Food Chains

The Future

2009-03-21T09:55:00.000-07:00

Hello food chains viewers, we are sorry to announce that the Food Chains blog has run it's course. While we continue to be avid cooks, we're finding it harder & harder to find the additional time necessary to blog about the food we're cooking. We thank you all for your contributions and patronage. We've learned so much and had some amazing meals because of your contributions. Zola and I will leave the blog site up as a resource and entertainment to all that are interested. We were lucky enough to entertain guests for dinner last night and we urge you all to keep cooking and eating together. Best of luck in the kitchen and in life, and of course Bon Appetite!

Happy New Year!

2008-12-29T08:20:00.000-08:00

Zola: This story & recipe comes to us from my friend and very faithful reader, Jamie. Because we're doing some traveling right now, I want to make sure you get this before New Years actually arrives, in case you want to try it yourselves.

Jamie: I'm so excited--I actually have recipes to send to you--straight-up Americana, not very worldly, and you might not ever want to actually try them--but they are from my family and perfect for this time of year. My grandparents always had a New Years Day open house party (odd--I know--not sure how or why that got started)--circa early 50's through the late 70's, that all of my cousins would go to. My grandmother was a character--she went to Washington University in St. Louis and got a degree in language arts--I think she could speak Latin, French, and Spanish--and when she graduated she went to Miss Hickey's secretarial school--she wanted to be an "international secretary". She ended up married and a housewife (and did not ever work for 007)--but she was always sarcastic and fun. She was a good cook, but I get the impression there was also quite a bit of jello and other new novel recipes of the time. Anyway, I digress. Among other foods, they always served milk punch and onion sandwiches at the New Years Day open house. Most people find the sound of either off-putting, and the combo doubly worse. They're super simple and quite tasty.

Onion Sandwiches
-Red Onion (~2)
-Mayonnaise (only Hellmanns (east of the rockies)/Best (west of the Rockies))
-Rye bread party bread loaf thing (you know--the mini-sized breads that are about 2"x2"?)
-Red wine vinegar

Slice the onions really thinly and soak in red wine vinegar for at least 2 hours. Put mayonnaise on two slices of the bread and then add the thinly sliced onions. Don't add too many onions--one layer is plenty, and shake off excess vinegar before putting on the bread slices.

Milk Punch
-6 oz. rum
-16 oz. brandy
-16 TBS. sugar
-1gallon milk
-nutmeg

I think milk punch is a southern thing--so maybe this started with my cousins from Mississippi. But--nobody in Missouri ever made it. Mix it all together, keep it chilled, sprinkle the top with nutmeg.

Zola: Guy & I get back into town on New Years Day but always attend an annual January 2nd party, so I'll make these for that event and post pictures and comments at that time. Ironically, this is going to be a bit of a coup as our hostess for the January 2nd party does not eat onions. Not any type of onion. I've run through the list with her. Leeks? No. Scallions? No. I even think shallots are out. But there will be enough onion eaters to make it okay, I'm sure. Despite her aversion to onions, she heartily supports Food Chains and will certainly will be game for Milk Punch. Which sounds pretty good to me.

And while I'm talking about faithful readers and hearty supporters, as this year comes to a close, we want to thank you for sticking with us. And, of course, we want to send a very special thank you to all of you who have shared your stories and food with us this past year. We--quite literally--could not have done this without you and have learned more than you know from you. As Guy mentioned, we still have more stories to in our queue that we need to cook up, so Food Chains is going to keep going in '09. We wish you & yours all the best in the coming year--and hope to hear from more of you. Happy New Year!

Grandma Vera’s World War II Fruit Cake

2008-12-25T14:45:00.000-08:00

Zola: If you know me at all, you know that I am always completely unprepared for Christmas. I never send out Christmas cards, I usually find myself shopping for presents on Christmas eve, hell, this year--uh, yesterday--I had a moment when I thought, "holy crap, we don't have any food in the fridge. what are we going to eat tomorrow?! all the stores will be closed!" My brain then proceeded to argue with itself around the pros and cons of going shopping for xmas dinner and me and Guy just finding someplace that would serve us dinner after he got off work. For the record, shopping-for-dinner-brain won but only because of this interminable snow that won't seem to stop is making it hard to get anywhere. Otherwise, going-down-to-Chinatown-for-dinner-brain would have definitely won. So it is precisely for these reasons that I am today--Christmas day--making Betha's fruitcake.

Betha: I hesitated to send in a story about fruit cake, a confection that seems to have fallen from favor other than as the object of much ridicule. However, the preparation of my Grandma Vera’s fruit cake recipe is a ritual I conduct every year in early December. It is still cherished by my family, especially by my sister and brother-in law; indeed, it is the only gift to them that I know will not end up in the Goodwill box the day after Christmas.

Grandma Vera was a wonderful cook, the kind who is experimental and who builds upon tradition without being confined by it. I don’t know where she got her recipe for the fruit cake, but I’m sure that she modified it according to her tastes—a characteristic I have certainly inherited from her. The legend goes that she sent a Christmas package, which included her freshly-baked fruit cake, to her son Graham, who was in the navy, fighting on the South Pacific front in World War II. In that era, everybody’s mom baked fruit cake and many of the sailors’ care packages contained variations on the theme. Grandma Vera’s cakes were voted the best of breed by all the men in Graham’s unit.

Here is the original recipe, with annotations:

Prepare the pans: Grease tins (small bread pans); line with waxed paper and grease again. This recipe makes 4 cakes approx. 3 ½” X 5 ½” X 2 ½”. I have some wonderful old steel tins made in England, most likely just for this purpose.

4 ½ pounds of mixed candied fruit: Place in a large bowl and sprinkle a bit of the flour (below) to coat. I still use 1 pound of the standard pre-mixed candied fruit, but for the rest of the amount, I buy a variety of dried, un-sulphured fruits and cut them into little bits. This year, I used papaya, pineapple, dates, sour cherries, and strawberries. Because the fruit is dry and not candied, I skip the sprinkling of flour and marinate the mix overnight in 2-3 T of brandy or whiskey.

1 cup butter
1 ½ cup sugar
4 eggs Blend butter, sugar & eggs until light and airy.

2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp cloves Mix dry ingredients together. I use allspice instead of cloves—a personal preference.

½ cup grape juice

Add the grape juice and flour mix alternately to the butter-sugar-egg blend. I use organic frozen concentrate and mix it double strength.
Fill the greased tins ¾ full.

Bake: Start in a cold oven. Bring the temperature up to 250◦ during the first hour. Total baking time is 2 ½ hours.

Cool pans on rack. Remove cakes and carefully peel away the waxed paper.
Package the cakes: Wrap each cake in a square of cheese cloth as if it were a present. With a pastry brush, bathe all sides of the cloth-covered cake in alcohol.* Allow to dry for a few hours before wrapping in a layer of plastic wrap and then a layer of foil. My family has eaten the fruit cake six months later and found it still to be quite palatable.

*a note about the alcohol: It is traditional to use brandy. Since my funds were always limited, I used cheap brandy for years until my brother-in-law recommended that I spend just a tad more to buy Jamieson’s Irish Whiskey—a compromise less offensive to his tastes and reasonable for my budget. Maybe one of these years, I’ll splurge on some really good brandy.

Zola: So my cake is in the oven right now. Guy and I are heading down to my parents tomorrow. I'll take it down there and let you know how it turns out. A quick note about some changes I made: you'll notice I only had a standard bread loaf pan (9x5)--I halved Betha's recipe and it fit well in there. It's also a teflon pan, so I didn't bother with the waxed paper, but did grease the pan. A little extra butter never done me wrong. Finally, I happen to be quite allergic to cherries (a terrible affliction that hit me in my late 20's) and most of those candied fruit blends have cherries in them, so I took Betha's advice, channeled Grandma Vera and let myself be swayed by the spirit of experimentation. I used dried mangos (??? I know. It's totally anti-fruitcake and if I had it to do over, I would have grabbed dates), dried cranberries, turkish apricots, currants, candied lemon, and candied ginger. I also used--are you sitting down for this?--pomegranate juice instead of grape juice. It is clearly christmas craziness over here. I blame it on the Jamieson's.

Ladurée Macarons

2008-12-20T11:02:00.000-08:00

Deb: When I was living in Paris, I was introduced to a delightful little perfect Parisian treat. I miss Paris, I miss my Parisian friends, and I miss my Parisian treat.

The person who introduced me to the sweet perfect morsel of joie is neither Parisian, nor French. He's a man I lervingly call Mister Scottsies, a dear friend who visited Paris from San Francisco. I have learned a great deal about the foods of the world from him, and he has been absolutely influential in my own discovery of and love for food and cooking.

I love Mister Scottsies' pure and endless curiosity about food (and his healthy lack of snobbery in general). I get such a kick out of the lengths he'll go to experience it (he has traveled 1.5 hours by bus for bread). Mister Scottsies has inspired and fully encouraged my enthusiasm for food excursions. (Which entails a commitment so deep you'll travel insane distances, via multiple modes of transportation, to find a delicious authentic tasty snack that you've read or heard about somewhere.) We once nearly willfully sacrificed our lives and bodies for BBQ in South Carolina – the gift of fear saved us – somewhere out of that menacing, fenced-in, isolated roadhouse we heard "dueling banjos" and we backed away; though, I gotta say, I still wonder how the 'que tasted. Did we choose wrong? I mean, how far is too far? Is there a foodie version of Fight Club out there in the world?

Anyway, being a poor grad student in Paris, I could not join Mister Scottsies for his 100 Euro lunch at L'Arpège (where he ate a sweet dessert made of tomatoes, if memory serves -- but wait, that's not my treat!), but I did join him for long metro + bus + walking excursions around town in search of regional delights.

One day, Mister Scottsies asked me where I go for Parisian Macarons. I say, "Errrm...macaroons...you mean those beige coconut things? I thought they were Italian." I don't remember much after that, because he immediately threw me out my 5th story window to the sidewalk below, scraped me up, dragged me by my hair to the Metro, yanked me up some stairs and along some long narrow winding streets, and finally plopped me in front of a magical shop window of eternal glory (do all French websites play music at you?), through which I saw neat little rows of alluring and colorful round things, so pretty and elegant I felt the need to tidy my hair and correct my posture before entering.

We bought a selection of flavors. I remember chocolate, lemon, coffee, pistachio (my favorite), and raspberry because I had to have a pink one. And I took a bite. My macaron was bright and sophisticated but modest and subtle, unexpected but comforting. And cheerful, almost playful. I think you simultaneously experience macarons as a kid and as an adult. I'm pretty sure we had macarons every day while he was in town, and I can't count the times I went back afterwards.

Zola and Guy, I can't find Parisian macarons in Seattle. They used to make them at Essential, but the big version (not in a Texasized way, you can find them in Paris, too), and it just seems ungainly to me, like they were created for Gerard Dépardieu and his giant hands. I want the small delicate ones. I have thought about making them myself, and I find this a bit intimidating. I mean, how do you get that perfectly crisp exterior with that unique soft chewiness and subtle deliciousness that makes me flip out? So...Zola, you've got a gift for the pastries...can you try it out for me? And then maybe I'll have the courage to give it shot? Sometimes I just visit the Ladurée website and just stare at the pictures, like I'm looking at an album of old friends. I'm not kidding.

Zola: Dear Deb,

Christmas has come early for you, my fair Francophile friend. Apparently, there's some place in West Seattle called Bakery Nouveau that makes the macarons (and I also hear the dude has won awards for his baguettes, so as soon as the Seattle roads are safe from treacherous snow, I'm on my way to check it out.) My other present to you is that I found a recipe for Ladurée Chocolate Macarons. Someone on the old internets machine translated the recipe. It's hard to tell if they don't know anything about baking or if they're *such* a baker that they left out all the key instructions because it's just so second nature, but not to worry. I did some research and I'm going to pull it all together for you. Please note that I'm sticking with using the weights instead of converting to cups. You get better accuracy for baking and you can buy a little scale for cheap in the weight loss department at your local drug store--and there's something satisfyingly ironic about that.

For the cookies:
275 grams powdered sugar
140 grams powdered almonds (I recommend toasting some slivered almonds then, once cool, "powder" them in your food processor)
4 egg whites
pinch salt
25 grams cocoa powder

mix your sugar, almonds and cocoa together. beat your egg whites and salt into stiff peaks. Gently fold your sugar mix into the whites. To do this, start at the center of the bowl and fold the mixture up, towards the edge of the bowl. Keep repeating this process, turning the bowl so that you're slowly spinning the bowl in a circle and incorporating all the sugar mix. The goal is to incorporate everything without deflating your whites completely. Now, the recipe says to put your mix in a piping bag to squeeze out little macarons onto parchment paper (I'd get about 4 cookie sheets prepared in advance to do this). I also tried a couple using just a spoon--you know, spooning out the batter and that seemed to work just as well so do as you wish. At some point, you'll need to get your oven heated to 350 F (or 180 C), but here's the secret to this recipe:

LET YOUR LITTLE RAW MACARON CIRCLES REST FOR TWO HOURS. I read somewhere you could wait between 1-2 hours--the one hour macarons (while still delicious) had that "cracked" look on the top (see picture below). The two hour macarons raised up perfectly flat and pretty like the ones you see on the Ladurée website. That first picture is my perfect little macarons--they are so pretty! I'm rather impressed with myself.

During your two hours, you can make and cool your ganache:
325 grams bitter chocolate (I used 2/3 bitter + 1/3 mexican chocolate)
300 grams heavy cream
75 grams unsalted butter
pinch salt

I should mention that, baking recipes often do not call for salt, and this recipe is no exception. I ALWAYS bake with unsalted butter and ALWAYS throw in a pinch of salt. Salt gives sweet a necessary base note--using unsalted butter and the adding your own allows you to control that better.

Put all the ganache ingredients in a heavy bottom pan on medium to medium high heat and stir until your chocolate and butter are melted and completely incorporated. Refrigerate until thick enough to spread easily. You can also make your ganache a week or two in advance and store in the fridge. Just let it sit out to come back to room temperature before spreading.

Bake your macarons for 11-12 minutes at 350 F. Let them cool and peel off the parchment paper. Spread a thick layer of ganache onto one macaron, then sandwich another onto the top. Voila!

oh, and FYI--Deb is *not* kidding. This may be the best "cookie". Ever. They are also really impressive for holiday giving; however decidedly difficult to give.

The Sandwich of Earthly Delight!

2008-12-15T17:51:00.000-08:00

Guy: The central market in Sao Paulo has been chronicled on this blog previously, and it is with trepidation that I hasten my return there. I know we have some outstanding, outstanding recipes' from a number of our good readers, I know our mission is to bring into the fold as many of your stories, memories and recipe's as possible, I know the end of the year approaches! So, let us say that all contributions will be published, and to do this Zola and I will extend the Food Chains beyond our stated one year goal. We did fall prey to the pressures of our "other lives" there in the early fall and missed a number of week of posting, so the new plan is that the blog will continue into '09 until all contributions are honored.

Now back to the Sao Paulo market. Many wondrous things exist in this place. Fresh produce of every description, all number of stores selling Cachaca, olive oils, pimentos and candies fruits. To report the cornucopia here, would require a post in the pages so let cut right to the chase. There a a few things the market is known for in terms of fast food output. The emblematic item in this regard, the one that most people will mention first when conversation of the market arises is the Mortadella sandwiches. Bourdain is taken straight to the market to down one of these behemoths on his arrival in Sao Paulo, in "No Reservations". My friend and business associate Andre made it plain that a Mortadella sandwich at the Sao Paulo market is a truly authentic item in the Paulista's food consciousness.
Essentially it's a very simple item, it's art and beauty is contained within the conception of the morsel, a broad powerful brushstroke of a sandwich that in it simplicity and the atmosphere it is served in, becomes a transcendental event. My humble and paltry attempt to recreate it (although delicious and toothsome in it's own right) did not live up to the experience of downing one of these with an ice cold beer and good friends in the market itself!

For what it's worth here is my interpretation of the Sao Paulo Mortadella sandwich. The ingredients are simple. Mortadella and lots of it!
Fresh, light, crusty french bread, and olive oil. For my mortadella I when to Remo Borrachini's on Ranier Ave. and bought a half pound for one sandwich. You must understand the Sao Paulo sandwiches are of epic proportions, my single half pounder was adequate, yet undernourished compared to the portly originals (see if you can guess who's is who's from the pictures). For the bread I used a Vietnamese baguette, and I had some oil left from shopping at the market itself. Production is simple, on a hot pan (or plate at the market) lightly saute the motadella in some oil. Stuff the grilled mortadella in the bread. Enjoy the juicy, greasy, dripping simplicity!

The monkey picture is from Rio's botanical garden and appears here purely for fun!

D'Isney mange les Lentilles.

2008-11-24T22:16:00.000-08:00

Guy: Friends and fellow gastronaughts, this is for me, a heart warming story and recipe from my dear friend Georgia. Both the Lentil burgers and her story bring waves of revery flooding back. Ah....the good times remembered, like handcuffing Martin to the fridge, or dressing up in drag and frightening drunken callers. Well I remember the punk rock days, no money, some beer and lots of friends! We prepared Georgia's signature dish and were lucky to have our dapper friend and avid foodchains reader Bill Disney over to enjoy the results (hence the title). Bill's burger got the full Aussie treatment, with a fried egg and beetroot (that's pickled beets for our U.S. readers), and he declared it "Good". Please note the recipe below provides enough burgers to fuel a small Hippy Punk army (Note to self, must mobilize a small Hippy Punk army fueled on lentil burgers and subvert the dominant paradigm!) so this one will work for a large number of guests. So with out further ado, HERE'S GEORGIA!

Georgia: I'll start this off by saying that Guy and I go way back. WAY back. I first met Guy when I was 18 or 19 years old, and had just moved back to Perth from a short stint living in Melbourne. I just turned 42 in August. Guy was living with a bunch of other guys just up the road from me in East Perth. One of those guys became my boyfriend and I remember spending many hilarious days and nights in that ramshackle house.
Those were heady days. I was still a punk but was moving away from the bondage pants and spiky hair phase, settling into a more introspective phase that included some political motivation, Black Flag and hair crimpers. We were all on the dole and spent our time enjoying life for the most part, which included going to see bands (a lot), drinking beer (a lot) and staying up all night (most of the time). I had some part time work that subsidised my income a little bit, and before too long, the Lord St guys (as I will coin them as a collective) made frequent appearances at my house when they were hungry. And I fed them primarily with one of my most famous recipes, for which I'm still renown – my lentil burgers.
At this house, and subsequent houses once we moved on from that place, we'd make sure that my makeshift barbeque was set up in the back yard somewhere. This involved a steel plate approx 1 ½ cm thick placed atop two stacks of bricks, giving enough room for a good fire to be made underneath. When the BBQ wasn't appropriate (ie when it rained), a cast iron frying pan sufficed very nicely.
During the height of my lentil burger fame, I was asked by Squasha, who ran The Wizbah (great live music venue in Perth in the 1980's) if I would like to make burgers to be given away for free on Sunday nights. I had free reign in the huge commercial kitchen, drinking as much alcohol as I could consume on the house. Squasha decided giving away my burgers for free would be a great drawcard for Sunday evening gigs.
By my 23rd birthday, we were living in a great house on Cambridge St in West Leederville which had a big back yard. The BBQ was placed in the top corner, and people would just show up on Sunday afternoons and I'd have a big mix made up ready to go. Those were some of the best days I remember – just hanging out with your friends, making good, simple food, listening to great music, and it was all so free, easy and casual.
Now for the recipe. The recipe for my lentil burgers is as fluid as you can probably make it. If you have some great fresh vegies available, use them. Quantities can vary greatly too, I have always played it pretty much by ear.

About 300 grams brown lentils, soaked overnight
1 large carrot, finely grated
1 large potato, finely grated
1 large brown onion finely chopped (these three things should always form the basis of your mix)
2 large eggs
3 tablespoons of plain flour
large bunch of English spinach, finely chopped (can use frozen if you like)
150 grams mushrooms (field are very good and tasty but not overpowering) finely chopped
1 medium knob fresh ginger, grated
1 cup flat leaf parsley, loosely packed then finely chopped
1 heaped teaspoon of toasted cumin seeds
½ teaspoon paprika
Some ground chilli flakes/powder to taste
Good pinch of salt
Lots of fresh ground black pepper
Any other spices you particularly like – anything that will add the flavours you like

Put the lentils on to boil and cook til tender but not falling apart.
Grate the potato and squeeze out all the excess moisture. Add all the grated/chopped veges together into one big bowl, stir in the eggs, flour and spices. Mix thoroughly.
Place about two tablespoons of the mix together into the pan/onto the hot plate and shape into a pattie, cook fairly slowly to reduce the moisture content. Flip and when browned well on both sides, serve on a lovely toasted bun or piece of good bread (sour dough would be great). Add condiments to taste. Simple. Healthy. Delicious.

Ruby's Effervescent Peach Cobbler

2008-11-17T17:57:00.000-08:00

Zola: This story is so touching; it really needs no introduction. I will say that I made the peach cobbler at the end of summer, choosing only the best peaches to honor this dish in the way it deserves.

Cyre: I have had a difficult time trying to describe this cobbler of my youth...as frankly...I've never had anything even close to it and have given up hope that I ever will. Ruby was a house parent at the Hutton Settlement, a children's home located in The Spokane Valley. She was also the BEST COOK EVER!!!
There were 4 cottages on campus, 2 for girls and 2 for boys. Ruby almost always worked in the boys cottages, but on very rare occasion we were delighted to have her cooking for us! My very favorite recipe of hers, is indeed her Peach Cobbler.
It stood 4-5 inches tall! Stretchy, chewy and white like unbaked bread dough! It magically sputtering in our mouths with the explosion of tiny effervescent bubbles! When I first tried it, I thought it uncooked! But I sure wasn't gonna tell Ruby that! It was AMAZING! The peaches and syrup sank deep into the dough making it even gooey-er!!! I honestly don't remember the crumbly topping as indeed it was all about the huge mouthfuls of sparkling dough. She always served it with fresh whipped cream and let us eat to our hearts desire. Ruby was not a woman of many words...but managed to make every one of us feel very special, and very loved with her cooking. Talk about a good memory!

Zola: For the biscuit topping, I used a recipe with baking soda to try to get that 'effervescent' quality. I almost think, to really recreate this, one should make a lot more biscuit so you could really lay it on.
For the biscuits:
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons packed light brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter (1/2 stick), frozen
1/4 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons heavy cream

For the peach filling:

Get enough peaches to fill your pie pan, remove the skin
add white & brown sugar to taste
add flour (when you can *just* taste the flour, that's enough to act as a thickening agent)
I like to add a little lemon juice & cinnamon but that's up to you
sprinkle the top with small butter pieces before putting your biscuit topping on
brush your biscuit top with cream & sprinkle with sugar

Bake at about 375 until the peach juice is thick and bubbling up under your biscuit topping & the topping is brown. Say a special thanks to all the Ruby's of the world!

Bacalhau e todo bem!

2008-11-06T16:23:00.000-08:00

Yes indeed Portuguese salt cod and everything is good! For many years now Zola and I have traveled and enjoyed the wonder that is salt cod in a number of preparations, in a number of countries. A magnificent fillet with white bean casserole in Barcelonetta, Barcelona. Brandade du Morue in our favorite french bistro in Seattle (Le Pichet). Acorda (pronounced Ashorja) and other Bacalhau delights in Lisbon. And finally many various preparation (pastels, fritters, stews and croquettes) in the food menagerie that is Brazil. Long has been the passing time from the first tasting to the fateful day last week when finally Bacalhau was discovered at PFI grocery in Seattle's international district! And indeed purchased by this very writer.

Having just returned from an invigorating trip to Brazil, Zola and my interest in preparing our own bacalhau was rekindled, and what follows is two recipes The first is borrowed from Anthony Bourdains "Les Halles Cookbook", it's a french bistro standard/classic called Brandade Du Morue.

Essentially a baked dip of salt cod served in its baking apparatus, a ramekin. As the preparation of salt cod is an undertaking in it's own right, I took the opportunity to double-up if you will, using half the cod prepared to make a Brazilian lunch counter mainstay, Bolinhos de bacalhau, literally "little balls of salt cod". These are essentially small croquettes of potato and salt cod, deep fried and served through out the day as a snack. I'll begin with the Brandade as that was how the Cod was prepared, the left over was used to make the Bolinhos.

First things first, salt cod is a 24 hour preparation. The fillets will come frozen in the USA due to this country's bug phobia and strict quarantine laws. The whole idea of Bacalhau is so that Portuguese fisherman in the north sea could preserve their catch centuries before the invention of refrigeration. I digress, essentially you treat your frozen fillet the same, place in cold tap water for 24 hours, changing the tap water every hour for the first few hours. We let ours sit overnight and did a couple of changes the next morning and everything was fine. It's fine to taste your uncooked bacalhau along the way to see if it's too salty.

One pound of cod was enough for both dishes. The initial cooking of the cod was used for both dishes. Bring a 1/2 cup of full cream to the boil with 4 crushed cloves of garlic and a bouquet garni (that's 2 sprig of Thyme, 1 sprig of flat parsley and a bay leaf tied up in a cheese cloth parcel). At the boil, add the fish (1/2 lb) and reduce heat to a simmer, poach the cod like this for 6 minutes, it should be a little flaky by this point, so retrieve from the pot with a slotted spoon. The Bouquet and the garlic stay in as you continue to reduce the cream at a boil for 10 minutes. Set the cod aside.

After the reduction, fish out (ha, ha!) the Bouquet and the garlic, combine the reduced cream with 1/2 cup EV olive oil. Add this liquid to the cod that you have mushed up with your fingers (hmmm, cod finger smells). Slowly mix the liquid and cod with a wooden spoon. Add in some cracked black pepper (and maybe some salt if you de-salted your cod too aggressively). Stir in 2 sprigs of chopped parsley, portion out into a couple of mid sized ramekins top with bread crumbs, and head for the oven. Our method, bake at 500 degrees for 10 minutes, finish under a low broil until bread crumbs are brown. Serve with sliced french bread. Swoon with delight!

Now the Bolinhos! You've still got a 1/2 pound of cod if you did a whole pound. An option would be to poach the cod in a cup of water with the same herb preparation, if you were doing separate dishes. For the bolinhos make two dry cups of mashed potato (use a russet it's good and starchy). Shred the cod with your fingers, stir into the mash potatoes with some chopped flat parsley, some cracked pepper and salt if needed. I had quite a few of these while in Brazil and salty was the apparent preferred savour.

Now the trick is to roll the balls into 2 inch diameter spheres, roll them in some bread crumbs and deep fry

until golden brown. We endorse the Cuisine Art mini deep fryer in the Maddison household. Serve to friends as we did at a suitable festive occasion. Ours went down a treat at a joyous party celebration of Barack Obama's monumental election. It's true they go great with champagne!

Updates & Apologies

2008-10-19T09:15:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone. I know we've essentially fallen off the radar. Things have been a little hectic in the Maddison household. We've been doing quite a bit of traveling and I'm finishing up a big grant application. We've received some great stories and recipes and we'll be back online *very soon*. In the meantime, I wanted to share some crappy footage of an amazing meal I had in South Africa. Enjoy!

Patatas a la Riojana

2008-08-18T18:54:00.000-07:00

Zola: Maybe a little over a year ago, I found myself in one of those terrible not-for-credit Spanish classes. If you've ever taken such a class, you know what I'm talking about. You've got the dude who is struggling to understand the concept of masculine/feminine nouns AND the chic that spent two years in Argentina and just wants to "brush up" in the same room. It's ugly. Much to my relief, my friends, Lauren & Garth, were in there, too; getting ready for their honeymoon in Spain. Here's their story. Might I just say that this recipe TASTED like Spain. It filled our little place with the SMELL of Spain. Thank you for that.

Lauren: You had just posted a plea for more contributions, which my husband Garth and I had both read, and he was opening a bottle of Rioja wine as I sliced chorizo and lamented, "I need to write something for Zola, but I just can't think of what. I wasn't really paying attention to food when I lived in Belgium; it would be great if we could send her something that we ate when we went to Spain, but ..." and then I dropped my knife and he dropped the corkscrew and we stared at each other, and then at the cookbook on the shelf -- we had already memorized the recipe; it's quite easy -- and laughed hard about how long we had overlooked this totally obvious story.

We took a vacation to Spain right after our wedding. We wanted to go somewhere neither of us had ever been, and we wanted to go somewhere with good food. We found it! We had reservations for an apartment for a week in Barcelona (which we found with your help, Zola! Thanks!), and then we had tickets to fly out of Paris several days after that, and nothing else planned for sure. After our week in Barcelona, we spent a day taking the train across the country up to Bilbao. We spent 3 nights there and then several more days in San Sebastian/Donostia before heading to Paris for 2 nights and coming back home. Bilbao was our least favorite time of the trip. It was colder than Barcelona, and somewhat rainy; I got a bit of a cold, and we were cranky, and other than the Guggenheim and some small local museums, we didn't really find that much to do.

We had heard that the restaurant at the Guggenheim was good, but unfortunately we got there just a few minutes after they closed for lunch. We wanted to go to the museum but first we really needed to eat, as it was like 2pm and I was blood-sugar-crashy. We bickered all the way back towards town from the museum, and then we bickered about the first restaurant we came to, looking at their menú del día on the chalkboard, until we realized it sounded fabulous and we were super hungry anyway.

I chose the roasted quarter chicken and fries, I believe, which was great, and a completely non-memorable starter. Garth's starter, however, was this warm, salty, just-the-right-amount-of-spicy, nourishing potato stew with chorizo. We made note of its name on the chalkboard -- patatas a la Riojana -- Potatoes, Rioja style. I googled extensively when we got back, but didn't find much that looked like what we had had, until I remembered that we have paper cookbooks, too,
such as The Basque Table, by Teresa Barrenechea. I leafed through it hopefully, and sure enough, page 90: Potato and Chorizo Stew, Rioja-style, or, patatas a la Riojana.

The recipe we use now is somewhat simplified from that described in the book, but it still tastes fabulous.

You need:

Some good olive oil
A large onion, or two small, chopped
Two hard Spanish chorizo*, removed from casing and diced -- in Seattle we buy ours at De Laurenti in Pike Place Market; for this recipe we use 1 spicy (red string) and 1 mild (white string)
Some potatoes, chopped -- the recipe in the book calls for 2.5 pounds of russets, but we just use ... whatever. For this evening's batch, we used 3 pounds, 2.2 ounces of reds (http://www.dropstonefarms.com/2008/08/lord-potato-and-his-underlings) that we harvested from the garden last week.
Hot paprika
Salt to taste (you might not need any)

Feel free to play around with the ratios to make more or less potatoey, or oniony, or meaty.

* Distinct from ground chorizo, as in South America (that's my understanding of the geographical distinction, anyway) -- Spanish chorizo is firm like a salami or similar.

Heat olive oil in a good, large, heavy-bottomed pot. Add onion and saute until soft. Add chopped chorizo and brown briefly. Add the chopped potatoes, and water to cover. Use wine (preferably Basque, like a Rioja) in place of a cup or two of water if you like, but no need to use stock; the chorizo will add plenty of flavor. Add slightly less water if you want a thicker dish, or more if you want it soupier. You can also reduce it further or get more potato starch by smashing them, if you want a thicker stew. Also, add the paprika, cayenne if you want more spicy, and salt if you need it. (It's best to add salt after you have let it simmer, though, since the liquid will concentrate as it evaporates and you might end up making it too salty if you add it before then.)

Simmer until potatoes are done.

Serve with a good crusty baguette or other bread to soak up the delicious juice.

This will last you several dinners; by the end of the pot, the liquid will have thickened a lot with the starch from the potatoes. It changes from soup to stew as it progresses, which I like a great deal.

Don't forget to drink the rest of the wine you opened to add to the stew!

Zola: Pictures coming soon! I need to put one of those beep-y key finder trackers on my effin' USB plug.

Say cheese!

2008-08-04T17:19:00.000-07:00

Zola: On a fairly regular basis I like to remind Guy that when we retire, I will need my own cheese cave. I like the idea of being old and tending to my cheeses (preferably in Spain or Portugal), and of course, enjoying them often with a glass of wine. I was talking about this with my friend Rachel and she came up with a rather novel idea--that we start our cheese education right now. So we started simple, with some fresh mozzerella. We took the recipe from the Cheese Queen's website.

Her recipe is great, and she provides step by step instructions with pictures--so I can't add much to her great work (Cheese Queen rocks!) There is definitely some practice involved. While our cheese was good, it wasn't what I expected--much harder than mozzerella should be (we got a little over-zealous with our kneading) so I found myself this morning thinking about when I could make it again and perfect it. We both had the sensation of falling down a cheesey rabbit hole. It's a whole other world to explore and I'm already thinking about all the equipment I need to get and what I want to make next. Here's our photo journal of the day. On top of being a great culinary companion, I discovered that Rachel is an amazing photographer.

French Comfort Food: Chicken Fricassee

2008-07-27T08:58:00.000-07:00

Zola: Sorry about my little outburst. But it's true. We really do need you to submit your stories so we can keep this project going through the end of the year. Mary Beth came through for us--in spades.

Mary Beth: I’m an American mutt. Ethnically, I’m German, French-Canadian, Irish, Norwegian, American Indian (two tribes) and Scottish. In that order. Needless to say, the food I grew up with was as mixed a bag as my heritage.

My mother is half French and brought the Norwegian heritage to the dance, so meals were either marvelous French peasant fare or American Norwegian: Stuff Covered in Cream of Mushroom Soup. There was one dish in particular that remains my favorite comfort food: Chicken Fricassee.

I’m the oldest of five, so I was helping Mom in the kitchen from a fairly young age. I learned to cook Chicken Fricassee when I was in my early teens. It wasn’t until years later, when I fashioned myself as a bit of a gourmet cook, when I fully realized what I was doing when I cooked this dish.

You see, one of the steps in the creation was to take the nice crusty bits from the bottom of the pan, add water, and create a roux. I had no idea that’s what I was doing. It’s just how I was taught. So one evening, as I was making Chicken Fricassee for dinner at my folks’ house, I paused, startled, as I realized what I was doing.

I asked my Mom, “Where did you get this recipe?”
“From my Mother,” she replied.
“And where did SHE get it?” I asked.
“From her mother,” Mom said.

Holy Cow. My great-grandmother, Marisa Desoutel Dubruiel, was about as French as it gets. Born in Canada, she immigrated to the Minneapolis area in the early part of the 20th century. Her family had immigrated to Canada from France in the mid-1700’s. This was a recipe that had been handed down from my French ancestors, to comfort me on those hard days when you need a hug. (My husband knows I’ve had a hard day when he comes home to Chicken Fricassee.)

Chicken Fricassee
• Chicken, cut up .
• Flour
• Butter
• Onion (or two or three) thickly sliced
• Bay leaves
• Chicken broth
• Milk/half & half/cream

The original recipe calls for bone-in chicken, which yields the best sauce. On days when I don’t have much time, I use boneless chicken breasts as they cook faster. This works best with a heavy cast iron pan - my Le Creuset French oven works beautifully.

Melt butter in the pan. Flour the chicken and sauté until lightly browned; remove to a plate. Add broth and a dash of flour to the crusty bits at the bottom of the pan and deglaze, forming a roux. Add a bit more broth to create a sauce, then layer onions and chicken into the pan. Add a few bay leaves and some milk (or half & half, or heavy cream if you’re feeling particularly decadent.) Cover and simmer until the chicken is tender and the sauce is thickened, about 45-60 minutes. Serve with mashed potatoes and a crusty bread to soak up all the sauce.

We need yer stories!

2008-07-24T19:52:00.000-07:00

Zola: So do you see the worry in my comic strip eyes? We need your stories, plain and simple. If we're going to keep the foodchains blog going through the end of the year, you have to submit your story about food. Okay, I just looked at our stats and--how cool is this?--people from 30 countries around the world are checking out our site. Cool, right? It's only one person here in Macedonia and one person there in Peru, but too me, that is super cool and really the whole point of this blog... the way we're all connected by food. But we're running out of stories. So c'mon people! As the kids say, "Represent!" Send us a story, an anecdote, a whatever --we'll post your words and try our best to cook your food.

We've got peeps in: US, Canada, Australia, UK, Spain, South Korea, Germany, Panama, Columbia, Netherlands, Argentina, Macedonia, Brazil, Malaysia, Italy, Bulgaria, Guatemala, Puerto Rico, Singapore, Czech Republic, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Peru, Finland, Israel, Philippines, Egypt, France, Guam, and New Zealand.

You've read my stories and clearly I'm not setting the literary bar very high. For christ's sake, we're not asking for Joyce or anything here -- just send your food stories to foodchains@gmail.com! We're stoked to hear from you. Oh, and we'll send you a bacon bumper sticker from the Bacon Council of Seattle, if that kind of thing appeals to you.

New World Food Order

2008-07-17T18:00:00.000-07:00

Guy: So Zola's previous post "Vision Quest..." inspired me to try a dish I happened upon in Mexico City when I was there on a rock mission a couple of years back. It was actually the masa cake gorditas that inspired me. 2 winters ago, Mudhoney were lucky enough to open up for Pearl Jam on a number of South and Central American dates, the final one being at the Armadillo dome in Mexico City. PJ were very accommodating and kind to us, and in fact allowed us to tape this show on their recording system. It later became Mudhoney's Live Mud live in Mexico city album.

Whilst on this trip, Mark, my friend Jim and I took a trip to the Presidential palace on our day off. The palace is located next to an Aztec ruin and a magnificent basilica. The palace itself contains the epic fresco mural by Diego Rivera that depicts the history of the Mexican nation. The whole central plaza is awash with street vendors of all kinds. Of course my favorites were the food vendors. Undeterred by Mark and Jim's fearful warnings about the street food, I ploughed into some blue corn gorditas topped with Nopales and Queso Fresca. Nopales is cactus, a local staple in the Mexico city area. The dish is often referred to as nopalitos, the diminutive for cactus. Zola's gorditas reminded me of this dish, so I was off to our local Carniceria for some Nopales and Chicharron. Our local carniceria is located where Boren hits Rainier Ave. It's an unassuming little front that opens on to a large and well stocked Mexican market. The friendly and helpful manager provided a few tips as he whipped out 5 large fresh nopales leaves from his walk -in.

So, here's how it's done. The gorditas are essentially Zola's previous recipe with a little extra salt and a couple of large pinches of sugar, no further explanation needed.

The black beans were made with 1 can of black beans, 1 small can of Salsa Verde Picante and some onion powder. Stew this in a pot until hot and add 6 to 8 one inch pieces of chicharron seco (porn rinds)(Zola: I think it's safe to assume Guy intended to write pork rinds but I'm enjoying the typo too much to correct it). Stew until the texture of the pork rinds are soft.

Now for the Nopales. Mine were bought de-spiked but if yours are not, get those spikes off or your in for an 'Arrowing meal! The raw nopales are very easy to slice with a sharp knife, I did mine in 1/4 inch strips as I remembered from Mexico city. Next stew them at a low boil with some garlic and salt in a shallow pot of water, for about 15 to 20 minutes. You can check them from time to time, their texture when ready should be that of a firm perfectly cooked green bean. Next drain the Nopalitos, chop some more fresh garlic and add to a pan with some olive oil on a medium high heat. saute the cactus for a short time till it is well coated in olive oil.

The next stage is the plating, I topped our rather substantial gorditas half and half with bean and nopales. Then added some queso fresca on top. best method is to gouge and scape the cheese of the block with a fork. The plate is then garnished with tomatoes and avocados.

There you have new foods from the new world! Don't forget to locate your local carniceria for your authentic ingredients, Bon Provecho.

Vision Quest v. Dream Haters

2008-07-15T18:47:00.000-07:00

Zola: Every once in a while my brain actually cooperates with me. And every once in a very great while, it actually does something nice for me--like give me an awesome, completely escapist fantasy dream. Last week, said brain delivered the goods. Now I know that there are a lot of people in the world who really hate it when people launch into their dreams. Fair enough. But I think all you dream-haters out there will even appreciate this one. Plus it was (mercifully for you, sadly for me) short. Here's what the old brain kicked out: I'm sitting in a cafe, drinking coffee with Anthony Bourdain, AKA: my new boss. See? So great already, right? We're in this cool old late '50's cafe--very Canter's-eque--and he starts to explain what my job is. It's something to do with project managing things on location/researching restaurants, food histories, etc. Anthony is like, "so... I'm really excited to have you join our team." And of course--because it's a dream--I'm super casual and say, "yeah, let's talk a little more about what exactly you're imagining will be involved." but the subtext is obviously: "yeah dude, of course you are. I'm about to manage the shit out of these programs." Now let's be absolutely clear about this: I am never cool like this; not even in my dreams. This dream is very quickly moving further up on the greatest-dream-ever-o-meter. So my new boss, Anthony, says, "Let's go get some food and we can talk more about it." We hit the road and just begin to start talking more about what he needs me to do when he abruptly pulls the car over as he says, "this place has an amazing dish." We walk in and, because I'm with Bourdain, the dish is served to us immediately. It is a small, deep gordita/masa patty with a poached egg and two slices of perfectly cooked steak on the top. A vision.

When I went to cook this, I realized the hardest part of this dish would be the timing. Nothing in it takes very long to do, and everything is actually rather time sensitive. I decided to add some collard greens with bacon because a) it seemed like the dish needed something green, b) it seemed to suit the flavor of the dish and c) our neighbor just gave us a ton of bacon for watching her cat (maybe she's seen the bacon bumper stickers? cats like bacon? I'm not sure I get the connection but I'm not complaining). So here's what I did and in the order I did it, to make this dream a reality.

Start by cleaning the greens. Or in my case, get Guy to clean and cut the kale before you get home from work. I chopped some bacon and peeled some garlic, and set that on a low heat to start cooking. While that was going, I started on my masa dough.
Here's the recipe I followed for gorditas:
1 3/4 c. masa flour
1/4 c. flour
pinch salt
1 tsp. baking powder
1 c. + 2T water
2T vegetable shortening
They say to mix masa and water and add other ingredients. Next time I make gorditas, I'll mix my dry ingredients, LARD (what was I thinking? vegetable shortening. puh-lease.) and then the water. I would also add more salt than a pinch, maybe some sugar and definitely some pepper.
Knead, knead knead. Shape into little happy gordita shapes (ovals about 1/4" thick) and start cooking one up on a griddle. FYI the first time you do this recipe, be sure to make a little test buddy so you see how it cooks, if it's falling apart, etc.

As soon as you've got your gorditas going, put your frying pan on with butter for your steak; put your greens in your bacon & garlic on a medium heat with a little water and cover; and get a pot of water with 2 T of white vinegar coming up to a boil.

Get your steak pan hot and start frying that puppy up. Once it's cooked with a nice dark sear and pink inside, wrap it up in foil, pour extra butter/meat drippings on it and let it rest.

Don't forget to flip your gorditas! And check your greens. Don't let them get brown. Add a little vinegar to greens for some brightness because you've got a motherload of rich, salty goodness coming your way.

Once your gorditas are done, take the lid off your boiling water and let the water come back down to a simmer. Carefully drop your eggs in the water. Slice your steak. Plate gordita, pull out egg, and place sliced steak. Toss and plate greens.

Voila! I would serve this again, but maybe for a hangover breakfast. Which would explain why my new boss Anthony liked it so much.

Half a Sheep

2008-07-06T06:15:00.000-07:00

Zola: Hard to believe, but yesterday was our 10 year wedding anniversary so I needed a very special celebratory meal. I'd been saving Laurent's tale of marriage and meat for just such an occasion.

Laurent: Patricia was busy working on a weekend, while I was relaxing at home by myself enjoying a few beers on a lazy and hot summer afternoon. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

My father in law announced himself,

"Laurent... are you home? It's Ricardo, your father-in-law..."

I should mention that I was recently married and had only been living in Brazil less than half a year. My Portuguese was still a bit rough.

"Ricardo, ah... eh ... come on up" I responded and hit the intercom button opening the door.

A minute or so later their was a knock on the door. I had started to say hello, but stopped mid-sentence a bit taken back. My father-in-law was standing at the door holding a large plastic bag containing a bloody carcass.

Without missing a beat, Ricardo said, "We were in the countryside at a friend's farm and bough a sheep, I thought that you may want half of it and had it cut in two."

He extended the bag to me for me to take it. I grabbed the bag and exclaimed "Of course!" and almost dropped the bloody bag still slippery and moist. I quickly asked if he wanted a beer or a shot of rum, but he gracefully declined. Ricardo excused himself, saying that people were waiting for him in the car downstairs and he had to get going. He gave me an awkward hug and left me with a half a sheep in a bloody bag.

The carcass was still warm, fresh from the slaughter. With the sweltering summer afternoon not expected to cool off soon, I had to refrigerate the meat quickly. I tried to stuff the carcass into the refrigerator with the idea of dealing with it later it would not fit. Even after removing all the shelves the half sheep was already too stiff to curl and too large to close the door. I realized that I would have to divide the carcass into smaller parts if I hoped to refrigerate it.

I had never butchered any thing bigger than a duck or a large trout into edible parts. A little intimidated, I took off my shirt, put on an apron and started to hone a couple kitchen knives against the back of a plate. While I was sharpening the knives, I scoured my mind on how to best go about butchering the sheep. With no answers ready in mind, I open another beer and cleaned the stainless steel sink. The sink, I reasoned would be the best place to put the half-carcass, while I was working on cutting it into smaller pieces.

Carefully I took the sheep out of the bag and slid it into the sink. While doing this, I succeeded in splattering myself with the blood and liquid that had been in the bottom of the bag. My white apron was already getting dirty and I had not even begun to cut. Looking at the half sheep inside the sink, decided to first separate the legs; creating three manageable pieces instead of one large slippery section.

Slowly, but surely over the course of the next few hours I managed to detach the two legs and butterfly them. While the foreleg was easy to remove, the hind leg presented a greater challenge. Finally, with a fell swoop of the ten inch chef knife I managed to detach both the hind leg and the tip of my index finger.

The blood on my apron and arms was now a mixture of mine and the sheep's. I quickly went dripping to the bathroom in search of a band aid and first aid supplies. Rummaging through the bathroom cupboards, I did not find a single band aid or any rubbing alcohol. I found some feminine sanitary napkins and reasoned that they were designed for absorbency. Quickly, I wrapped one around my finger and held it in place with my uninjured hand. After searching some more for some tape and a disinfectant, I found a roll of black electric tape and a bottle of cachaca, strong Brazilian cane spirits. After disinfecting my finger with the cachaca and securing the menstrual pad to my finger, I took a big swig from the bottle and got back to work.

Ding dong rang the door bell. Without thinking of my appearance and still holding the knife I ran to open the door.

Patricia screamed. With the half a sheep, a couple bottles of beer and less the tip of a finger, time had passed and she had already returned from work. Standing in my shorts with only an apron on, reeking of cachaca, wielding a large kitchen knife and dripping blood with a menstrual pad wrapped around my finger, I must have been a frightening sight. After reassuring my wife that she had not married a psychopath, I explained the situation to her and finished butchering the mutton.

The only way to thank the generous gift of a half a sheep was to make a feast. I decided that we needed to invite as many people as could fit into our small fifth floor apartment so I had Patricia call up her father and invite him to dinner.

My wife's father, Ricardo, is the only Lebanese born son of a large Lebanese family, who settled in Sao Paulo in the 1950's. The family legend is rich and the Lebanese roots run deep especially in the kitchen. As a nod to their Arabic heritage I decided to use the mutton to make Moroccan Rice a recipe that I had encountered while living in Paris and managed to hobble together recipe researching online.

The recipe is as follows:

Ingredients

2 cups of nuts (pine nuts, almonds or/and walnuts)
One leg of mutton hacked to pieces and ground with fat

2 cups of Uncle Ben's or parboiled rice

1 cup of raisins and or dried fruit such as apricots or even cherries

2 teaspoons of Cinnamon
1 teaspoon of nutmeg
1 teaspoon of cumin
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Steps

Make stock
Use bones, onions, and assorted greens to make meat & vegetable stock
If Lazy use beef stock cubes

Make rice
Use stock to make rice normally
Include cardamon in rice if available
Include dried fruit in rice towards end

Meat (while rice is cooking)
Chop nuts
Fry nuts until golden in one cup of oil.
Drain nuts and retain oil.
Place nuts on paper towel to remove excess oil
fry spices in oil
Add ground meat and stir
Continue cooking until well separated
Salt to taste

Assembly
Take half of meat and mix with rice
make sure rice/meat combination fluffy
Serve in large dish
Top with remaining meat and with fried nuts

Serve with sides of arabic salad, cucumbers, onion, tomato, Baba Ghanoush, humus, arabic (greek) style yogurt,

Zola: I didn't buy half a sheep, but I did run down to the butcher's to get a leg of lamb (which is huge, by the way). The meal was amazing. I stuck with the lamb, rice, and salad, threw in a couple of stuffed grape leaves--but I also made my own harissa to make these olives that I get down at my favorite cafe in Seattle, Cafe Presse. Make the harissa paste then pour in the entire contents of two bottles of nicoise olives.

Harissa paste:
13 oz bag of dried chili pods
6 cloves of garlic
1/2 cup of ground coriander
1/2 cup of ground cumin
1/3 cup salt
2/3 cup olive oil

Using scissors, cut off stems, take out seeds, and cut up the chili pods and put them in a bowl of hot water to soak. Put all ingredients in a food processor and blend.

Well deserved cheater dessert of chocolate gelato, fresh raspberries, and an almond florentine finished everything off.

Love me like a reptile!

2008-06-30T16:05:00.000-07:00

Guy: The title of this posting, borrowed by Motorhead, is influenced by the combination of rock and roll and reptiles, specifically Alligator. As you may have guessed by Zola's posting last week, I have been out for the first 3 weeks of June on an east coast and southern tour as Mudhoney were out promoting our new album "The Lucky Ones". As it happens, we were very lucky indeed. Not only did we survive 18 shows in 18 days, hard work for the 40 plus rock and roll set, but we ate like kings. I'm not talking about the sort of toothsome offerings to be found at White Castle, or Chic Fil A (I kid you not, our Garmin could find the nearest Chic at will, and I loved it for that), but we had a couple of sensational restaurant experiences that provide the background for the dish appearing this week.

About day 6 of our tour we rolled into Columbus OH. I will not regale you with the tale of the tiny, moldy, not entirely open, un-usable bathroomed club we played, but will point you in the direction of Alanas Cafe. It is well worth your while to seek out Alana's excellent restaurant next time your in Columbus. So as it turns out Alana's husband and sommelier Kevin is a huge Mudhoney fan, and the two were kind enough to invite us for an excellent tasting menu before our gig. Alana's menu features local produce incorporated into an inventive French/Asian fusion style. Standouts from the dinner were the vietnamese lettuce wraps, the goat casserole and the skate wing all blew my mind. All other dishes and the wine were outstanding. The inspiration for todays dish was a conversation we had with Alana after dinner. She had worked for many years in New Orleans in Emeril's original restaurant. I was fascinated by the idea of eating 'gator, and after my chat with Alana I knew this was my goal down south. My first attempt in Pensacola, FL was not very successful. A deep fried egg roll with a butt load of smokey bacon that made the Alligator in the roll undetectable. So it was on to Noor-lenz for another stunning meal at the restaurant par excellence Cochon. I ordered mainly for the apps menu here, but my band brothers were kind enough to let me try all of their entrees. Stand outs were the Whole deep friend soft shell crab and the house speciality the Cochon pork shoulder. One of my apps became the side dish tonight. The original was a Crawfish and green tomato casserole baked in a ramekin, my version was with prawn flesh and yellow vine tomato. But it was at Cochon that I finally got to have my real gator experience. Deep fried nuggets, a'la calamari fritos. It does not taste like chicken but was white meat. It's its own thing, one must try it to know it, suffice to say all at the table enjoyed it.

So to the Alligator de jour. As it is hard to get Alligator in Seattle, I brought back 2 cans of Dales wild west Alligator cajun style. Available in any tourist trap in the French quarter. I asked around and apparently locals will serve this stuff over rice with red beans on the side.

So there is not much to this recipe. Boil rice add tumeric or saffron to make it yellow. Heat the tinned 'gator and poor over rice.

My red beans were done in chicken stock, with chopped celery and onions. Spices are the classic cajun spice combo of Cayenne, black and white pepper and thyme. Slow cocked for a couple of hours.

Vanilla Slice

2008-06-18T11:28:00.000-07:00

Zola: I know, I know. I've been a complete slacker lately, but trust me--this one is worth the wait. Okay, so Guy has been on the road for the last few weeks and I wanted to make something really special for him when he got home. I usually try to make a nice, simple home cooked meal after he's been on tour, because I know there's been a lot crappy fast food, as well as some really good but rich dining experiences (for example, he finally got to go to Cochon in New Orleans--that place is amazing). I had my roast chicken, stuffed with lemons, garlic and thyme, some salad, a nice baguette; but I wanted something that said, "Welcome Home!!" Which made me start thinking, "what says welcome home to an expat?" Well, nothing says comfort like a dessert and I needed something very Australian. Enter Bryony. Bryony is a very dear, old friend of Guy's from Perth. I've only had the pleasure of meeting her once (ironically, in Perth, although she's been living in Philly for quite some time). Bryony and her posse showed me that I needed something that made Guy feel like this:

[sonofabitch. i've been messing around with this video all week and I can't get it to load. Here's the
link to the video]
Bryony (and her posse):

Vanilla Slice:

2 bought puff pastry sheets
1 cup milk
1 vanilla bean, split
3/4 cup cornstarch
1/2 cup custard powder
1 cup sugar
pinch salt
3 cups whipping cream
1/2 stick unsalted butter
3 egg yolks
Powdered sugar, to dust

Preheat oven to 400°F. Line a 9" square pan with aluminium foil or plastic wrap, so that the foil/wrap comes up over the sides (this allows you to lift out the slice). You can use a slightly bigger pan, like I did, but your VS won't end up as thick.

Bake pastry sheets as directed and replace any guilt over being a former pastry chef that has given in to using store-bought pastry sheets with the sheer pleasure of not having to do anything but thaw and bake, then convince yourself that the Vanilla Slice Australian kids grow up on is decidedly NOT made from hand rolled pastry.
Set pastry (and any lingering guilt) aside to cool. Once cool, place 1 pastry sheet, cooked-side up, in bottom of pan. (You may need to trim it slightly to fit.)
Place milk in a pan over medium heat. Scrape in vanilla seeds and add bean too. Warm gently, then set aside for 10 minutes.
Place cornstarch, custard powder and sugar in a pan. Strain milk, discarding bean, into pan with cornstarch and whisk until smooth. Add cream, then return to heat, stirring constantly, over low heat until the mixture thickens and boils. Now here's the thing: that is crap load of cornstarch you've got in there. When this thing starts to come together, you'll know it--it changes quite suddenly from being a liquid to becoming like pudding. IMMEDIATELY, take the pan off the heat (especially if you're cooking on an electric element). Keep stirring all the while--the residual heat of you pan will keep cooking the custard and you don't want to overcook it. Add butter, stirring well to combine, and whisk in egg yolks, one at a time, until smooth. Pour into pastry-lined pan and set aside to cool slightly before placing other piece of pastry, cooked-side up, on top. Refrigerate overnight.

Remove from pan, cut into squares and dust with powdered sugar. OR if you want to get really technical, you would make icing from powdered sugar and add some food dye to make it pink and spread that on the top. Eat with your hands and watch video again one more time for good measure.

Latvian Bacon Pirags

2008-06-10T16:55:00.000-07:00

Zola: This recipe is lovely--simple and comforting and just what the doctor ordered when your home is a construction zone. Latest apartment news: my ceiling has gone missing!

Georgia: My mother came to Australia as a refugee from Latvia some time after World War II. Whilst technically she was born en route to Australia (in a barn no less, in the middle of winter somewhere in rural Germany), she’s a Latvian chick through and through. My grandparents lived a good life in Latvia, as both worked (and meet) as solicitors in Riga, and as the son and daughter in law of the President of Latvia (1930 – 1936). Obviously they didn’t want to leave their beloved home land, and in fleeing as quickly as they did, left primarily without possessions and keepsakes to make a quick exit from the Russian tanks rolling into the city. They became separated from each other and only met up again several months later in Germany, before being confined in a German refugee camp for several years. On release, they by chance stepped onto a ship bound for Australia and the rest is history.

My mum has spent her life trying not to be Latvian – in the 50’s, Australia had a high proportion of migrants and refugees from Europe. Mum was picked on and called a wog by the other kids in school, and spent her early school years wishing that Nana would make her a vegemite sandwich instead of a salami one for lunch.

I spent a lot of time with my grandparents, and grew up with all things Latvian instilled in me, but it wasn’t until I was in my 20’s that I actually gave my heritage much thought! In 2006 I was lucky enough to go to a reunion of the descendants of my great-great-grandmother. Over 100 relatives from quite literally all over the world met in Riga and until then, I had no idea any of these people existed. I instantly realised just how Latvian I actually am – everything just felt right. It was incredibly humbling and moving, and my biggest regret is that my grandfather was no longer around to share the experience with me as he died the year before.

Whilst there, I had one main “must do” mission – to find out how good the local Pirags were compared to my Nana’s. Whenever I visited Nana, pretty much without fail, she’d ask if I’d like some Pirags and would whip a small bag of them out of the freezer and warm them for me. I would also help her make them on occasion; the smell of the sweet-ish dough rising in the kitchen is one that I still remember many years on. It wasn’t until Nana had to go into a nursing home that any of us thought to ask for her recipe, since Nana couldn’t make them for us any more. She turned 98 in January. And no – none of the ones I tried in Latvia came close to Nan’s.

Here is her recipe. Make sure you pronounce words where appropriate with an eastern European accent.

Nana’s Pirags (makes approximately 3 dozen)

450-500g plain flour (3 1/2-4c.)
250ml milk or water (little over a cup)
25g fresh yeast (or a 7g sachet of dry yeast)
75g butter (3/4 stick)
25g sugar (2 Tbsp)
5g salt (heaping tsp)
2 peckets bacon (Nana’s pronunciation, my poetic license), aprox 500 grams
Onion powder
White pepper (ground)

[Zola: this conversion site rocks:http://www.onlineconversion.com/cooking.htm]

Mix yeast with a little bit of sugar, flour and a bit of warm water or milk (30-35 degrees centigrade), sift some flour onto yeast and keep in warm place for 10-15 minutes to rise.

Sift flour into a bowl together with the salt.

Put all of the salt, remaining sugar and butter into milk and warm.

Dice bacon finely, sprinkle with onion powder and white pepper, cook until warmed (do not over cook).

Put milk and yeast into flour and mix. (Keep mix quite damp). Mix first with spoon and then by hand. Sift some flour on top when mixed (enough to cover) and let sit for approximately 30 minutes in a warm place. Cover heavily with cloth to keep warm.

The rest is from memory…

Dust table with flour. Knead and roll dough then cut into circles with a glass. Place a spoon of bacon mix onto middle. Fold dough circle over, pinch edges and roll by hand to desired size. Form into crescent shape and place on baking tray (with seam on the bottom), brush with milk.

Put into a hot oven at around 180 degrees C and cook until you can smell the aroma that only one of Nan’s bacon rolls can emit (and until nicely browned on top).

My memory of Nan’s bacon rolls were that they were a little dusty from flour when cooked. I remember this being a nice thing so perhaps be liberal with dusting flour when rolling and not too liberal with the milk.

Quinoa Soup from Ecuador

2008-06-03T20:03:00.000-07:00

Zola: I'm all mixed up. I just learned that Obama won the nomination (yay!) but am sitting in my apartment that would more accurately be described as a sieve (boo!). Oddly enough, it's raining in Seattle and the water is leaking through all the construction. There's not much more a girl can do in such a situation except to cook. And empty pans of water.

Emily: This was my favorite dish from the year I spent in Ecuador. None of the recipes I have found included the big matzo ball like thing that would float in the middle of the soup, but to me that is the crucial component.

The quinoa soup has a nutty flavor, and reminded me of the peanut soup my mom used to make when I was kid. Floating in the soup is a matzo ball like thing, that surrounds a boiled egg. You break up the matzo ball with your spoon and use it like a cracker to soak up the yummy soup.

I don't remember if people ate this with popcorn. The Ecuadorian family I lived with ate a type of soup lately, and usually served with popcorn instead of crackers. I'm not sure how much of a story I can share about this. I generally ate lunch by myself, as I was a boarder, in the kitchen. Sometimes I would talk to the maid, who lived in a tiny room with her young son off the kitchen. I have strong memories of the smell of the kitchen, bananas, flowers, and the smell of soapy water. The drinking glasses were made of metal, and I remember their glinting taste with the sugary lemonade that always was served.
Fried plaintains were also a staple, and often served with a piece of fried fish along with the soup of the day. The quinoa soup, however, was a special dish, and only served occasionally. I don't know if it was expensive to make, or too-time consuming for daily preparation, but it was definitely my favorite of may wonderful soups I had in that house. My other favorite was a green plantain empanada, which the mother of the house made for me on my 21st birthday. Neighbors and their family gathered around in their dining room for an afternoon spread of empanadas, horchata, and rosa de jamaica.

My other favorite food memory from Ecuador was trying to make my grandmother's cornbread dressing on a Thanksgiving meal that some American friends and I wanted to make for our host families. It was my first Thanksgiving away from home and I had to call my grandmother on the phone [very expensive - before we had Skype] to get the recipe for it. It was a challenge to translate it when I went to the market to find the ingredients, but I came to a close approximation. The Ecuadorian family I was staying with loved it so much they asked for the recipe.

Zola: I'm also mixed up about this recipe. I looked high and low for something that gave me some indication of what this egg/matzoh ball thing could be and came up empty. When I checked in with Emily she said she remembered it being perfectly round and with a breading on the outside. Anything? Ringing any bells for anyone? All I could find were references to hard-boiled eggs as a garnish to the soup. So, I'm hoping someone out there can solve this eggs garnish mystery for us. I just went with a plain old hard-boiled egg. Lame. But true. I actually tried breading the egg once it was hard-boiled (I even stuck it in the oven to crisp it up) but it just got soggy (much like my apartment) when it hit the soup. Until we get to the bottom of this, I suggest just sticking with the naked egg.

1 cup quinoa, cooked according to package and set aside
4 cups vegetable stock
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 cup thinly sliced leeks, white part only
1/2 cup sliced onion
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
1/4 teaspoon white pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
2 tablespoons smooth peanut butter
2 cups low-fat (2%) milk
1/2 cup whipping cream

Heat butter and oil. Add leek and onion, cover and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, without browning. About 20 minutes. Season with paprika, salt, pepper, and cumin. Add peanut butter and quinoa, and stock. Stir in milk and cream. Bring to a simmer over low heat, stirring occasionally. If desired, thin soup with a little milk or stock. It's very thick and rich. Serve hot, garnished with eggs (mystery or otherwise), avocado, and cheese.

Going to church: the Patron Saint strikes again

2008-05-26T14:15:00.000-07:00

Zola: Man, Steve Miller was right. Time really does keep slippin', slippin', slippin' into the future. Sorry about the blog lapse, folks. But surely you must know times are tough. Look at me--I'm quoting Steve Miller for Christ's sake. Last weekend, Guy & I just needed to get away and our Patron Saint, Sharon, came through for us again. She and Pat hosted us for a lovely weekend in Bellingham. We went for a walk on the pier, ate great food, drank a lot of wine, and spent a leisurely Sunday afternoon playing bocce ball under the lilac trees and drinking (more) red wine.

The other great thing about going to Sharon & Pat's is that they live in a church, which falls squarely into the freaking awesome category of livin'. I've posted some of our pictures here but you should check out Pat's website to see more.

Sharon and I had talked about having a little Spanish-y, tapas-y meal when we got up there, so before heading North, Guy & I stopped into Big John's PFI (Pacific Foods Importer). I'd read about PFI (check out this article in the Stranger), but had never been able to find it until my friend Lilly brought me there. Lilly's family is Serbian and when her family first moved to Seattle, PFI was the only place they could find feta cheese and other Euro imports. We got some great treats: olives, cheese, and white anchovies. There was some concern that our hosts might not like the anchovies but we decided to give it a shot--we could always take them home if they didn't like them. We needn't have worried. When we arrived, I discovered that Sharon had her own white anchovy plan. If you've never tried them, this is a great way to discover how delicious they are. Here's her white anchovy tapas:

1 slice rustic baguette bread
spread of mayo
slice of avocado
white anchovy fillet
sprinkle of paprika

I really recommend making your own mayo--it's not hard. In fact, I find it oddly satisfying. Julia Child's recipe is a great one (quelle suprise):
2 yolks
1 1 1/2 c. oil (something pretty light in flavor--I find olive oil too rich)
2-3 Tb lemon juice
pinch salt

leave your eggs out so they come to room temperature. Beat them for a couple of minutes until they get a little "thick". Then start adding your oil--just a tiny bit at a time. Once you see your mayo thickening, you can start to add more at one time. Add your lemon juice and salt to taste at the end. And for this tapas dish, I would go so far as to grate some lemon zest into the mayo to give it a nice, bright balance.

Nanaimo Bars

2008-05-11T19:41:00.000-07:00

Day 1.
Kendra: Zola, I swear I'm going to get my Nanaimo Bar story for your food blog soon.
Zola: That's cool.

Day 2.
Zola opens a package from Nicole and reads note.
Nicole: Zola, I've really been enjoying Food Chains. A lot. And I read the comment about Nanaimo Bars. Surprised to realize that they probably are Canadian. So I went out to buy you the Birds Custard can with the recipe on it, you know, for the authenticity, but was horrified to discover that they have changed the packaging and now the recipe isn't on there. Which supports my position that change, in all its forms, is bad. So here is my old Birds Custard can, with recipe, plus a new can. I hope that's not too weird.

[aside: NOT weird. freaking awesome.]

Day 3.
Zola: Kendra, my friend from Canada sent the Birds Custard for the Nanaimo Bars so you better write that story or you're going to get scooped.
Kendra: I'll get it to you Friday!

Friday.
Kendra: My family moved from Nanaimo, Canada to Hawaii when I was three years old and I was lucky to live there all the way through college. There are lots of amazing local dishes in Hawaii that I am very fond of and have great memories of (visits back to Hawaii now revolve around a feeding schedule of all of my favorite foods and restaurants)....but I noticed the Canadian Sugar Pie story that was posted a few months back and it made me think of my favorite Canadian dessert. Named after my birthplace, the Nanaimo Bar can be found in bakeries, in ferry boat cafeterias and kitchens around the west coast of Canada. My mom would make a tray in Hawaii and it was always a pretty unique offering at a local party - very few people had ever heard of Nanaimo, let alone had a chance to enjoy a Nanaimo Bar. The stuff is flat out delicious and I can't be left alone with a plate of them - it isn't a pretty site.

The recipe includes three layers of sweet goodness. Basically, the bottom layers is a graham cracker, butter, cocoa, coconut and nut mixture. Middle layer is powdered sugar, butter and custard and the top is a perfect layer of melted chocolate (and no matter what recipe I have used, I almost always double the top layer. More chocolate always works for me). I have seen variations in the middle layer, where people have worked in peanut butter or mint. Me? I like the classic - the original custard. Honestly, sitting here writing this, I'm wondering how fast and soon Zola will be whipping them up so that I can taste one.

Small tip for cutting the nanaimo bar....i will often score the top before it is completely set because it makes it easier to keep the chocolate from separating from the middle layer when you cut through. My aunt manages to keep the squares and cutting perfect...I mostly just manage to get everything in my mouth.

Zola: Sometimes when you're really depressed, sitting in your cave, the gods look down at you and demand that you eat large amounts of sugar, butter and chocolate. Alright. If I must.

Directions from the Bird's Custard can (which they've foolishly stopped printing so I feel doubly righteous in breaking any possible copyright laws but do feel compelled to tell you that the can informs us that Bird's Custard is a "Delicious British Tradition")
Base: Melt 2 squares Baker's semi-sweet chocolate (each square is one ounce) over a double boiler. Add 1/2 c. softened butter, 2 Tablespoons sugar, 1 tsp. vanilla, and one egg (pre-beat this then add to mix so you don't get any creepy cooked whites). Mix well. Add 2c. graham cracker crumbs, 1 c. angel flake coconut (the sweet stuff), and 1/2c. chopped walnuts. (I use unsalted butter so added a pinch of salt--it lets you control the salt better)
Filling: Combine 2 Tbsp custard powder with 3 Tbsp milk. Add in 1/4c. butter. (The recipe doesn't say this but I'm assuming you're supposed to do all this over a low heat). Stir in 2c. powdered sugar until smooth. Spread over base and chill.
Glaze: Melt 4 squares baker's semi-sweet chocolate with 1 tbsp butter over double boiler (I followed Kendra's advice and just threw the extra 2 squares of chocolate in there). Spread over custard layer and chill.

Legs & Eggs Review

2008-05-04T15:49:00.000-07:00

Zola:

It's been all doom & gloom in the Maddison household. Monday was the day the building repair guys came in and put up a false wall in unit. They've put it up so they can repair the wall of windows that we have looking out over the city. Now the thing about having a tiny apartment with one whole wall of windows, is that you don't normally need a lot of electric lighting, so it doesn't come with things like overhead lighting. The apartment has suddenly become quite a bit smaller and is a whole lot darker. It really has become akin to a cave in here. But more to the point, Monday was also the day we had to put our beloved dog, Deano, down. It's rather grim in the cave without our tiny old general and we don't feel much like cooking. Thankfully, our good friend Ringo came through for us in a pinch, delivering a fine food story, but one that gives us a bit of a reprieve. Check out The Chicken or the Egg for the recipe.

Ringo:

Good food illicits fond memories. Particular dishes can recreate such a vivid and strong assault on the senses that just the mere mention of the recipe can bring a million of these memories flooding back. This is the case with the Maddison Chicken and egg Curry. I have read Guy's description of this recipe and have been regaled with tales of his family's fondness of this delight and this is Guy's relationship with this particular dish. However, I wish to add to the history of stories that accompany this great meal. Stories that follow each and every time this meal is served! I would consider Guy to be one of the very best friends I have ever had, this could provide a novel sized tangent, so I will stop myself now and only say that I am proud to have eaten this meal and will enjoy adding to it's history.

As most late teenage / early twenty something we lived a life of good times and self inflicted poverty. It was a time in Australia where there was high unemployment so as all good artists do, we reaped the benefit of not working and practised our craft (crappy music!). We often did not spend much on food and I recall Guy flying into a rage when upon awakening, he realised that some(expletive deleted) had eaten(expletive deleted) the second last piece of bread!" Guy must have wanted a sandwich! At another house I shared with Guy I awoke after an extremely vivid dream about food, specifically bread and butter. The bread, I had purchased the day before and it was delicious, fresh and home-made. The butter was in the refrigerator. So I thought! There was no butter. I had only dreamt we had butter! At least now I can say to my own son "When I was a lad, we were so poor......." you get the idea! Anyway, to get to the point our palates were not infused with much greatness
at this point in our lives and Guy's chicken and egg curry was somewhat of a highlight. I have not recently had the good fortune to taste Guy's cooking but I am regaled with memories both sweet and sour when I think of it. As I began this piece "Good food illicits fond memories" and so I can only conclude Guy's "Chicken and Egg Curry" is an excellent dish.

Thank you,
Ringo,
Yokine,
Western Australia.

Basque Baby Eels & Buzzcocks

2008-04-27T20:10:00.000-07:00

Zola: When our good friend José sent in his receta from Spain he also sent a picture of the dish that looked like this. Now, I didn't know what gulas or elver were so I looked at the picture and thought, "José sent us a recipe for pasta? Lame. That's not very Spanish." We met José in Barcelona, but he & his family are from the Basque region. First I thought that maybe pasta is more common there? I thought about it some more and it just didn't make sense. It just wasn't José's style to lame out on on us. I set about to doing some research and learned that elver are baby eels (and the gulas are a surimi substitute). Look at me, learning new things. With the help of Swiss and a trip to Boise (the Basque capitol of North America--who knew?), I got myself a good supply of the little guys.

Jose: Important observation. The Dish I'm gonna explain is Elver with garlic and prawls but at the same time it's not exactly that. Let's see, the elver is a really expensive food, and as many of this kind of plates (like cod, for example) there's a substitute which is much cheaper but remains some of the carachteristics of the original. For a really affordable price we can make a dish easy to do and ideal for special occasions as for everyday life as well. The substitute is called "gula", and its most known commercial name is"gula del norte" which could be found in the States. Maybe not very easily but could be found.

Well, we'll need, for 4 people:

16 ounce (400 gr.) of fresh "gulas"
16 ounce (400 gr.) of peeled prawns
2 cloves of garlic
salt
Olive oil

You have to pour the oil over de frying pan, when the oil is hot enough put the garlic (cut in thin pieces) and the prawns. After a minute or a minute and a half, put the "gulas". Then Remove, everything sautéed. After that, you can wet your fingers in cold water and pour that on the "gulas". The best presentation is to put the gulas, garlic and prawls into a earthenware pot.

A good complement is white wine and a salad.

It's a really easy dish to do but at the same time it's not the typical thing you do everyday and it fits perfectly in the punk philosophy, you can do it yourself, in a very short period of time and as a beautiful Buzzcocks song it will leave a big smile in your face because it's really, really tasty. Did I had to make that stupid comparison, my friends? of course not but if it makes you remember that you should prove at least once this north Spain dish I'll have done my duty.

Enjoy!!

Zola: I also added some Spanish style bread--toasted, rubbed with garlic & tomato, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt. Add some jamon if you like. Suffice to say, José did his duty!

Cape Cod Sandwich

2008-04-21T18:59:00.000-07:00

Zola: This story really needs no introduction. But I should at least introduce you to Sharon, who has unwittingly become the Patron Saint of Food Chains--it was through Sharon that we met Whitney and her fine food from Guam; Sharon & her partner Pat have donated BACON bumper stickers (that we'll give to anyone who writes a story for the blog & wants one); Sharon & Pat visited us for a meal & brought about 4 dozen fresh oysters (which, okay, technically it wasn't part of the blog but it was a kick ass meal); and she wrote this awesome story which produced an awesome sandwich.

Sharon: My family has been going to Cape Cod ever since I was born. There is a photo of me at six months old, crawling around the beach. I’ve been a beach person ever since. My parents built a house on the Cape in the early ‘90s, and my dad still lives there today. I try to visit once a year.

During one visit—let’s say it was around 1994—my husband at the time and I cruised around the mid-Cape one day with my folks, with some purpose in mind that I have long forgotten. What I do remember is that after we had built up a healthy sea-air appetite (it makes me ravenous, how about you?), we stopped at what is fondly called a “fish shack” near Yarmouth. The building was classic Cape Cod—unassuming wood building sitting right on the docks, the inevitable lobster buoy and crab pot decorations, sea gulls providing the background music. The restaurant was run by a shy family, and because it was after the lunch rush, we practically had the place to ourselves; therefore, the space had a quiet, almost reverent atmosphere.

Our order was obvious: fish sandwich, french fries, and a Coke. We sipped on our icy Cokes to get our blood sugar leveled and read about lobsters on our paper placemats while waiting for our meals, which came out after not too long of a wait.

More than a dozen years later, I can still recall picking up that sandwich and taking the first bite. Soft yet substantial bun with a crisped, slightly caramelized interior surface. Crunch of iceberg lettuce and the tangy-smooth burst of tartar sauce. Then the fish. We swore that the family must have plucked a sole fish out of the water just after we ordered—it was that fresh. My memory goes a little dim at the exact constitution of the coating—but I can say that it was neither overly breaded nor bare fleshed, nor was there any of that “Cajun seasoning” that often wrecks a fish sandwich. The fish was allowed to speak for itself.

We ate our lunches, oohing and ahhing and “oh my godding” the whole time. It’s not like we hadn’t eaten fish sandwiches before—it is a staple lunch in New England—but we had just experienced the new gold standard. The shy waitress took in our raving with equanimity and provided no effusive response, just the check.

A couple of years later, on another visit, my husband and I were trekking around the Cape when we decided to find that fish shack again. We were getting pretty hungry and weren’t quite sure where the restaurant was located, but we felt that our strong memory of that fish sandwich would guide our way. It was like a beacon. Unfortunately, after going up and down every little side road in the upper and mid-Cape, we realized that we weren’t going to find the place. We gave up and grabbed lunch at some forgettable place, and headed back to my parents. We asked them, “Where is that fish shack where we had those amazing sandwiches?” “Oh, they closed. The family wanted to retire from the business.” Tragedy. I still have not fully recovered from the loss.

I have never found a fish sandwich as good as that time. In fact, they often fall short by epic proportions. My advice to the fish sandwich makers:

1. Use the freshest sole (no salmon or other alternative, please!) –don’t relegate your day-old or previously frozen stuff to the sandwich.
2. Keep it simple. No cayenne or paprika or “blackening”
3. The breading needs to be light, but substantial enough to provide a crisped container for the hot, juicy, tender fish inside.
4. Make your own tartar sauce and make it with high-quality ingredients.
5. Iceberg lettuce is the only lettuce that should go on this (or any other) sandwich. Do not let romaine or Bibb (or, God help me, sprouts) touch a bun.
6. The bun is extremely important. It can’t be airy, mushy, hard, doughy, too big or too small. It should be soft, substantial, and have that toasted interior. No cornmeal or sesame seeds, please.
7. French fries and a Coke are de rigueur, even if you never drink soda.

Zola: So guess what Guy got from my parents for his birthday? Oh hello, deep fryer, you naughty thing!
We went down to Fisherman's Terminal to pick up some sole and saw these tasty little squids. We decided we could substitute them for the french fries and Sharon wouldn't mind too much. Also, when we got the cokes, we thought, "you know what goes with coke? Rum!" Yes, I know it's not strictly in keeping with the story, but when better is there to start drinking hard liquor than when you've got a vat of oil cooking away at 375 degrees?
Guy let the sole soak in buttermilk for a few hours, then dredged the pieces of fish in egg then a mixture of flour, bread crumbs, salt & pepper before popping them in the deep fryer.
Tartar:
1/2c. mayo
1 1/2 tsp. finely chopped onion
1 1/2 tsp. lemon juice
2 Tbsp. sweet pickle relish
2 tsp. dry mustard powder
2 pinches of white pepper
dash of cayenne

Now we must go astringent our faces.

Argentine Cassoulet: Locro

2008-04-13T19:03:00.000-07:00

Zola: Dave is a former colleague of mine; a fellow librarian. Like any good librarian, Dave sent thorough and referenced notes from his food adventures while he and his wife, Karen, visited their son who was studying in Argentina (lucky dog). This is only one passage, and we'll explore more of his adventures later. But this first dish really hammered something home for me: I need to get to Argentina toute de suite, people.

Dave and Tony Maack and Karen Gilles' food experiences in Argentina 2006:

BUENOS AIRES:

In Buenos Aires we had rented an apartment in Belgrano on the far North side of this city of 12 million people. We had been in and out of the city for a few days but hadn't really found a restaurant we liked in our nice little neighborhood. Around the corner we had seen a small group of shops and a couple restaurants just off a little park and decided to look them over closely. We discovered a hole in the wall restaurant that specialized in empanadas. It might have been called Empanadas Saltena. We were soon to go to Salta so we sat down outside.

Argentinos are very gregarious people and it took no time for the woman proprietor to tell was she was from Salta. We ordered empanadas with her help. Empanadas are similar to what the British (or Cornish) call pasties and are also found in many Latin American countries Empanadas are like hambergers in Argentina. Well liked by all.

She suggested we also try some regional stews. Tony and I had locro and Karen had another stew I can't remember. This was a hearty and very fun lunch.

When we returned from salta, we went back, and ordered a big bunch of empandas. We ended up talking with the owner and a man who I believe was the bookkeeper for the restaurant about politics (you know the Bush, US Gov., Pres Kirchner,etc). This went on for some time and was very animated. The empanadas were GREAT.
Needless to say Tony did most of the talking.

Zola: Now, I guess it would have made sense to make empanadas. But why? I've had empanadas. Last week we had piroshki, so we essentially had empanadas. I wanted to check this mysterious LOCRO. When I researched it a bit, it was occasionally referred to as an Argentine cassoulet. And that just can't be bad.

LOCRO:
3 cups corn kernels
2 cups hominy
2 medium onions, sliced
1 large butternut squash, peeled and cubed
1 red pepper, diced
5 cups of vegetable broth
1 can white beans
11 ounces of chorizo
11 ounces of beef, cubed
6 ounces of bacon, sliced
2 tsp cayenne
1 tsp coriander powder
salt & pepper to taste
3 tablespoons of oil

I've discovered that I'm really bad at estimating how much food a recipe is going to make. If you suffer from this same affliction, I'll tell you this for nothing: I'm not sure what the laymen's term is but I believe the technical term is SHIT LOAD. This recipe makes a shit load of locro. Guy says it'll serve at least 6 people.

Chop and saute onions and the pepper in oil. Add the squash cubes and cook for about 5 minutes.

Next, add the vegetable broth and turn the heat to low. When the squash is half cooked, add the corn, hominy and the beans. In a different saucepan, brown the bacon, sausage and the beef. Add the meat mixture to the squash mixture and season with spices.

Boil for approximately 30 minutes--until it comes together as a stew. I served it with avocado and tortillas.

The Cooking of Strangers: Borscht & Piroshki

2008-04-06T16:21:00.000-07:00

Zola: I've just begun reading an amazing autobiography called The Courage of Strangers by Jeri Laber. JL was one of the co-founders of Helsinki Watch, which would become Human Rights Watch. Our bookshelf is littered with similar books: passionate individuals who are driven to make substantive change in the world. I devour these things. But this one is really speaking me. It's partially because she found her "calling" later in life, and that puts me at ease. As someone who didn't even begin her undergraduate studies until the age of 27, I often feel like I'm in a constant struggle to catch up to get where I want to be. The other thing is that it turns out old JL is a bit of a foodie. In fact, it was while she was editing the Fannie Farmer Cookbook that she met then President of Random House, Bob Bernstein, who got her into her first paid position doing human rights work. It's two worlds--food and development work--that sometimes feel completely at odds to me and I enjoyed reading her experiences within both.

She began her career with an interest--an obsession, really--with all things Russian. It's easy to imagine. It was the early 1950's and everything Russian was forbidden and mysterious. Combine that with the fact that her father was Russian and refused to speak about his life there. Much to the chagrin of her father, she ended up studying Russian language and literature, and in 1954 was one of the first American students to get a student visa into the USSR. By the 1960's she had 3 children and was working part-time in the Institute for the Study of the USSR.

Jeri: I looked forward to the office Christmas party each year, which always began with a gala Russian banquet, prepared by staff members and their spouses and spread out on a cloth-covered Ping-Pong table in the office recreation room. Many of the foods were new to me, but the tastes were enticingly familiar and reminded me of meals my grandmothers had made. There was caviar, both red and black; several kinds of pirozhki (light, flaky pastries filled with ground meat, cabbage, or mushrooms); pelmeni (boiled dumplings often served in a delicate broth); beef Stroganoff; hard boiled eggs with anchovies and dill sauce and salad Oliver (made with diced chiken, potatoes, and dill pickles). Vodka flowed freely and there was no end to the toasting. No matter how late I stayed, the party was in full swing when I left, and the sight the next morning of broken bottles and overturned chairs testified to even wilder partying as the night went on.

I got recipes from my colleagues and began preparing Russian food at home. One of my specialties was a meat-filled cabbage and beet borscht that I often served as a main course with mushroom pirozhki on the side. I followed it with thin slices of paskha, the sumptuous Russian Easter dessert made with farmer cheese, butter, cream, sugar, almonds, and other sinful things. My love affair with Russia now extended to its cuisine.

Zola: I've never been crazy about Eastern European food. You may have noticed that my tastes lean toward the spicy. But in honor of Jeri and the amazing work of Human Rights Watch (and learning to cook new food) we're cooking borscht and mushroom piroshki.

Mushroom Piroshki:
Dough:
1 1/2 c. sifted flour
1/2 tsp. baking powder
pinch salt
1/4 c. butter
1 egg, beaten
1/2 c. sour cream
Cut cold butter into flour/baking powder/salt until well mixed. Add sour cream and egg and form into a ball. Let refrigerate for a couple of hours.

Filling:
Cook 12 oz of mushrooms in butter. Mix in some flat leaf parsley, lemon juice and salt and pepper. Mix in some sour cream and a hard boiled egg.

Roll out dough to 1/8 inch thickness. I cut the dough into squares to conserve dough. Place about 2 tablespoons of filling in center of each square. Using pastry brush, coat edges with beaten egg. Fold dough over and shape into triangles. Press edges firmly together. Place on ungreased cookie sheet and brush tops with beaten egg and sprinkle with . Chill them for another hour then bake at 400 degrees for about 25-30 minutes.

Borscht:
1 pound beef or lamb shank
4 c. water
1/2 chopped onion
2 small bay leaves
1/2 tsp whole allspice
1 tomato peeled & chopped
1/2 small cabbage
1 carrot
1 beet
1 tsp vinegar
fresh ground pepper
chopped parsley and dill

Bring beef/lamb shank, onion, water, bay leaves, and allspice to a boil. Skim as necessary and let simmer for an hour. Chop veggies into a thin chop (apparently if you grate them, your borscht will be cloudy, and who wants that?). Remove meat from pot--if there's enough meat on the bone, cut it off and throw it back in with your veggies. Otherwise, set aside and toss in veggies. Boil uncovered for about 15 minutes or until veggies are cooked through. Before serving, stir in vinegar pepper, parsley and dill. Add sour cream to top.

Note: I think these turned out really well. My one comment would be that there wasn't enough broth to the borscht. If I had to do it again, I'd up the stock part of the recipe.

Oh, the Jeri quote is from her book:
The Courage of Strangers, PublicAffairs, 2002.

Swedish meatballs via the Indian Sub-continent

2008-03-26T16:06:00.000-07:00

Guy: Well for readers out there that have been attentively following the "happenings" here on Food Chains, you may be surprised to see Swedish Meatballs, again. You may remember one of our earliest posts supplied by our earnstwhile Swede Per for a meatball dish, provided here in this installation is a variation on that well known theme with an ethnic adaptive twist. With out going to deep into the degrees of separation lets just say I dedicate this Indian/Swedish Meatballs post to Per in acknowledgment of his birthplace, that same said city of my father's, Calcutta.
My friend Eva provided this recipe and story. After we had discussed Per's recipe Eva indeed confirmed Per's discussion on the swedish philosophy of "medium size", the idea that things are not to big or to small, as Eva added it is the idea that things are "just right". Eva said that the swedish were very good at incorporating other cultures food into their own. This following example I look at as similar to the English dish Chicken Tikki Masala, an English development on an Indian theme. As you may know, food chains is interested in the stories and emotional connections people have to food, and not just the food it's self. This recipe was Eva's aunties favorite, and a favorite of Eva's. When Eva returned home some years ago this was the meal she ate with her aunt. Unfortunately it was the last meal they would have together, however Eva says that the dish always reminds of her aunt and of her fond memories of her. So here we go with Eva's Indian Meatballs in a Creamy Tomato Sauce.

INDIAN MEATBALLS:
Serves 4-6
1 Lbs lean ground beef.
1 sml onion (red) grated.
1 tsp salt
1&1/2 tsp Garam masala
1 egg yoke
1/2 cup unsweetened bread soaked in 1/2 cup hot water.
butter for frying.
CREAMY SAUCE:
2 cans crushed tomatoes (15oz cans)
1 can diced chili peppers (4.5oz.)
1 tbsp curry powder.
1/2 tsp lemon juice.
1 tsp salt.
2 tsp Garam masala
1 tsp coriander (ground)
1 cup creme fraiche or sour cream.
THE METHOD:
Combine the tomatoes, chili peppers and spices (including lemon juice) in a pot.
Add the Sour cream and bring to a boil. Set aside for the meatballs.
Combine the beef, egg, soaked bread, onion and spices and mix thoroughly. Shape into moderate meatballs about 1 & 1/2 inches in diameter (remember Per's recipe!) this is made easier by using hands dipped in cold water.
Fry the meatballs on moderate heat shaking the pan now and then to brown the balls evenly.
Add the balls when browned to the cream sauce, cook on low heat for 15 minutes in covered pot.
Serve over rice.

For this meal I chose brown rice which worked well. I also added Lingonberry preserve as a condiment in the style of traditional Swedish meatballs. These balls and sauce were surprisingly flavorful and spicy despite the relatively conservative amount of spice used. My friend Bill was our guest for dinner on a chilly Seattle evening, we declared this recipe DELICIOUS!
And just the right accompaniment the 60's film farce "Candy" staring Swedish actress Ewa Aulin, both film and meatballs were greatly enjoyed by Bill and myself. Thanks to Eva for this great story and recipe!
Bon appetite in Swedish!

Childhood on Guam

2008-03-24T08:08:00.000-07:00

Zola: I've got to admit, I've been pretty down on the blog lately. We're at the end of the 3rd month and just not getting enough people submitting food stories to keep us going through the end of the year. Oh, we've got a few stories in back-up but at the rate they're coming in, either you're going to have to listen to even more of my crappy stories or we're not going to make it. Let's just say that if you see Betha's fruitcake story and recipe published in May (instead of Nov/Dec when you want to think about making the world's most delicious fruitcake) you'll know the end is freaking nigh.

That being said, the story and recipe below re-charged me a bit. As you'll undoubtedly infer from her post, I don't know Whitney--and it's always a thrill to open the old inbox and see a message from someone I don't know. The other thing that was really cool about this post was that I don't know jack about Guamese food. It was just what I needed to try to create something that tasted good without any clue what it should taste like.

Whitney: Sharon passed along your incredibly cool blog to me about 20 minutes ago and I'm inspired to look like I'm working hard but to write about food memories. The first that popped into my head was a visit to Sorrento in 2006 where I had THE MOST AMAZING MEAL of my life. But I'm still reeling from it and can't quite put it into words. So instead I'll tell you about my (food) memories of childhood spent on the tropical island of Guam.

We arrived in 1974 when I was 8 - so all the memories are colored with a kid's perspective. Every village had a patron saint and a chosen month to celebrate said patron saint with fiestas. I'm not sure how they swapped hosting duties but someone was ALWAYS having a party. As in most polynesian (or in this case, micronesian but let's not split tropical hairs) a big part of the culture seems to be generosity. Back in those days (folks tell me it's different now), any stranger was welcome to walk in and share the bounty.

It would go something like this, my incredibly beautiful, blonde haole (= white person) mom would get an invitation from some random person to a fiesta. My mom, my brother (age 6) and I would show up and be welcomed like royalty. I remember hearing something about strangers being considered good luck.

THE FOOD! Was an amazing combo of the island culture Guamanian/Chamorro, Spanish and Filipino food. Favorites of mine:

Bistek: some sort of marinated thinly sliced steak

Kelaguen of ALL sorts of meat - chicken, beef & spam being my favorites: Kelaguen was cool because we got to help shred the coconut. Imagine sitting astride a wooden sawhorse with a rusty grater (a rod with a bent-up sharp end to open the coconut) and a flat, round serrated end. The kids would do this for hours to get enough coconut for everyone. I remember the meat being 'raw' (only partially cooked and then cooked with vinegar but I could be wrong).

Red Rice: always!

Chicken adobo: the BEST chicken I've ever had in my life.

Corn soup with THICK corn tortillas: I've never been able to figure out those 1/2 inch thick corn tortillas. They had grill marks on them.

Lumpia: The Filipino folks said this was a Filipino recipe. Tiny little spring roll-esque fried bits of heaven. A pain to make but SO SO SO yummy. Actually verging on addictive.

Pancit: Another "Pilipino Pood" (so our friends described it). VERY yummy noodle dish - not sure if they're buckwheat? But the texture was very different. I remember chicken and celery with fresh lemon flavors.

Finadene Sauce with the tiny red peppers: HOT to be added to everything.

Pickled Green Papaya - HOT HOT HOT and addictive. Kids would bring baggies of these to sell at the bake sales

Roast Pork - We had neighbors with pigs and I stumbled across them slaughtering a pig for a fiesta. I didn't get to see much but I saw it hanging so the blood could drain.

The adults would all chew betel nut by making a little pouch of banana leaves and filling it with the SUPER bitter nut and some limestone. I tasted it once and WOW. I spit it right out. Everyone laughed at the little haole girl with her white hair...

Zola: So, not having a village to feed or a patron saint to celebrate (I guess it was Easter. Hm. Never mind), I decided to just try a couple things off the list. I went with Kelaguen, which required making Finadene sauce, and then some titiyas which are the thick tortillas Whitney mentions. I was also a cheater and bought some Lumpia because I love them but really don't need 2 dozen fried springs rolls in belly.

My guiding principle with the Kelaguen was this sentence from Wikipedia: "Though a simple dish, kelaguen reflects the complex history of the Micronesian archipelago's Hispanic-Asian-influenced native culture. It is similar to South American Ceviche and Filipino Kinilaw/Kilawin." I looked at a few different recipes and this is what I came up with:

Finidene (or also spelled Finidi) sauce: Mix a cup of soy sauce with a cup of lemon juice (lime juice or a good vinegar will also do). Add a large, finely chopped shallot and two birds eye chili peppers.

Marinate about a pound of chicken in this sauce overnight.

Fry up your chicken, basting in the sauce, and let it cool. Shred the chicken and mix with lemon juice, salt, shredded fresh coconut, finely chopped onion and more chilis to taste. Serve over titiyas. I used this recipe for titiyas but was not crazy about it. they were good but I felt like the dough should have been firmer. I'll keep looking for one with corn meal.

Pie Date pt. 2 (or how I learned to stop worrying and love the yeast) continued...

2008-03-16T16:26:00.000-07:00

Alright, where were we? Oh yes. I was having a small mind melt. But not to worry--I've hung out on a beach with seals and had four glorious days of being no where near a computer. All better now.

So to continue our tragic tale...
I had just begun working for Tom Douglas. Let's be absolutely clear about this: I didn't know what the hell I was doing. One minute, I was working with Kenny, the tiny, odd gay man with piercing blue eyes, a fierce chain smoking habit, and creepy collection of dolls. The next minute, I was being interviewed by Eric Tanaka, James Beard Award winner. When I first worked with Tanaka he had an impressive burn covering his forearm from a duck exploding on him when he pulled it out of the oven. I had never even considered cooking duck, let alone contemplated the consequences of one exploding on me.

Tom never went to culinary school either, so my work ethic and willingness to learn worked in my favor. But I no longer had my buddies, like Colin in his ridiculous baker's hat, pounding his oven-mitted fist onto the bread table, yelling, "you can do it, Zola--just one more time!" as we tried to break (or create?) the record for consecutive times one can listen to "Super Freak" (I only made it to ten without cracking). Now I was working with the serious and seriously talented Johnathon Sundstrom. These were no times for Super Freak shenanigans, people!

The other thing to keep in mind is that, while I say I was working with people like Tanaka and Sundstrom, I was in fact working by myself. Tom had hired me to make the desserts for the newly opened Etta's Seafood but there wasn't enough room in either Dahlia or Etta's kitchens to work in the day. So I found myself working from 11pm to 7am at the Dahlia kitchen. I'd see the chefs as they were cleaning their stations for the night and then I was on my own.

A few weeks into my new job, I felt like things were going pretty well, despite that gross feeling that accompanies you when you work the night shift. If you've never done it, it's a combination of: not enough sleep, too much coffee and cigarettes, and zero human contact. But the baking was going fine. Coconut cream pies? Check. Apple dumplings. Delish. Cinnamon ice cream. Done. And then came the day that Tom announced that Etta's was running smoothly enough to open the place up for brunch. And this brunch menu was to include cinnamon rolls. Sounds nice, right? Except cinnamon rolls, when you stop and think about them, are really more of a bread product. As in, you need yeast to make them. And your faithful protagonist here had never made a single item with yeast in her young life. So I conferred with Swiss. She assured me it was easy stuff, "just make sure your water isn't too hot or too cold". Uh. Okay. Not too hot, not too cold. Easy. Wait. WTF??? Too hot or too cold compared to what?

I walked into that kitchen that night with a bad, bad feeling. I tried to play it off like everything was fine. I started working on pie dough and some ice cream mix while the rest of the staff were still there. As soon as they left I sat in the dining area and drank a shitload of coffee and smoked like a banshee while I mulled over my "too hot, too cold" predicament. Eventually, I got myself to that point--almost like when you convince yourself you just have to jump off the high dive. I started working off the cinnamon roll recipe. I read the recipe a million times, scanning for every nuance or clue that might enlighten me on how to work with yeast. I remember adding that first concoction of water, yeast and sugar and thinking, "Holy Christ. I don't even know what I'm looking for?!"

Oh yeah. Did I mention that I had to make about 200 of these cinnamon rolls?

At some point... maybe around 2am... I realized I just had to go into production with these things. It was coming together like dough but it just didn't feel right. I was using every refrigerated space available. I was rolling and filling and cutting, putting each cinnamon roll in it's bed of caramelized sugar and putting it in the fridge for someone else to pull out later for its final rise and baking right before service. Except that with each batch that I rolled out and filled, I became increasingly aware that something wasn't right. At one point, I just broke down crying. But I kept on making those stupid rolls until I had every roll in the fridge ready to go.

I got home exhausted, but I couldn't sleep. Around 10am I got the call. Brace yourself, friends. This story does not have a happy ending. Not a single cinnamon roll rose. Not. One. Not only was I humiliated but I thought for sure I was fired. Lucky for me, Tom is great guy and he didn't fire me. And I never made that mistake again. The next time I had to make something I was unfamiliar with, I did a ton of research and a few trials.

But I was pretty scarred by my yeast experience. I dreaded making anything with yeast after that. Brioche was a nice entry into that world--there's enough sugar to activate any stubborn yeast package. But I still secretly get nervous any time I need to work with it. So I decided to conquer my fear and enlisted my friends Kathleen (who you were introduced to during my last pie date) and Lisa. We decided to have Pie Date Part Deux, and this one would use yeast--pizza pie.

We used two different types of yeast and two different recipes to see if there were differences in taste and texture. There didn't appear to be much difference between the regular yeast and the organic in terms of taste but we found we liked this semolina based dough best:

Ingredients
1(1/4 ounce) package dry yeast
1 tablespoon sugar
1 1/2 cups warm but not hot water (see! there it is again!!)
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup semolina or cornmeal
1 tablespoon salt
3 tablespoons olive oil

1. Mix 1/2 cup of the warm water with the yeast and sugar. Let the mixture rest until it is foamy, about 5 minutes. At this point, I also like to do lots of hand waving and talking to the bowl. I like to mix it up, too. You can start out stern, "You better rise you little bitch." But then, just to be safe, you should be nice too, "I know you can do it. You're looking good and foamy!"
2. Combine the flour, semolina or cornmeal, and salt in large mixing bowl. Stir in the olive oil. Stir in the yeast mixture and then slowly add remaining water until the dough is stiff and sticky. Turn the dough onto lightly floured board and knead until it is smooth, moist, and elastic, about 10-15 minutes. Transfer to an oil-lined bowl, cover with damp towel, and let it rise in a warm place until doubled, about one hour.
3. Punch down the dough once or twice and turn it out onto a lightly floured board. Cut it into 6 pieces for individual pizzas and top as you like.

Kathleen made a delicious tomato sauce while we waited for our dough to rise. She went for a much more traditional pie with the sauce and the mozzarella. Swiss had just sent me a huge block of prosciutto for my birthday, farm raised in Iowa, so I paired that with some potatoes, sharp Parmesan and baby arugala. Lisa had the winner with a pesto base, roasted tomatoes and feta cheese. I had some dough left over so a couple days later I tried a breakfast pie with egg and potato and cheese. Guy liked it but it was a little too breakfast-y for my taste.

I still prefer to work with yeast in the company of good friends. It makes it so much more fun and I had the added benefit of seeing the how other recipes and styles work. Thanks ladies!

Pie Date pt. 2 (or how I learned to stop worrying and love the yeast)

2008-03-08T13:34:00.000-08:00

Some people seem to be under the impression that, in order to submit a story to Food Chains, it has to be a nice food story. Not true. We'll take anything. To prove my point, I am going to tell you a tale of food tragedy. A baking nightmare, if you will. But to truly feel the pain and agony of my story, we have to start with our protagonist (moi) and how I even became a baker...
After coming back from Indo, my trusted gang of skaters and punk rockers secured me a fabulous job as a dishwasher at the Metropol Bakery in Eugene. Those boys were all baking bread there and it wasn't long before I found myself back behind the cash register. We had a lot of fun during that time--like the time Tom threw up a little bit on the bread table because we'd over done it the night before. However, customer service was wearing thin on me. I was slipping. In one of my finer moments, I told one customer, "don't pay, shut up and get the fuck out. I don't just can't stand listening to you whine." The last straw was the day a tiny old witch threw $100 bill in my face to pay for her baguette. That was it. I started staying late and having people teach me how to bake.

Soon thereafter, I picked up and moved to Seattle. I got myself a job in the front of the house at Pacific Desserts but it wasn't long before I weaseled my way into the back, and was getting paid to learn the ropes. During those couple of years, I got the basics down--cakes, pies, frostings, fillings, caramels. It turned out I was pretty good at it. It helped that I had Swiss there-- a born natural and seasoned professional at 21.

Pacific Desserts got sold to some business types and pretty soon we were doing baking production work. We were getting buff lifting 50 pound bags of four, chocolate and sugar, 30 pound blocks of butter and 30 pound--wait for it--buckets of eggs. Yes. You read it right. BUCKETS. OF EGGS. Would you like a bucket of yolks, whites or whole eggs? It was as just as soul sucking as it sounds.

okay, here's the deal. Guy & I are getting ready to head down to Mexico for a few days and my computers are not playing nice. I've got the work computer that won't let me in to post AT ALL and the home computer that won't let me insert pictures. So I am going to back away slowly before I throw either or both out the freaking window. I need a holiday. I know you're all on pins and needles to hear the rest of this tragic tale. but I'm going to have to lame-out this week. sorry! To be continued...

Soto Ayam (Indonesia)

2008-03-03T07:40:00.000-08:00

Zola: There are some people who, when you meet them, you just know you're going to be friends with them. And so it was with Lee. Although, truth be told, Lee's the kind of guy that most people want to be friends with--slightly mischievous and a wicked sense of humor. I probably needed Lee's friendship a lot more than he needed mine. As exchange students in Indo, everything seemed to come easily to him--the language, making friends, great host family. As for me, you may recall that I didn't fair all too well with my host family, I was lazy about learning Indonesian, and it was hard for me to make friends with Indonesian kids my age and still feel like I was being myself. Quite bluntly, they were religious and I was, well.. not. I had two very close girl friends--Nicole, whom you've met through sugar pie adventures, was one. But there was something comforting about hanging out with a boy that didn't care that I was an obnoxious girl who listened to lots of Bad Brains and Dead Kennedy's and [ahem, allegedly] partied too much, let alone if we shook hands [boy/girl hand shaking strictly forbidden for devout Muslims in Indo. Made that mistake more than once.] Through that amazing internets machine, I found Lee so many years later, still a self-professed "art/skate/food nerd"--and perfect candidate for our Food Chains. Like the good egg that he is, he didn't let us down.

Lee: My story sucks and is a little too sentimental for my liking, completely lacking in humour and substance, but if I don't send it, I'll find 50 more reasons to put it off, like fixing my scooter, or finishing making that billy cart, or putting my skills to use making a website for the missus.

so here goes...

This dish was a huge part of my daily routine when I lived in the Indonesian city of Surabaya as an exchange student. I'd get home from school around lunch time and wait for the lady with the local Soto Ayam cart to come by and I'd go out and order some. If I had friends over, she'd bring it all into our house and serve it up to us in my room and we'd scoff it down, piling rice into the bowl to soak up the soup. It is a great feel good dish and the perfect pick-me-up if you are feeling sick or tired.

Soto Ayam - Chicken Soup with Vermicelli
Serves 4

Soup
500g chicken thigh fillets
1.25L water
6 Red shallots, chopped finely
5cm piece ginger, grated
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1/4 tsp turmeric powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
2 bay leaves
2 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp peanut oil

To serve
100g rice vermicelli, soaked in hot water until soft
4 boiled eggs, sliced
Mung bean sprouts
Crispy fried onions
Sambal
Lemon wedges
Steamed rice

1. Bring water to boil in a medium saucepan. Drop in the chicken and boil for a couple of minutes until cooked, skimming off any scum. Remove chicken and reserve water. Shred the chicken a set aside.

2. Over a medium heat, add oil to a saucepan and add the spring onions, ginger, garlic, turmeric, salt & pepper and saute for 5 minutes. Add reserved water, bay leaves, soy sauce and chicken. Bring to boil then reduce heat and simmer for 30 minutes.

3. To serve, divide vermicelli into 4 serving bowls. Ladle chicken soup into each bowl, including a few pieces of chicken in each. Top with sliced eggs, mung bean sprouts and sprinkle fried onions over it all. Place a wedge of lemon in each bowl and serve with a big bowl of steamed rice and a small dish of sambal.

Shortcuts for the Old Ways

2008-02-24T17:31:00.000-08:00

Guy: In the early 70's, my paternal grandmother, Ellen, left Britain and came to live with us in Perth, Western Australia. My father, her only child, was pleased to say the least to have his childhood chef back in the house. Gran was a reserved Anglo-Indian woman from the part of the Bengal now known as Bangladesh. She brought with her recipes and techniques unfamiliar to my mother. However, the master cook my mother is soon had these recipes adapted to the more modern, Western kitchen. In this installment we will examine some of my mother's labor saving attempts to recreate my Gran's arcane recipes. We'll also look at some little tricks I've learned along the way from friends and relatives. The corner piece will be a simple dish I must have eaten a thousands times in my youth. It's economy made it especially popular around my house after the death of Gran and the transition of my mother to a single mother parent. It's daal and rice.
In the original recipe taught to my mother, Gran's method was an old Bengal technique of straining the stewed lentils of the daal through a cheesecloth to make it smooth and creamy. There are obvious problems--the most obvious being creating sieve. Labor intensive, no? Anyway, my mum found a quick way around this: use a food processor. My more modern interpretation is to use a hand blender.

This recipe calls for a chopped onion (to be sauted in the pan)--as found in the base of any curry. My friend Nehru has enlightened me in the last year to the use of the pre-fried, packaged onion. These can be purchased for about $2 a bag at most Indian grocery stores. They're a great flavorsome, quick option. Use about 1/3 bag in this recipe.

Daal:
I c. dried split lentils (any color)
1/2 c. finely chopped onion
1 small tomato chopped
1/2 Tbsp ginger
1/2 tsp garlic
1/4 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp tumeric
1/2 tsp cumin powder
1/2 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp garam masala
salt to taste
1/4 c. butter or ghee
4-5 curry leaves
The essential element of the basmati rice is to make sure you heat the rice on high before adding the water--don't burn it! I got this technique from the Hari Krishnas. Many a free meal was consumed at the East Perth Temple by my punk friends and I back in those dole days of the early 80's.

Basmati Rice:
1 1/2 c. basmati rice
2 Tbsp butter or ghee
salt & pepper
2 3/4 c. water
1/4 tsp tumeric
Melt the butter/ghee. Add the rice and cook on high for 3 min. Add water and spices, bring to a boil, cover, reduce heat and simmer for 40 min.

Here's a little tip about papadums. The traditional way to cook the "lentil chip" that is the papadum is to deep fry it very quickly in very hot oil. I remember watching with fascination in my mother's kitchen as the small chip explodes into life as a papadum (see picture of papadum below exploding into life). My mum recently told me that just popping the papadum in the microwave for about 30 seconds does the same thing. This tip has been confirmed by my Indian friends. Although the papadum does not have the benefit of the flavor of hot oil, it is still crisp and "benefits" from being less greasy.

I dedicate this entry to the memory of my Gran.

Warm Pasta Meal (Italy)

2008-02-17T10:50:00.000-08:00

Zola: We named our dog, Deano, after Dean Martin - he loves the ladies, tends to indulge, and, in his youth, really was the party pug. Sometimes when we tell people his name they ask, "Is he Italian?"

Jim: This is perhaps my most culturally powerful, favorite, nostalgic, happy, funny, and strange (as in I don't think any other county does this and this is not a recipe for humans) food memory from Italy. Intrigued?

We often house sat for some dear friends in the south of Italy - Calabria, Greco-Roman to the core, a place far off the tourist trail where life is still simple in all the best senses of the word. These friends had several dogs and a cat who preferred to live in a tree. Every evening after we had eaten, I would get out a huge old pot and begin to cook pasta for the critters. Yes - the animals get a warm pasta meal, too. In Italy, in the animal section of the grocery store, there is the usual canned dog and cat food variety but there are also 25 and 50 pound sacks of large macaroni, tube pasta (made with lower grade flours - this is not our pasta) like our dry dog food. So, I would boil up a big pot of pasta each evening to which I would add old leftovers, vegetables a bit past their prime, meats, and or a very large can of gravy type dog food for flavor and nutrition. I sometimes added broths (from the dried cubes) for flavor, too.

The dogs would smell their pasta cooking and begin to get excited, standing at the door, smiling and wagging and turning in circles. When it was ready, I would haul it outside and with a large ladle begin filling their large bowls - a nice, warm dinner for all. You will have to borrow a pack of four legged critters - dogs and cats, too (although American cats may be too spoiled by rich canned foods, on the other hand this is a warm meal and that might be the enticer) to test this one. Also, a heavier wheat or organic pasta of some sort might be the closest thing here to Italian animal pasta (canine teeth al dente is what you are aiming for). That is the only basic ingredient, after that you are free to add whatever delights you have on hand or wish to add that you think will please (meat scraps from the market is always good - you will have to make an arrangement with your favorite butcher to save you some doggie goodies), cooked in whatever manner you choose (boiled in the pot with the pasta or cooked separately and added to the pasta after draining). Your culinary efforts will be amply rewarded by this audience (and remembered the next time they see you I expect - of course that could just be the "I remember they feed me" response).

Sugar Pie (Canada)

2008-02-10T20:52:00.000-08:00

Zola: What could be more appropriate for Valentine's Day than some sweet sweets? This was sent from my friend Nicole, who is, in my humble opinion, one of the best human beings walking the planet. Full stop. She also has an ability to eat an inordinate amount of sugar. I am tempted to say it's her only vice, but it hardly seems to qualify as a vice. She still has her "wisp of a girl" figure, all of her teeth, and isn't moody or weepy (my personal specialties after large sugar doses).

Nicole:In about 1994 we celebrated Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day with our friends France and Tom, and France's brother Claude, visiting his sister from Quebec to spend the summer tree-planting.

We went to the only Quebecois bar in Vancouver, had La Fin du Monde beer (very important part of your cooking process, you must find it) and ate sugar pie. Which was a complete revelation to me. Pie. Made of sugar. No ridiculously healthy fruits or nuts, just sugar, cream and butter. Who could come up with something like that? Needless to say it is delicious, served with unsweetened whipped cream. And beer. Or whiskey.

I asked France for a recipe and she got her mom to email me (attached). Enjoy my clumsy translation attempts - you can see that I didn't even attempt to translate the second recipe. I'm an embarrassment to my country.

The only "Canadian" dishes I could come up with were all from Quebec, which I'm sure says something important about our culture (the others were tortierre,
poutine and maple syrup (which is not technically a dish, but could I suppose be a drink if you were not very thirsty) (And beaver pie. Kidding)). Having said that, I'm sure that if I were from the Maritimes I would know all sorts of regional dishes. But I'm not. So you get sugar pie. And very short sentences. Enjoy.
Zola: This a picture of my first attempt at sugar pie. My French must be even worse than I thought (though, that hardly seems possible?) because when I put it in the oven I remember thinking, "What the? It's mostly butter and cream". Not ingredients that tend to get firm when you stick them in an oven. It turns out, they really don't get firm in the oven. I felt like an embarrassment to my (albeit former) profession as a pastry chef.

So I had to try it again. This time I was hanging out with my friend Kathleen. Oddly enough, Kathleen reminds me a lot of Nicole. They speak with exactly the same cadence - it's some freaky children-of-the-Irish thing. Anyway, Kathleen & I had a pie date. She's a keen pie baker and with her as my back-up, I was determined not to let this pie take me down.

So I tried a new recipe:
1 c. maple sugar
1 c. Light brown sugar
1/4 c. heavy cream
1 egg
1 Tablespoon flour
2 Tbsp melted butter

Pour that into a 9" unbaked pie shell and bake at 400F for 25 min.

Now I didn't know what maple sugar was so I used "sugar in the raw". Um. Don't do that. It didn't dissolve properly and was pretty crunchy. I feel like I break out in a cold sweat every time I think about it.

Otherwise, this attempt was better although still mind-numbingly sweet. If I ever gathered the courage to attempt sugar pie again I would do it in little tart shells so that my sugar to pie dough ratio was a little was a little more balanced.
Happy Valentine's Day. Go brush your teeth.

Arroz con Pollo (Panama)

2008-02-03T18:55:00.000-08:00

Zola: Swiss is one of my dearest friends in the world - the closest thing I have to a sister. She's cute as pie and can be mean as a snake. There's no bullshit about her and she's loyal beyond measure. She has also - for some godforsaken reason - gone and moved to Kansas so I miss her all the time. This food tasted like hanging out in her apartment. It brought back memories of late nights, punk rock clubs, a closet full of Black Label, a pretty black Comet, and learning to cook good food. Cheers, Swiss!

Swiss: My childhood food memories are few and far between because both my parents worked full time. For the children, it was a fend for yourself thing–a Lord of the Flies meets the latch-key kids.

My parents were hippies. The only groceries their species comprehended were those that took excessive preparation. This was daunting for a kid. Hippie-dippy-coop-food takes hours to cook. It was a nightmarish endeavor full of soaking, peeling, and foraging in the garden out back. To this day, I don't know how to grocery shop for a quick fix meal, i.e., something that is healthy and instant yet not sheer junk. I sometimes observe other peoples' carts hoping to find the answer to my shopping dilemma, but all that obese Midwesterners seem to consume is wretched processed shit.

I was making crepes and chocolate eclairs when I was five so you would think I could always come up with a great meal. Not so much. Each year I had one meal that sounded consistently good to me in case my mother "created" a dish that was repellent. One year it was cold cereal. After that it was tuna sandwiches or maybe peanut butter and honey. But, thank God, sometimes my dad would make dinner due to my mothers failed experiments. My father's kitchen rescues contributed to one of my finest food memories: Arroz con Pollo. He learned the recipe growing up in panama where his father was an engineer during the construction of the canal. I finally got to visit Panama the early 90's. It was great; endless rum drinks and world class empanadas. Best of all, was a little restaurant on the beach that served authentic Arroz con Pollo. It might have been the setting, but I swear it was the best thing that I have ever had. It was different than what I was accustomed to, and there must be hundreds of variations, but this is mine, which in my opinion, is a quick and perfect dinner:

Arroz con pollo

2T oil

1 onion

2 ribs of celery

2 carrots

1 bell pepper (if you like them)

2 thighs and 2 legs

1cup rice

1 bay leaf

1/2t turmeric

salt& pepper

2t chicken base + 1 ½ cups water or 1 ½ cups of chicken stock

1/4 cup peas

1/4 cup green olives

1/4 cup golden raisins chopped (whole raisins are gross)

cut onions, celery and carrots into 1/4 inch dice

heat oil in a pot, salt, pepper and turmeric chicken

brown the chicken then remove from pot drain off excess oil

saute onions, celery and carrots for 2 minutes

add the rice and bay leaf for another minute

put the chicken back into the pot

add chicken stock

bring to a boil, stir

turn down to low and cover for 35 minutes

then add the peas, olives and raisins

let sit for five minutes

(By all means, smother in sirachi)

Sri Lankan breakfast with Tsonga, Djokovic and friends.

2008-01-27T13:21:00.000-08:00

Zola: The comment was made today, "Dude, everyone's got a food blog." To which, I can only say: Yep. It's true. I'm not winning any prizes for originality. But I would like to also add that I was just trying to save my sanity. At the time that I dreamed this thing up, I was driving 3 hours a day on the I-5 corridor. I'll spare you monotonous details. I'm sure you can image the fun. But then I thought about food and food stories and the how I have been able to connect with people through food and that made me happy. It is a simple and easy connection and at the same time, the thought of doing this - being challenged to learn whatever food people threw at me - seemed like an interesting divergence. So I went with it. Now can you imagine my delight when I opened my email inbox and there was a message from someone I'd never met with a recipe for a Sri Lankan breakfast and these words: If you are interested we would love to cook Sri Lankan food for you and you would be most welcome.??? I think I responded with something like, "don't say it if you don't mean it - because I'll be there." Zay & Agit did mean it. When they opened the door to us, Ajit immediately plied us with Arrack Coctails - which I highly recommend. The AC is made with arrack, lime, passion fruit and shaken with ice.They told us about their lives between Portland and Sri Lanka, and made an amazing feast for us. I've never felt so lucky.

Guy: So here's the fantastic recipe for Sri Lankan breakfast provided by our charming and gracious new friends Agit and Zay. This is not an every day breakfast but a meal for special occasions, typically weddings or birthdays. As we did not have one of these events looming we decided to have it coincide with one of my favorite past times - tennis! The final of the Australian Open tennis is played on Australia day the 26th of January, we invited our friends Emily, Mark and Bill over to watch the match between Jo-Wilfred Tsonga of France and Novak Djokavic of Serbia. The chicken curry and coconut rice dish was a great hit, with lashings of India sweets on the side, the tennis feast was both a colorful and delicious meal.

Zay:
I am sending you the recepies for Sri Lankan Breakfast.This menu is made for all auspicious occasions like the 1st of the year, weddings,entering a new home,starting a new buisness etc.
It is Kiri Bath Kiri = Milk(coconut) Bath= Rice.
It is eaten with Lunu Miris Lunu= Onions Miris Chilli This is a fiery relish.
Chicken/Fish Curry
Jaggery =Palm Sugar This is similar to Molasses that is hard

Kiri Bath
1 lb Rice ( basmathi)
3 tsps Salt
3-4 Cardammoms crushed
Milk of 1 large coconut or 1 1/2 cans coconut milk/cream
Wash rice .Add cardommoms,salt and water(approx 1 1/2 ins above level of rice) and allow to cook.
When rice is well cooked and slightly mushy add coconut milk and cook stirring occassionally till mixture is a thick smooth mass.
There should be no liquid left.Remove cardommoms.
Spread this on a dish/baking tray and smooth top with foil. It should be at least 1 1/2 ins high.
Cut into diamond shapes once set.
Traditionally this is left to set on a plantain leaf and the top pressed into shape by one too.It adds to the flavour

Lunu Miris
2 oz dry red chilli pcs/flakes
1/2 oz Maldive fish (dry ground fish)
Lime juice
salt
2 oz onions
Grind all ingredients to a coarse paste.Add salt and lime to taste.

Chicken Curry
2 1/2 lb chicken
2 tbsp corriander powder
2 tsps cummin powder
3 tsps sweet cummin powder
2 oz red onion
2 slices ginger
8 pods garlic
4 -5cardommoms
1/2 in cinnamom
4 cloves
1/2 tsp fengureek
1-2 green chillis(jalapeno)
1 in Rampe (pandun leaf)
4 curry leaves
3/4 in lemon grass
1 large tomato chopped
1tbsp rice + 1 tbsp grated coconut roasted fairly dark (high heat in a non stick pan)
salt
2-3 tbsp oil
12 ozs coconut milk
Cut the chicken into 8 portions.Prick with fork all over.
Grind garlic,ginger,green chilli,roasted rice and coconut,cloves,seeds of cardamoms,cinnamon into a fine paste.(use a food processor, much easier than a mortar and pistal.
Add all the ground and powdered ings along with salt into chicken and leave for 1/2 hour.
Chop onions
Heat oil in a pan till very hot .Add onions,rampe,curry leaves,lemon grass and fry till light brown.
Add chicken and toss for 5-7 mins.Add coconut milk and bring to boil over medium heat.
cook till done.if you like more gravy or curry too thick add a little water or coconut milk that is diluted.

Guy: So Djokovic was the winner of the championship. Unfortunately the coverage skipped the Trophy ceremony, to which Bill stated "That's OK because I didn't want to tear up in front of you all anyway". Tsonga was the valiant loser in a great tennis match, however we were the winners in the breakfast match, Allez!

Meatballs (Sweden)

2008-01-20T17:01:00.000-08:00

Swedish meatballs, they are the sort of dish that conjurs up images of a cozy fire lit room in a snow covered glen, Elke Sommers and Sven the Viking stoking the post prandial sexual fire with delicious morsels of comforting pan braised flesh! At least that's my image, Zola's may be a little less Wagnarian. I digress. Anyway whenever I think of Elke Sommers and Sven the Viking I also think of our fantastic friend and noted Swede, Per. The following recipe and entertaining cultural annotation are his. I'd like to add Per was the first person to contribute to the blog (c'mon you bludgers, lets see some more!) and this excelent dish was the first prepared and consumed in the name of Foodchains. Fitting too was the fact that for this meal we were joined by our friend (and Per's) Mike, who consumed a mammoth plate (as did I) and who's comments provide further brevity to this wonderful swedish classic: "Dude that's huge. Keep crushing meatballs."

Per:

At the risk of appearing predictable I will share my mother's recipe for meatballs. I learned the "recipe" growing
up so it's sort of a dish without regimented measures of ingredients, let me try to recall...

1 1/2 pound ground beef
1 1/2 pound ground pork
(this was an economic choice because pork was a lot cheaper than beef
in Sweden in the 70s. Some fancypants go 1/3 with veal but not me. I'm
keeping it real)
2 large yellow onions
breadcrumbs (stale bread placed in a bowl with milk) About 4 or 5
slices in a cup of milk
2 eggs
more salt than you think you would need
more white pepper than you think you would need
lots of black pepper
more butter than you think you would need

You can make the bread stale by placing it in the oven at a plate warming temperature for an hour or two or by leaving it out overnight.

OK, you are ready to go! By the way, do not be alarmed by the lack of herbs and spices. It is, indeed, what puts the big, soft Italian balls at a disadvantage when measured against the tight little bronzed Swedish balls that they will never be.

Finely chop the onions and brown them in some of the butter. Mix the beef and pork, add salt, white pepper, breadcrumbs, black pepper, eggs, and browned onions. Mix for a long time with your hands. Fry a trial meatball in butter when everything has been mixed. It will probably be bland. Add more salt, white, black pepper. Fry another one in butter. It, too, may be bland. Add more salt, white, black pepper. You get the picture. You can make more breadcrumbs beforehand just in case and add another egg if it's too crumbly. They are not meant to be cakey, obviously, but they need to hold themselves together. It usually takes me 3 or 4 tries to get it right, but usually just the salt and pepper part.

When you are satisfied, when a golden brown meatball comes out nice and savory, mellow with a little salt and a black pepper kick, you have to go into production. Roll the little guys with the palm of your hands, make them kind of small, like about an inch and a quarter from pole to pole and put them somewhere, like on a large cutting board so that as you fry them, you have fresh soldiers going into the frying pan (I don't have to tell you that a cast iron skillet disperses the heat best). I fry them in
butter and pour out the drippings every other shift (these drippings you keep).

This is not Orthodox Swedish but it's good advice: dice a handful of Shiitake mushrooms, sautee them in butter, and pour the meatball drippings and scrapings into the mushroom pan as you go along. Keep it at a low simmer, and add some cream, flour, and soy sauce to taste. Not too much heat, not too much soy sauce. This makes for a much better gravy than the Swedish white one that is often served with meatballs.

When all the meatballs have been fried and the gravy is kicking ass, serve with lots of mashed potatoes and lingonberry preserves. Lingonberries aren't super easy to get ahold of, so cranberries areactually a very close substitute. If anyone bitches they can find the door on their own.

The most important part of this recipe is browning the onions before mixing the meat - they lend an excellent flavor. This is what I learned from my mother watching her make them (and helping out in the kitchen as a kid). The second most important thing is using the drippings for the gravy. Mushrooms, Shiitake or not, just make it that much better.

This is one of those things that is easy to make but takes a little time. But who doesn't want to come over for a dinner party when they know you have Swedish meatballs down pat? Yup, vegetarians.

The Chicken or the Egg?

2008-01-09T21:07:00.001-08:00

Hello food friends, finally it is time for Guy to post. My first posting will be an introduction to my background and interest in food and it's cultural an emotional impact on my life. This first recipe is a unique mix of my home town Perth (Western Australia) and my father's home town of Calcutta (India). Now I'm not claiming that a simple chicken curry is unique or unusual, however through informal research I am yet to find any of my Indian, Australian or other friends that have knowledge of a "chicken and egg" curry, the egg being the novel ingredient. As far as I know this dish is spawned from the imagination of my mother and the curry obsessions of my father. As a quick background to this situation my father was born in Calcutta and raised there and in Darjeeling. Immigrating to Australia in the late 1950's he eventually met and married my mother. Perth at this time was not the cosmopolitan hub it has become, Indian restaurants were rare things in the 1960's. When my father's mother (Gran as I called her) moved to join us in Perth from her post Indian home in Britain, a campaign for my mother to learn Indian cooking from my grandmother began. I hope that as our postings continue, I will be able to revisit this story and others, that revolve around my families strange relationship with food and cooking. My fathers imaginary plate shooting and simian like calls of approval will be discussed later, but for now here's how one of my favorite dished goes.

The basic ingredients are variable in amount, the pictured pot makes about 3 quarts. It consists of one large potato cut into 2 inches cubes. 6 chicken legs (Skin on, or you can use any cut of chicken in a relative amount, bone and skin cuts prefered for the best flavor!), half a large onion, 4 cloves of garlic and 6 large hard boiled eggs. Begin by slicing the onion and garlic and browning it in oil and a small pat of butter. Indians would use ghee (clarified butter), but that can be hard to come by, and in my opinion dose not change the taste dramatically. Once browned add the curry herbs. This too is a point of contention with purist. My mum would often use a curry paste at this point, Bolst's or Fern's being the best brands, some believe that the curry should be created from the distinct indian herbs that make up a curry powder. Here's my solution. One large tablespoon of any curry paste you like.2 heaping teaspoons of ginger powder. 2 teaspoons of Gram Masala, one teaspoon tumic, 6 chardamon pods, 3 bay leaves, and liberal sprinklings of black pepper, chili flakes and salt. As with all cooking, experimentation with variations of the theme is the best way to find the results you want.

So once these herbs are mixed in with the browned onions add the Potato, Chicken and eggs. coat these ingredients with the goop in the pot. Next add about 2 cups of water or enough to submerge the contents, then set the pot to simmer. Cover with the lid and stir the curry every 15 minutes, whilst simmering for 2 hours. One hour in I like to add peas or green beans, frozen seems to work as good as fresh. This is one of those stew like dishes where it tastes even better after having cured over night.

I must have eaten this meal hundreds of times as a kid growing up, and like to refer to it as "legs and eggs". I love to cook it and enjoy it as much now as in my childhood. It is the comfort food of my family. This dish when cooked by my mum, (and as it turned out on my fathers last visit, also by me) can elicit a number of strange vocal and visual responses of contentment from my father. I wish you luck with the chicken and the egg curry, and should someone begin to whoop like a howler monkey at the table, know then that you have achieved the desired result!

Mertabak (Indonesia)

2008-01-06T07:14:00.001-08:00

Guy has to work this weekend, so you're in for another Zola recipe/story. I wanted to talk about Indonesia because the country had such an impact on me. Part of the reason I am a librarian is because of my experiences in Indonesia. It was my first time out of the country. I was 18 and I wanted to get as far away as I possibly could - Indonesia seemed to fit that bill. I went for a year as an exchange student (and it turned out, not a very good one). I spent the majority of my time with a family in Yogyakarta until I was kicked out and moved to Jakarta. I learned a lot in that year and the food made a fantastic impression on me. It was in Indonesia that I became obsessed with street food. Which will probably kill me someday. I did manage to come down with typhoid fever that year. But as the kids say, whatevs. Let's talk about street food. Up until this point, my experience with street food had been the food stalls at the Saturday Market. So when I saw the food stalls on Jalan Malioboro I wasn't completely unfamiliar - although the range and volume were definitely unlike anything I knew.
But Indonesians don't stop there with street food. As far as I could tell, there were two other camps: the warung and the mobile cart. The warung is a slightly more permanent and larger structure. It comes complete with a tent and sometimes some tables and benches. My host family liked to stop at the satay warung and occasionally one that sold fire roasted corn with chili flakes. I remember thinking that the warung seemed a little ghetto - and that was what I liked about it. We'd be squatting in the dirt with our little paper plate of charred chicken and peanut satay just like everyone else. It didn't matter where you were from - it was cheap, great food that everyone enjoyed. The third camp of street food was the mobile vendor. These guys would have a tiny cart fashioned onto a bike and they'd pedal around selling soup or mi goreng (fried noodles). In my mind, the mobile vendor is the true mark of a civilized society - delivery is just a sham. This stuff is hot and steaming and made fresh for you - you can even ask them to hold the MSG.

This recipe is for mertabak - my all time favorite of all the street foods - a little fried, savory pillow of meaty goodness.

For the dough:
1 1/2c. flour
3 tablespoons oil
1/4 c. water
pinch salt
work the dough for a while until smooth and let it rest in a warm spot for about a half hour - it's a good time to start your filling.

For the filling:
8oz ground beef
4oz ground lamb
1/2 leek finely chopped
1/2 small white onion finely chopped
2 red chilis finely chopped
1 tablespoon fresh ground ginger
2 cloves garlic finely chopped
2 Tablespoons oil
2 teaspoons coriander
1 tsp cumin
2 Tablespoons lemongrass finely chopped
1 Tablespoon curry powder
salt to taste
Cook all of the above until your meat is done. Let it cool a bit and add:
4 eggs
1/4c. chopped flat leaf parsely
2 Tablespoons chopped cilantro

Chop your dough into 3 or 4 smaller portions. Roll one portion of dough as thin as you possibly can. Think pasta thin. Also think about this: you're going to want to make little pillows or envelopes so I recommend trying to roll it out into a rectangular shape - then you can dump some filling in and fold that bad boy up. It helps if you have a little egg wash handy - wash the edges of your dough so your envelope will stick together.

While your rolling dough and filling these puppies, you can get some oil heating in a pan. I recommend a nice vegetable/canola oil that can withstand high temps. Remember these things are traditionally deep fried so you need to AT LEAST fill the pan so that half of your mertabak is immersed when it goes in. I always use scraps of dough as testers to see how hot my oil is. Oddly, fingers don't work that great. You're looking for little bubbles cooking on the dough on the sides - a nice slow but steady cooking process (remember, you've got to cook those eggs!) Once your oil is hot enough, pop 'em in there. You can make them big or small - it's up to you and your filling-to-deep-fried-dough-ratio preferences. I like to make them bigger and chop them into smaller pieces. Garnish and eat with fresh chilis and a beer!

Mad props to Jakarta Daily Photo for the photo of the warung.

Biscuits and Milk Gravy (U.S.)

2008-01-01T10:56:00.000-08:00

Sunday mornings were one of my favorite things as a kid. I’d spend the night at a friend’s on Saturday and usually by Sunday morning I’d feel exhausted by trying to fit in to other people’s idea of normal. I have a particularly vivid memory of walking home from Tina’s house. Tina’s family was from Rhode Island and they all seemed very sharp and hard to me. She was really into ballet and her dad was a cop and her mom did things like buy a dozen donuts for breakfast and it all seemed so TV normal and alien I couldn’t relax. Crossing the street to our place, I could already hear the music pouring out of our house before I even got to the front door. Getting inside felt like letting out a deep breath – I’d be enveloped by R&B, the smokiness of eggs, bacon, and biscuits with milk gravy and that feeling like “Ah fuck. I made it. I’m home.”

Here’s what my dad has to say about milk gravy:

“You asked about biscuits and gravy so here's what I can tell you, including... oh yeah... bacon grease... the truly critical ingredient in milk gravy. We used to save bacon grease in a Mason jar in the refrigerator but I can remember seeing it in an icebox (a box with blocks of ice used to keep food cool) on my great-grandmother's porch. My Mom, who was a more 'modern' homemaker, preferred to cook with vegetable oil (aka Crisco), but my Dad, with strong rural southern roots and a palette that appreciated organ meats, fried grits and wild game, prevailed occasionally for the use of bacon grease.

So gravy... Bacon grease (hopefully including what we called scrapins', i.e., that crusty, gummy stuff from the bottom of the skillet that usually gets generated when you fry pork) plus white flour plus whole milk plus salt and pepper to taste. It always seemed best cooked in a cast-iron skillet. Brown the flour in the lightly sizzling grease, like a roux, and add milk in small amounts, working out any lumps, seasoning as you go.

One of the many reasons I fell in love with your Mom was that, when I met her, she had a jar of bacon grease in her fridge.”

Got all that?
There’s no way to have a precise recipe for the gravy because it all depends on how much fat is rendered from your bacon or sausage. I will say that my dad has been known to crumble up extra bacon to put in the gravy and such action is highly recommended.

Here’s my dear friend Swiss’s recipe for biscuits. And, for the record, Swiss is one the most talented pastry chefs out there so you should listen to her:

“I do have the best biscuit recipe:
and yes I use lard because
1: it's delicious
2: you are going to eat biscuits and gravy so what's a little more fat
3: it makes the biscuits nice and flaky
4: the flavor of the lard goes better with a side of bacon than crisco

Buttermilk Biscuits

heat the oven to 450

4cups flour
4t baking powder
1 1/2t salt
1T sugar
1t baking soda
5oz lard
1 1/2 to 2 cups buttermilk
mix dry ingredients with lard add buttermilk until it comes together.
you want it to be a wet dough but firm enough to roll out.”