarella as big as I do.

Caprese Salad

Ingredients
2 large tomatoes
12-15 basil leaves
1 large round of mozzarella (at room temperature)
high quality olive oil (I really, really love l’Estornell)
fleur de sel and freshly-ground black pepper
 
Wash and dry tomatoes, and slice into 1/3 inch thick slices lengthwise. Cut rounds of mozzarella a little bit thinner, but of comparable diameter. Stack basil upon tomatoes, and mozzarella on top. Drizzle with olive oil and finish with fleur de sel and black pepper.

 

Tuck a napkin into your collar, and go at it with a pinot grigio or a crispy hefeweizen.

→ 1 CommentCategories: Farmers Market · Food · Local Food · Markets · Miami · Recipes
Tagged: , , ,

Clone, It’s What’s For Dinner

January 22, 2008 · No Comments

It seems a bit strange two of the world’s most powerful governmental bodies would clash on an issue so simple, when it’s overwhelmingly obvious who is right.

Smartly, the FDA bans everything suggesting the possibility of real milk— raw milk butter, raw milk yogurt, raw milk cheese aged under 60 days— while much of traditional Europe happily prospers drinking real milk, and almost every French citizen knows what a fresh pad of artisan cheese tastes like. But who cares about them? Those dirty European hippies. In America we get blocks of Velveeta and Kraft singles, wrapped deliciously in single servings, shiny, orange and bright. Forget that stinky blue stuff, we’ve got Apocarotenal and Milk Protein Concentrate.  Yay for unregulated dairy waste!

Dolly

Even more exciting than leftover milk powder solids is the fact that, we Americans, in all of our dominant ingenuity, may get to tear a big old bite out of a cloned hamburger as soon as the FDA says, “Go!”  While we’re over here chowing on our genetically perfect ground round, those primitive Europeans and their snobby EFSA are still drinking grassy milk, manging on grassy beef, and actually opposing the awesomeness of simulated steer twins and triplets. Something about ethics, and blah blah blah.  Whatever! Bring on the burgers!  Get out the Kraft singles! I’ll have the clone, medium rare.

→ No CommentsCategories: Food · News · f'ing Weird
Tagged: , , ,

A Breakfast Fever, A Pancake Recipe

January 19, 2008 · 1 Comment

I have a recipe that is just much, much, much too delicious for me to wait any longer to share.

What is hands down, no doubt, Donna Lewis I Love You Always Forever, the best meal of the day? Breakfast of course! I’m not ashamed to express my undying affection for this block of time that actually has a whole architectural nook devoted to it. In what other meal group can you get eggs, veggies, fruit, smoothies, coffee, pancakes, waffles, crepes, and French toast? The list goes on and on and on.

buttah

I didn’t realize until I sat down to write this here post that I’ve been in a bit of breakfast craze over the past week. On Sunday I spent 14 hours making croissants, which was more like babysitting than anything else—rolling it around, wrapping it up, letting it rest, beating it with a rolling pin—no, I’m only kidding, but really, it was time-con-sum-ing. And absolutely worth it when Mike and I were able to wake up to flaky, buttery crescent-shaped happiness every morning this week.

croissant

Then Mike made bacon-potato pancakes on Tuesday. And I made a sausage, cheddar frittata on Wednesday. And then…oh and then…

Mike was a bit stressed at work this week, readying to venture out on a charrette (planner speak for design conference), and though we made Friday post 5 o’clock margaritas at the office, he needed a little something else to chill out. And why should we relegate breakfast to the so few hours available before noon? It’s just so limiting, narrow minded really.

So I made whole grain blueberry pancakes!

pancakes!

What? You aren’t impressed? Pancakes, you say. Just pancakes? Oh, these are so much more than pancakes. They are Pancakes. Panqueque. Pankuchen. They’re damn amazing. This particular recipe is a marriage of a couple I scoped out and adapted as my own, creating a particularly rustic, yet slightly sweet farm-bready taste. The addition of blueberries is classic, and I’ve made a few original tweaks to give it a little oomph, which is exactly what Mike needed.

Whole Grain Blueberry Pancakes

Notes: This is a half recipe, but you can surely double it to make more. You can use buttermilk, whole milk or low-fat. If the batter seems a little thick, you can also add more liquid a tablespoon at a time. You can keep pancakes in a warm oven on a baking sheet until ready to serve.

Yield: 8-9 4 in. pancakes

Ingredients
3/4 c. whole wheat 100% stone ground flour         1 large egg
3 tbs. stone ground corn meal                                    1 c. milk
1 tbs. wheat germ                                                         3 tbs. melted butter
1/2 tsp. salt                                                                         plus extra for griddle
1 tsp. baking powder                                                    1/3 c. blueberries, wild or frozen
1/2 tsp. baking soda                                                     if large, half before mixing
3 tbs. vanilla sugar                                                     extra blueberries for syrup
1 vanilla bean scraped                                                grade A maple syrup
 
Heat a griddle or a large pan over medium-high heat. Whisk together all dry ingredients, making sure vanilla bean scrapings are distributed throughout. Whisk together egg, milk and butter, and pour over dry ingredients. Mix well, and add more milk 1 tbs. at a time if too thick. Gently fold in blueberries.
 
Reduce heat to medium and brush griddle or pan with butter and ladle on a couple of tablespoons of batter. Depending on the size of the pan you can do multiple pancakes at a time. Flip when bubbles rise to the surface of each pancake, about 1-2 minutes. Cook on the other side an additional 1 minute, or until golden brown. Repeat.

Serve with warm maple syrup and blueberries. Splash some prosecco into a couple of champagne glasses, or plastic Solo cups and make out like you’re 16.

→ 1 CommentCategories: Cooking · Food · Recipes
Tagged: , , ,

A Jab and a Poke

January 18, 2008 · No Comments

treeroot.gif

Oh dear globalization, what have you done this time? You seem a shiny miracle at times, delivering Venezuelan cacao for my hot chocolate and French fleur de sel for my movie-night kettle corn. I really appreciate your grueling transcontinental treks, but you certainly have complicated our little ole’ American food chain.

There is an enormous amount of buzz going on in the local-food news pipeline, from the 100 Mile Diet and locavores to Mark Winne’s new book, Closing the Food Gap: Resetting the Table in the Land of Plenty. So many choices have been thrown before us concerning issues that were once unquestionable, fundamental elements in the way people lived. We have long since abandoned the marketplace for super Wal-Marts and exchanged meals for packaged miracles. Those conscious of this shift and are attempting to rectify it with local food campaigns and banishment of all non-organic foodstuffs.

But wait—

What if it’s local and not organic? What if it’s organic and not local? What if I have to schlep to a farmer’s market out in the ‘burbs— or for those in the ‘burbs— into the city? Doesn’t that defeat the ‘local’ purpose? What about those who don’t have the luxury of agonizing over the local apple or the ones from Mexico? Do you see what I mean?!

Obviously there have been some fundamental reversals in our conceptualization of food to have arrived at this state, and we’ve planted ourselves here by just forgetting about food all together. I’m not saying we haven’t been eating— it’s rather obvious from America’s cellulitic state this is not the case— rather, we haven’t been eating food. Yes, real, live food. You know— the kind with dirt and leaves and peels and knubby, little roots.

But now that we’re here, we’ve divided ourselves into the ‘locavores,’ the ‘organics,’ the unwitting ‘ignorants,’ and the ‘wishy-washies,’ mudslinging and taking jabs at the others’ incompetencies. A perfectly cheeky example surfaced this week with Joel Stein’s Time magazine blip, when he decided to compose a meal with only ingredients having traveled over 3,000 miles to his local Whole Foods in California.

I can get off on a local heirloom tomato as much as anyone else. Or a fresh California date, crispy with tart honey that I can get only for a few weeks in Southern California. Or breaded sautéed abalone when I’m in Monterey. But the idea that this is the best way to eat, that most of our food should really come from within 100 miles, that farm-to-table produces a superior diet, is antiglobalization idiocy.

The ‘idiocy’ he’s speaking of is the nonsense of supporting local economy, the jibber-jabber of creating personal relationships, and the blather of mindful consumption. Stein’s commentary is flippant and entertaining, though I can’t tell if his tone is meant to be ironic. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt, shall we? It’s incredible the local food movement has gotten so far as to have provoked a conscious ‘adversary,’ but the carbon foot print calculation comparisons have gotten out of control.

Are we to calculate the amount of energy spent for a farmer and consumer to meet at a market for a head of fresh lettuce and compare it with the innocent industrially chopped, triple-washed, and plastic-vacuum-bagged spring mix from California, but distributed in New Jersey? Silly, silly shortsightedness.

I don’t presume to have any definitive answers, but I do know we are so deeply entrenched within the global nature of consumption, we have rendered everything inherently related to real food absolutely backwards. The question of whether or not ‘local is better’ proves it one million and one times over. How do you presume all of those generations of simpletons before us survived? You got it— the local stuff.

KnorkSpeaking of a little jab and poke, (and a bit more on the light-hearted side) check out the knork. This incredible little gadget is a tri-combo of western culture’s most popular food utensils— the knife, the fork and the spoon. It looks relatively normal, but this stainless steel wonder is perfect for all of you lazy, cutlery-lacking diners or—wonder of wonders— a great gift for those with only one arm! I’m sorry, maybe that wasn’t funny. I take it back. No, no I don’t.

→ No CommentsCategories: Farmers Market · Food · Local Food · News
Tagged: , , , ,

Janice

January 15, 2008 · No Comments

Last week Janice showed up.

Janice is loud. Janice says grace before dinner. Janice calls you ’sistah,’ and ‘baybah.’ Janice is 100% Cajun, and she refused to let me into her kitchen.

“No!” was her deep, rolling reply as she lumbered through the office, adjusting her black glasses cockily. She was preparing meals for a weekend-long meeting, and wouldn’t stand for another body in her cayenne-infused galley. “But I do need a dishwasher. Come see me ‘fore ya leave,” she said jollily. I did.

As soon as I finished editing my last text, I ran next door to see if I could be of assistance. With a little pushing from my charmingly aggressive boss, she let me stay. Janice is a woman of secrets in the kitchen. Her main concern is keeping those famous recipes under wraps— unless you slyly press and glean and observe. Her first challenge was to pop a spoonful of potato salad into my mouth and watch my reaction.

“Mmmm it’s subtle,” I said. The aftertaste left a zesty spice lingering on the sides of my tongue. “Black pepper?” She shook her head, salt and pepper cropped hair bouncing. “It’s not paprika…hmm…cayenne!”

Conceding a tiny nod, she turned around with a smile. Janice flusters easily, though her presence is one of confidence, and she likes to be prodded for those monumental recipes. She likes a little advice and affirmation. She tossed me a lemon and a bunch of parsley, allowing me to chop and listen while she told me the order of operations, and her ‘method of gumbo.’ “We ain’t got gumbo boats. How’s he expect me to serve gumbo, w’thout the boats? We just gotta use them mugs.”

“You want some ruuum?’ she asked.

“Sure, I’ll have some rum.”

She put a hand on her stocky hip, “I see we gonna have a problem communicatin’.  I said, ‘you got enough ruuuum?’”

“Ohhhh! Roooom. Yes, thank you. I have plenty of room.” Janice walked back to the stockpot to debone the chicken, chuckling to herself.

After a couple of hours bantering and whipping up a batch of bread puddin’, Janice said, “Hey sistah, you think we got some seven in there?” pointing at the refrigerator, “I think it’s time for a drink.” I filled two rocks glasses with ice, while she tossed in some bourbon and topped it off with a little seven-up.

Before the guests arrived, we finished off the bourbon and splashed a guzzle into a pan to simmer with brown sugar and butter for the crowning of the bread pudding. People mingled, and I passed a tray of boudain with saltines (”That’s a Louisiana thang,” she told me.) She said grace, and we served the gumbo.

Though I didn’t learn anything profound, it was nice to have company in the kitchen. Janice reaffirmed the simplest of ingredients are what make a crowd moan over a dish. I would definitely change a few ingredient selections (dijon mustard for yellow, and non-organic for organic,) but the base of her recipes reflects a true passion for simplicity and pleasure in food. I did gather a few hints when she sat down, hands on splayed knees, and said, “Now ya always start your dish off with the Holy Trinity and the Resurrection—” counting on her fingers, “onions, red peppahs, celery an’ gahlic.”  Amen.

There are left-overs a plenty in the kitchen. Cheese grits, shrimp and zucchini, bananas foster, dirty rice and lingering mug of gumbo.  We’ll eat like creole kings for a day more.

I would never give away Janice’s secret ingredients or a detailed recipe, but I will share a loose version of her bread pudding with the incredible hard bourbon topping, and it can be our little secret.

Bourbon Bread Pudding

Notes: Janice doesn’t use cream or milk in her recipe, but I like a little for extra creaminess.  You can use any day old bread, but I like sweet brioche toasted lightly before hand, and cinnamon raisin bread is incredible as well.

Ingredients
4 large eggs                                                            (for Bourbon sauce)
1 3/4 c. whole milk                                                      6 tbs. unsalted butter
    (substitute 3/4 c. with whipping cream              heaping 1/3 c. dark brown sugar
    if desired)                                                                   3 tbs. bourbon
1/2 c. granulated sugar                                              1/3 c. chopped pecans
1/2 tsp. salt 
1 1/2 tsp.  vanilla
2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
4-5 c. cubed challah, brioche, or any
    other day-old bread 
1/4 c. raisins or sultanas
 
Butter an 9×9 baking dish and toss in the cubed bread and raisins. Whisk together the first 7 ingredients in a mixing bowl, then pour over the bread and raisins. Mix about to coat all pieces and let soak for 30+ minutes covered in the refrigerator. 
 
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Pop the baking dish into the oven for 30 minutes. If top is browning too quickly, cover with foil. Bake another 30 minutes, or until set with golden topping. 
 
Heat a sauce pan over medium low heat and melt butter.  Stir in brown sugar until dissolved and add bourbon and pecans.  Pour over bread pudding, and toss back into a lowly-heated oven, until time to serve. 

→ No CommentsCategories: Cooking · Food · Recipes
Tagged: , , ,