Toast

Class holiday: Chapter Three, the last

Heaven on Seven, a farmers market, and the Jam Class Buffet

By Thursday morning, I had concluded that there was no denying my unexpectedly ravenous morning appetite. I guess I'm not usually particularly hungry for breakfast, because my real job is sedentary, and I don't generally work until nine at night, either. So I took my hungry self to Heaven on Seven, described by the Slow Food Chicago guide as "New Orleans North, " where I had the above-pictured breakfast of poached eggs and andalouille sausage on cheese grits.

I'm afraid that I chuckled when I saw the plated breakfast, which looks like the Fisher Price play clock we used to teach my daughter to tell time, in the analog days of yore. The waiter seemed a mite offended, though I meant only to show my appreciation. I made sure to tell him how delicious it was, and I think I was forgiven. It really was wonderful, everything cooked perfectly, and the chopped green onions on top were just the right touch.

Heaven on Seven is located on the seventh floor (hence the name) of the Garland building at 111 N. Wabash, across from Macy's- formerly Marshall Field.* The ambiance is Early Tabasco, and they serve a variety of wonderful looking gumbos and estoufees and other cajun specialties. It was seriously crowded for lunch, by the time I left, but easy to be seated for a late breakfast.

After breakfast, I headed on over to the Daley Plaza Farmers' Market, one of many downtown and neighborhood markets sponsored by the Mayor's Office of Special Events. This one is open on Thursdays. Beautiful flowers and fruits, vegetables, baked goods, surrounded by umbrella tables, and there was a cooling fountain, too. There is a rule that all food must be identified by point of origin, which is pretty cool-pretty much everything I looked at was grown by the people selling it, and was from Illinois or Michigan.

As a traveler, I was kind of frustrated, I would have bought loads if I was at home. But I did have a fridge in my room, so I got me some homemade cheddar and a mini ciabatti for sandwiches, as well as a small box of apricots. I was really pleased with everything, especially the apricots. I had just about given up on fresh apricots- though I love the dried ones.

Supermarket apricots generally taste like potatoes. These little guys were not particularly soft, but they were a lovely dark orange, with speckles, and the little boy selling them explained that there might be a few worm holes, as they hadn't sprayed for 2 years. I was glad I took a chance on them, they were sweet/tart and spicy- just delicious.

I gave one to the elderly lady sitting next to me on the plane home, and she agreed that they were heavenly. I also bought 2 bunches of beautiful Michigan asparagus, and carried them home in my tote bag on the plane. I was a little worried that they might be a problem with the security folks, but they passed through the x-ray without comment, and I was able to serve them to my friends Friday night.

The third night of class was as busy and informative as the first two; we finished and bottled up our chutneys and jams, and made numerous bottles of garlic dills. I was able to wrap my jam bottles in my laundry, to bring home in my checked suitcase, but had no room for 4 quarts of dill pickles, so those were donated to a classmate driving home. The final photo is Chef Bob Hartwig , arranging a gorgeous buffet of his beautiful baked goods and our mutual jams, jellies, chutneys and pickles. We tried everything, then packed up our loot, our certificates(!), and our French Pastry School aprons. Much though I love this supply of goodies, my most valuable memento is my little notebook of recipes, annotated with my class notes. And you will be seeing the results here, as time goes on.

Addendum

Things we made:

Lemon jelly with sliced lemons
Apple jelly with vanilla
Strawberry Mint Preserve
Orange marmalade
Blueberry preserve with red onions and sherry vinegar
Chocolate raspberry jam
"Nutella" type chocolate and hazelnut spread
Hazelnut praline
Dill pickles
pickling spice
Shallot confit

Demonstrated (and eaten!):

Pastry cream
Brioche dough
sweet tart pastry
lemon pound cake
Scottish buttermilk and cream raisin scones

Class Holiday: Chapter Two

Tuesday class, Wednesday wanderings, and Russian Teatime

I arrived at the French Pastry School offices a little early, as requested, to be given a pre-class tour of the place, which wound up in Kitchen Three, where Chef Bob Hartwig and his assistants were all set up. And I mean all set up. Unlike the students in the certificate program, continuing education participants have all our ingredients pre-measured for us and set up at our workspaces each day. Talk about pampering. There were only ten in the class, some food professionals, some semi-pros, who cater a bit, or sell some product to the public seasonally, and rank amateurs, like yrs truly.

Our instructor was a very clever young fellow, a good teacher, and a pastry chef of note, who clearly loves what he does, and communicates his passion for his work in a low-key, low-ego style, which is charming- and helpful. If you are thinking of taking a class at the FPS, I'm sure you will like this guy . You can read his bio on the FPS website, but what it does not tell you is that for the last year, he and his fiancee, also a chef, have had their own bakeshop in Chicago. It is called "Lovely".I wasn't able to visit it, but perhaps you can; I think it must be terrific, judging by the baked goods we sampled in class.

As a bonus, besides the jams, jellies and pickles, which we made ourselves after his demonstrations, Chef Bob, demonstrated and baked fantastic pound cakes, brioche, and some insanely good scones. There were also tarts in an special sweet pastry, with our marmalade, vanilla pastry cream, and pretty berries on top. I watched it all, tasted everything, and brought home the recipes, so look out! A member of the class asked him who would have the nerve to make their wedding cake, and he said that they were having pie instead. Which is genius in my book.

The first day we made, or started, orange marmalade, apple jelly with vanilla, strawberry-mint jam, chocolate raspberry jam and "nutella", and Chef Bob made or started the best scones ever, a sweet pastry with almond meal, brioche, and beautiful little pound cakes. You see in the photo two of my classmates- each of us shared workspace with another student. The mirror above allowed us to watch the product in demonstrations, a very handy teaching tool. It was very cool to see the various caramelization stages and techniques as they happened. Thus we learned to make a hazelnut praline for our nutella-nifty.

There were chef jackets to borrow, aprons and funny hats to keep. My partner was a real chef, Tim, who has an extremely cool, and apparently very upscale restaurant, the Stonehorse Cafe in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He was very kind and tolerant of my amateur clutziness.

I learned a whole lot of stuff, and am not going to attempt to convey much in the way of that sort of information here- I hope it will be reflected, to some extent, in future posts. However, one standout bit of info, which I somehow managed to avoid learning while making jam over the years, and was totally news to me, was the concept, and existence of the measurement of Brix. Brix (abbreviated"Bx") is a measurement of the ratio of dissolved sugar to water in a liquid. It is the ratio of sugar to total of the solution- so a 25Bx solution is 25% sugar and 75% water.

Here is the cool thing- if you didn't already know- perhaps this is general knowledge and I just missed it?- is that a solution which is going be jelled will be from 61-65 Bx. And you can measure the Bx with a little hand held Refractometer! Which we did. The deal is that it is not as magic as I thought it might be, our strawberry mint jam didn't jell properly, and made a lovely thickish sauce instead.

There are serious additional factors- eg. strawberries have a lot of water that leeches out over time. You are measuring the liquid while cooking it down, but it gets more water from the strawberries. Possible solutions include macerating the strawberries and sugar for a couple of days before cooking and including the exuding liquid in the measuring of the water. Or, as a classmate suggested; she lets her strawberry jam sit out and evaporate for a few days, then boils it up again before bottling up.

Nonetheless, the refractometer is a great tool, and I'm thinking about getting one. They are expensive- especially if you go for digital models. A handheld analog model, like the one we used in class is about $165. You have to make a lot of jam to warrant it, but still....Very easy to use- you smear a bit of your solution over a glass thingie like a lab slide, close it, and hold it up to the light to read.

Well, after class, I was really beat. 5 hours standing and/or perched on a stool after a major shopping day? Too old for this approach. So, I decided to take it easy on Wednesday. Basically, I ate too much breakfast again, goofed around, read my book, and visited an excellent poster shop, and had a lovely, if diminutive lunch at Russian Teatime. This restaurant, near the Art Institute, offers a variety of eastern european treats, and I wish I'd left myself the appetite for more. It is pleasantly dark and old-worldy looking, I'm a sucker for a gleaming samovar, and I dug it.

My lunch was small because I was still full from breakfast, alas. I had an appetizer portion of asparagus vareneky, a ukrainian dumpling- thin half moons of very thin noodle dough, filled with asparagus, red pepper, and feta cheese, boiled and served on a plate, drizzled with basil butter. I also had a glass of really lovely, properly hot russian tea, served with several kinds of pretty sugar cubes and lemon slices, as well as a complimentary loaf of some kind of oniony black bread, the remainder of which, I took away with me. All was delicious, and this time, I'd left myself enough time for a nap before class.

More about that, later.

First photo is from the FPS website; my camera photos of the process were too sad.

Class Holiday: Chapter One

In which she arrives, eats well, sleeps well, and shops excessively.

The idea for this trip started when I noticed, a few years ago, that Christine Ferber gave an annual class at the French Pastry School in Chicago. It was really expensive, but I thought I'd save my pennies and eventually get to see the goddess of jams and jellies in person and learn a few of her secrets. At the time I first noticed her class, it was open to "food enthusiasts" (hereinafter, as legal writers say, "FEs") and pros alike. I figured I'd stay in a hotel, and sightsee and/or shop in my off hours. When I finally had the time and money, the class had been changed to a pros-only event.

The FPS explained that after the prior class, they'd had the students fill out feedback forms. The FEs had complained that the class moved too quickly, while the pros had felt it was too slow-no doubt held back by the aforementioned FEs. So they decided to limit the class to pros and have another class that was more introductory. They assured me I'd enjoy that class, with "Chef Bob", and they were right.

The fellow you see pictured is not Chef Bob. In fact, he is entirely made of legos, and sits on a bench outside the Chicago legos store. I had a better photo of him, with his arm around an elderly (live) gentleman, who was waiting for his grandson, who was in the shop. He let me take his photo, but made me promise not to "put him on the internet", because, "My wife would kill me." Apparently she felt he might be (virtually?) kidnapped, and reappear on a porn site. So I will keep him safely ensconced on my own computer, having downloaded him from my phone. All the pictures you will see were taken on my phone- I cleverly forgot the camera.

Warning: Due to the nature of the travelogue/diary format, we don't actually get to the class itself until the next post. However, as a member of my class pointed out, Legoman is not entirely un-food-related. I'm not sure if you can tell from the phone-photo, but there is a chicken on his head, and a cracked egg on his shoulder. I'm just saying.

Somehow I have managed, once again, to begin with a digression, time-wise. So now I'm going linear: I flew into Chicago on Monday, and the plane was delayed, convincing me that my day-ahead approach was best. Despite an ETA of 1:30, and a class time of 4pm, I would have been late if the class had started Monday. Tim, my bench partner in class, flew in from Oklahoma on Tuesday morning-and sure enough, it made him a little late. It seems that all planes are now presumed delayed, unless the stars align just so. There was an unexpected bit of good luck on board, however. I was crazy, and ordered coffee. It was excellent. I mentioned my surprise and happiness to the flight attendant , who smiled slyly. "That's because it's from the pot I made for myself," she said.

I stayed at a hotel called the "Club Quarters" on West Adams, which I picked mostly because it was in very easy walking distance from the FPS, thus eliminating worries about finding my way back after class, at night. The hotel is part of a small chain, and supposed to be in some way private; but I booked it through Expedia, so how private is that? Still, you can't just call up to make a reservation; I tried that first. I recommend it highly.

What a deal! For $125 per night, in the middle of the Loop, I got a very large, ultra clean room. It had a huge desk, with reference books above and 2 ergonomic chairs, a bathroom with shower and the usual amenities, a flat tv, (which I never turned on, having a good book, and being too busy), a full kitchenette(!), a super, super comfortable bed, WIFI, and a real coffee maker with really good coffee to make. I suspect the decor is what they think businesspersons would like, very plain, dark blue and green necktie prints. I wasn't expecting Paris with a balcony, so it was more than fine with me- I prefer it to the usual mid-priced hotel idea of prettiness- I just bought a few flowers for cheer, as I was staying 4 nights.

Another reason for being glad I came the day before class started was that it gave me a chance for an evening meal, and it was a good one. I had dinner at Brasserie Jo, the "more casual bistro" of Chef John Joho of the super-posh Everest restaurant in Chicago, as well as the "Eiffel Tower" restaurant in the Paris Hotel, Las Vegas. I came to town with a copy of the Slow Food Guide to Chicago. The idea was that I would do some sight-seeing and/or shopping in the morning, find someplace neat to eat my main meal of the day at lunchtime, and then have a little rest before the 5 hour class, repeat X3, with possible light snack supper after class in my room. So this was to be my only major evening meal.

I really enjoyed my dinner at Brasserie Jo. Though I am not shy, and have had many meals out on my own, I have been a little cowed by the idea of a really special meal out, all alone. In part, this is because eating is such a social activity in my mind, but only in part. I think I was mostly nervous that the other diners and the wait staff might think it odd, or feel sorry for me, and that I would sense this, and rush- spoiling the entertainment of it all. Also, I was a little worried that it might be tricky to get a taxi afterward, in the dark.

Not a bit of it...it was great. I got a little bit dressed up, grey silk jacket, strappy sandals, and felt very woman-of-the-world the whole time. My photos of the restaurant are useless, due to dim lighting, many mirrors, and my lack of skill. You can check it out at the website.

It is a nice example of traditional brasserie decor, art deco-y, and less crowded between the tables than is the usual brasserie custom- all to the good. Personally, I am comforted by banquettes, mirrors, wood, brass and displays of magnum bottles of wine on shelves. Perhaps I was taken to such a place as an infant? The very look and feel of this sort of room makes me hungry.

Dinner was delicious, and I enjoyed being fussed over by my very young waiter, who took my salad off my bill because he was disappointed that I hadn't finished it. (The vinagrette was too salty for my taste- the only, and minor, flaw in the meal.)

Chef Joho is a native of Alsace, and the menu reflects this heritage. There was so much to choose from, many delicious things- sweetbreads with crisp macaroni, escargot, flammkuchen of several kinds, duck rilettes; I was wildly torn, until I saw my very favorite thing, skate wing with brown butter and capers. When I ordered it, the baby waiter broke suavity, and cried, "Ack! I love that! That's totally the best thing on the menu!" Which was, you know, endearing. The skate was served over some delicious, very creamy mashed potatoes, and a little fresh spinach, with small curls of very crispy, but pale-colored fried onion, or maybe leek? I absolutely cleaned my plate with the help of some of my very own small baguette, made (well) by a bakery down the street.

Dessert was creme brulee, very considerately prepared in a shallow dish, allowing for plenty of the ultra-thin, crackly top to go with each bite of the smooth custard. I took the rest of the baguette back to the hotel with me, and pretty much just crashed. I mean, you know, I was trying to read this very interesting book (about which more later), and woke to find it's form imprinted on my cheek, the book open to page twenty. Fortunately, I was in bed while reading.

Tuesday morning, I hit the hotel restaurant- a proto pub called the Elephant and Castle- for an insanely huge "English Breakfast", which involved grilled mushrooms and tomatoes, "bangers"(a/k/a fat sausages), cubes of fried potatoes, and eggs. This caused a revision of the lunch plan, as I was stuffed to the gills, and rendered unable to consider another meal of significance until the following day. Okay, really. I love to eat a big breakfast out, and walk away from all the greasy dishes, like a guest at the Mad Hatter's tea party. After a brief trip to the building across the street to stock the fridge with sandwich stuff, and buy flowers, I did me some shopping.

I started at Vosges Haut-Chocolat (520 N. Michigan) to pay my respects at the home of my very favorite chocolate treat- the Barcelona Bar-(Deep milk chocolate, almonds and sea salt). Owner chocolatier Katrina Markoff creates incredible flavor combinations in her truffles, hot chocolates and chocolate bars- kaffir lime, cardomom, wasabi, chipotle- crazy but delicious, and somehow never weird. I stocked up on candy bars, and also tried a fancy box of nine marshmallow toffee chocolate things, a new and very worthy item, which they store in the freezer. Each one is pretty much a dessert unto itself. I got four free truffles for having my own shopping bag to carry off my loot.

Other stops included the Lego Store (900 N. Michigan) and Nordstrom Rack (the discount shop for the department store, it's near Macy's-formerly Marshall Field). At the latter, they were having a sale of large sized shoes! (I'm an eleven- a size not carried at all in many shops; I was over the moon.) It took me way too long to pick out my bargain- the choices were so overwhelming, and the prices so good. I decided to go for the crazy, since they were so affordable, and now I have some silvery Taryn Rose sandals.

I gave myself a good 2 hours turnaround time for class, and headed back to the hotel, a little more footsore than was really wise, under the circumstances. But more on that, later.

A Gratuitous Advertisement and Some Vegetarian Party Food

I have probably mentioned this before, but Trader Joe's all-butter frozen puff pastry is the answer to a prayer. Sure, anyone can make their own delicious puff pastry, as a certain anapestic frequently reminds us. But a person is not always motivated sufficiently to cover herself and her kitchen in flour. If I only had puff pastry as often as I made it myself, I would be a thinner, but perhaps not so happy woman. And the thing is- I really can't stand the standard Pepperidge Farm frozen stuff from the freezer case at the Iggle.

I actually used to think it was fine. It was the first approximation of puff pastry I'd ever had. And puff pastry is an amazing, brilliant invention, which naturally knocks one's socks off, even in its least lovely form. After a several experiences of the good stuff, from pastry shops and restaurants, that particular ready-made kind of frozen stuff began to taste of oil and chemicals to me. Wishful thinking kept me going with it for a while. But either it's gotten worse, or I'm just pickier. And until the Trader Joe's thing, the only all butter stuff on offer in my part of the USA was incredibly expensive- out of my league- at Williams-Sonoma.

So if you live near a good bakery willing to sell you some of theirs, more power to you. I don't, and I'm therefore especially grateful to the Trader Joe group for bringing this buttery goodness my way. End of uncompensated commercial message.

With this stuff in the freezer, you can make all kinds of yummy special stuff at a moments notice, including one of my very favorite snacks- Shammi's egg puffs. What you see above is a rough approximation of a recipe I saw in an English cooking magazine called "Delicious". With a salad, it would make a nice vegetarian dinner party menu, I think. I actually just made one for me, and have been taking leftovers for lunch, cold. Very french picnic-y, I feel.

To make it you need:

one package (about 450 grams if you are making your own, and shaming me) of all butter puff pastry
a package of prepared hummous (or, you could shame me thoroughly, and make your own)
various cut up veggies for roasting- your choice (I used some very dense cremini mushrooms, eggplant, zucchini, red peppers, shallots, fennel, parboiled, peeled fingerling potatoes, and whole garlic cloves. Sliced onions are a bad idea- they made it hard to cut the pie-too bad, as the red ones taste great roasted)
an egg yolk, beaten with a little milk
chopped fresh cilantro
cumin seed or rosemary
olive oil spray or olive oil

Preheat oven to 425F. Cut the veggies into bit sized pieces- neither too tiny nor too large. You want them fairly chunky, but you also want to be able to cut the pie. Set them on a foil lined baking sheet. Coat thinly with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt, pepper, and the cumin or rosemary. Meanwhile, if using frozen pastry, take it out to defrost. It should be in two equal sized parts.

Bake the veg until browned and a little crusty, and remove from the oven. (This will take varying amounts of time, depending on the vegs you chose, and your oven. You have to check. I did my whole thing in the convection toaster oven, which is very fast. It is a good idea, when using vegs of varying cooking times, to make the longer cooking kind into smaller pieces- the quicker cooking, chunkier.)

Remove foil and veg, and line the baking sheet with parchment. Set one piece of the pastry down on the parchment, and brush about 1" of the outside edge with the egg mixture. Spread the remainder of the surface with a layer of hummous. If you have some left, mix it in with the roasted vegs. Pile the roasted veg over the hummous, leaving the eggy border bare. Sprinkle chopped cilantro over the veg.

With a rolling pin, roll out the second sheet of pastry so that it is just a little bigger and thinner than the covered piece. Carefully set it on top of the veg, and press to seal the pastry edges together. Use your fingers to mold it over the veg, so there are no air pockets. If the top pastry edge overlaps the bottom one , trim the borders to make the top and bottom even. Press all around with a fork, to further seal, and cut 3 diagonal slits on top, using a very sharp knife. Brush top with remainder of egg mixture. This takes about 35 minutes to bake, but watch it. Mine (above) got a little too brown.

You can actually freeze this before baking, defrost and bake when needed. Not bad, but it's better all fresh.

Basic Kitchen Part IV: Pantry

Of course, a person must go shopping from time to time, or even daily, depending on where she lives, and how she transports herself. And I enjoy food shopping. While I've never been rich, I have never gone hungry either, so I'm not sure why I am such a hoarder. Nonetheless, I am most comfortable and contented when my little apartment kitchen contains the makings of weeks worth of actual meals, in the event that I become, willy-nilly, somehow imprisoned here. Go figure.

To complete my compulsive list of kitchen essentials, I offer you: #1 The Basics, Long-keeping Staples, #2 Suggestions (for additional almost non-perishables), and #3 basic groceries to keep on hand. And I invite you, as always, to let me know what I've forgotten. I'm far from certain that this will be of any use to anyone, but I do love making lists, and reading this sort of thing when others do them. Outfitting a brand new kitchen, you would need to make certain you had:

Basic Long Keeping
Unbleached All-purpose flour
Kosher Salt and or Coarse Sea Salt
Peppercorns and Grinder
Granulated sugar
Baking powder
Baking Soda
Stone-ground corn meal
Oatmeal
Canned Tomatoes home canned are great,
(love those Muir Glen fire-roasted ones, too)
Canned chick peas
Canned kidney beans
Canned cannelini beans
Dijon mustard
Canola oil
Olive oil
Cider vinegar
red wine vinegar
real vanilla extract or beans
soy sauce
worchestershire sauce
tabasco or favorite hot sauce western style
"Roostersauce" the asian hot-sauce with a picture of a rooster on it
Dried pastas, long and short
Dried egg noodles and asian noodles
basmati rice
Dried white beans, lentils, split peas- unless you don't like them

Your favorite dried herbs and spices,and mixtures thereof in small quantities to replace at least once a year. Whole, if possible. I couldn't happily do without:

thyme
marjoram
greek oregano
basil (dried whole leaf is a lot better than dried flaked, but you usually have to dry your own)
bay leaves
tarragon
rosemary
crushed aleppo pepper
cayenne pepper
spanish style smoked paprika
hungarian paprika
nutmeg and grater
cinnamon
ginger (Penzey's has dried chunks you can grate, for when you are out of fresh)
cloves
chili powder (Ancho is most basic, a variety is nice)
ketchup
tomato paste

Extra Long Keeping Goodies

Canned italian style tuna in olive oil
capers
anchovies
sardines
High quality canned clams (like Morton's)
assorted jams and jellies
canned chipotles in adobo
dried mushrooms
dried chestnuts
balsamic vinegar- best you can afford
sherry vinegar
boxed low salt chicken broth -small and large boxes
small boxed fish stock
barley
canned water chestnuts
fish sauce
oyster sauce
nice plain crackers
additional spices and herbs

Groceries on Hand
milk
butter (unsalted is most versatile, you can always add salt)
eggs
lemons
a lime
an orange
carrots
onions
potatoes
celery and/or fennel
whole grain bread
crusty baguette or rolls
bacon
salad greens
yogurt
at least one piece of nice cheese for eating
chunk of parmesan and/or chunk of Romano
fresh mushrooms
parsley
cilantro
basil, in season
shallots
garlic
fresh fruit and veg in season

And you need some wine and beer and whiskey, for cooking and drinking-obviously too large a subject for a footnote. Of course, if you are a vegetarian, there's some stuff you will skip-notably fishes and bacon. Also, anything you hate, obviously.

If you are really outfitting your kitchen from scratch, you will need paper products. But first, get reusuable cloth versions of everything. Napkins are easy to launder, as are dishtowels. You can just keep a little tote bag over a doorknob in the kitchen, and put the soiled ones in directly, then pick them up when you do laundry. The key is to have plenty, so you're not always running out, if you don't do laundry super-often.

The flour sack kind of kitchen towels are nice and big; plus- they are white, so you can bleach them, and also use them in food prep. I like the silicon potholders, because they can go in the dishwasher, and make good trivets, too. They don't seem to wear out. Ever. You will still need some paper towels, foil, parchment, and cling wrap, some ziploc bags and a bunch of containers of the Tupperware ilk for leftovers.

This must be, like a zillion dollars worth of food. No wonder we acquire our pantries over time. I have way more stuff than this, too. It does make a person feel wealthy.

My pantry shelves are pretty shabby.I understand from my landlord that I'm getting a kitchen redo some time this this year. I guess I'm pleased, although I will have not much say on design choices, and am a little wary of his possible preferences. Still, it will be nice to have some new surfaces, which have not been blasted by time and previous tenants. And once I've hung put all my stuff back in and up again, it will, at least, feel like home. He's letting me keep the wall colors I used, and giving them a fresh coat- so that's nice. We'll see. The cats are gonna go nuts.

Fruit with a Knife: A Home Cook Cuts Up

I think I am not the only one who greatly prefers to eat a piece of fruit with a knife, rather than in bites from my hand. A plate is nice, but not necessary. This is less important with the smaller citrus fruits, which can be peeled and divided into attractive individual sections- also very satisfactory. With apples, pears, peaches, and the larger plums, the knife makes a difference to me.

I don't know why this is, and I am aware that it is a little dissonant with the pleasant mental image of curling up with a book, and a pile of apples to munch , Jo March style. Maybe Jo had a pocket knife for those apples; it would be a "boyish" article, and she favored that sort of thing. I am partial to this little painting by Julian Merrow-Smith, whose "postcards" you might enjoy*. This one is called "Apple Quarter and Laguiole Knife". (There is a more recent one with a "Sabatier and Pear Slice". ) My personal favorite sort of knife for the eating of fruit is a pocket knife, and of course you can eat your fruit anywhere at all if you have one of these.

What with Christmas shopping, a new computer, an iphone (yes, I have gone insane) and a trip to England in the offing, I have been spending quite enough , thank you very much. I am nonetheless longing for a knife like this one, and have been for some time. Truth be told, I'm a bit of a knife nerd. I'm not fully qualified for the role, since I've failed to learn the technique of sharpening my knives with a stone. I do believe I need a human instructor for this; the books have failed me. Instead I use a small version of the Furi, by Zytech. It is the only one of its kind which really works for me. Even so, I take the more oft used cutlery for a professional sharpening sometimes.

I understand that a professional chef is very particular about knives, will have only the best, and doesn't lend. My collection is more humble, not to say a little weird-and you can't refuse a volunteer in your kitchen the use of your equipment. I haven't got a matched set of fancy knives, partly because I can't afford a good one, and partly because I prefer to pick and choose. They are fun to buy, keep, and use. so before I move on to my next bossy section on kitchen necessities ("Pantry"), I thought I'd indulge myself by telling you about my knives. You can really get by fine with only three- Chef's, paring, bread- this is pure indulgence.

My first really good knife was an 8" Wusthof high carbon steel chef's knife, and it is the most used knife of all. Old Faithful. It is on the left, in the first photo. If I were choosing the handle now, I'd chose the "Classic Ikon" handle as you see it on the serrated utility knife which is my most recent full-price buy. (I'm moving left to right here). The chef's knife is good for most any task, but especially chopping. Lots of people like a longer one, my daughter finds this one too short for a cook's knife. The 5" serrated utility knife is great for tomatoes, salami, and the cutting of baguettes, and other breads of modest girth. When you see my full-sized serrated bread knife, you'll know why the smaller one is handy. I love the look of that Wusthof Ikon handle, and it feels wonderful in your hand.

Next is a nameless stainless item, made in Japan model, shaped a bit like a fileting knife. I bought it in a hole-in-the-wall hotel gift shop in NYC, many years ago, when I realized I'd failed to pack a knife, and was desperate to break into some cheese I bought. It proved unexpectedly efficient, and has stayed nice and sharp for over 15 years. I've never tried sharpening it, because it has funnly little markings along the edge- I'm not sure what would happen. It's not supersharp-never has been, but it's okay, and doesn't seem to have gotten duller over time. I'm attached to it. Next is a Sabatier green stamina handled 6" cook's knife. I fell for it because of the green handle, even I think it's short for a cook's knife. But it's nice, and interesting, because it has the slimmer French-style blade. Last is a cheapo-line Wusthof Gourmet knife- not forged, it doesn't need to be very strong, because it's just for certain tasks. It's dynamite for cutting high-stacked sandwiches and the like, without squishing them. I think it's so neat that I've given several as presents.

Recently, I've picked up a few new/vintage knives on ebay. Three are carbon steel, and enormous, one is a high carbon steel paring knife, with a cool handle and sharp blade. Before the days of fancy high-carbon steel and even fancier ceramic blades, in my mother's time, carbon steel Sabatier knives were the thing. They were a serious pain, because if you didn't keep them clean and dry, they rusted. but they were the only kind that held a real edge, chefs and butchers used them. In those days there were not a zillion knives of varying quality labeled "Sabatier" and "Languiole"- it was easier to pick by label. Some people think that the newer high-carbon stainless won't match them for edge. I don't know about that, but I am subject to reasonless nostalgia at times. And it's fun to be able to get knives not in general stock shapes and styles.

The second photo shows my vintage Lamson cleaver (just got it- new old stock carbon-steel American), my enormous wide new/vintage Sabatier serrated bread knife (This will cut the crustiest of giant country loaves, and then some, plus it is unbeatable for slicing bar cookies, as you just need one guillotine-type drop to go through the entire block of bar cookies. ), and my new/vintage Dexter (17.5"!) carbon steel slicer (also, I think, American-slices thin, thin, thin hams, etc.), and my just purchased "Vintage Stubai Austria fully forged" paring knife, which says that it is from "France", but which Ralph says actually comes from Austria, and was re-marked as part of some corporate gifting thing. Ralph has supplied me with some lovely almost new old stock knives, and seems to know what he's talking about, unlike moi. A cool thing about this knife (high carbon stainless) is that it has 2 alternate grips- a short one (for paring) and a longer one (more for slicing). Also, it takes a hell of an edge. Then there is my Mundial funny knife- I think it is for shaping vegetables into cunning ovoids. I don't do a whole lot of that- but it's cute, no? I picked that up at a yard sale, along with a couple other odd red knives. The lady who sold them said she got a whole set of these red Mundial knives for Passover, to identify them as clearly separate from her black-handled everyday ones, but some, she didn't use. She thought Mundial knives came from Argentina.

And that's it for me for a good long while knife-wise. Except for the Languiole. I think there's one in my future. Besides this painting, I've had two recent, unexpected encounters with the idea. One was in chocolate and zucchini. The other in a very interesting book I've just read, called The Village Book, by Nicholas Freeling, in which he descibes a view of heaven, involving crouching making a fire, with a laguiole knife in his pocket. His has a corkscrew, as well as a blade. That's the one I want. Unlike some, I won't be able to pick mine out in person, but I may have to find one on the internet, before I leave on my trip in February. If I do, I will have to remember to pack it, rather than carry it on board in my purse, lest it get confiscated.

*Do check out his site, there are many impressive paintings to look at (and often to bid on, if you'd like one for yourself.) Also, you can have his postcard/paintings periodically sent to your email inbox to view, so much nicer than the latest sale on Lands End, or whatever.

Basic Kitchen (continued): Equipment, Part III: Baking and Roasting

Here we go again with the continuing list of minimum kitchen requirements.

Things get a little hazy right around now. Any list of essential oven ware is going to need some customizing. Because some cooks hardly do any baking, and others are in business primarily for the sweets. While the second group is going to have to get dinner on the table as well as filling the cookie jar, it is possible to be an excellent, engaged cook, and almost never bake. So here's where we're going. First, a list of real basics, then a list of basics for sometime bakers, and finally a few specialty items for those who are engaged in producing dessert on a regular basis. I have more special baking equipment than is consonant with my actual level of activity in this area. I just have a weakness for the stuff.

Basic:

roasting pan with rack

8"X8" square pan steel or ceramic (I use an Emile Henry one, which is nice for small dishes of baked pasta, as well as brownies, and comes to the table looking pretty.)

Three 8" round metal cake pans- you want a bright surface, the dark ones cook too fast. Nonstick is nice.

lasagna pan 8 1/2"X11", (or larger, if you have a big family) pyrex is nice, and some come with snap on lids for carrying your bring-alongs

2 loaf pans (most pan bread recipes make 2 loaves), also good for meat loaf

a pyrex pie pan

a covered oval-shaped or round casserole for pot roasts and oven-roasted chicken, etc. - ceramic , metal or enameled cast iron

2 jelly roll or "sheet" pans, which serve as cookie sheets, and drip-catchers- again, go with a bright metal surface to prevent overcooking, otherwise known as "burning"

6-8 little 4, 6, or 8 oz. custard/timbale cups, pyrex are great, and cheap, too- ceramic ones are often very pretty. (Thanks to Lynn D., who reminded me of these.)

one or two shallow gratin type dishes- porcelain, pottery, or enameled cast iron are dandy. Mine are pottery Frankoma ones, which go with my green everyday dishes. Like the dishes, I got them for a song on ebay.

Sometime Bakers also need:

tart pan or pans with removable bottom

springform cake pan

tube and/or bundt pan

muffin tin

baking tiles or baking stone for making crusty breads and pizzas

rolling pin

porcelain oven-proof quiche pans, large and small

silicon nonstick mats and/or parchment paper

Serious bakers, or crazy people like yours truly, who are maybe less than serious, but love this stuff may want:

mini bundt pans, mini tart pans, mini loaf pans and /or mini-spring-form pans for making baby-cakes

mini muffin tins

madeleine pans

various bundt and kugelhopf pans with different designs

silicon financier pans (bigger silicon pans don't work for me- even as small as muffin size- I crack stuff- but for these little pastries, I love 'em)

a shortbread pan (square) with designs that emboss their cute selves onto the cookies

pudding basins

a linen-lined banneton for rising round breads, and a floury linen for bread making

a marble rectangle for rolling pastry

cookie cutters

a biscuit cutter or 2, and (blush)

a pate terrine...it's true. Also, I must admit to a box full of tiny walnut shaped molds, for making walnut cookies. I love them; they ain't going anywhere.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go sort this stuff out. Next up: Pantry needs. This project is actually helping me organize my kitchen. Much dubious stuff has been moved to the basement lockup, given away, listed on ebay, or, in some cases tossed. My back hurts, but in a good way. I think. As always, I welcome your suggestions for important items I have overlooked.And I do realize the photo is more suited to the top-of-the-stove section, but I haven't done any decent ones of cake pans. Maybe soon.

Basic Kitchen : Equipment, Part II: Utensils

I posted the photo here some time ago for a Becks and Posh event called "Utensibility". Entries were to describe the kitchen item closest to your heart, without which you would be, if not helpless, at least bereft. This old French enamelware utensil rack was a steal on ebay, probably because impassioned collectors of European enamelware tend to prefer delicate colors and florals, rather than flaming orange. I'm not a collector, I just love this particular thing, which is in excellent condition, almost entirely chip-free, and hence very usable.

I use it all the time, and also love to see it hanging on my walls, which I painted elephant gray, to match the interior enamel. That will give you some idea of just how much I adore this object. My point here, before I go on to list another category of basic kitchen needs, is that every kitchen should have a thing or two which is/are not only useful, but delightful to it's resident cook. You'll know it when you see it- if you're in a shop, or at a yard sale, or dumpster diving- it will pretty much leap into your arms. I'm just saying, don't set it down again just because it isn't the most practical thing in sight. You'll be glad you didn't.

As far as utensils you need, bare minimum, I suggest the following:

3 knives: a chef's knife 8", or longer if you like a big one, German or French style; a paring knife; and a serrated utility knife, not too long, which will slice your tomatoes and your bread, neatly. As I'm sure you've heard before- if you have a little bit of money, this is where it should go. Good full-tang forged knives take a sharp edge, and they last forever, they are a cook's best friend, etc.

High carbon stainless is the material of choice, unless you are into extreme knife grooming. If you are such a knife person, you can go to carbon steel, which can rust, but sharpens like a dream. You can find really good carbon steel knives, including unused old stock, on ebay, for much less than comparable quality stainless, but they are a pain in the ass- it cannot be denied. I have one, a long slicer, by Dexter, an American brand popular with butchers. If you are not able to spend now, there are quality alternatives which will work very well, and are durable, too.

A cutting board: I like end-grain wood, but bamboo is also very nice, and cheaper. You'd like to have a big one, large enough to roll dough, knead, and carve a roast, and a baby one for chopping veg. You don't need the later if your kitchen is big enough to leave the large one out all the time, ready to go.

A long handled wooden spoon

A slotted spoon

A ladle

Spatulas: a rubber one for baking, and a metal one-or my favorite ultraheat-proof silicon model, which is somewhat flexible, but not floppy

Measuring cups

Measuring spoons

2 and 4 cup Pyrex liquid measures: which go happily into the microwave to melt butter and chocolate and are generally totally friendly, familiar and homey. If your Mom didn't have these, you probably did not grow up in the United States

A stainless colander

A tea strainer or tea ball, if you drink tea

potholders, dish towels, and dishclothes: I am very big on silicon potholders. They are less flexible than the cloth, it's true. But I am a big slob, and get food all over them. The cloth ones just don't clean up well in the wash, and always look pathetic and unclean- even when washed well. Dish cloths are better than sponges, because they can be properly laundered. If you do prefer sponges, you can clean them in the top rack of a dishwasher. Otherwise, they stink dreadfully after a week washing dishes.

long handled granny fork or a carving fork: many people inherit these, which is dandy, but you can also get new old-style ones- they are very nice

Whisks:I use my little flat one (good inside pots), and ball-ended one (emulsifies like crazy) more than my big one. But you need a couple of big ones if you don't have an electric mixer, one ballooon shape. for beating air into eggs or cream. Also, if you don't have an electric mixer- an eggbeater is an object of great usefulness and charm

fine sieve for sieving stuff or sifting flour: If you get one with a long handle, you can use it to drain small loads of veges, etc., of liquid in a hot pan.

Tongs

Bowls to mix in: including one very big one, for bread and stuff, which can also serve as a large salad bowl

A proper Swingway type can opener, which will have a bottle opener on it, too

A corkscrew The "Rabbit" one is infallible. I am way more fallible than average in this area, so I am devoted to mine. If you are a handy type, you can impress others with your deft use of a simple waiters corkscrew

I forgot: you need a grater, probably two: I like the microplane files for fine grating. It makes lovely fluffy clouds of parmesan and lemon zest. Lots of people prefer a box grater for larger holes, but I like my little anonymous rectangular one, with a long handle. Then again, I do have a food processor to grate vast quantities when necessary. If you don't, a box grater is sturdier, and would probably be best.

Here are some utensils which are not strictly necessary, but are very useful:

Carving knife/meat and/or salmon slicer: You can use your chef's knife, but this sort works much better for thin slicing of meat and fishes. I don't use it often, so..mine is a carbon steel new old-stock Dexter, as discussed above. Likewise a boning knife. Yes, I am a big knife nerd. I don't use these knives so often, so I don't mind the extra care, once on a while. If you are a vegetarian, I'd skip these items.

Knife sharpener: The Furi Ozitech is a good one- the only one that has worked for me. It doesn't do serrated knives. I take them all to be sharpened professionally, once in a while anyhow. If you develop the necessary skills, you can stone sharpen your knives. I think you need a live teacher to learn this though-I haven't had any luck teaching myself from books.

Vegetable peelers- Sure you can use a knife, but these are cheap and excellent value. A second, serrated one peels soft fruits and veg-tomatoes, peaches, and plums, for example- so you don't have to scald them to get the skin off, a recent, excellent innovation

A Benringer mandoline: far cheaper than the high-class French ones, but you must commit to being very, very careful- they are fabulously sharp, and I would hate for you to bleed to death before my virtual eyes. Really, really careful.

Melon baller: also cores sliced fruit with a very tidy result

Cherry pitter- if you ever cook with multiple cherries, you've got to have this- otherwise, no

A bulb basterThese are pretty cool-I like the metal tubed ones best, the glass ones break and the plastic ones go a little melty. They have uses beyond turkey basting. For example, I can't make my favorite tart tatin without one.

potato ricer:Yes, you can mash potatoes with a fork, but this tool makes perfect mashed potatoes.
It is a little hard on the hands if you are making a lot, which is why I sprung for the OXO model.

fish spatula:Here's where you think I'm bonkers. I got this baby as a gift, and initially thought, more or less "WHAAA???". But this is a lifesaver of a tool. You can slide it under, for example, an entire hot, pan-free tart or cake or whole salmon and move it, like, across the room to another surface. I kid you not. It is very, very cool.

So, let me know what I left out, and which tools you love the most. I'm going to be adding more links to this post, but thought I'd get it up, since I'm having some slow computer problems. Next up: Part III: Stuff for Oven Cooking and Baking.

Waffling

I am pleased as Punch with my new purchase, which is fairly the height of extravagance..a single-use electric kitchen appliance. Not only is it uni-purpose, but it is so adorable that I feel compelled to find some way to leave it out, permanently displayed, though of course, there is absolutely no room to do so. Frivolity is my middle name these days. I happened upon this little darling while browsing among the delightful restored vintage toasters at Toaster Central.

I often visit these excellent toasters, and have felt for some time that I should really buy one. After all, I am so fond of toast that I named my blog in its honor. I have tried to choose a toaster from the many, as a sort of mascot ...I thought a picture of my chosen toaster would be nice as a permanent fixture here... maybe in the upper left hand corner of the front page? My problem with this is two-fold (it's really unifold, I guess, as on second thought the 2 problems are the pretty much same)- namely, 1) I can't decide, because there are so many great toasters and 2) the ones I want the most are really too expensive for me.

Recently, while checking out the toasters, after a bit of inconclusive internet waffle iron shopping, I found I had an easier time settling on a reasonably affordable vintage waffle iron of great beauty, in mint condition. (Julie praised the vintage waffle-makers in a comment on the Wednesday Chef- it hadn't occurred to me to check them out before.) Is it not the cutest thing? It is a Dominion brand iron from the fifties or early sixties, with a deco-y look and a perfect mirror chrome finish. The latter, sadly, is probably destined to be ruined in use. The shape of the bakelite handles (note the tilt) earned this model the nickname of "the penguin".

This purchase does not solve my toaster problem, but makes me very happy-except for the time I continue to spend sighing over the restored toasters, of course. (If only everyone had only problems of this sort.) The waffle iron came with instructions for curing the plates before using, and a myriad of recipes- many of the sort that the original manufacturers furnished with a purchase. After reading of Luisa's problems
with the acclaimed Marion Cunningham recipe, I am conflicted about which to try first.

Russ Parsons, of the LA Times, par-bakes his waffles and finishes them off in the oven, for crispness. His article has the Cunningham yeast-raised waffle recipe, and one for cake-like waffles, made with sour cream.

From Toaster Central comes this recipe, from a Toastmaster manual of the 50s--cut by one egg:

1 3/4 Cups flour 2 egg yolks, beaten
2 tsp. baking powder 1/3 Cup oil
3 tsp. sugar 1 1/2 Cups milk
1/2 tsp. salt 2 egg whites, stiffened
Combine the dry ingredients. Stir in the milk, egg yolks, and oil. Gently fold in the stiffened whites. Pour approx. 2/3 cup batter onto the oiled and pre-heated grid. Close and bake.

I am tempted to try it, possibly adding the third egg back in, as it is of the approximate vintage of my waffle-iron. Dunno. As you can see, digression is really still my middle name. I guess I have two middle names. And one day, there will be a toaster.

The black and white photo is taken from the Toaster Central website. I took some on my own, but had trouble managing the reflections off the polished chrome, and the details didn't show up properly. So.

Moosehead Gingerbread

Gingerbread is one of the classic comfort foods of the English-speaking world, and the stuff of nostalgia, real and imagined. There are endless variations, and I've never tried one I'd reject completely. Ruminations by John Thorne on the subject feature a version which actually included, if I'm remembering correctly, beef drippings. There is a lovely Laurie Colwin essay with two very nice recipes, one of which uses Lyle's Golden Syrup. Nika Hazelton's American Home Cooking has a serviceable, simple one, and I definitely intend to try the Chocolate Gingerbread in Dorie Greenspan's newest book; it looks gorgeous.

These, of course, are all soft, cake type gingerbreads. The gingerbread for cookie-cutter cookies (and gingerbread houses and the like as well) is a different animal entirely. I have favorite old standby recipes for both types. As to the soft kind, I use Maida Heatter's Moosehead Gingerbread, from her Great Desserts. That's the sort I made for dessert, to warm me up.

Gingerbread does nicely in my earthenware 9" square baking pan. I think that it keeps the outside edges from crisping up. Normally, I'm a sucker for food with crispy bits; I make gratins in very low pans, for maximum top, and love the corners of my jam bars. But I like my gingerbread soft all over, with as little hard, dark edge as possible. Using this sweet little Emile Henry number allows me to get that, without (eech) undercooking the gingerbread. The original recipe didn't call for this kind of pan, and of course you can make it in a regular metal one.

My brown pan is from the Emile Henry Artisan Series, which purports to be a reproduction of their original 19th century ware. Emile Henry stuff, in case you are not familiar with it, is made from some sort of special Burgundian clay, which causes it to be much less sensitive to temperature changes than most pottery. You can put it straight into the oven from the freezer, and even cook in it over a gas burner, with a flame tamer in between, and a careful eye. Unlike the other, more colorful EH lines, the Artisan items resemble el cheapo pottery outlet type bakeware. Perhaps this is why they seems to be often on sale, and hence more affordable. I kind of like the "fool the eye" effect myself, and all the EH things work wonderfully.

Maida Heatter's gingerbread, minimally adapted here, came from an "old time fishing guide in Maine." I can't remember which of the John Thorne books his essay came from, but I think he actually went in search of M. H.'s fishing guide. (Well, he did live in Maine then, but still.) It invariably cracks on top, but I don't mind a bit. To make it you need:

All purpose flour 2 1/2 cups
Baking soda 2 tsps
salt 1/2 tsp
cinnamon 1 tsp
powdered ginger 1 1/2 tsps
ground cloves 1/2 tsp
ground mustard 1/2 tsp
black pepper 1/2 tsp
butter 1/4 lb.
dark brown sugar 1/2 cup
eggs 2
molasses 1 cup
strong hot coffee 1 cup

Preheat oven to 375F.

In the bowl of your stand mixer, mix butter and sugar until fluffy. Add eggs, and mix in one at a time. Now, beat in the molasses.

Sift dry ingredients together and add to the bowl, alternately with the hot coffee, ending with the dry mix. Pour into a 9" square baking pan, which has been buttered and dusted with dry breadcrumbs. Bake about 45 minutes, until done. Cool 10 minutes. Invert on another rack, and then back again, top up. It When fully cooled, cut into 9 squares. Consume, preferably topped with a dollop of whipped cream, or in a bowl with some runny custard poured over.

There's definitely a touch of heat in this gingerbread, what with the mustard and pepper. All to the good IMHO. As to the other kingd of gingerbread, we'll go there one day soon.

The Moosehead Lodge sign comes from the Adirondack Country Store, where they sell these wooden reproduction signs for home decor use.