groove food

three girls, two hunts

in an attempt to garner even the slightest bit of interest in gastronomy from my two wee girls, i proposed a plan of epic proportions. we would get a big blank map of the world. we would visit restaurants representing different regions, coloring the map as we went, exploring cuisines and  fascinating traditions. within weeks, my daughters would be requesting mee krob instead of mac & cheese. i detailed my plan of action and they scoffed. lola piped up, "i like hambu-burgers." a new plan was hatched. the three of us would set out on a hunt for the best burger in san diego county (you may find a burger musing on here from time to time). the girls promised that once we had sufficiently sated ourselves on all of san diego's hamburger offerings, they would entertain my ideas on mee krob and maps.

while we are in the business of discussing hunts, let me share one of my lifelong missions: pie crust. i am determined to master it come hell or high water. right now i would not even rate my pie crust in the realm of mediocrity. thankfully, my kids like pie. a lot. even my sorry excuses  i hand over to them are gleefully polished off. they've agreed to help me in my quest for flaky, tender perfection. if you have some pie crust inspiration, by all means, share. we need all the able-bodied, pie-loving hunting buddies we can get. we'll lure you with the promise of pie...and a hambu-burger.

star anise & soy braised short ribs

yesterday i waxed poetic on ovenless, sleeveless, breezeless cooking. well, i had a change of heart, and all in your honor. you see, at some point it is inevitably going to get cold where you are. when that happens, i want you armed with this recipe. a sacrifice was made. it involved three hours with the oven at 325 degrees on a san diego day that was already quite steamy. but, i love you. it was worth it. the short ribs emerged fragrant and meaty under a sea of star anise, tomatoes, soy sauce, and ginger. you could barely lift them with tongs without them falling apart. as far as short rib recipes go, this is one of the more simple ones. once they've been handed over to the oven, i hope you'll take a long walk collecting leaves. get a little chilly before you eat them. that's the secret ingredient.

star anise & soy braised short ribs

(serves 6)

1/2 cup soy sauce

1/2 cup dry sherry or vermouth

2 tablespoons light brown sugar

28 ounces canned whole plum tomatoes, drained and coarsely chopped

1 cup beef stock (homemade or low sodium)

2/3 cup water

4 star anise

7 pounds beef short ribs on the bone, cut into 3 inch lengths

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

6 garlic cloves, crushed

6 scallions, cut into 2 inch pieces

1 1-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and cut into 6 pieces

1 tablespoon cornstarch

2 tablespoons thinly sliced scallions

preheat the oven to 325 degrees with a rack set near the bottom.

combine the soy sauce, sherry, brown sugar, and tomatoes in a bowl. add the beef stock, water, and star anise, gently stirring.

dry the ribs with paper towels and season very lightly with salt and generously with pepper. heat the oil over medium-high in a large, heavy flamproof casserole/dutch oven (that has a fitted lid and is large enough to hold all the ribs in no more than two layers). when the oil is hot, add the ribs, taking care not to overcrowd them. you may have to work in batches. brown the ribs on all sides, a couple minutes per side, removing the ribs to a platter as you go.

when all the ribs are browned, pour off the fat and reduce the heat to low. add the garlic, scallions, and ginger, stirring and pressing them against the pot, for about 1 minutes. they should be fragrant. return the ribs to the pot and pour the soy sauce mixture over them. bring the liquid to a simmer and cover. transfer the pot to the oven and braise the ribs, turning them with tongs every 45 minutes or so, until they are completely tender when pierced with a fork, 2 1/2 - 3 hours.

transfer the ribs to a serving platter. set a strainer over a large bowl and carefully pour the accumulated juices and fat through the strainer. pick the star anise and ginger out of the solids left in the strainer. spoon off the fat that surfaces on the liquid in the large bowl (or use a gravy seperator) pour the juices and tomato solids back in the pot, reserving 2 tablespoons of the liquid. stir together the cornstarch with 2 tablespoons of liquid to create a slurry and pour this into the pot. return the heat to medium low and simmer until the sauce has thickened. spoon the sauce over the ribs and garnish with cracked black pepper and the thinly sliced scallions.

notes

* this recipe was adapted from leslie revsin's in come to dinner.

* the short ribs improve over time, so they can be made ahead and refridgerated. reheat in a low oven.

* it's nice to serve these with some kind of starch to soak up all the juices--mashed potatoes or rice will do.

 

indian summer soundtrack

i will always contend that the biggest perk to being a cook is the fact that, for the most part, you can listen to music as loud as you'd like while you work. when it comes to career benefits, i would happily barter paid vacation for this. with california's record heat these past few days, i've been using the oven as little as possible, working in a tank top, and listening to music that makes good company for the breezeless hours. here are some songs to accompany one of the best no-cook meals i know of: a plastic cup spilling with mango spears, a dust of chili powder, and a squeeze of the heaviest lime or mexican limon you can find.

plants & animals - kon tiki

dirty projectors - no intention

the blank tapes - we can do what we want to

the black keys - i'll be your man

how to dress well - lover's start

west indian girl - beach

elbow - every bit the little girl

 

market greens with melted leeks, goat cheese & torn croutons

have you noticed i have a thing for salad? i'm not talking about the kind that comes out of a bag barely green or, even worse, the one that you spritz with fat free dressing (it's not salad dressing if it comes in a spray bottle). i have a thing for cold, crisp, just-picked lettuces in every verdant shade, some freckled aubergine, too. i like the leaves sheathed in a slurry of opulent olive oil and lemon juiced between your palms. then, i want flavor and texture at play--a creamy handful of goat cheese and a rubble of croutons that burst garlicky olive oil in your mouth. finally, a few spoonfuls of still warm caramelized leeks to top it all off, ever so slightly melting into everything, followed by a sprinkle of sea salt from high above and a few cracks of black pepper. fork, please.

market greens with melted leeks, goat cheese & torn croutons

(serves 4)

for the torn croutons

1 loaf french bread, crusts trimmed off, torn into 1 - 2 inch pieces (about 3 cups total, you may not need all of the loaf)

extra virgin olive oil 

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

3 garlic cloves, crushed

sea salt

for the salad

3 leeks, white and light green parts only, cut vertically, then sliced in 1/2 inch half moons

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 teaspoons white wine vinegar

4 ounces fresh goat cheese, crumbled

12 ounces fresh salad greens (arugula, baby romaine, mesclun)

for the dressing

1 teaspoon lemon zest

2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 teaspoon honey

1 teaspoon dijon mustard

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

prepare the torn croutons: fill a skillet large enough to fit all of the croutons with 1/8 inch of olive oil (if you don't have a skillet that large, use two smaller ones). set over medium heat. once the olive oil is warm, add the butter and garlic cloves. once the butter has melted, add the torn bread. turn the heat down a little. the key is to cook the croutons over low heat so they do not dry out. cook for 10-15 minutes, turning the croutons every couple of minutes, until golden brown. season with sea salt. do not remove to paper towels. let the croutons cool in the skillet.

prepare the leeks: if the leeks have any grit or dirt on them, rinse them in cool water and pat dry with paper towels. heat the 3 tablespoons of olive oil in a medium sized skillet over medium heat. add the leeks and cook, stirring frequently, until the leeks begin to turn soft and shrink. add the white wine vinegar and season with a pinch of salt. continue to cook until the leeks turn golden and are quite soft, 15-20 minutes. turn off the heat, but keep the leeks warm in the pan.

prepare the dressing: combine the lemon zest, lemon juice, honey, and dijon in a medium mixing bowl. whisk to combine. slowly drizzle in the olive oil as you whisk, until emulsified. season with salt & pepper.

prepare the salad: toss the greens with a few tablespoons of the dressing, adding more dressing if desired. divide the greens among individual serving plates. divide the goat cheese and croutons among the salads and top each one with a scoop of the warm leeks (you may have some leeks leftover for another use). drizzle a little bit of additional dressing over each salad, in addition to seasoning with a small pinch of sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper. serve immediately. 

notes

* the torn croutons were adapted from a recipe in thomas keller's ad hoc cookbook. leftover croutons will keep for a couple days in an airtight container at room temperature.

ten bites: georgia wright

one of the first meals i shared with georgia wright was at a pho shop in hanoi when we were undergraduates.  it was a nameless place on one of the streets that rippled out from hoan kiem lake, crowded with people inhaling hot soup despite the pervasive tropical heat that hung on even late night. over steaming bowls the size of hubcaps and messy heaps of cilantro we discovered we shared a birthday. i secretly hoped this meant i had some kind of claim on her.  georgia, and all that she does, is perpetual verve, though ever humble. reading her blog, ten thousand things, is a visual feast. the girl has such an eye--and her eye has such a soul. i couldn't wait to see food through georgia's lens. her answers do not disappoint. pull up a chair.

breakfast?

perfect white mugs of hot black coffee and a wooden bowl of fresh blueberries. watching the sky brighten with the sun. the first chill of fall coming over the water. today's paper.

food memory?

the worn finish of the 20-person wooden farm table in my grandmother's Cape Cod kitchen and dough for French bread kneaded in piles of silky flour on its surface - family history coming out of her mouth and hands simultaneously. the warm brightness of the oven and the anticipation of watching the loaves emerge cracked and crusty and golden in time to be eaten with soft salted butter and hot soup for dinner.

signature dish?

improvisation. always. (the exception: this Cooks Illustrated recipe for The Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookie)

five artists to listen to in the kitchen?

frank sinatra. otis redding. nina simone. etta james. ray charles.

neighborhood restaurant?

Castelrosso cheese and roasted carrots and proscuitto on thick slices of sourdough. spicy sausage and sage in brown butter with homemade cavatelli. big glasses of Italian red wine. Frankie's 457. of course.

flavor/texture?

best in pairs. fresh cucumber topped with spicy wasabi. creamy goat cheese with a spoonful of fig jam. chewy dates dipped in grains of sea salt.

picnic spot?

friends and family around a fire on the beach. old sheets and blankets spread on the sand for sitting. surfcasting as the light fades with fingers crossed for a big bluefish tugging the end of the line. roasted marshmallows and chilled white wine and a walk home over cold sand washed in moonlight.

solo meal?

standing on my left foot with the right propped on the inside of my left knee - devouring Vogue editorials and whole-grain pretzels dipped in almond butter.

birthday cake?

summer birthdays get layers of crumbly meringue and sweet whipped cream and fresh strawberries. winter birthdays call out for layers of dark chocolate glaze over dense cake with crunchy candied oranges glistening on top.

fall dish to most look forward to?

the confluence of crispness and warmth in both foods and season. apples and leaves; pumpkins and stews. coming home.

notes

* the web address for georgia's addictive blog, ten thousand things: http://www.ten-thousand-things.blogspot.com ... you can also follow her on twitter. 

* frankie's 457 is located at 457 court street, brooklyn, 11231 (photo courtesy of menu_pages)

crazy in the coconut (part 2)

nothing says the weekend quite like the smell of butter as it hits the griddle and becomes home for a slice of challah soaked in eggs and milk. french toast evokes childhood memories for many. it's hard to beat the classic--until you try it with coconut milk. it lends a subtle flavor and smooth custard once you break the delicate crust formed by the griddle. a pool of passion fruit syrup sends this french toast into the realm of decadence, but fresh fruit or a sprinkle of cane sugar will also do the trick.

coconut french toast with passion fruit syrup

(serves 4 - 6)

1 1/2 cups passion fruit juice

2 teaspoons sugar

1/4 cup unsalted butter

1 loaf challah bread, sliced 3/4 - 1 inch thick

1 cup canned, unsweetened coconut milk

3 eggs

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup (or slightly more) unsalted butter for griddling

1/4 shredded coconut, toasted in a small skillet

prepare the passion fruit syrup: place the passion fruit juice in a small saucepan and set over medium heat. bring to a boil and then reduce the heat to keep the juice at a steady simmer. reduce until the juice has concentrated down to 3/4 cup. swirl in the sugar and 1/4 cup of butter, one tablespoon at a time. set aside in a warm place.

prepare the french toast: whisk the eggs, coconut milk, and salt together in a shallow bowl.

heat a griddle or flat grill pan (or nonstick skillet in a pinch) over medium-high heat. add one tablespoon of butter for every two pieces of toast your griddle will accommodate.

dip a slice of bread in the egg-coconut milk mixture, and flip it over to coat the other side. lift the bread from the mixture, gently squeezing to draw the liquid into the center of the bread slice. place on griddle and cook (for approximately 90 seconds - 2 minutes per side), until golden brown. repeat with additional slices of bread. serve immediately with the passion fruit syrup and toasted coconut spooned over the top

notes

* i use ceres brand passion fruit juice. it can be found at most well-stocked supermarkets. the syrup is equally delicious made with mango or papaya juice. classic maple syrup is also a completely acceptable accompaniment

* if you want a really pronounced coconut flavor, try adding a tiny bit of pure coconut extract to the milk and eggs

* try pure coconut cream instead of coconut milk if you are feeling a little too skinny (or if you simply feel like life is meant to be enjoyed to the max)

crazy in the coconut (part 1)

some people stock their pantries with shiny sacks of lentils or cans of tuna to the ceiling. i am never without a decent supply of coconut milk. in the world of non perishables, a can of coconut milk is as genius as they come. my kitchen changed the first time i swirled a few tablespoons of homemade yellow curry paste in a murmuring pot of coconut milk and sweet potatoes. the first word that comes to mind is exotic, and not because it makes me think of a palm tree in phuket. coconut milk has an uncanny ability of bringing other flavors out, like a snake charmer for spices with an intriguing profile of its own. since the day of yellow curry paste, i've added coconut milk to several recipes and unlikely dishes. it's become such a habit that whenever i taste something i soon start to daydream of what it might be like with a smooth stream of coconut milk slipped in...

10 things to do with canned coconut milk

1. use it to cook oatmeal. substitute half of the water you use to make oatmeal with coconut milk. this is delicious served with fresh mango & macademia nuts. it is also a decadent vegan option.

2. if a pureed soup recipe calls for cream, consider coconut milk. most butternut squash, root vegetable, carrot, or sweet potato soups come alive with the addition of coconut milk

3. dissolve homemade or store-bought curry paste in warm coconut milk to create a simple sauce or broth for poultry, fish, or shellfish

4. in a coffee rut? coffee + coconut milk

5. marinate dungeness crab in a combination of coconut milk, lime juice, and basil. let it sit for ten minutes before straining out the liquid and serving the crab over fresh greens

6. make improv vegetable curry

7. puree coconut milk, pineapples, and a little bit of agave syrup and pour into popsicle molds for pina colada popsicles

8. make coconut rice. use coconut milk (or a combination with stock or water) to cook jasmine rice. it will take roughly the same amount of time to cook with as it does with water. i love the addition of crystallized ginger and dehydrated pineapple

9. add a glug of it to any instant noodle soup, swirl with your spoon and watch as it transforms

10. make coconut french toast. the recipe will follow tomorrow...

notes

* seek out canned coconut milk from thailand. it is fresher tasting than most others. i like the thai kitchen brand and it is available at most well-stocked supermarkets. i am excited to try an insulated carton of "coconut cream" (aka extra dreamy coconut milk) from my friend, susan s.

* make sure to vigorously shake a can of coconut milk before opening it. i think of this as the coconut milk dance, as if the moment before imbibing coconut milk were not exciting enough as it is. it will aid in mixing the milk with the layer of cream that rises to the top. if it is not thoroughly combined, stir with a spoon upon opening.

no funny business carrot cupcakes

can you believe there was ever a time in our nation when cupcakes weren't revered like the beatles? when cities large and small were absent of darling cupcakeries that tout five bite gems like banana creme and pumpkin-cardamom? with the abrupt disappearance of an economy which permitted a new wave of conspicuous consumption, let us rejoice in the return of the cupcake and conspicuously consume them. personally, i like sloppy cupcakes the best. these are the kind that find their way to you from a tupperware tray after being thickly smeared with frosting in somebody's kitchen. my carrot cupcakes come in that spirit, and they don't mess around with pecans, raisins, or the like. these are straight up carrot. no funny business. as such, my daughters will devour them. they manage to be tender and light, though dense with the brightness of carrots and a warm hint of spices. a generous sweep of cream cheese frosting will have you swooning like you just saw paul mccartney, if he's your sort of deal.

carrot cupcakes

(makes 36)

1 1/2 pounds carrots, peeled and finely grated

4 extra large eggs, plus 1 egg yolk (at room temperature)

2/3 cup buttermilk

3 cups sugar

2 cups safflower or grapeseed oil (or vegetable oil)

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

4 1/2 cups all purpose flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

3 teaspoons baking powder

2 teaspoons table salt

2 teaspoons cinnamon

1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

cream cheese frosting

12 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature

1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 pound powdered sugar, sifted

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

preheat oven to 325 with racks in the top and bottom third of the oven. line standard muffin tins with paper liners (you may have to do several batches). whisk together the carrots, eggs, egg yolk, buttermilk, sugar, oil, and vanilla. in another large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamom, ginger, and cloves. gently stir the flour mixture into the carrot mixture until it is combined.

divide the batter evenly among lined cups, filling each three-quarters full. an ice cream scoop makes easy work of this. bake the cupcakes for 23-30 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until a cake tester comes out clean and the centers of the cupcakes spring back when touched. transfer the tins to wire racks and cool for 10 minutes, then lift the cupcakes out of the tins to let cool completely.

make the frosting: beat the butter and cream cheese in a stand mixer (or with an electric mixer) on medium-high speed until fluffy, 3 minutes. reduce speed  to low and add the powdered sugar, 1 cup at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl in between, until well combined. add the vanilla and mix until smooth. spread 1 - 2 tablespoons of frosting on cooled cupcakes.

notes

* the cupcakes will keep in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days. bring to room temperature, if desired, before serving

* feel free to make these "funny business" carrot cupcakes by adding a combination of raisins, nuts, and/or chopped pineapple, even

* this recipe was adapated from one appearing in martha stewart's cupcake cookbook

the plaza

there was a brief time in my life where, in spirit and in action, i resembled eloise from kay thompson's classic children's book. except, instead of patent leather mary janes, i wore white canvas espadrilles, and i didn't have a pug named weenie, but a teacup poodle i called louis (after the XIVth). our hair was always a hot mess and, most importanly, we both had our plaza. eloise's was in manhattan, and mine was in practically seasonless del mar, california. the plaza hotel on 5th avenue at central park south was eloise's lion lair; she owned that place. i claimed my stomping ground on the corner of 15th and highway 101, a multilevel conglomeration of boutiques and restaurants with mosaic fountains and expansive views of the pacific thrown in. i lived a block away and it felt like it was mine.

eloise was six, and i 14, but we were both a dizzying combination of precociousness and immaturity on a crusade for glamour. after school, i'd park myself at one of the plaza's teak tables and do homework with a feather pen, watching people pass beneath my pair of cat-eye sunglasses. i loved to walk behind il fornaio, the bustling italian place where the waiters wore white jackets like the ones you'd see on restaurant captains in rome. there, a handful of bakers shaped ciabatta and pane di segale, filling the courtyard with the addictive smell of yeast at all hours. sometimes i made faces at them and they'd razz me back.

it was at the plaza that i developed an infatuation with the theater of restaurants--the sea of white tablecloths with polished silverware, and the gorgeous women flanked by cigar-scented men that filled them as evening descended. sometimes i would even order a shirley temple from the enoteca, and sip it from a chaise lounge with a sunset view. i still do the same thing today, but i've learned that i can order it in a champage glass and it will be tres chic, for lord's sake.

notes

* the del mar plaza is located at 1555 camino del mar.

* the plaza hotel is located at 5th avenue, central park south. they have a new eloise suite designed by betsey johnson.

improv chilaquiles

my first summer as a teenager my father drove my brothers and me many, many hours down the baja peninsula. we finally set up camp in a remote spot called punta baja. i spent most of the days buried in anne of green gables or paddling out in the pacific, laying supine on my surfboard once i made it past the waves, staring into infinite, empty sky. when my dad took us off-roading by a neighboring fishing village, one of the wheels of our isuzu trooper caved in upon hitting a jagged rock. we were stranded, miles from a telephone, in desolate, dusty heat. a couple of fishermen jogged over to examine the mess. they returned with parts from an abandoned washing machine and somehow managed to fix our car enough for us to make it back to san diego. i've since had an unceasing admiration for this aspect of mexican culture--the inspired use made of everything. this ingenuity is especially present in mexican cuisine, where all parts of an animal are used and no food item is put to waste. 

which brings me to chilaquiles. in my opinion, there is no better breakfast to be had on the planet. they are essentially fashioned from leftovers--tortillas, salsa, and abandoned vegetables, tied together with creamy eggs and perhaps a handful of cheese. the corn tortillas get a quick fry in a little oil, then are slipped in warm, spicy sauce, until they are half tender, half crisp, and absolutely delicious. there is no wrong way to make chilaquiles, so i offer here a rough recipe with lots of choices. the one essential, i feel, is a squeeze of lime juice at the end. what day is not made better by the taste of limes upon waking? i can say from experience, not many.

improv chilaquiles

(serves 4)

essentials

6 corn tortillas, cut in quarters

1/2 cup vegetable oil

4 eggs, lightly whisked

2 limes

pre-prepared sauce (choose 2 cups from the following OR create your own sauce with the recipe that follows)

salsa roja

salsa verde

pico de gallo

OR

create your own sauce (choose 3 cups from the following, selecting at least one type of tomatoes)

white, red, or yellow onion, medium diced

fresh tomatoes or tomatillos, coarsely chopped

canned, diced tomatoes

fresh or jarred roasted bell pepper, medium diced

roasted poblano, medium diced

jalapeno, finely diced

flavor builders (select 1 - 4 from the following)

1 teaspoon - 1 tablespoon hot sauce (depending on heat)

2 teaspoons adobo from canned chipotles

1 teaspoon dried mexican oregano

1 cup shredded cheese (i.e. monterey jack, cotiga, cheddar etc.)

toppings (optional)

1 cup avocado, large diced, or guacamole

1/2 cup sour cream

1/2 cup chopped cilantro

salt & freshly ground pepper

fry the tortillas: place the vegetable oil in a saute pan with high sides and set over medium heat. you want the oil extremely hot (about 350 degrees), but not smoking. slice off a small piece of tortilla and slip it in the oil. it should bubble up and begin to turn golden brown. fry the tortilla wedges, three or four at a time, in the oil, until they are golden brown and crisp. remove to a plate lined with paper towels. let the oil cool down for a bit and then pour out all but one tablespoon, reserving the extra oil for another use.

prepare the sauce: if you are using a leftover sauce such as salsa roja or pico de gallo, pour the sauce in the pan, returning the heat to medium. simmer the sauce until hot throughout. move onto to preparing the eggs.

if you are making your own sauce, return the pan to medium heat. if you are using any onions, add them to the pan and cook for a few minutes. next, add any tomatoes or other vegetables you are using and cook for several minutes, until the tomatoes break down and liquid is released. season with salt and pepper.

prepare the eggs: heat a nonstick skillet over medium heat and add the butter. when it sizzles, add the eggs, and slowly stir a couple of times with a spatula to scramble. cook for a minute or two, until the eggs are mostly done.

finish the chilaquiles: add the fried tortillas and eggs to the warm sauce and fold everything together gently with a spatula. stir in any flavor boosters and squeeze juice from halved limes over the chilaquiles. divide amongst serving plates and add any toppings. serve immediately.

notes

* you can add leftover pulled pork, chicken or steak to your chilaquiles if you wish. they are also good with leftover corn, grilled vegetables...whatever you have on hand.

* if you don't feel like frying corn tortillas, you can always use leftover corn chips. leftover is the key word here.

* instead of scrambling the eggs, you can serve the chilaquiles with a fried or poached egg for variety. i've also had chilaquiles made with a hint of ginger. another plate was topped with asagio cheese. both were delicious.