groove food

toasts & fizzes

toast is such a splendid word. it can mean bread that has gotten an attractive makeover in color and texture. toast is hot, and not just because it is served warm. then there are toasts, our robust expressions with glasses raised high. the sentiment shared need not be celebratory, or even kind, though those things are generally well received. i think the only requirement for a decent toast is an emphatic delivery. it’s an art to be honed. i suggest you practice with your glass of orange juice in the morning. 

with new year’s eve upon us, i share a poem of toasts. i lifted it from my undergraduate honors thesis. i was quite proud of it at the time and wondered why keg parties didn’t included more toasts amongst the toasted. a recipe for something pink and bubbly also follows. it will look quite nice raised way up into the air.

Collected Toasts, Occasions Variable

A mug, what a clever invention!
Although you are obese, you are obese!
Drink to my new tattoo, it says Grog!
For all the times you had spinach in your teeth and I didn’t tell you!
For the men and women who frisk us before we enter!
Here’s to Indiana, a state!
Here’s to your tongue, may it lick many a thing!
Here’s to your tonsils, wherever they may be!
Ladies and Gentlemen, take a bath!
Love, how monosyllabic, how easy to spell!
Let the night involve nudity, or at least partial nudity!
Let the world never stray too far from its orbit!
May you always wear hand-me-down nightgowns!
May you never drink without your mouth adequately open!
May you never own a dog that is more attractive than you!
May you roll in a fluffy pile of feathers!
Thank the Lord for paddleboats!
Thank the Lord for wine, without which there would be too many grapes!
To our health, wealth, and ability to wiggle!

pomegranate fizz

(serves 6)

½ cup granulated sugar
½ cup water
¾ cup fresh pomegranate juice, chilled
¼ cup pomegranate arils (optional)
1 bottle champagne or sparkling mineral water, chilled

place the sugar and water in a small saucepan over medium heat. gently cook, stirring from time to time, until the sugar is completely dissolved. set aside the simple syrup to cool completely.

when ready to serve, add 2 teaspoons of the simple syrup, 1 tablespoon pomegranate juice, and a few pomegranate arils to each champagne flute. Top with champagne or sparkling water for a non-alcoholic version. disperse glasses immediately. bottoms up!

notes

* you can replace the champagne in this recipe with sparkling wine, prosecco, or cava

* adjust the amount of simple syrup and pomegranate juice to your taste

christmas & the mighty, mighty mitchells

the photograph above shows my grandfather, george julian mitchell jr., in germany. my uncle arthur estimates the year to be 1950 or 1951. i love this picture. it captures my grandfather's strong personality and good appetite. he died when i was thirteen, but i still think of him every day, with special intensity around the holidays. in his later years my grandfather had a white beard, round belly, and bald head. when he took me to ride the mini train at balboa park i asked all the other passengers what is still one of my family's favorite rhetorical questions: "doesn't my grandpa look like santa clause!"

my grandfather is the reason i love to cook. he's why i care about food, why i'd wake up and write about a meal in the morning. i've never tasted anything better than the fresh squeezed orange juice he'd set out for me in the morning, carefully poured in a glass with cheerful little oranges painted on the side. i think he knew this made it taste better--cooks are aware of these things. mitchell meals were richly flavored and always peppered with heated discussions with my grandfather at the helm of the table and my father and uncle flanking the sides. the robust exchange of ideas, insults and side dishes inspired me, at seven, to pen "the mighty, mighty mitchells" a chant i imagined in unison before each meal, our fists clutching the family silverware and pounding the table.

my grandfather's fierce passion for food coursed through all of us. it is little wonder that i consider my father and my uncle to be two of the finest cooks i've ever met. in 2005, my uncle, arthur mitchell, started what i believe to be one of the most inspired holiday traditions i know of. each year a different country that celebrates christmas is represented at our table. my uncle carefully researches the christmas foods of that country, writes a multi-course menu in the language of that country, and assigns us each recipes to provide. it is an exercise in history, celebration, and, indeed, endurance. we have feasted on etouffât de noël and spätzle aux beurre from france, colcannon soup and plum pudding from ireland, italian pignolata-strufoli and greek αρνί kεφτεδάκια. those, my friends, are lamb meatballs. i will share the recipe for those morsels with you soon because i don't think you should end 2010 without them.

this year, we travel to mexico. i am responsible for the pork posole and rompope, a puebla style egg nog, in addition to ponche navideno con tejocote, a holiday punch with hibiscus flowers. in the coming days, i'll share some recipes and hopefully a ten bites interview with the mastermind behind this dinner, my uncle art. he is definitely my grandfather's son. as you prepare for your own holiday feasts, good tidings and glad wishes.

salud!

baggy sweater dip

oh, delicious december. you are maximalism at its finest. your tamales, i've discovered, fit nicely in my purse, your egg nog makes me wonder why all beverages don't coat the back of a spoon. you give purpose to the paper plate: christmas cookies. even your words are tasty. it is enough just to say plum pudding, bûche de noël, toffee trifle, gingerbread boy, buñuelos. and let me not forget hamborgarhryggur! when you smoke and cure a christmas pork roast in iceland i imagine you spend the day shouting this word with your fist pumping in the air. december, thank you for being so delicious and simultaneously cold. baggy sweaters are warm and forgiving. you are the only month  i would venture to place luscious mounds of ricotta, crisped pancetta, and spoonful after spoonful of slow-cooked, caramel-hued onions in a baking dish with just a smidge (or several smidges, shhh...) of cream cheese. i probably won't even turn you down later if you offer me a cup of hot cocoa with vanilla marshmallows. in fact, i will think how nice it is that even chubby little marshmallows get cloaked in roomy, flattering chocolate. 

warm ricotta, pancetta, and caramelized onion dip

(serves 10 as an appetizer)

3 medium sweet onions, sliced into 1/4 inch half moons, then quartered

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves

kosher salt & pepper

1/4 pound pancetta, diced into 1/4 inch cubes

2 cups whole milk ricotta, at room temperature

8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature

1 1/2 cups shredded parmesan cheese, lightly packed

baguette, ciabatta or crackers for serving

heat the olive oil in a heavy, medium-sized saute pan over medium heat. add the onions and stir to coat in the olive oil. cook for a few minutes, stirring so as not to burn the onions, then turn the heat to medium-low. season with the thyme leaves, a generous pinch of salt and several cracks of black pepper. cook the onions, stirring from time to time, for 45-70 minutes, until they are deeply golden and shrunken down in size. make sure to watch the heat so they do not burn. set the onions aside in a bowl to cool to room temperature.

wipe the saute pan clean with a towel and place the pancetta in it. set the pan over medium heat and cook the pancetta, stirring often, until it is lightly crisp. remove the pancetta to a plate lined with paper towels to drain and cool.

preheat the oven to 375. grease a small to medium sized baking dish (enough to fit about 4 cups of dip in) with olive oil. place the ricotta and cream cheese in a large mixing bowl, and stir to combine. add the cooled onions, pancetta, and parmesan to the bowl and fold all the ingredients together. spread the dip evenly in the baking dish. bake for 30-45 minutes, until golden brown on top. serve with bread or crackers.

notes

* color is a good indication of when your onions are done. i like mine just past golden.

* although this dip is quite decedent, the ricotta makes it divinely light in texture

* if you cannot find sweet onions, use yellow onions. if you cannot find pancetta, bacon is perfectly acceptable substitute. don't use reduced fat cream cheese. just get a baggy sweater.

 

wednesday ritual

i always gauge where i am in the week in relation to wednesday. monday is two days before it. saturday is four days until the next. if i am permitted a brief vacation from the present moment it's either, oddly, to think about a snowy place or anticipate wednesday. on every hump day periodicals across america publish their food & dining sections. i am programmed to head to the closest coffee shop in my proximity with copies of the ny times, and give myself over to thirty minutes of macchiato/journalistic bliss. today i licked the chocolate-dulce de leche drips off the side of a jar from la salamandra in argentina, sucked down a cup of butterscotch egg nog, noshed on old school pigs in a blanket from liberty tree in our nation's capitol and paused on a perfect sentence from david tanis: "sheep, it turns out, adore bread." my fingertips get covered with newsprint, i inhale the perfume of glossy coffee beans, and in a single moment i know i will never be a digital reader.

i have a stack of ny times dining sections dated back to 2006 collecting in the northeast corner of my bedroom. an old issue instantly brings back where my head and heart were at on that particular wednesday. some have even been textured by rain, bicycle wheels, tears both happy and sad. they also remind me of why we write and read about food. there is an intense, incredibly slippery satisfaction in exchanging the ineffable. i would even venture to say that no other section of the newspaper is quite so much about sharing pleasure.

here i am smiling. only seven days until next wednesday.

notes

* this wednesday's issue includes a recipe for homemade chai masala, something i have been delighted to try my hand at in the kitchen. i'll include the recipe soon, but you can also find it in today's copy of the times, hopefully over a cup of something steamy and caffeinated.

brown paper packages tied up with string

that is one sexy round of cheese. brillat-savarin triple creme before noon? i am sorry to taunt you. we'll get to that later. 

i woke up way too early this morning to the faint scent of pine. our christmas tree made its debut last night and, like a kid, i could hardly sleep. armed with a gift of coffee beans claiming to contain "the highest caffeine content of any organic coffee," i tiptoed upstairs, brewed a pot, and sat down to admire the white lights on green fir and write out what i might put under that tree. 'tis the season of commercial bliss. the only thing is, i vowed against the mall this year. gift-giving is a splendid high, increased exponentially if you invest a bit of love and labor in the gift. fueled by an intense caffeine buzz, i share these homespun ideas and a few purchases from small, local businesses. wishing all of you a delicious december.

all things homemade....

espresso-walnut toffee is reason to invest in a candy thermometer. recipe here.

my mom's granola. bonus points for packing it in a pretty canister from your local thrift store. recipe here.

chocolate caramel crack. that's right, crack. made with matzo and oh so addictive. recipe here.

fill a vintage cookie tin with whole wheat sables with cocoa nibs. recipe here.

sugar spice salmon rub in a mason jar, plus a trip to the fishmonger together. spice rub here.

if you really must burn cash, spend it yummy...

chuao chocolate's winter hot cocoa blend. i implore you to make it with whole milk. buy it here.

pancake & frank's letterpress gourmet note cards. their black-eyed peas and radishes are quantifiably cute. find them here.

my favorite fleur de sel ever. i have searched far and wide for the ultimate and the buck stops here. my advice: add a finger twist to pretty much everything.

aleppo pepper. a secret ingredient in many a great restaurant kitchen. get your sweet and smoky on here.

little flower sea salt caramels & vanilla marshmallows from pasadena. homemade goodness here.

smoked olive oil. endless, delicious possibilities. i like it on deviled eggs. visit the smoked olive here.

and beyond...

a cooking class is an extra special gift for anyone, and quite a bit of fun. if you need direction on choosing a great class in your area, please send me an email (my address is in the "about" section). or, join me as a i teach "sweet & savory rustic tarts" at cups in la jolla, california. info here.

greener groceries with map totes & wine totes. find them here.

bacon baklava? bacon of the month club is genius. npr tells you where.

think inside the box. a csa membership gives the gift of fresh produce and supports a local farm. find a nearby resource for community supported agriculture here.

brillat-savarin triple creme & lingerie. i dare you.

a labor of love. handwrite a favorite recipe and give it away.

good to eat, good to read

some of us curl up on the couch and disappear to hogwarts. i prefer david tanis's kitchen, where i spy on him making jalapeno pancakes and beans on toast all alone, with his enormous, painstaking hands only a chef or carpenter could achieve. being a cookbook reader is an exercise in imagination, a hobby that will take you to faraway places, have you whispering words like chana masala, then beg you to your backyard. you will want a garden. you will invoke company. cookbooks make wonderful gifts, especially if you inscribe them, and even more if you cook from them together. here are a few of my favorite sources for recipes and inspiration:

new & noteworthy

the essential new york times cookbook - amanda hesser, editor

the absolute best of the best since the times started publishing recipes in 1850. hesser dutifully tested and updated every recipe, while keeping true to the ethos of the original. do not miss david eyre's puffy, oven-baked pancake with powdered sugar and lemon from 1966. it has changed lives. (buy it here)

living raw food - sarma melngailis

one of the most exciting, lavish cookbooks i've ever laid hands on, and hardly any traditional "cooking" is required. sarma melngailis, the owner of pure food & wine in manhattan, presents a thrilling, beautiful take on eating raw. mushroom "calamari," pumpkin gnocchi, and vanilla bean panna cotta are sensory explorations. (buy it here)

heart of the artichoke - david tanis

from the chef of berkeley's chez panisse, a meditative tome on the pleasures of the kitchen and celebrating simple, honest food in the peak of its season. tanis's recipes are playful and moving, uncomplicated and, always, just right. (buy it here)

a homemade life - molly wizenburg

part cookbook, part memoir, and entirely wonderful. this will probably be the book i most recommend for years and years. i laughed, i cried, i made pistachio cake with honeyed apricots. one of the freshest, most sensual reads you're likely to come upon, from the creator of the blog, orangette. molly wizenburg shares her life and recipes generously. (buy it here)

a couple classics

the art of eating - m.f.k. fischer

a collection of work from the prolific mother of gastronomy. all of her books are exacting, witty, yet lovingly written, and many are lessons in history--culinary road maps as to why we eat what we do. i appreciate this volume for it's portability and page-turning breadth of a delicious career. (buy it here)

sunday suppers at lucques - suzanne goin

a collection of the highly-extolled (and rightly so) sunday suppers from the beloved lucques, my favorite restaurant on the planet. the book is divided by season and features the likes of veal osso buco with saffron risotto, english peas, and pea shoots along with coconut flan with apricots and beaumes de venise and goin's own wedding cake: hazelnut-brown butter. i drool as i write this.
(buy it here)

a return to cooking - eric ripert & michael ruhlman

i am not going to lie: a major draw here is the remarkable quantity of photographs of eric ripert. eric ripert holds a knife, eric ripert goes crabbing in maine with his khaki's rolled up, eric ripert smiles at me (i swear). but eric ripert also makes the best pancakes i have ever had and his sunshine-colored gazpacho dotted with puetro rican avocado is a revelation. (buy it here)

odd little browned bits

the supper of the lamb: a culinary reflection - robert farrar capon

an episcopalian priest's "love letter to the world" centered around perhaps the most engrossing recipe i've ever read: lamb for eight persons four times. it is a passionate, often hilarious treatise on food and life and how the two are inseparable. (quotes with thanks to ryan schrock. buy the supper of the lamb here)

fat: an appreciation of a misunderstood ingredient, with recipes - jennifer mclagan

a book entirely devoted to the premise that processed, industrial foods inflict populations with food-related illnesses, and high-quality, mindfully consumed animal fats are not the culprit. this book celebrates succulence, decadence, and nature's tastiest ingredient. there is also a recipe for brown butter ice cream fit for seduction. (buy it here)

mondovino - a film

this is not a cookbook, but i had to share it with you. mondovino is a documentary exploring the globalization of wine. it will change the way you eat, drink, and move about our changing planet. it is about wine, but it is also about the loving and psychotic relationships we have with nature. (buy it here)

for children

fanny at chez panisse - alice waters

a fanciful, frolicking tale of alice waters's daughter, fanny, in the kitchens at chez panisse, with lovely, kid-friendly recipes and darling illustrations. confession: i like cooking from it even my littles are not around. (buy it here)

silver spoon for children: favorite italian recipes

easy, colorful, illustrated approaches for making homemade pizza, pasta, and simple desserts like fruitti di bosce. my girls stuck a post-it note on nearly every page when coaxed to mark recipes they wanted to make. (buy it here)

chicken soup with rice: a book of months - maurice sendak

in january

it's so nice

while slipping

on the sliding ice

to sip hot chicken soup

with rice.

siping once

sipping twice

sipping chicken soup

with rice. 

notes

* above, my friends, is the typical scene of my life these days. unfortunately, preparation for my dissertation has kept me in the books (very few of which are cookbooks) and out of the kitchen. as the holidays near, i'll come with more festive edibles.

* i included the links to amazon for the books i mentioned. however, i really, really encourage you to purchase them from your local bookstore. flipping through cookbooks in the bookstore is fun, albeit hunger-inducing.