groove food

ten bites: ryan schrock

(ryan @ diner in brooklyn with oliver brown)

this is the first of what i hope will become a weekly post in which i pose ten food-related questions to one of my friends, partners in crime, or culinary crushes (eric ripert, i've got my eyes on you). i thought i'd kick it off with a bang and interview my dear pal, ryan schrock. he cooks a mean roasted chicken, aspires to make watermelon beer, and celebrates a good meal by hula hooping in the buff. a general warning: this post includes discussion on bowel movements, figs, genitals, and juicy mangoes to the epidermis. enjoy, or turn back now, but you'd be missing out. a special thanks to ryan for being the guinea pig for this experiment and returning with such vivid answers.

1. guilty pleasure?

i used to steal a milk maid caramel every time i went to the supermarket. the first time, my mom told the cashier that i had had one caramel, and she said that was okay and didn't charge us for it. since then i've taken her word as carte blanche for me to eat one caramel every time i go to grocery store for the rest of my life.

2. cookbook?

the supper of the lamb by robert farrar capon. the moby dick of cookbooks.

3. comfort food?

i'm big on textures when it comes to comfort food. i think i am constantly searching for some unattainable, lost childhood experience with my comfort food eating. the texture of a bag of lays potato chips inserted into a foot long turkey or tuna sub does it. also, eating those peanut butter cheese crackers from 7-11 while drinking red gatorade, letting the gatorade soak into the crackers in my mouth. what else? supermarket rotesserie chickens, potato salad on white bread...childhood foods.

4. sexiest fruit?

either mangoes or figs. mangoes because they're so juicy and definitely the the fruit i'd want to smear all over my lover's body. figs because, cut in half, they look like delicious vaginas.

5. food memory?

coming home from elementary school as a latch-key kid and flipping on disney afternoon. i would make a big bowl of orville redenbacher instant popcorn and then pack it in fruit roll ups and make them into little balls that i could eat like an apple. this is what my adult body is composed of at its core. so unhealthy. one time i ate so many blueberry gushers that my poop turned green. i was so scared that i told my mom and then she made me show her. i had to not flush and call my mom in after i went to the bathroom. this is a negative food memory.

6. dish to perfect?

pancakes. in my opinion, it's difficult to make a pancake good enough to justify, beyond a doubt, making a sweet as opposed to savory breakfast. my perfect pancakes would probably involve some portion of sourdough starter, buttermilk, and buckwheat flour.

7. ice cream flavor?

hands down, molasses oatmeal cookie from "the ultimate" in asheville, north carolina. i also generally like alcohol themed ice creams (cherries jubilee, rum raisin, guiness) and butter/cream centric flavors (butter brickle, pralines and cream, dulce de leche).

8. restaurant?

diner in brooklyn. high quality, seasonal ingredients, on-site butchery, pastured animals (that they utilize every part of) and, beyond all this, no dish is without inspiration, without being gratuitously ornate or showy. diner is for real.

9. strangest thing you've ever eaten?

i don't know what it was. i speak some japanese, and so i became friendly with my local sushi chef. he would make me something off the menu every time i went. once he served me these little sour tasting, hard-yet-chewy nibs in a cold viscous sauce. they were okay. after i ate them, he told me they were the fish's seminal vesicles. i don't know if he was joking.

10. song about food?

"blue corn pancakes" by mike west and myshkin. a man loves a woman who doesn't love him back. she offers him blue corn pancakes and maple syrup to help him get over her.

ryan attempting to smoke salami. he reports, for the record, it doesn't work.

peppadew & marcona almond relish

i can spend days preparing for a party, rolling meatballs the size of fat walnuts, eking stock out of a summer's worth of frozen lobster shells, peeling bell pepper for the silkiest ratatouille. when all is said and done, the dish that once inspired a guest to lick the bottom of the bowl (okay, he may have had a slightly unreasonable amount of maker's on the rocks, but still) is the one that took five minutes to put together. peppadew and marcona almond relish crowning a generous sliver of aged manchego cheese is culinary crack. peppadews are slightly sweet, slightly spicy pickled peppers with origins in south africa. it's worth the trouble of finding a good jar of them; "peppadew" is an excellent brand, and available at most cheese shops, specialty stores, and online. if there is any relish leftover (unlikely) drizzle it over blanched vegetables, spoon it over soup, or you can always lick it from the bottom of the bowl.

peppadew & marcona almond relish

(makes about 1 cup of relish)

1/2 cup jarred peppadew peppers, red or gold, finely diced (i like the hot variety, but there is also mild)

1/4 cup marcona almonds, salted & roasted, crushed or chopped

1/2 teaspoon garlic, finely minced

1 tablespoon fresh mint, sliced into a thin chiffonade

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil of good quality

sea salt & cracked pepper to taste

a good sized wedge of aged manchego cheese, brought to room temperature before serving

crackers or baguette for serving

combine the peppadews, marcona almonds, garlic, mint, and olive oil in a small bowl. stir to combine. season to taste with salt and pepper. serve with the manchego and crackers.

notes

* if you would like to prepare this relish ahead of time and refrigerate it you may do so, leaving out the almonds until just before serving. i think it is best at room temperature because it allows the flavors to open up

* like many great recipes, this one developed when i accidently bought the wrong ingredient. the orginal recipe called for piquillo peppers. i've since tried it with piquillos and like my messed up version best

one month + recipe index

this blog is one month old. for years, when questions about the future came up, i would tell people i wanted to eventually write about food. the tiny issue was that i never actually wrote. then last month i thought, "i should start a blog today." apparently eventually had arrived. i love to cook and i love to share food. even more, i love to share a recipe so you can experience the same pleasure in the kitchen and at the table. i get giddy when i hear a recipe turned out well for you. i know this blog can be a little challenging to navigate when you are looking for something in particular. i am working on an index for recipes...i hope that helps. for the time being, a list of the recipes i've shared so far follows.

i spent the better part of yesterday turning that big bowl of produce into a lot of salsa. i woke up this morning to the smell of tacos and shortly realized the taco smell was me. in the midst of all the chopping, i interviewed someone for a surprise post on monday. you will never look at figs or blueberry gushers in the same way. in the meantime, here are some things to cook. happy saturday.

breakfast

everyday granola

salads & starters

citrus dressing

grilled corn, butter bean, cherry tomato & avocado salad

heirloom watermelon salad with lime & cilantro

quinoa salad with maple roasted butternut squash & toasted walnuts

roasted carrot & fennel soup

mains

improv vegetable curry

seven hour pork shoulder

spaghetti with cherry tomatoes & gremolata

sides

white corn pudding with fire roasted poblanos

sweet things

brown butter cookies

cardamom & cashew kulfi with strawberry sauce

chocolate-chocolate chunk cookies

warm chocolate almond torte

a little lettuce love

if you're stuck in a slump, make a salad. i might be a little eccentric, but making a salad can lure me from the corner of my brain that is perpetual june gloom. i don't retreat there very often, but when i do, i make a salad and am immediately reminded of a number of things: the earth is weird and wonderful, lettuce tastes like waking up, and the only thing blocking me from happiness is me. the natural progression from head into heart is then heart into hands. my hands want to make salad. there is no better honor to a bowl full of vegetables than homemade dressing. this one may take a few extra moments to whip up, but trust me, it's worth it.

citrus dressing

(makes about 3/4 cup dressing)

1 cup freshly squeezed citrus juice - from oranges, tangerines, blood oranges or a combination

1 teaspoon finely grated zest from an orange, tangerine, or blood orange

1 tablespoon lemon juice

2 teaspoons honey

2 tablespoons flat leaf parsley, finely chopped

1 tablespoon finely minced shallot

1 pinch of red pepper flakes

½ - ¾ cup extra virgin olive oil, to taste (use the best you have available)

sea salt & freshly cracked pepper

pour the citrus juice in a small saucepan and set over medium low heat. bring to a boil and then lower to a steady simmer. continue to simmer until the juice has reduced to 1/4 cup. set aside to cool.

combine the citrus zest, lemon juice, honey, parsley, shallot, red pepper flakes, and cooled, reduced citrus juice in a medium mixing bowl. whisk to combine. pour the olive oil in, just a few drops at first, while whisking. continue to pour the olive oil in a very slow stream while whisking until emulsified. adjust the amount of olive oil to your preference. season with salt and pepper.

notes

* this citrus is lovely on any combination of ultra-fresh greens. however, here are some other delicious ways to feature this dressing:

    spicy salad greens, new potatoes, green beans,                 prosciutto & mission figs (shown above)

    mache, blanched asparagus & ricotta salata

    roasted beets, blood orange supremes, goat cheese

    arugula, shaved fennel & pine nuts

    brown rice, pistachios & golden raisins

* this dressing will keep for several days in an airtight container or jar in the fridge. i like to bring it to room temperature before using, letting the flavors open up.

woolloomooloo

my memory fails me. it is the universe's backhanded gift, for the act of it failing is an indication of how the years have been overstuffed. time is slippery, melts, and i am unable to recall the way my daughter looked even a few years ago. then, at some unassuming moment, the sunlight spreads through the room in just the right quantity, and a vision of her face arrives like a telegram, urgent, brief, and in full disclosure of itself. or, i find myself eating scalloped potatoes and an impeccable salad at my kitchen table, and something about the combination delivers back a day in avignon, eight years ago. i am sent scrambling to my old boxes to uncover this picture of dash, exiting the restaurant woolloomooloo onto the blindingly bright rue de teinturiers. 

we'd just slowly feasted on potatoes in cream and gruyere, set against a tangle of cold garden lettuces with tart, mustardy vinaigrette. even the cracked pepper tasted monumental and a water glass subjected to the sunlight flared up like diamonds. the restaurant was in an old printing house, and cazuelas set against a counter by the kitchen spilled with vegetables and typeset letters. when we left, we snaked our way through the streets, passing a prostitute basking in the afternoon and countless window boxes of fragrant geranium. we ended at the top of the city at the rocher des domes, where dash met a german acrobat who taught her how to do a backflip. then, he juggled for us.

there is clarity in each movement--dash's small, muscular arms reaching skyward before diving back, and my brown leather sandals slapping the street beneath me as we headed to the theater that evening to see a troupe of actors playing mad carnies with beautiful mechanical marionettes. all of this arrived with the trinity of potatoes, cream, and greens and not a moment sooner. i smile mischievously, like i imagine dash would, and sink in for another bite.

notes

* here is the recipe i use for scalloped potatoes, but i cut it in half so it fits in my little yellow le creuset baker. i promise to present you with my favorite salad dressing tomorrow.

* if you are ever in avignon, i urge you to eat at restaurant woolloomooloo at 16 bis, rue des teinturiers, 84000

quinoa salad with maple roasted butternut squash

i'm in the camp that eating something good for you should also be a pleasure. i also favor dishes appealing to all eaters--vegetarians, vegans, and those abstaining from gluten included. this quinoa salad fits the bill deliciously. the idea was born after receiving a sweet note from my friend, laina. she claimed i came to mind while she was eating quinoa and maybe it was because she thought of me as a rich, exotic source of omegas. it may be the best compliment i've ever received, though one i felt obligated to earn. quinoa has an earthy, nutty flavor and a barely detectable crunch. butternut squash, with its voluptuous figure and flavor to match, is the ultimate partner. fall staples come in to tie them together--maple, coriander, thyme, toasty walnuts, cranberries, and sherry vinegar. its served at room temperature, so its ideal for sharing...with anyone and everyone.

quinoa salad with maple roasted butternut squash & walnuts

(serves 10 as a side dish)

4 - 5 cups butternut squash (from an 8-10 pound squash), peeled and chopped in 1-inch cubes

3 tablespoons maple syrup

1/4 + 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 teaspoons ground coriander

1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves

2 cups quinoa (red or white), rinsed until the water is clear

1 cup walnuts, toasted and coarsely chopped

1 cup dried cranberries (or pomegranate arils, if available)

1/4 cup flat leaf parsley, finely chopped

1 tablespoon finely grated orange zest

3 tablespoons orange juice

2 tablespoons sherry vinegar (or substitute white wine vinegar)

kosher salt & pepper

preheat oven to 400 with a rack set in the middle of the oven. combine the maple syrup, thyme leaves, 1 teaspoon of ground coriander and 1/4 cup of olive oil in a medium mixing bowl. whisk the ingredients to combine. place the butternut squash in a large roasting pan and drizzle the maple syrup mixture over it. toss together with your hands so that the squash gets evenly coated. season with 2 teaspoons of kosher salt and several grinds of black pepper. roast for 40-45 minutes, stirring at 15 minute intervals, until the squash is tender but holds its shape. cool in the pan set on a rack.

place 4 cups of water in a medium saucepan (that has a fitted lid) with 1 teaspoon of kosher salt. bring to a boil. add the quinoa, return to a boil, and then lower the heat to medium-low. cover, and cook for 10-15 minutes, until the water has been absorbed. fluff with a fork and immediately spread the quinoa out on a baking sheet to cool to room temperature.

combine the orange zest, orange juice, sherry vinegar, and 1 teaspoon of ground coriander in a medium bowl. slowly drizzle in 1/3 cup olive oil while whisking. season with salt and pepper.

when the quinoa and butternut squash have cooled toss them together in a large bowl with the walnuts, cranberries, parsley, and orange juice dressing. make sure to scrape in any liquid that may be leftover in the butternut squash pan--it is delicious. season the salad with salt and pepper. serve at room temperature.

notes

* you can make this salad several hours (or even a day) ahead and store in the refrigerator. just wait until serving to add the walnuts and cranberries (or pomegranate), and make sure it comes to room temperature before you serve it. 

* on a somewhat unrelated note, i once watched laina's childhood jack russel, odie, swallow a gopher whole. it still ranks as one of the most memorable things i have ever witnessed. odie may be the only creature who might scoff at this salad. gophers, man.

the milkshake yard

this is the story of the worst thing i have ever made. in the not so distant past i became fixated with the idea of one day operating a milkshake truck. it was going to be called the milkshake yard, after the kelis song. my milkshakes were going to bring all the boys to yard...or so the story goes.

i was convinced the piece de resistance of the milkshake yard was destined to be "mango to the 4th." this milkshake, comprised of four styles of mango, was inspired by the date shakes at hadley's fruit orchards in cabazon. i would find excuses to drive to palm springs just to stop for a date shake. for many, they invoke obsession in the realm of, oh, george clooney. both milky and icy, they team vanilla ice cream with plump little bits of sun-ripened dates. could i create the same effect with mango as the headliner? the future of the milkshake yard relied on it.

it was no challenge to convince my daughters to join my pilgrimage to whole foods for this purpose. i simply uttered the word milkshake. when we got home we filled our vitamix with fresh mango, dehydrated mango, dried mango, mango sorbet and a generous splash of milk. a high powered whir later, the blender was brimming, dreamy and orange.

here is my poor daughter, lola, being subjected to "mango to the 4th." each sip required dedicated chewing to get through the frozen dried mango and disturbing little flecks of dehydrated mango. for some reason, it tasted vaguely like vomit. her response: "i DO NOT like this milkshake, mommy. i want a real milkshake."

we packed up and headed for in-n-out. the flawless vanilla milkshake both enraged and consoled me. i decided to stick with my day job, but i still like the song. 

notes

kelis - milkshake

dessert in bangladesh

my interest in ice cream, gelato, and frozen custard has never waned, and when it comes to the frozen dessert family, i've never favored one child over the other--until i met kulfi, a dense, endlessly creamy indian version of ice cream that is typically sold from pushcarts in flavors like pistachio, saffron, and rosewater. making it the traditional way requires patience and arm strength as you essentially create your own sweentened condensed milk by gently reducing creamy milk, stirring constantly to toast it. that is what gives kulfi its irresistible richness and depth of flavor. this cardamom and cashew kulfi achieves a very similar effect through using convenient (albeit kitschy) canned milk. it requires nothing more than whisking a few ingredients together and freezing them in molds or paper cups. the result is a dessert that tastes like silk, or what a rose petal would if it could melt. the prettiness of the milk is matched to a pool of bright strawberry, a feat to watch as it happens on the plate.

cardamom & cashew kulfi with strawberry sauce

(serves 6 - 10, depending on the size of the molds you use)

1 can (14 ounces) sweetened condensed milk

1 cup heavy cream

1 can (12 ounces) evaporated milk

1 teaspoon ground cardamom

1/2 cup roasted, unsalted cashews, finely ground

2 cups strawberries (about 16 ounces), hulled and sliced 1/2 inch thick

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

2 tablespoons granulated sugar or honey

2 teaspoons rosewater (optional)

special equipment: stainless steel brioche, tart or baba au rum pans OR small paper cups OR popsicle molds

combine the sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk, heavy cream, cardamom, and cashews in a medium bowl. gently whisk all the ingredients together.

pour the milk mixture into the molds you have chosen. place them in the freezer and freeze for at least 3 hours, or overnight. 

make the sauce:  gently stir the strawberries, sugar, lemon juice, and rosewater (if using) in a medium bowl. let sit for 15 - 20 minutes until the strawberries have released some of their juices. puree the strawberries and juices in a blender until completely liquefied. push the mixture through a fine mesh sieve into a bowl, discarding the seeds left behind. chill the sauce.

when ready to serve, spoon strawberry sauce onto individual serving plates and use the back of the spoon to sweep the sauce into a circle. dip the bottom of a frozen mold in dish of hot water for a few moments (this will help the kulfi release more easily). flip the mold over onto a clean plate, squeezing gently to release the kulfi. use a small spatula to lift each kulfi onto the plates with strawberry sauce. serve immediately.

notes

* kulfi, like ice cream, is a canvas for flavors. try instant espresso, almond, orange blossom, rosewater, saffron threads, or ground pistachio.

secret reads

(me. cookbooks.)

i subscribed to the new yorker all four years i attended college. truth be told, i hardly ever actually read it. i would mostly flip to the poems and cartoons en route from mailbox to dorm room. i fancied myself a very serious person and the new yorker was an important prop. i probably would have enjoyed many of the stories had i given them the time, but college was often pabst from a mini fridge (serious people don't drink natty ice, pabst blue ribbon is a different story). the entire point of the four year subscription hinged on one issue. the august 19, 2002 new yorker was the food issue. in it was a story on sea urchin that changed everything.

chang-rae lee's story chronicled his first taste of sea urchin as a teenager living in seoul in 1980.  i went over it several times, mesmerized. a spell had been cast. all i could think of was his encounter with the split spiny spheres amidst lovers blithely feeding each other octopus tentacles at a seafood stand. i'd never read about food that way. i'd always loved to cook and eat, but failed to intellectualize the intimate relationship we can have with it.  food tells a story--how could i have missed it? i was electrified. i craved uni and any other story that would make me feel the same way.  a trip to the school library bore a collection of mfk fisher's essays. i dove in. my favorite was one following her assertion that almost everyone has something secret he likes to eat. hers were the tangerines she ate alone in her apartment in paris, plumped on the radiator, then cooled in the snow on the windowsill. as i read, an intention developed. food has been my plot line ever since.

notes

you can read chang-rae lee's story "sea urchin" here.

the mfk fisher piece is from serve it forth. you can buy it here.

white corn pudding with fire roasted poblanos

i want you to be happy. it is under that premise that i share this corn pudding. i believe it bears a guarantee of mega corny nirvana. that's right, mega corny nirvana. i have an unshakable habit of thinking of this pudding with the surprise of smoky poblanos and aged cheddar every time i see an ear of corn. each summer i make it no less than fifteen times. sometimes i actually get to try some, but usually it vanishes before then. in addition to desiring your happiness, i also want you to get hugged. my advice is to take this to your next potluck and feel the love.

white corn pudding with fire roasted poblanos

(serves 6 as a side dish)

2 poblano peppers

4 cups white corn kernels (cut from about 6 ears of corn)

3/4 cup cornmeal

1/2 cup butter, melted

1 tablespoon sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 cup grated aged cheddar or monterey jack cheese

preheat oven to 350 with a rack set in the middle of the oven. grease a small roasting pan (8x13 or so) with butter.

place each poblano directly over a hot flame on the stovetop. turn them frequently, until the entire exterior of each poblano is charred. if you have an electric stovetop, char the peppers under your oven's broiler, turning frequently. seal the poblanos in a plastic bag, and let them sit on the countertop for 15 - 20 minutes. remove the peppers from the the bag and rub off the charred skin using a papertowl. remove the stems and seeds from each poblano. medium dice the roasted peppers and set aside.

place 3 1/2 cups of the corn in a blender. follow with the cornmeal, melted butter, sugar, and salt. blend on medium until all the corn kernels have broken up and the mixture is creamy. if the mixture is a little thick and difficult to blend, dilute with a small amount of milk or cream. stir the remaining 1/2 cup of corn kernels into the blended mixture.

pour half of the corn mixture into the prepared pan. top with the poblanos, spreading them evenly (you may have some poblano leftover...save them for an omelette). top the poblanos with the grated cheese. Finish by covering everything with the remaining corn mixture. Cover the pan with aluminum foil and bake for one hour, until the top is lightly golden and slightly puffed.

let the pudding sit at room temperature for a few minutes before cutting into squares and serving. top each serving with a small dollop of sour cream and a few cilantro leaves if desired.

notes

* this recipe has been adapted from a recipe submited to the del mar garden club cookbook by my mother's dear friend, kathy lafleur.

* if you cannot find white corn, use yellow corn or even frozen corn in a pinch. poblanos are also called pasillas in some parts. if they are unavailable, use anaheims, which are quite a bit spicer, so go easy. canned green chiles will also work, but not the same effect.

* the pudding would also make a delicious breakfast or brunch served with poached eggs and pico de gallo.