Toast

Care Package Magic Trick

I was brought up to believe that whining was the 8th deadly sin, and the only one which was reliably punished in this lifetime. Apparently, mother was not always 100%, absolutely right. Sometimes a person is very lucky, and is rewarded, despite shameless self-centered complaining. That would be me.

I was intrigued by June's recipe for a "lemon posset", wherein cream is magically thickened and mutates into custardy goodness with the addition of lemon juice, and no eggs whatsoever. I speculated (well, actually, sniveled) that the clotted cream called for was unavailable in the Greater Pittsburgh Area, and that the recipe probably wouldn't work with the more ordinary stuff I can find.

Shortly thereafter, I received a tidy little container of real clotted cream in the mail (!) from June, who I cannot thank enough. It was gorgeous, and traveled beautifully, probably as a result of the nearly unfathomable extent of the butterfat which is its primary reason for being. Wow.

After a few sneaked samples, I made the recipe and it's so cool. It works like a charm and the posset (which resembles a lemon curd that died and went to heaven) thickens up nicely.With this lot, I prebaked two little tartlet shells (ordinary pie crust dough), and layered the posset with some raspberries- glazed with a little melted jam, and shared with my friend, I., who came to dinner, and approved.

I really will have to try this again with some ordinary local cream, to see if it translates at all. It couldn't possibly be as gorgeous, but perhaps it will still be nice. I love magic tricks with food.

In Which She Breaks Her Own Rule, and is Suitably Punished

Bleh. A waste of what is no doubt a perfectly good recipe, a beautiful tray of pink freckled pluots, and a fair amount of butter and eggs. I knew better, but did it anyway, I've only myself to blame here. I was going to make preserves with the pluots, but I was lazy and greedy. I let them get perfectly ripe, and then I ate a couple of them, and they were so juicy and delicious that I ate some more. Before long, there were not enough for preserves, and anyway they were too far along- most fruit should be barely ripe for putting up.

I should have just shared them and finished them; they were perfect for eating out of hand, fragrant and dribbly. But I bought them with the idea of some project in mind, and I couldn't let it go. Then I made the second mistake. I could have just made a big old pie, thickening the very liquid juices with a little tapioca. But noooo. I had to make something else.

Knowing full well that the recipe was intended for much drier damson or Italian prune plums, I made the plum brioche you see above, from Dorie Greenspan's Baking From My Home To Yours. What was I thinking? Who knows? Sigh. Soggy and more or less useless. Kind of a not-so-great upside down cobbler. It's a pretty color, anyway.

I love to read the comments to recipes at epicurious.com. Some creative soul will say, "(3 stars) This was pretty good. I substituted ground pork for the beef filet, used pinto beans instead of the artichokes, and I improvised with a half box of Brownie Mix, which added a needed richness. But I think it's a little too sweet." I do generally try to make a recipe as intended first, before messing with it. Otherwise, how will I know what I'm varying? I have never made a Dorie Greenspan recipe properly that didn't turn out well. My bad, as they say.

Street Food for Homebodies

I am always pleased, but a tad conflicted, when I'm sent a new book or product. I say that I can't promise to write about something I haven't seen yet, but I don't like to disappoint. If I wrote a book, and sent it off, and the recipient was silent, or expressed boredom, or worse, with the product of my hard work, I might well be brokenhearted. But probably, in order to become a published writer of any sort, you have to be made of stronger stuff than yours truly. I hope, before retirement age, to reach a level of self confidence where I am not deeply grieved to discover I am disliked, even when the rejecting party is someone I have no actual interest in whatsoever. I do know this queasiness to be a character flaw- so that's a start.

Fortunately, I am pleased as punch (or is it "Punch" as in "and Judy"?) with Street Food, the second book by Tom Kime, a gifted fellow who I had not heard of before. Once a chef at the famed River Cafe, he has apparently been, inter alia, a TV Host, an award winning author, and the caterer of Jamie Oliver's wedding feast. Who knew? He has traveled four continents, sampling the street food of India, southeast Asia, north Africa, the Middle East and southern Europe, snagging recipes for the kind of goodies that make you feel you are on holiday from all culinary drudgery.

Street food, the best of it anyway, is like that. But the recipes which appear from time to time in newspapers and magazines frequently lack the on-site magic. Part of that, no doubt, is the absence of the charm of travel. I had an inkling, though, from first looking over this collection, that it was the work of an original cook. I thought he might well be one of those few with a special gift for putting simple things together in ways which enhance them, creating food which is more than the sum of its parts.(The world may be full of such wizards- professional and non-but if so, most of them don't write books.) Perhaps it is a special gift for recognizing, rather than, or in addition to creating, since these are meant to be very authentic recreations? In any event you can certainly see originality at work in the combination suggested meals put together from this widely diverse group of treats.

I think my first impression was very not wrong. I've made three things from this book, and all three were wonderful.(These are my photos, of my food, BTW; the ones in the book are far classier, but I thought you'd like to see that these things are doable at home.)They were shourba corbasi- a chard soup with rice and tumeric, shlada al falfla hamra al khizzou-a carrot and orange salad with paprika dressing, and cucur udang-Singapore prawn fritters with sweet chili sauce. The last, involving hot oil, was the only one that was the least bit of trouble. And I'm here to tell you that all three were really, truly delicious and different and easy to love.

All are pictured, I will leave you to figure out which is which. I had a bit of trouble deciding which recipe to pass along. I went with the soup in the end, as it is so seasonally on target (it was all there in my CSA farmbox, and so quick and easy.) This is how I made it, adapted from Street Food:

1 pound of swiss chard, stalks and leaves separated, very well washed
1 qt good quality chicken or veg stock
2 tbsps olive oil
2 onions, finely chopped
2 leeks, trimmed, rinsed halved and sliced
1/2 cup long grain white rice (I used basmati)
2 tbsps white wine or rice vinegar
2 cloves garlic, chopped finely
1 1/2 cups plain greek style yogurt- or drained ordinary yogurt
pinch ground tumeric
juice of a lemon
chopped fresh mint leaves
salt and pepper

Finely dice the chard stalks, and finely shred the leaves. Bring the stock to a boil in a small saucepan. Heat the oil in a soup pot with a heavy bottom, and cook the onion, leeks , and chard stems for 4-5 minutes, until just beginning to brown. Add the rice, and stir to coat thoroughly. Pour in the hot stock and vinegar. Bring to a boil, and simmer until the rice is tender- about 15 minutes. Meanwhile, chop the garlic and add to the yogurt with half of the lemon juice, the tumeric, and a bit of salt. add the chard leaves to the soup, and simmer a few minutes, until they are tender. Remove from the heat, and whisk in the yougurt combo. Taste for seasoning, and add salt, pepper, and a bit more lemon juice as needed. Top with mint leaves, and serve lukewarm or hot- but lukewarm tastes especially nice to me.

Street food at home is a luxury. This stuff is really good, I kid you not.

Dinner for One, With Book

I figure that eating as a social activity is pretty much a cornerstone of civilized family and community life. I believe it promotes the habit of rational discourse, the art of story-telling, humanitarian behaviour, and good humor in children and adults alike. It is tremendously satisfying to join a group of my favorite people sitting around a dinner table, talking, laughing. quibbling and happily consuming good food. I am fortunate, being a person who lives alone, to have regular dinners with friends twice a week, and a bunch of chatty coworkers to eat lunch with daily.

Gracie, the delightful 7 month old baby who is a recent addition to our long standing Friday night suppers, sits with us in her infant seat at the table, waving her zweiback teething biscuit and her feet, and practicing conversational noises. From time to time she grows a bit bored with us, but mostly, she appears pleased. She is, after all, kind of a guest of honor. It seems she is not so averse to the attention of a bunch of adults willing to make goofy faces, or do whatever dopey thing it takes to make her smile. She is a diner-in-training, with a natural aptitude for it..

Nonetheless, it cannot be denied that there are some real advantages, from time to time, to being on one's own. I have grown enormously spoiled in this regard, since I generally do exactly what I want, unless I am at work, and work (lucky me) is usually not too terrible anyway. When I am eating supper alone, I nearly always have real food, and mostly eat it at a set table. Often I eat eccentric, unbalanced meals, because I can, with no one to reprove me. Or I might get obsessed with some combination, and have it over again, several times. I figure, along with MFK Fisher, that as long as the diet is balanced out, more or less, over time, it is perfectly fine to eat a bunch of tomatoes and corn, and nothing else for supper, when the season is upon us.

Every once in a while, though, I make an entire semi-formal meal, just for me, and eat it slowly with some wine and a book. (Which is still a guilty pleasure- reading at the table having been verboten- quite rightly- when I was growing up.) Last night I had the fat veal chop (extravaganza of expense-and worth it) with radicchio, rosemary and white beans you see above. This is a very simple recipe from epicurious, which tastes really terrific, in a fancy restaurant sort of way. It looks a bit odd, but it was wonderful. Preceded by farmbox tomatoes with basil and buffalo mozzarella, and followed by some pineapple, it was a major league treat in (and with) my book. Which reminds me of the recent publication of the excellent Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant- a collection of essays about eating by yourself, and alot of other related stuff about people, which you should really go read now, I think.

A Couple of Not So Green Salads

I have been making a homely supper/indoor picnic for my friends, while re-perusing the classic spiral bound cookbook White Trash Cooking, and debating about what sort of potato salad to make. That's not the potato salad you see there, but another not-so- green salad, to be named later. I figure just about every body knows what a basic American potato salad looks like.

I had a big mason jar of Clem's ambrosial barbeque sauce that I brought home with me, which I do, pretty much annually, stopping at Clem's barbeque pit on the way back from our work conference in State College, PA. I also bring home half a rack of fire-pit barbequed ribs- but those disappear shortly after I make sure the cats are okay, and well before I unpack. A week or so later, I make a supper of pulled pork sandwiches, coleslaw, potato salad, and some kind of cobbler or pie. It's a thing.

The coleslaw recipe is a fixture- non-negotiable, in this context, anyhow. but I am always open to potato salad variations, from the hokiest to the haute-ist. Potato salad is a tremendously versatile dish, a blank canvas for the painting of, well whatever- I'll let this wonky metaphor fade on out- you probably know what I mean, anyway. For this meal, though, I thought something down-homey would be compatible- hence the book.

Whenever I consult WTC, I am surprised and a little embarassed to recall just how little most of the recipes appeal to me. I think of myself as a lover of plain home cooking, fried chicken, biscuits, greens, etc, but much of this stuff is pretty sickly, though intriguing. A lot of processed foodis involved- cake mix dumped on some peaches for a cobbler, canned vegetables and soups in casseroles, and the like. The book is full of strong, admirable characters, and is utterly noncondescending- so what am I, some kind of food snob? I don't know. I certainly don't scorn the use of humble, unlikely, or hokey ingredients- I make a chicken thing with coca-cola- and it's good. But a ton of these recipes-I can tell I'd hate them.

I greatly prefer, southern/country cooking-wise, most of the recipes in the books of Edna Lewis, with or without Scott Peacock, her buddy, fellow chef, and, at the end- her caretaker. There are lots of recipes with titles that are the same as those in WTC, but they are different, sound good, and taste good when you make them. You can tell they come from the same place and time- Scott Peacock even recalls the very same cake-mix cobbler recipe, as being tasty, but a bit "oversweet". He notes that while his mother used supermarket biscuits in her blackberry cobbler- he makes his from scratch. These guys are chefs, though, not home cooks like me. E.L. was from a country cooking tradition, but she was a sophisticated person, who spent many years cooking professionally, and writing about food.

I guess these two were looking to the food of the generation before S.P.'s mother's era...folks who didn't have the option of adding gratuitous doses of chemical novelties to the food they grew and raised. When all that stuff appeared for the first time- cake mix, Cool Whip, packaged biscuits, jello and pudding, it must have been irresistable, fun and magical-especially to people who did hard physical work all day, and were used to a lot of laborious cooking as well. Once considered special, and a treat, these instant gratification foods are so much a part of our culture that we may be considered annoying elitists if we avoid them .

Surprisingly, though, these two cookbooks offer virtually the same potato salad recipe, except that the Lewis/Peacock version has cider vinegar, and the WTC one uses pickle juice. So that's what I made, and it is nice. It is basically boiled potatoes, cubed, mayo, a little chopped onion, a little brown mustard, hard-boiled egg yolks, a little cider vinegar, salt and pepper. Very basic, very good. I generally add a little celery seed and some finely chopped fennel or celery.The more egg yolks you add, the better it is, no question There is no potato salad more elemental, and pretty much everyone eats it.

Which brings me to the salad you see in the photo- this is a "BLT Salad", which sounds like a refugee from WTC, but was actually found in a Lewis/Peacock book. Like the potato salad, it has an added luster when prepared mostly from fresh veg from my CSA farmbox. (The coleslaw, too- there was a crispy, beautiful cabbage this week.) This is how you make it:

Wash and dry some very crispy lettuce- we had romaine, (but even iceberg would be better than something soft or buttery), cut it up and top with chunky croutons, freshly made from good white bread; crispy bacon cut into squares; and a beautiful tomato or two, cut into smallish cubes. Add salt and pepper, and just before serving, toss with just enough good mayonaisse to coat it lightly. So very good. But how could it not be?

There is some green in this salad after all, but what with the bacon and mayo, it ain't exactly your palate-cleansing pile-o-greens. Still.

Lemongrass Cure

I had me a dose of some kind of evil stomachbug this week. It was only really nasty for about 36 hours, but it had a lead-in of queasy, and is still having residuals by way of fatique and beat-up achiness. (Aren't you glad you stopped by for the whining?) In the winter, a traditional chicken noodle or mazoh-ball soup would have been the way to go for restorative dining, once the worst was over, but in the middle of a heat wave, that is a bit less appealing. As you know, I am a champion of hot soup for hot days; it's only that a different kind of hot soup seems in order.

My ideal curative hot soup for summer illness (fantastic for colds) is the atypical wonton soup at Tram's, my friendly local Vietnamese restaurant of choice. It is available in a large size which is more than enough for a full dinner, and it features bundle-shaped wontons, plus a serious wallop of lemongrass. I swear that no sinus infection can survive it- and it is delicious, which is not something you can say about your average nasal spray. Indeed, I often order some when I am feeling dandy. The thing is, you have to go out to get it, which you may not always wish to do when you are feeling punk, and looking like the cat recently dragged you in.

One cool thing about lemongrass, is that you get a lemony (though distinctively different) flavor without the citrus juice. This is particularly handy for a cold plus stomachache situation, when a person might long for lemon, cold-wise, but be wary of the intestinal effects of a lovely glass of, say, lemonade. If I haven't totally killed any vestige of your appetite by now, I'm going to tell you about my beware-of-trying-this-at-home version. It's not so bad, though a bit different. For one thing, at Tram's the soup is not in any way chartreuse.

I was inspired to try this when having a sandwich supper in my friends' backyard, after a draggy tired day at work, playing with the beautiful baby we all adore, and guzzling cold gingerale. I am lucky indeed to have such excellent friends, for whom you do not need to spiff up. I'm sure I could have gone in my pajamas, and while they would have made endless fun of me, they also would not have minded. And they could do the same at my house. Life is good.

In my friends' compact, but highly productive vegetable garden, there is an herb patch which is thriving like crazy, containing an out of control, huge lemongrass area. I was encouraged to raid it, and did. After supper we all went to Brewsters , where I abandoned all efforts to moderate my food, and consumed a huge coffee ice cream in a waffle cone (labeled "small"!) I had dragged a giant braided clump of lemongrass along with me, and then home- so I'm in good supply. Nothing seems to have recurred, tummy-wise- despite the ice cream-so that's good. I'm still kind of wiped-out though. I thought I'd try some self-pampering and made this soup today.

I had some wonton wrappers and homemade stock in the freezer, and I do think a good stock is important for this sort of thing. I took the wrappers out to defrost, and warmed the stock. This is what you need:

2-3 quarts of well flavored stock (I used turkey stock)
2 turkey thighs or several chicken thighs
lemongrass stalks 2
cabbage leaves 8-10, half of them shredded
lettuce leaves- a few, torn
garlic cloves-2
fresh ginger- two knobs
sesame oil-a drizzle
soy sauce, likewise
15 wonton wrappers
scallions or chives
zucchini- one half medium- cut thinly as you like, with mandoline or otherwise
yellow squash 1/2 medium-cut likewise
fresh cilantro- a few sprig
salt
pepper

Wontons

I did not make tiny bundle style wontons ala Tram's (I don't do them at all well), but rather my kindergarten wontons-the technique for which is identical to my kindergarten raviolis- though fillings may be varied at will. Into the food processor put about one third of the turkey meat, cut in cubes, the garlic, one knob of the ginger, half the cabbage leaves, the inner core of a lemongrass stalk, chopped very finely- about 1/2 tsp, a splash of soy, and a drop of the sesame oil. Pulse this until it pasty, and use it to fill the wontons as follows:

Arrange pile of wonton wrappers, a little cup of water, and the filling on a flat surface. Line a tray with parchment paper. On the flat surface, set one noodle square, and plop a ball of filling, about 3/4 tsp in volume, in the center of it. Dip a second wrapper in the cup of water, and set it on top of the first. Pick it up and press them together, eliminating any pockets of air , and tucking the noodle neatly around the filling. Set on tray. Repeat until everything is used up.* Set tray in freezer. When firm and dry, turn each wonton over carefully, so they do not stick, and the 2nd side can dry. You can dust the paper with cornstarch ahead of time to prevent sticking, but I find the parchment release action is sufficient. Leave those babies in the freezer until ready to cook- or- when they are very solid- bag them and keep frozen for future festivities.

Lemongrass Wonton Soup

Put the stock into a soup pot and add the rest of your turkey or chicken, the rest of the lemongrass, a clove of garlic, and the other bit of ginger. Bring to a boil, skim, then simmer until the meat is done, enjoying the aromas, and possibly leaning over the pot from time to time, inhaling. With a slotted spoon, fish out the turkey, garlic, lemongrass and ginger. Discard, except for turkey, and, of course, the soup. Remove the meat from the bone, shred it, and return a bit of it to the pot, saving the rest for something nice tomorrow. add the squash, shredded cabbage, and lettuce, and bring to a boil. Adjust for salt, and add a generous bit of pepper, which interacts nicely with the lemongrassiness. Add the wontons, and bring back to a boil. Simmer until you are sure the filling is cooked through, sprinkle with cilantro, and consume.

I used to have a lovely deep blue and white patterned bowl, with a celadon exterior, and a matching porcelain spoon. This was the perfect vessel for such things, but it bit the dust in a Frightened and Frenzied Cat Incident- so here is my soup, all alone. It made me feel very unsorry for myself, well steamed, and relaxed.

*Yes, I do realize these things never come out even...it will probably be close, though.