Cheese or Death

I know, I know, I know...

2009-06-25T17:20:00.002-04:00

...you're still my blog (sorry, Tegan and Sara, I couldn't resist the impulse).

I know its been a while. Its been an eventful--and sad--month since I last posted. I did some traveling--to Florida and Michigan--, been very busy at work, rediscovered a passion for broccoli and cheese soup, and broke up with the Dear GF. The last reason is really why I haven't been posting. Major upheavals in my life usually don't lead to interesting food or much of an appetite.

I'll be back in July and better than ever! i promise.

2nd Annual Memorial Day Picnic

2009-05-31T21:20:00.005-04:00

I love picnics--I believe I've mentioned them a time or two on this blog. I find them to be a singularly pleasant way to spend one's time. I don't have them as much as I'd like (though I'd like to change that this summer--picnics in Clark Park, Philly readers?). I did, however, hold my 2nd annual Memorial Day picnic in King of Prussia with my dear GF and 2 friends.

I restrained myself this year and tried to not make obscene quantities of food (I know, uncharacteristic, right. But there's a recession on, people). The dear GF contributed deviled eggs, which are really only devilish in taste--or heavenly, depending on your perspective. I love them. They are also the only things I didn't get a picture of.

I made the parmesan crisps, from Ted Allen's book, that I made last year, because they were such a hit. They really are the simplest, most flavorful cocktail cracker ever, even if they are a little dubious-looking.

I also continued my love affair with asparagus--into its 5th week, I think, and counting!--and roasted it. Some of it I roasted plain, because simplicity really is the best recipe, especially for something so divine as asparagus. But for the other half, I wanted something truly decadent. I slathered paper thin slices of prosciutto with chevre and then wrapped them around 2 or 3 asparagus stalks. Then I slid them into the oven to roast beside their brethren. The result was a salty creamy pleasure of the most hedonistic kind. They positively oozed luxury.

And, as my final dish, I made a dessert. That's something I don't often do!! I finally used the rhubarb that I purchased so long ago in a strawberry rhubarb crumble. Let me tell you, this crumble, with its flour and walnut topping, was 1,000 times simpler and more pleasing than a pie. Not only did I not worry about ruining a pie crust, but the fruit was really showcased in the dish. The brightness of the fresh strawberries and the tanginess of the rhubarb were both complemented by the addition of lemon zest. It was also delightfully oozy. It was possibly that most successful baked good I've ever made.

Breakfast

2009-05-20T21:10:00.005-04:00

Well, there's not much to write about--I've recently been making uninspired meals. But the 2nd Annual Memorial Day Picnic is coming up, so there will be much to mention next week. To tide you over, I am going to write about something near and dear to my heart:

Breakfast. Namely, the breakfast above, which I eat almost every day of my life. I love it. The cheese is an addition of that day only. Otherwise, there is 1 fried egg, with the edges lacey and the yolk a little runny. 1 peice of toast, lightly toasted, with butter. 1 vegetarian breakfast sausage. And I usually eat it in this order: the whites of the egg on the toast, then the yolk on the sausage. All accompanied with a mug of strong, sweet black tea with milk. It brings me continuous joy.

Simple

2009-05-11T14:39:00.002-04:00

I like simple things. Like....asparagus! It is asparagus season in Philadelphia, and thank goodness. I've missed it while it was gone.

I've been eating a lot of asparagus--at least a pound a week, which is a lot if you remember that i am only 1 person! I've steamed it and sauteed it. I toyed with roasting it, but I was lazy that night, so I steamed it again. There is something irresistable about asparagus, lemon, and a pat of butter. No amount of fancy preparations can compare.

Marinades are simple too. I'm amazed that I haven't put them to use before!! They are a blessing for a cook who is pretty scared of giving herself food poisoning--one of the reasons that I cook meat, at best, maybe once a week. Usually less. I marinaded two turkey breast cutlets in a prepared lemon marinade that I bought on a whim from the grocery story. The marinade was too sweet, but after resting overnight in it, the turkey was tender and delicious, especially when splashed with hot sauce.

Leftovers=also simple. I had 1 cutlet left over the next day. I put pasta on the stove to cook, and then turned my attention to other components. Queso para freir was cubed and fried in a hot fan. Asparagus, chopped into 1-2 inch section, followed sauteed with olive oil and a shake of garlic salt. Cubed turkey meat was added, warmed, and then the whole combined with the cheese and pasta. Simple, quick, delicious, and incorporating asparagus. What more did I need?

Rhubarb Request

2009-04-29T10:15:00.002-04:00

Hello, dear readers.

The other day at the farmer's market, I impulsively bought 4 beautiful, long, ruby stalks of rhubarb.

I have no idea what to do with it.

i know I could make pie, but I have neither enough rhubarb nor strawberries nor patience for pie crust right now. Anyway, pie is awfully obvious, isn't it?

Do you have any suggestions? I think it'd be interesting to make something savory, but I don't really know what. Please, please, please comment with ideas? Don't let the rhubarb go in vain!!!!

Weird Things

2009-04-27T15:52:00.000-04:00

I eat weird things. At least, I think I do. This has recently come blatantly to my attention. I mean, I’ve always known I’m a little strange in my eating habits. But, recently, it has just been really obvious.

First of all, I have a new dairy love. My local grocery store carries some pretty exciting ethnic foods—if you’re interested in Central and South American cuisine, island cuisine (such as Jamaica), or even African cuisine, the Supreme Shop’n’Bag on 43rd and Walnut is the place for you. Gourmet, it is not. Awesome, however, is a good word for it (also affordable). I was looking at cheeses when the phrase “fry, without breading” caught my eye. The cheese is called, most descriptively, ‘queso para freir.’ This cheese is soft, fresh, and on the salty side. Like halloumi, its Middle-Eastern counterpart, you just throw it into a hot pan and fry it to a golden brown. The outside crisps and the inside runs soft and gooey. It is so delicious. I ate it 3 times last week.

And that is where the weirdness comes in. On Saturday, I bought my first fresh asparagus of the spring. On Sunday night, I wasn’t too terribly hungry and I had just had a revelation inducing acupuncture appointment. I casually tossed some asparagus into the steamer and then, because I thought that maybe asparagus by itself wasn’t enough, I cooked up some frozen pork and veggie gyoza that I had. Both delicious, but an odd combination. Monday night was the night of my fried cheese acquisition. So I naturally had to try it and I paired it with roasted asparagus in another pairing that made little sense.

To top all that off, my favorite snack food of late has been those roasted peas that I picked up in China Town. They are delicious. I enjoy coming home late from a night out and munching on them while I watch an episode of Grey’s Anatomy before bed. Though, I’m sure, the crunching us a little bothersome to the cat.

What things do you eat together that you think are weird?

Passover 2009

2009-04-16T16:29:00.000-04:00

I’ve been eating a lot of good food recently. I can’t lie—there’s been a lot of really good food. And, yet, I’m actually a little indecisive about what to write about. Unlike last year, I decided that I definitely wanted to be with my family for Passover this year. So my sister and I did a whirlwind, 20-hours-total-in-the-car road trip to see several different members of the family. And there was so much good food! I didn’t take very good mental notes however—I was mostly distracted by my crazy and loveable family.

Our first stop was at my mother’s house in Virginia, where we played scrabble and ate pine-nut hummus (the Sabra brand) on pepper slices. Then we ate roasted asparagus, potatoes with fresh parsley and butter, and a take on chicken picatta that my mother came up with. She marinated the chicken in olive oil, lemon, and ginger, and then sautéed it with garlic. She also coated it in matzo meal, since it is Passover, to keep in the moisture like flour would. For dessert, she made an angel food cake, topped with fresh strawberries. I ate the strawberries and about a million chocolate macaroons.

Then we headed further south to North Carolina, where we participated in a 21-person seder, complete with aunts, uncles, new family, cousins, second cousins, and close beloved friends. There were three…THREE…legs of lamb and a turkey! You all know how I feel about turkey. And I love lamb. And my uncle made his own chicken broth for the matzo ball soup (with matzo balls that were definitely sinkers, the way I prefer them). We had lovely mashed potatoes and tsimmus, a sweet potato and prune dish that provides wonderful sweetness to the festive meal. There was asparagus, which I sighed over. For dessert, there was flan and triple chocolate macaroons.

But, as I said above, I didn’t take good food notes. I was deliriously happy to be surrounded by my loud, strange family. I spent inordinate amounts of time in the car with my sister, which is probably the longest time we’ve spent together in…years, maybe. I saw a lot of people that I haven’t seen since 2007’s Thanksgiving or my graduation from college. My uncle, the one who makes soups and freezes them for later lunches and guests and who roasts legs of lamb and makes puns, is especially dear to me.

I jokingly said, in my last post, that my next Passover will be in Kalamazoo. But that’s most likely true. Which is why, for this one weekend, I took my focus off of the taste and texture of the delicious food stuffs and meals (except when I downed that spoonful of homemade horseradish—THAT was hard to ignore). I sat back, smiled, and soaked in the loving closeness of family.

Favorite Things

2009-04-08T15:19:00.002-04:00

Here's a list of my current favorite things, food and philly related:

-Even though it seems to be inevitably chilly during the week, the weekends have been beautiful. Crocuses (the biggest ones I've EVER seen), daffodils, cherry trees, and other flowers that I can't identify have been blooming and being pretty on the 60-degree weekends we've been having.

-That means spring produce is not too far away (asparagus!). Which means we're 1 step closer to TOMATOES.

-There has been overflow of baked goods in my office this week. Delicious.

-Chinatown, the home of coconut cream buns (delicious), cheap produce, and my absolutly favorite snack food: roasted green peas. So addicting and wonderful--I would not have made it through my senior year of college without.

-Passover--this year with family and home cooking!! (Next year in...Kalamazoo??)

-Chicken Salad wraps with a lot of sweet and hot peppers.

-Sweet and hot peppers in general.

-Hoagies

Not So Favorite Thing:

-Why am I still sick? Please cease.

Routine Lentils

2009-03-30T13:13:00.004-04:00

It is a well established fact that I love soup. I write about it pretty often, it made my last meal list, and I really, really love my Williams-Sonoma soup book. I think one of the reasons I love soup so much is the routine. Not only does it insinuate itself deeply into a daily routine, it has a lovely routine all its own.

Almost every soup I've made starts with 1 onion, finely chopped; 1 carrot, peeled and thinly sliced; 1 stalk of celery, thinly sliced. Now I know that these are aromatics and that they play an important role in the soups. But there is a difference between what I know and what I love (sometimes). And I love the familiar routine of starting a soup. They start the same--the same steps, the same ingredients--and they turn into things so deliciously different.

I made a lentil soup that was a really pleasant surprise--also a surprise that lasted for abour 4 or 5 days (I ate a lot of soup last week). It had curry powder, lemon slices, and spinach--ingredients that all really brightened the flavor. It was a hearty soup that didn't feel too hearty. I was full and satisfied after a bowl of it, but I didn't feel the drdgery that goes along with so many hearty and healhty dishes (I get this feeling when eating oatmeal. Its good but so often, what a bore!). It was a delight, not a duty, to spoon up those lentils.

(In other more prosaic news, I recently acquired a camera. So i hope that soon Cheese or Death will come with pictures!!!)

Eating Well; Within My Means

2009-03-17T15:28:00.002-04:00

If I had a philosophy about food—which I’m not sure that I do—it would be that I aim to eat well, within my means. This means that I endeavor not to spend an entire week eating pizza and French fries, as that would neither be eating well or within my means. On the other hand, it means that I try to give my custom to the farmer’s markets because they have better produce and are nicer to my wallet. It also means that I’m not above splurging on a meal eaten out, or perhaps just picking up one of Fu Wah’s excellent Italian hoagies for dinner instead of cooking—eating well is not always synonymous with cooking for oneself.

Sometimes I get a little wrapped up in the mechanics of “eating well.” I stress out over how many fruits and vegetables I’m eating and what they are—are they in season? Locally produced? Am I eating enough protein? Too many carbs? Am I eating healthfully? Am I paying attention to my food or just treating it mechanically as just another part of my day? Whew. You can tell, that can get a little overwhelming and exhausting at times. Anyway, there are always the times, like last Saturday, in which eating healthily is just not the same as eating well—or eating good, as is said where I come from.

I have been walking past the Breadline Genuine Bread and Specialty Shop, in-between 45th and 46th on Springfield since I moved into my current apartment. So, about 6 months. And I never stopped, though I wondered what went on behind the steamy windows. On Saturday, I stopped. On Saturday, I found out.

I went in after a ramble around West Philadelphia with my roommate. We just stopped in because I wanted to see if it was a bakery or not; I was also following the barbecue smell hanging in the air to its source. I found a beautiful, magical of baked goods, cute décor, heart-throbbingly good home cookin’. The business was started by Doris Truluck and later joined by her daughter, Barbara Abe. In addition to rolls, cinnamon buns with real caramel on them (!!), cheese filled parker house rolls (!!!), French custard toast, pie, and other delectables, they also have a daily menu. You can choose from the assorted offerings, and about 20 minutes later you have a hot, home-cooked meal in your hands that only cost $6.50.

The meal options change from day to day. Each day of the week has a theme—I’m especially taken with Fish Friday, despite the fact that I don’t eat fish. They print a menu every month to let you know what’ll be happening when. I urge you to pick one up. This place is just too good to pass up!

I chose the fried chicken and my roommate chose barbecue ribs. As we sat down with the Styrofoam containers at the kitchen table, the only sounds were chewing and moans of culinary delight. That fried chicken was, hands down, the best I’ve EVER had—the outside was crispy and the inside was positively running with moisture. The mac’n’cheese was also sigh worthy—though, in the end, too rich for me to finish. The other side was my favorite—a tomato salad, with tomato slices, sweet red peppers (something like peppadews), and sweet onions in vinegar and oil and probably with a hefty dose of sugar thrown in. It was like being transported back to a picnic with each bite. I wished desperately for some sweet tea.

Breadline Genuine Bread and Specialty Shop
4529 Springfield Avenue
Tues-Fri 9-7
Sat 9-6

Green

2009-03-09T14:52:00.001-04:00

The first real strains of spring are being heard in Philadelphia right now. It is…marvelous. The air is warmer, the ground feels pleasant and, most of all, everyone looks as if they know what’s happening. I saw frolicing dogs, frolicing children, and more than a few summer dresses. That’s right—life is being breathed back into the air. It does hurt to inhale the sharp, cold air. I was even terribly lucky, this weekend, and got to smell spring (no small feat in a big city).

So what have I been eating? Oh, winter greens, of course.

I must have eaten almost a pound of kale last week. I just really love it. The first night I ate it, I braised it into submission. I’m not sure what I like more about braised kale: the way it soaks in the flavors of the garlic and the chicken broth or the way it makes my kitchen smell. Probably the former—it’s just so delicious! I served it, topped with a fried egg, alongside a serving of one of my favorite Trader Joe’s products, the Harvest Grain Blend. This blend has Israeli couscous, orzo, red quinoa, and baby garbanzos. I love the contrasting textures, especially the softness of the couscous against the baby garbanzo beans. I usually cook it in chicken broth, not water, for the added taste.

The next night, I just sautéed the kale with oil and garlic, exactly as my father has done numerous times before. I ate so much of it. I would have finished off the entire pan, had I not turned to discover my kitten standing half in, half out of the leftover kale. (He’s getting a little out of hand, don’t you think?)

As I said, I really, really love kale. But I don’t think I’ll be terribly sad to see its season recede (along with all those beautiful parsnips, apples, and Brussels sprouts!) into spring produce. The tang is in the air. I can smell it.

Winter Fare

2009-03-02T13:02:00.002-05:00

Ah, it is the 2nd of March. And the Philadelphia area is getting slammed with snow. How foolish. I'm ready for spring (though, perhaps this is good practice for me, considering that I am contemplating a move to northern climes).

But maybe the snow is also a good thing--because it affords me more chance to consume roast sausages.

Now, I really hate the word sausage. I think it sounds strange--not at all something that I would like to eat. But I do love it. I adore sausages in most of their forms--right down to that stalwart staple of my daily breakfast, the veggie sausage.

But in its roasted form, sausage assuaged deep, deep cravings that I'd been having. All winter, I've been wanting hearty, rich foods--stews, beef dishes, things that stick to your ribs and warm you from the inside out. I mostly tried to assuage this desire with pizza and soups, but I knew that I could something else when I two small but beautiful parsnips called my name at the farm market last weekend. Sliced, joined by potatos, organic onion, and a gorgeous organic carrot, I roasted them in the oven until they were tender and their outsides were approaching crispy. In a separate dish, I placed 2 browned spicy italian sausages in olive oil and slid them into the oven.

I can't really describe why I like roasted sausages so much. They taste the same. But somehow they seemed heartier, more wholesome. Delicious, when accompanied by roasted vegetables. I even made a kind of a lunch casserole for the next day, slicing up the remaining sausage and mixing it with the leftover veggies and scattering a layer of parmesan and mozzerella cheese on top.

True. Winter. Fare.

5 questions

2009-02-20T16:01:00.003-05:00

These questions from Court, over at By Product. It took me a couple of days to answer them. But here they are:

1. What is your greatest triumph in the kitchen?
Cooking at all! Or perhaps baking anything--the recent chocolate concoction, the pie during my senior year of college. Though, honestly, I tend to see any meal that I cook that comes out unruined as a triumph. I think it is a gift and--dare I say it--a blessing to be able to create my own tasty, healthful food. I am always immensely proud of myself--more proud if I did something new or tricky, generally proud of almost every meal I produce (except for the ones I ruin).

2. What is one dish you aspire to create that you feel is out of your realm?
i'm not sure there is one dish specifically that I feel is out of my realm. Maybe something grand and slightly ridiculous like osso bucco, but also perhaps something grand and entirely serious like cooking good steak without overcooking it because I'm frightened of food poisoning and trichinosis. I'm still smarting over that frittata debacle from over a year ago.

3. Discuss two travel destinations that you would choose purely for the gastronomic experience.
A) India. There are actually many reasons that I want to go to India, but food (and Angel) are probably the main ones. Indian food!
B) Its a tie between North Carolina, because I've been craving NC-style BBQ for about 6 months now, and Italy. I'd like to travel to all the different regions of Italy and really be able to immerse myself in the culinary experience. I'd like to learn and understand true Italian cooking--even though it changes from region to region! This all speaks to my ardent desire to be an Italian cook/grandmother.

4. Tell me about your family -- but you can only use food terms/references/stories.
This question actually stumped me for several days. Its hard! I was always a picky eater--I've gotten much better about it, except about cooked mushrooms and fish. Bleh. My earliest food related memory of my sister is when she became a vegetarian, somewhere in middle school or early high school. I, being a younger child (youngest child, actually) quickly followed suit. This actually coincided with the beginning of my dad's ongoing healthfood craze, so it all worked out. Until Sister and I stopped being vegetarians, not being able to continue our immunity to chicken, hamburgers, and lamb (in Indian food. God, I love lamb). Unfortunately, Dad didn't really catch on to the end of vegetarianism for several years. While she was in college, it seemed like my sister subsisted mostly on mashed potatoes and lentils, unless I was visiting and bought her groceries. She was a poor student. Dad, who works at home, did most of the daily cooking. He's quite talented. I also remember my dad growing his own sprouts in a jar, growing his own shitakes on a log, and trying to convince me that vanilla rice milk is good in coffee (no, its not). I view my mother as something of a culinary genius, and I'm pretty sure its true. She at least knows her way about thanksgiving dinners, creative salads, and chocolate mousse. We once made baked alaska. And she also used to flash freeze summer tomatoes and peach crumbles, so in the winter when my SAD got intense, she could pull them out and give the family a whiff of summer. She is also the one responsible for my love for a "mess" of fried tomatoes (green or otherwise), grits, dried beef gravy, biscuits, and parmesan cheese. She ate potatoe chips mixed with feta cheese and green olives when she was pregnant. We're essentially a family of eccentric tastes.

5. What would be served at your last meal?
Hmmmm, the following is assuming that I get everything my way. It would start with a really perfect dirty martini as a cocktail, followed by an arugula, tomato, and shaved parmesan salad, with pepper and salt, and a light and tangy vinaigrette. Then would come the soup course--probably split pea (really really good split pea) or perhaps a tomato and cheddar situation. Or New England clam chowder. Whatever--a creamy, flavorful, soup. I don't know for sure what the main course would be, but it would probably include shallots, butter, and pasta. And really nice steak, just for the decadence. So, perhaps it would look something like this: steak, medium rare with a butter and shallot sauce, with linguine in a white wine (?) sauce. All of this accompanied with a good, full bodied red. The last course would be cherries and cheese--cherries are my favorite fruit, so there would be both red and yellow. The cheeses--a good sharp cheddar, double or triple creme brie, and the Pata Cabra aged goat cheese that Tria doesn't carry anymore.

***

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Sin and Chocolate

2009-02-17T13:23:00.002-05:00

Well, who’s been neglectful? I have. I’ve actually been meaning to post a ‘favorite things’ list for some time now, but that has to be put off for a little while longer. Because, my friends, I have sinned; in fact, I made a sin.

As a caveat, I’d like to point out that I don’t usually have very much truck with Valentine’s Day. It is just not a big deal, and it is horribly commercialized. And the idea of putting a price on love is a little shudder provoking. That being said, my roommate and I DID plan a special meal for out ladyfriends on Saturday night. (The GF and I also purchased presents for each other, but as neither has arrived in the mail yet, they have not been exchanged. Oh, for February presents).

As another caveat, I beg you to remember that I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. That’s what made this sin—I mean, cake—so remarkable.

My roommate and I planned a “dessert for dinner” shindig, complete with Asti to make us bubbly (a magnum of it!). She made cream stuffed strawberries—my goodness, I love sweet cream—and churros with cinnamon-scented chocolate dipping sauce. I made something I started calling a ‘truot’—a mix between a chocolate truffle and a tort with a chocolate cookie crumb crust. It comes from Molly Wizenberg’s Orangette recipe collection; she is, hands down, my favorite food writer, so I get a lot of recipes from her (and I can’t wait for her book to come out!).

I originally thought that the cake wouldn’t even work—I don’t bake, I had never used a spring form pan before, I actually hate baking, and I couldn’t find bittersweet baking chocolate at Trader Joe’s. With a little help from my GF and the good folk at Scharffen Berger, I found a conversion that magically turned my unsweetened baking chocolate into bittersweet goodness.

Why was this cake a sin? Because it had almost 2 sticks of butter in it and you could tell. It was creamy, smooth, satiny. Maybe silky. Deep chocolate with the right amount of sweetness. It was the richest thing I’ve eaten in months. It was inhumanly delicious. It was like I baked Gluttony, Pride, Lust, and Sloth into a cake. We wanted to eat it all. I lusted after it when I woke up the next morning; it was delicious cold. The sugar high’s exit induced quite a slothful afternoon. But most of all, I was proud—I baked a cake.

There may be pictures available. I'll post them if that is true.

Anniversary Split-Pea Soup

2009-01-27T15:33:00.002-05:00

I love many things that are normal to love in this world. I love my family, my friends, my kitten (I really REALLY love my kitten). I love the first days of spring and the first flowers that I see. I love pizza and sunshine and really good bargains. I love it when people read this blog; I do seriously love reading other people’s blogs.

What do y’all love? I’m just wondering.

Anyway, there are two things that I love a whole lot—probably than is good for any of us. One of those is my girlfriend. I love her to the point of doting. The other is split pea soup. I dote on that too.

So I combined to two last week and made what I’m now calling an “Anniversary Split Pea Soup.” Tuesday was our 2 year anniversary, but we were both pretty busy with work and school, so we put off the major celebrating for the weekend and simply made sure to see each other on Tuesday evening. (I mean, Tuesday was a really exciting day, what with a new president and all). I cooked dinner—and by cooked, I mean made split pea soup and my roommate baked some (admittedly dense) bread.

The recipe for the split pea soup? Really good. It came from Williams Sonoma’s Soup Cookbook, which is full of really good recipes and is gorgeous to look at. The soup itself? Needs some work. It was entirely too salty, which I’m just going to fix by using low sodium broth next time. I had to add some extra broth at the end because it was simmering off a little too quickly, and I think that’s where the salt went wrong. But I really enjoyed the texture, which was just the right mix of smooth puree and chunky soup. It was also really good the next day when I brought it to work for lunch. My favorite part was the diced pancetta I used in place of the bacon—it made a pleasant addition, texture-wise and had an impact on the taste as well. I will definitely make it again in the near future, and hopefully will remember to update my progress here!

Out and About

2009-01-21T14:15:00.001-05:00

Goodness! What a month it has been so far! What with traveling, being broke, hanging out with my parents, and now the inauguration AND my 2-year anniversary, things have been busy! I have a lot of posts that are waiting to be written—including another GF guest post—so I’ll probably be updating a little more often for a little while. Ideally.

My mother and her husband, J, came up to visit this weekend. We had a grand time, even though Philadelphia has been frigid. I can’t remember the last time it was so darn cold!! We did less walking than I had envisioned, but we still made it to the Rodin Museum, the Liberty Bell, and some other tourist sites. We also ate. And ate and ate and are some more.

We started at Gianna’s, on 6th and Lombard. This oft-spoke of hole in the wall is home of the best vegetarian Philly cheese steak I’ve ever had. I especially appreciate that they will make them to order, because my mother greatly appreciated the addition of banana peppers and lettuce to hers. J, my step-dad has the 1-pounder cheese steak and declared it one of the best sandwiches he’s ever had.

Dinner that night was quite an affair. Mom had requested somewhere nice that I hadn’t gone to before and that I normally couldn’t afford. Since almost everything falls in that category, I had a lot of room for decisions. I finally hit on the Caribou Café, a French bistro and venerable Philly institution. I was a little nervous, because I had read some sketchy reviews, but it was actually lovely. I had a Kir Royale as an aperitif—I haven’t had one since I was 16 and visiting Paris. I think they tasted better across the Atlantic. I had a mixed salad with beets for an appetizer, while Mom had pate and J. enjoyed escargot. I went classic with my entrée, choosing steak frites—and wow, was it good! Mom, who doesn’t eat red meat, got the duck medallions, while J. chose the scallops. I tried the duck and it was also lovely—Caribou gets 10 extra points for the cherry sauce! Dessert was, probably, the best part of the meal. J. got 2 mountainous profiteroles whose exuberant ice cream and chocolate sauce could barely be contained. Mom got some delightful chocolate concoction while I maintained my classic sensibilities and has crème brulee. Overall, the ambiance was pleasant, the service was excellent, and the food was tasty—especially those profiteroles.

We followed this spectacularness the next day with brunch at Rx, my favorite brunch spot a few blocks away from my apartment. I love everything about that place—the décor, the ceiling fans, the coffee, the coffee cups, the eggs, the eggs Florentine, the bacon, the potatoes, the bacon. There’s a lot to love. Go. Now. You’ll love it too.

Comfort food and colds

2009-01-06T13:58:00.000-05:00

Well, Happy New Year, everyone. Aren’t you a little tired of hearing it? I am. Even though I am very, very excited about 2009. I hope it will be a time of great growth and change for me—fingers are crossed!!!

However, I seem to be starting the year out with an incipient cold. Now, I’m due in Connecticut for a long weekend with my darling GF on Thursday. She’s a Connecticut native and I love visiting her family. We’re going to sample the romantic and gastronomic (???) pleasures of that strange state. Which means, of course, that I can’t get sick. I’m pretty good at beating off colds, so hopefully I’ll prevail.

But I was feeling pretty pathetic last night by the time I got home and started thinking about dinner. I don’t have much on hand right now—since I’m leaving for 5 days, I didn’t want to buy too much fresh stuff. I wanted garlic to be the star ingredient, mostly because it is so good for immune systems and warding off illnesses. I’ve also been craving strongly flavored foods; I’ve been adding red pepper flakes to everything I make recently. They were also part of last night’s dinner, as was dried oregano.

So I put some penne onto the stove to cook and diced 2 cloves of garlic—a hefty amount for a 1-person sized portion. As I was heating up the olive oil, I realized that the meal was asking for some protein. So I dumped some chickpeas onto low heat with the garlic and sautéed them until they were warm with the slightest hint of crisp. Mixed with the penne and some parmesan cheese, the entire result was a hot, comforting dish. The garlic was barely cooked, so a lot of its good stuff remained; the chick peas, in turn, mellowed the garlic and provided a lot of nice texture. Kale braised in chicken broth would have been a nice side (alas, I had no kale) as well as an additional vehicle for garlic.

A Dying Year

2008-12-30T11:36:00.004-05:00

Well, well, well, whatever happened to December? My December was swallowed up in Christmas/Chanukah shopping, a trip to New York City, and a truly regrettable stomach bug. So I haven't been eating much recently. But hopefully my tummy will be back in shape for New Year's celebrations.

I wonder if there is some sort of end of year meme for food blogs floating around out there, but I'm too lazy to look for it. Suffice it to say, I am grateful for all of your attention and readership, and I am also pleased to find my interest in this blog still going strong. So I'll be back in 2009!!

In the meantime, I wish you all a lovely and happy new year. May 2009 bring health, wealth, and joy, as well, of course, as an abundance of good food.

Tofu Chronicles

2008-12-12T10:51:00.001-05:00

Well, my friends, I have something thoroughly thrilling to tell you: I love alliteration.

Actually, that’s not what I had to tell you, but I thought it would be nice to let you know that tidbit about me as well. Anyway, my thoroughly thrilling news is this: I cooked tofu for the very first time. And I didn’t ruin it. And I loved it.

You know me, forever lacking in good, healthy forms of protein (cheese just doesn’t always count, you know?) Additionally, I’ve tried to give blood twice in the last 4 months and have had low iron counts each time. I don’t think I’m anemic to the point of needing to go to the doctor, but I don’t know that it’s a good sign either. So I’ve been thinking and looking around for iron-rich and protein-rich foods, especially ones that I can add to my lunch salads. There have, as late, been a lot of chick peas in my life.

I’ve never even been a big tofu fan. It can be slimy and sometimes tasteless. Asian flavors are also not really my favorite—as I’m sure you can tell, I generally favor Italian and other Western cuisines, along with a serious love for tex-mex and Indian. I mean, I have a soft spot in my heart for cheap Chinese, but I don’t think that really counts. I’m obsessed with tom yum soup (spicy, lemongrass-y Thai soup) and some Vietnamese, but on the whole, Asian cuisines are sort of low on my list.

I tweaked a recipe of Heidi Swanson’s, from 101 Cookbooks, for caramelized tofu with Brussels sprouts. She called for pecans and I had none on hand, and I wasn’t making the entire dish anyway, so I just made the tofu. You essentially heat some oil (I used olive, like I do for almost everything) and brown the tofu. Then toss in some tablespoons of brown sugar and let it all caramelize. The tofu ends up golden and sweet. I’ll probably cook it a little longer next week when I make this again, so it is crispier. I used Nasoya organic super firm cubed tofu, so that was probably why I avoided the dreaded sliminess.

I am going to wrap this post up (I should probably be doing actual work while I’m in the office) with a request. Give me more tofu recipes? Please? I am eager to expand my newly found tofu skills!

Guest Poster! The GF speaks

2008-12-04T13:27:00.004-05:00

Blogger's Note: See, I told you I had a surprise. This year was not only the best Thanksgiving ever, but also the 1st time I've brought my significant other t0 Thanksgiving with my family. Brave of me, right? Here's what me dearest, darling GF has to report.

Like Cheesy said, Thanksgiving was just plain WOW. This was the first Thanksgiving I have spent south of the Mason-Dixon, and it was unbelievable. Now, while I certainly wasn't confronted with foods that I had never seen or heard of before (except for the dried-beef gravy and homemade biscuits, which darling Cheesy has kindly described in vivid detail), there were some subtle-yet-important differences between this Thanksgiving celebration and that of years past. I was born and raised in Connecticut, and lived an idyllic life there, galumphing with golden retrievers on autumn-speckled hillsides (much like any Lands End catalogue would suggest). Okay, so maybe that didn't happen, but you can sure tell I'm from New England. One of the most striking ways that this region asserts itself is through its food. And, in my newfound experience, Thanksgiving is very different in New England than the Thanksgiving I just enjoyed with Cheesy.

See where I'm going with this? It is a food blog, people.

In Thanksgivings past, I had become accustomed to certain dishes appearing annually, as most of us who celebrate this gluttonous holiday would expect. Some of these dishes include my mom's horseradish carrots (utterly delicious; round, thick carrot slices doused in a creamy horseradish sauce and baked in a round casserole dish with a sprinkling of breadcrumbs), pearled onions (wee tiny onions, about the size of your knuckle, smothered in cream), seriously tangy cranberry chutney with citrus rind, and these awesome AWESOME sweet potatoes, cut into generous chunks, mixed with similarly-chunked apples, apple cider, brown sugar and salt, and roasted.

Now, allow me a moment to contextualize. My mother, as Cheesy can attest, is a health-food nut. We only use margarine (never, NEVER butter), we only drink skim milk, and refined sugar is to be avoided. And while my mother will willingly cut loose on holidays (as the aforementioned recipes might suggest), she only lets a little bit hang out. Which means our Thanksgivings are a little on the lean side, calorie-wise. I thought Mom was being smart, and that I would never know the difference.

I WAS SO, SO WRONG.

Mama Cheesy is an amazing cook, as we have seen in the breakfast posting my darling GF wrote. One would have to be an amazing cook to nearly-singlehandedly pull off a Thanksgiving for thirteen hungry folk. But good golly, the things that that woman whipped up were totally off my radar screen and out of this world. Let's start with the sides. You know you want to. As my dear Cheesy suggested, the mashed potatoes were unbelievable. I lent my relatively-muscular arm to helping mash the little suckers, and I was blown away by the result. Butter, butter everywhere, and buttermilk, too! And maybe sour cream. (Cheesy's note: I don't think sour cream was involved. But whatever.) I don't even know. They were seriously life-changing. And I don't even like mashed potatoes (probably because, I have come to realize, mashed potatoes at my usual Thanksgiving table are made with nonfat yogurt and margarine). There were two kinds of cranberry sauce; one cranberry-pomegranate concoction, and the ever-loved can of cranberry goo, which I thought was a figment of modern culture, but exists(!!) and is beloved by Mama Cheesy. There was cold roasted asparagus brought by a family member, and green beans… and then things started getting unfamiliar.

Now, my mother, back in the scenic lighthouse-dotted Faire-Isle sweater lands of New England, makes her stuffing with wild rice and sausage. It's a recipe she picked up from my Gran, her mother, who hails from St. Paul, Minnesota, the land of lupines, loons, and a ton of wild rice. It's amazing. It's delicious. And it's only ever cooked apart from the turkey.

WELL. We had TWO kinds of stuffing at Thanksgiving in Virginia, and was I ever unprepared. They were referred to as "wet" and "dry" stuffing, which, I will admit, sounded totally gross. The wet stuffing was cooked INSIDE the turkey, and then yanked out and served, and it was unbelievable. Mama Cheesy also includes sausage in her stuffing, but this was a bread-base and it soaked up all the delicious turkey essence. The dry stuffing had the same ingredients, but also included chestnuts(!!!) and was baked apart from the bird. It was amazing. I had both kinds. Twice. When you come from a family that stuffs their turkey with celery (for moisture), parsley and sage, and then discards said vegetation, wet stuffing is literally the 'stuff' of dreams.

Oh, wait, did I mention turkey? Oh boy. Mama Cheesy went nuts on this thing. It was an twenty-pound monster, which I thought would immediately go insanely dry, as larger turkeys at home tend to. But no, Mama Cheesy separated the skin from the meat and spread BUTTER mixed with Bell's seasoning, sage, and thyme right onto the bird, closed the thing up, and cooked it. This turkey was the most incredible thing to ever happen; so much so that Cheesy, Cheesy's big sister and I had to huddle in the darkened kitchen later that evening and eat some of the remaining meat straight from its Ziploc bag. It was moist and tender, even in the thickest, whitest parts of the meat. I wanted to bury my head in it.

Then came dessert. Last year, around my birthday, Cheesy and I decided to make a seriously failed celebratory dinner, for which I had bought spices and canned pumpkin in order to make my family's traditional pumpkin pie. For Thanksgiving, my mom will usually whip this up in addition to an apple pie or apple crisp (she's also been toying with a pear pie recipe for the last few years, but it calls for tapioca and never seems to go well. Don't tell her I said that). With the epic failure that was that dinner, the pie was never made… So Cheesy and I made it for Thanksgiving this year! It's a fantastic recipe, quick to cook, using a pat-in-the-pan cookie crust (with one cup of chopped pecans, it's basically a pecan sandy recipe). The filling was generously spiced and not too sweet, and it was delicious. Mama Cheesy supplied a great apple pie as well as an unbelievably decadent chocolate brandy pecan pie. She also made some delicious eggnog whipped cream to top all three pie options.

And I awoke from my food coma a week later to write this post.

Best. Thanksgiving. Ever.

2008-12-02T15:43:00.001-05:00

Wow. Just wow. This year really was the best Thanksgiving ever. EVER. And this is saying quite a lot, coming from a girl whose favorite holiday, hands down, has always been Thanksgiving. Those mashed potatoes were quite certainly small, fluffy pieces of heaven.

How’s that for a teaser? You’ll just have to wait a while longer for the post about Thanksgiving Dinner proper, because there’s a surprise in the works. For the moment, I’m going to talk about all the other food I ate over Thanksgiving weekend. Actually, I’m just going to talk about breakfast.

I feel like I should have paid attention to the signs—I should have known that this weekend would be all about the breakfasts when the occupants of the car my GF and I rode down to Virginia in all cried out ecstatically when we spotted the one lone Waffle House in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I ate buttery, wonderful grits. It was definitely an omen.

I had every single one of my favorite breakfasts over Thanksgiving. My mother is a queen among women, and knows exactly what I want to eat when I come home for a visit. Here’s the daily breakdown:

-Thursday: fried eggs, bacon, and fresh baked blueberry muffins. I’m not a muffin person, but my mother makes the best muffins in three states. They are light and not too sweet, and filled with blueberries (though where she found blueberries this time of year, I’m not sure).

-Friday: MORE bacon (I love bacon), scrambled eggs, and my mother’s biscuits. I always feel quintessentially Southern when I say this, but it has to be said: no one—no one—makes biscuits like my mama makes ‘em (please supply the drawl in your head). They are perfect. She uses a recipe from an old 1930s cookbook for young wives (written by Meta Givens, for those of you who are interested). I continually wish I had the recipe…but I often refrain from getting it. What if they don’t turn out right?

-Saturday: the tour de force: dried beef gravy and pancakes. Now, I know the gravy should go on the biscuits. But in my family, it goes on pancakes. And it is sublime. Dried beef gravy—chipped beef to some of you—was one of the grandfather’s specialties. It’s a family favorite made from milk and flour and dried beef and onions. Not for the vegans, vegetarians, gluten-allergenic, or the faint of heart.

Maybe my next projects (besides learning to deal with tofu) should be to be like my mom in a new way—cook like her.

Oh, dear

2008-11-24T15:24:00.003-05:00

Oh, goodness. Oh, dear.

It has been a long time, hasn't it?

Oh, dear.

Well, I guess the sheer truth is that I've been avoiding the blog. Because I've had nothing to write about! No exciting dishes have been created in my pots! I can't afford fine Philadelphia dining! Its November--and, besides kale and brussels sprouts, I don't like a lot of the winter harvest. Certainly not winter squash. Yuck.

And now its almost Thanksgiving. What happened to November?

Anyway, last week, amid tequila-filled nights and Madonna in concert, I ate chicken 3 times. 3 different ways. Well, 3 different recipes.

1) My roommate made a very garlicky roast chicken on monday night. I topped off the meal with my own garlicky spaghetti aglio e olio.

2) Wednesday night, I got suddenly served a truly delicious and beautifully simple salad. Spinach and tomatoes, all topped with nicely sauteed chicken. My friend PT made it. My thoughts at the time (before tequila happened) was "Why don't I do this???"

3) My dear GF's birthday was on Friday. My roommate and I made a dinner fit for a 20 year old. I made my own roast chicken, with a butter-thyme-rosemary rub under the skin. It was great. Succulent, moist. The leftovers went into a dish with penne and red peppers. I love leftovers.

Well, as noted, Thanksgiving is ALMOST here, and its my favorite holiday, so I'm sure I'll have something to say about that. And then? Who knows. It'll be December.

Bloggy Lists

2008-11-07T15:43:00.002-05:00

Well...its been a bit of a time since I was last here. I'm not in a very coherent place (long week + graduate school applications) so here's a list in place of prose. Actually, a list of lists!

Good Things:
-The Phillies won the world series!!!!
-Obama won the election!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad Things:
-I'm. So. Broke.
-It's been a tiring couple of weeks.
-Sigh. It's November.

Blog-related Things:
-So. I've been thinking. I am, obviously, neither the most fascinating or talented food blogger in the blogosphere. Hell, I'm not even sure if people outside of my dear GF and assorted friends even read this thing. But I've been thinking of incorporating more of my thoughts about living in Philadelphia, living in cities...living in general. It might get redundant--I keep both a paper journal and livejournal (sorry, folks, friends only), so maybe there's only so much I can write about. But who knows? It'll still be a food-themed, lifecentric blog.
-Philly is an exciting place to live in right now.
-Local apples are divine and delicious and other italicized words that start with d.
-I made the most delicious one pot meal last night, with tricolor rotini, green beans, and a mix of part-skim mozzarella, parmesan, and asiago cheeses spiked with red chili flakes. Oh my goodness, as I was eating it, I thought I found heaven.
-I really love kale.
-Maybe, someday, I'll regain my sanity.

Cheap and Easy

2008-10-24T16:14:00.000-04:00

Well, I feel like most everywhere you turn, you see news of the economic doom and gloom gripping this country. I’m no economist and, despite working in the philanthropy business, I don’t really understand what’s going on. I have, however, noticed the rising food prices. I’ve even noticed this at the local farmer’s market, which has very reasonable prices. I also got notice in the mail yesterday that my monthly payments for my student loans are being raised because the interest rate went up. Sigh…I can’t wait for the deferment that graduate school (hopefully) will bring.

Anyway, I thought I’d blog about my two most recent meals: meals that I have termed in my head as “cheap and easy.” Which, now that I think about it, sounds a little more risqué than I meant it to.

Cheap and Easy #1:
Quinoa salad! I know I’ve posted about quinoa before, but it’s making another appearance. This little gem is simply made up of quinoa (simmered in chicken broth, but vegetable broth or just plain water would do) and any vegetables on hand. This past week, I added organic carrot, tomato, and red pepper, but one could use almost anything. Chop them in a medium or small dice. Mix with the quinoa. Give it some dollops of olive oil and your favorite vinegar. Finish with salt and pepper. The result? A cheap, simple, transportable meal. One that is healthy too!

Cheap and Easy #2:
For some reason, I was moved to purchase frozen broccoli the other week. I’m not really sure why. I’m usually at a loss with frozen veggies and I find broccoli particularly uninspiring. But last night I wanted something carb-a-licious (damn SAD) but also something that involved vegetables. But I didn’t have much on hand. And I didn’t want a salad. (Apparently, I was very picky). So, as the linguine I put on was boiling I added about half a bag of frozen broccoli to it and sautéed some garlic. I mixed it all together with parmesan cheese and it was delicious. I wish I had remembered that I had dried chili pepper flakes because that would have given a delightful spicy kick to it. So, again, a cheap, simple meal that’s not too unhealthy. (I must admit, I completed the meal with some protein in the form of a guilty pleasure, chicken nuggets. Honestly compels to add that they are not very healthy either.)

I have a feeling that, with the economy the way it is and my student loans, both of these inexpensive dishes will be a long time in my repertoire.

Eating Chicago

2008-10-15T14:46:00.001-04:00

Well, astonishingly, there was no pizza consumption in Chicago. But that’s okay; I’ve had it before (though if you haven’t, I recommend fixing that stat). But there was a lot of consumption of other delights during my whirlwind, 4-day visit.

My friends live in different parts of the North Side of Chicago. We didn’t venture into the South (though I really wanted to know where the old Stock Yards are and no one could tell me for sure) and didn’t eat that much inside of the Loop (expensive!). But I went to many parts of Rogers Park and Logan Square and other places that I don’t know the names for. Chicago, let me say here and now, is beautiful. I haven’t been in such a planned city in a long time; many of the wide streets and parks were built after the massive fire in 1871 (I think). It has a very soothing effect on me (much like the area around the Art Museum here in Philly).

So what did I eat in Chicago? I ate vegetarian Indian food (paneer makhani) that was cheap and so good, instant mashed potatoes at 3 am to counteract the ‘drunchies’, a sesame bagel sandwich with sharp cheddar, bacon, and tomato, rigatoni Bolognese with braised pork and veal, homemade pasta and chicken, diner food (Chicago seems to be the land of diners), and the biggest burrito I swear I’ve ever had. And that’s just what I remember off the top of my head.

Oh, there was also the Chicago hot dog, which, in my opinion, is the best version of a hot dog to be had. It has hot peppers on it. Who doesn’t want that? It also has onions, relish, spicy mustard, and pickles. No ketchup, however, which I know is a travesty and a sin in some people’s books. It was delicious! I was so full after this hot dog that I couldn’t finish my fries. When was the last time that happened? (maybe never)

I know that Chicago is just as much a foodie city as New York and, dare I say, Philadelphia, and I’m pretty sure that time and money didn’t allow me to explore it as much as I wanted to. But, as for now…I’m definitely willing to give Chicago an interim 2 thumbs up. You know, until I’ve visited enough to give a final decision!

Oh, P.S. Did you know that Chicago is the home of McDonald’s? I had no idea.

Westward Ho!

2008-10-08T13:13:00.003-04:00

Just a short note to tell you that I am Chicago-bound for a long weekend, starting tomorrow. I'm very excited--I am visiting friends that I haven't seen in over a year! So, next week, I hope to have a Chicago-food (omg, deep-dish pizza) full post for you. In the meantime, wish me farewell and I leave you with this food for thought:

Nostalgia

2008-10-02T13:17:00.001-04:00

I know that, for a lot of people, fall is a very favorite season. Not so for me. While I welcome cool air after a stagnant August and certainly have a special place in my heart for fall apples (I am from Virginia, after all!), fall is an unwelcome visitor to me. Especially October, when it starts out so beautifully and then dead ends into the cold and dreary darkness of November.

October also says ‘melancholy’ to me, possibly because the trees look so sad as they drop their leafy raiment to the ground, or maybe because everywhere I look, I see people trying to soak in the last bits of outside-time that they’ll have for months. But I’ve also noticed that my own melancholy (when not inducing carb-cravings from crankiness) is making me very nostalgic.

I’ve been re-reading favored books from my childhood (see Jane Eyre and the Amelia Peabody series by Elizabeth Peters). I’ve been watching shows that I religiously watched as a child (The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. anyone? I never realized it was so witty!). I even sat down and watching the end of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark with my roommate last night. I can’t even begin to say when that last time I watched that was.

In the same vein, I’ve been revisiting a lot of childhood foods. The amount of cheese toast that I’ve eaten could possibly feed a small country. I just take so much pleasure in making it like I did when I still lived in my parent’s house in Virginia: slices of sharp cheddar cheese laid on multi-grain bread and then toasted to slightly less than melting. The cheese still retained its shape, but was just bubbly and melty enough to please me. Also, on a whim on my most recent trip to the grocery store, I picked up a bag of rotelle—the pasta that I know more familiarly as wagon wheels. It is my father’s favorite pasta shape. I remember the evenings when he would make it and we would revisit his childhood as we ate it with ketchup (ewwww, my roommate said. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, especially all you ketchup-lovers out there). I don’t have any ketchup at the moment, but it was nice to have the pasta just the same. I’ve even been craving chocolate milk like I used to have it: cold milk with 2 or 3 heaping spoonfuls of Nestle’s Nesquik powder. Though Nesquik’s website is a little scary now.

What are the foods that *you* are nostalgic for??

Breakfast from Heaven

2008-09-22T14:43:00.001-04:00

Well, as I said, September is moving month. I’ve been in my new apartment for about a week now, and I’m still getting used to it. As I wrote to myself in my journal last night, it takes me a long time to get used to new places. I remember being much more adaptable when I was younger. On the whole, though, the apartment is working out. My roommate is very kind and considerate (though cluttered!) and certainly a better cook than I am. My room is wide and white, with a bay window and a startling resemblance to my much beloved senior year dorm room. The ceilings are high. The floors are creaky. The neighborhood is quiet enough to sleep with my windows open. The oven is new. The kitchen counter is one long block of wood.

One of my first acts was to rearrange the kitchen to accommodate my dishes and pots and pans and glasses, etc. My roommate, who had been napping, said it was like “I fell asleep and Martha Stewart visited the apartment!” Now, I’m certainly no Martha Stewart—and I’m certain that, say, Courtney could rearrange this place better than I did—but its nice praise nonetheless. There’s certainly more space in the kitchen and it’s feels like a real kitchen, instead of the “kitchen side” of the studio apartment.

In addition to high ceilings and low rent, there is at least one other distinct advantage: right next door to Clark Park, home of my favorite farmer’s market in the city (to be fair, I haven’t been to the ones on the eastern side of the city, except for Reading Terminal. Any suggestions, readers?) On Saturday morning, my darling GF and I ambled over in search of fresh vegetables and eggs and perhaps something for breakfast. For a total cost of about $15, we got: 5 late season peaches, 2 late tomatoes, 3 peppers of various size and colors, 1 dozen fresh organic eggs, a loaf of fresh baked baguette bread, and a quarter pound of organic arugula.

By this time, I had been awake for at least 3 hours, and was jittery from hunger and one too many cups of strong tea. We looked at our bounty and decided that we should probably take advantage of it then and there. Out came a handful of arugula, four eggs, and four slices of that soft, fresh bread. The bread, laden with slices of sharp cheddar cheese, went into the toaster, while the eggs got broken and then fried in the skillet. Then we layered: the arugula, with pepper and salt, over the cheese, then an egg on top of both slices, to make an open-faced breakfast sandwich.

Maybe it was hunger—more likely it was the peppery bite of the arugula mixed with the smooth sublimity of truly fresh eggs atop bread that was obviously made by the gods for the gods as an accompaniment for their ambrosia. This was the best breakfast sandwich that I have ever had.

September is moving month

2008-09-04T09:43:00.003-04:00

I am apoligizing in advance for what will probably be a rather sparse September. I am moving--yet again--and its taking up a bit of my time. I don't feel very inspired to make special or exciting things (I am So. Tired. of my tiny-ass kitchen)and I don't really have the money to be eating out at all the fancy places I'd like to try. I'm also slowly packing up all my belongings and that includes my cooking gear. So, until the 13th at the earliest, there might not be much going on here.

Look forward, however, to posts about the Clark Park (my new next-door neighbor!) farmer's market and fall produce, as well as my roommate's culinary talents, in the near future

Happy 1st Birthday, Blog!

2008-08-26T15:24:00.003-04:00

Well, it came to my attention today that this blog’s 1st birthday passed me by this weekend—Saturday the 23rd, to be precise. How I could have forgotten it, I don’t know! I think I knew, in my heart of hearts, because there was a lot of good food before me.

Saturday was rather tame, actually, food-wise and life-wise. It wasn’t until that evening, as I surveyed the bareness of my cupboards and fridge, did things get interesting. I didn’t have very much—2 shallots, half a bag of penne, and tomatoes. I also had squash, but I was strangely not in the mood (perhaps its because I used it in a take of Courtney’s 1-Pot Wonder two nights before…). So I sliced the shallots and put water on to boil. Then I quartered my cherry tomatoes and threw them over medium-low heat and sautéed them. With butter.

Yes, yes, my Saturday two-pot dish turned out to be a decadent mess of tender tomatoes and shallots, with just enough butter and the tomatoes’ own juices to make it saucy. The penne was al dente, of course, and the entire dish had a full, rich flavor. It was like eating like a queen for less than $5.

The next day, with my dear G.F’s triumphal return from working at a camp for 2.5 weeks, started with brunch at Ants Pants Cafe. I had heard both good and bad things about this brunch/lunch places—mostly bad, but the good reviews were seriously glowing. I decided to try it out for myself and I am glad I did. Ants Pants a pretty small place on South Street—only a couple of tables inside, with more extensive seating outside. Their menu isn’t massive, but I was pleased to see simple and no-nonsense food on the menu (none of those culinary brunch feats performed at places such as Sabrina’s). My G.F. chose the bacon, cheddar, and egg scramble, with hand-cut potato chips and a chocolate milkshake. The milkshake was excellent (chocolate shavings!) and I really liked to chips. I had the “bacon stack”: layers of arugula, tomato, bacon, and sunny-side up eggs all stacked on country white toast (I substituted a bagel. Good choice on my part!). I loved it. The flavors were clean, the eggs perfect, and the bacon was the perfect degree of crsipiness. (Doesn’t this make you crave brunch? Go!) In fact, there's a picture of the bacon stack on the website.

The rest of the day was taken up by window shopping and enjoying these last sun-drenched days of summer. We celebrated the beautiful day with gelato from Capogiro (I had blueberries and cream and crème fraiche—not nearly as good as the English Sea Salt gelato they’ve had this entire summer. Bring back the sea salt, Capogiro!). Later, we got Indian food at a place near my apartment—samosas, paneer, chicken, and warm naan and basmati rice. A tasty end to a lovely weekend.

Ominvore's 100 Meme

2008-08-18T09:40:00.002-04:00

How the Omnivore's 100 Works:
1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional: Post a comment at Very Good Taste, linking to your results.

My Omnivore’s Hundred:
1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

Wow! 44/100. I thought it would be a lot less....

Dock Street Beer and Pizza

2008-08-12T13:19:00.003-04:00

Well, over the weekend, I finally made it to the Dock Street, located in the beautiful, beautiful Firehouse at 50th and Baltimore. So, sooo many of my friends and coworkers have recommended this place and its beer and pizzas for soo long. And I have never gotten myself there. I even get acupuncture treatments on the third floor of the same building (yes, this is a shout-out for Philadelphia Community Acupuncture!) and I haven't propelled myself through the door.

But on Saturday, three friends and I finally did.

It is a really pleasant space, with lots of light and art, and a big wood-burning stove to make pizzas, paninis, and calzones. Dock Street also brews its own beer, which is delicious. We all tried the Bubbly Wit, a champagne yeast based white beer. It was quite quaffable, with a bite and a definite champagne after taste. We got 2 pizzas and I order the char-grilled sausage calzone. The California pizza, with sun-dried tomatoes and small dollops of goat cheese melted in, was also quite good.

My one issue with the Dock Street was the very salty crust, and the fact that my friends and I were on rather much the same wave-length and wanted sausage, instead of a wide array of the pizzas. I will certainly return to the Dock Street and taste more of their beers and eat of their pizzas (the salads look excellent as well!) I think all my readers should go too.

Summer afternoon

2008-08-08T13:50:00.000-04:00

Well, my recovery from my trip to Israel was long and hard. I had a nasty, nasty cold that had to be treated with copious quantities of hot water, lemon, and honey. And the jet lag—oh, the jet lag! It was very difficult. Needless to say, I didn’t cook very much once I got home. My darling GF made all sorts of delightful things for me, like macaroni and cheese, and grilled cheese sandwiches, and lot of other stuff that involves cheese.

So the first time I really cooked was the following Thursday, when our dear friend J came for dinner. I wanted something simple, something quick, something light—something summery, in short. I hit on a recipe for orecchiette pasta with broccoli and asiago. On a whim and in homage for J (who is really, very adorable), I replaced the orecchiette with Trader Joe’s alphabet pasta, which was very flavorful. I love when you can really taste the vegetables in the pasta. Combine with these tasty letters was blanched and lightly sautéed broccoli crowns and garlic. All together it was a healthful and simple dish.

My favorite part of the meal, however, wasn’t something I made at all. My dear GF wanted to contribute and she chose a cherry tomato salad. I just love how something so simple can just be so amazingly good. The ingredients: cherry tomatoes sliced in half and scallions, tossed in a Dijon, vinegar, and olive oil dressing. It was like taking a bite out of those heady, humidity-heavy summer afternoons.

Food and history

2008-07-28T13:17:00.001-04:00

Well, I’ve been back from Israel for about a week, and I haven’t posted. I have no shame! I actually had a terrible, terrible cold and jetlag, and had to consume large quantities of chicken broth and hot water with lemon and honey to feel better. But now I’m feeling almost back to normal (physically), and I’ve been doing lots of thinking about my time in Israel.

It was a really amazing trip, that’s for sure. The people I was with were incredibly awesome—Best. Group. Ever. I definitely recommend the Taglit program, if any of my readers out there are Jewish, under age 27, and want to go to Israel for free. Yeah, there’s some propaganda and sometimes its annoying to travel in a group of 40, but it’s FREE! And Israel is an absolutely beautiful, breath-taking, complex country that deserves a visit. Or 6.

Anyway, this is not a travel blog, it is a food blog. And the food in Israel was….interesting. Now, the nature of the trip definitely restrained me a bit in terms of food, but I think I got to do a fair sampling of Israeli cuisine. We ate generally the same thing every day—I don’t know if this is the status quo, but it’s the norm for these big group trips. I actually loved the food—there was so much fresh produce! The Israelis use lots of watery fruits and vegetables, like cucumbers, tomatoes, and watermelon. There was also a lot of eggplant, which I don’t eat. But at almost every meal, there were lush prepared salads and lots of cold cheeses and pickles, olives, and, of course, hummus. The hummus is to die for, seriously. I didn’t eat a lot of the meat, because it gave me stomach aches, but the lamb and chicken were especially good. The cottage cheese is out of this world! I actually couldn’t identify a lot of the cheeses on the trip, but they were mostly younger cheeses, often very salty and possibly goat-based.

I ate a HUGE amount of falafel and shwarma. I definitely preferred the falafel. It was infinitely better than the falafel you can get here in Philadelphia (though, Philly folks, if you have any recommendations, I’d love to hear them!). The falafel was also crispy-fresh and delicately seasoned, resting on its bed of lettuce and, in my case, pickled vegetables. The pitas were always fresh and incredibly soft and warm. I’m a little falafel-ed out for the time being, but I know that I will certainly daydream about Israeli falafel in a couple of weeks.

Now: the thing that Israeli cuisine does not do well? Pizza. Who knew that the concept of tomato sauce and cheese on bread would present such issues? All the pizza I had in Israeli was very flat and cardboard-like in consistency, while the toppings were often inadequate and/or burnt. And talk about interesting choices for toppings! I mean, I was obviously not expecting pepperoni pizza while I was there, but even I was a little confused by the pizza that had only green olives on it…

The thing that Israeli cuisine did the best? Chocolate wafer cookies. I picked up a package on a whim while buying wine during a night out in Jerusalem, and they were delicious. The Israelis sure know their way around chocolate! It is more delicious there than anywhere else I’ve been.

My most exciting eating experience while in Israel: Eating fruit right off the trees! Israel, according to the Old Testament, has a fallow year for its crops every 7 years. During this fallow year, the fruit is not harvested—it is free for everyone to pick from. I ate a peach while we stood in the orchard, just a stone’s throw away from the valley where David battled Goliath. I munched on grapes just off the vines as we hiked to columbarium caves where Jewish rebels once hid from the Romans. I hate part of a just-plucked pomegranate in the ruins of an amphitheatre. That intertwining of food and history really touched me. Peaches nor grapes nor pomegranates will never taste the same.

Holy Land

2008-07-08T13:07:00.002-04:00

Well, if this blog has been a wee bit neglected of late, it's been because I am quite busy. Why am I so busy? Too busy to cook? Too busy to browse online for recipes?

Because I'm about to fly out of the country for a 10 day hiking trip in Israel, that's why.

I fly out of Boston on Thursday, and will be back in Philadelphia on the 22nd or 23rd. I'll see you when I see you!

And, yes, I'll eat a falafel for you...

Shallot-y Goodness

2008-06-26T14:11:00.000-04:00

The other week, I was picking up some groceries at my friendly neighborhood Trader Joe’s. I had to get some milk and, I think, some ingredients for a recipe. Whatever the reason was, I picked up a bag of shallots. I’d used them before—actually, I’ve loved them ever since I roasted sliced shallots with green beans for a brunch a few summers ago—but I hadn’t purchased any in a long while. It was a whim. While I was waiting to pay for my food, an old man behind me in line looked at my purchases and then at me and said, “Looks like you’re a fine cook, my lady. You have shallots, butter—all the necessities.” I smiled, thanked him, and thought to myself, yes, I must have all the necessities.

And ever since then, I’ve been using shallots in everything.

I put them into my homemade salad dressing of a few posts ago; I sautéed them with a pepper a week or so ago. Last night, I sautéed them in olive oil with yellow summer squash and salt and pepper. I find sautéing squash a little challenging (and yet I continue to do it!), but this time, I just stuck a lid on the pan and let the heat and the moisture from the squash and oil do the trick. The squash was nice and tender and sweet. The shallots, on the other either browned and crisped up nicely—there’s nothing like a caramelized shallot—or got translucent and almost creamy. They were both delicious. I’ve gone so far with my obsession with shallots that I even toyed with the idea of replacing the halved onion in Marcella Hazan’s onion and butter tomato sauce with a few halved shallots. I didn’t—I had a guest for dinner that night—but I’m still curious on how it would turn out…

Shallots are a member of the onion, or allium, family. There are several different kinds of shallots, but the kinds I most often see are round or high round French shallots. They are sweeter and milder than onions, but more nutritious! See www.shallot.com for these facts and more, including storage tips and recipes. I do urge you to try shallots, if you never have—they’re delicious. And they’re such elegant onions—they make almost any meal seem fancy!

Breaking News: Venezuela derails France

2008-06-20T11:34:00.001-04:00

So, French Month got a little derailed. Which is okay, because I wasn’t too interested in it anyway. I think French is just not my thing. That being said, I do believe that I will be making French onion soup this week, because I love it and I’m going through a major soup phase right now. All I want to do is eat cans and cans of soup.

Thankfully, for you, dear readers, I have resisted this impulse and have been enjoying the bounty that Philadelphia has to offer. In the last week, I’ve tried several new restaurants (Café Apamate, Honey’s Sit n’ Eat, and Rx in West Philly) and finally made it to Reading Terminal Market (where I found cherries for $2. And mint fudge brownies. And organic meat. And other delicious things). But I can’t really shove all of that into one post—those restaurants will have to wait for a later post, or for me to make another visit.

I really love this city. It’s dirty. It smells funny a lot of the time. There’s a lot of crime. There is a LOT of good food. And I love it. I even love the silly liquor laws that abound in this state, because that means that there are an abundance of BYOBs, like Café Apamate. And thus, to Café Apamate did the dear GF and I go last Thursday for date night.

Café Apamate’s chef Ormaechea has brought a blend of Venezuelan and Spanish food to Philadelphia, in the form of mini tapas called “Pinxtos” as well as large plates. The tapas are literally about 2 to 4 bites; just enough to love what you just put into your mouth and little enough that you pay attention to savor the tastes. And everything—I swear, everything—is delicious. We ordered an array of tiny plates, a charcuteria plate and another appetizer to share, as well as sangria that was mixed at the restaurant with the bottle of Spanish red that we brought with us.

The GF and I shared some things and not others. She really wanted to sea scallops with an herb reduction; I rarely eat any kind of seafood. I really wanted to try the shot (!) of gazpacho (remember that soup obsession?)—she thinks that gazpacho is glorified salsa. The gazpacho was actually tremendously amazing, with Jersey heirloom tomatoes in the starring role. We shared a warmed goat cheese mound with a red bush tea and pistachio reduction. I had to restrain myself from licking the plate. We also shared the charcuterie board, with chorizo, Serrano ham, and lomo embuchado—all amazing meats. Paired with them was a nevat goat cheese—semi-aged, almost like my beloved Pata Cabra from Tria Café—drizzled with lavender honey, manchego with slivers of quince paste, and Cabrales blue cheese (which neither of us really liked at the time). This was followed by a mini plate of flank steak with a Cabrales reduction. It literally melted in our mouths. I have never had a more delicious or tender piece of steak in my life, and the Cabrales took on a completely different persona. It went from being a mild, though still too strong for me, blue cheese, to being a mellow, warm, delightful counterpart to the richness of the steak. After this, deciding that we were still hungry, we ordered a plate of béchamel and Serrano ham croquettes—think hush puppies dressed up for the prom—unthinkably delicious. To round out this lovely meal, we had handmade churros stuffed with dulce de leche.

Apamate is small, cash only, and doesn’t take reservations, but staffed by friendly people and beautiful it sit in. The verdict: Excellent. I would go back again and again

French Month #2: Overdressed

2008-06-12T14:38:00.000-04:00

The French certainly do understand salads.

It’s been brutally hot recently in Philadelphia. We had an early June heat wave that saw temperatures topping the high 90s and with humidity, the heat index was certainly above 100 degrees. Needless to say, I didn’t want to make—much less even eat—such hearty (and traditional) French dishes such as coq au vin, soufflé, or even French onion soup!

Instead, I made a salad.

I know, I know, I seem to write an awful lot about salads. But this one was simple, I promise! Organic greens, cherry tomatoes, and raw green beans were the only ingredients. Oh, and the crumbles of herb and garlic chevre. And the homemade dressing—mustn’t forget that!

The French do know their way around a salad dressing. Again using a recipe from trusty old Julia, this was one of the quickest and easiest dressings to whip up. And to think, until recent years, I never even considered the idea of making my own dressing! Comprised of red wine vinegar, brown mustard, olive oil, salt, peppers, minced shallots, and dried basil, this dressing was certainly a hit. I really like the vinegar and oil and salt—it’s always been a favorite combination. The dear GF liked the mustardness of the dressing, and we both greatly enjoyed the shallots (I always enjoy shallots).

It was simple, it was clean, it was delicious. I think this is my first favorite French food ever!

French Month #1: No French Kissing with this Recipe

2008-06-04T12:50:00.001-04:00

June is French cuisine month in the Nest (my new name for my eensy-weensy apartment). I’m exploring the tastes and techniques and really, just seeing how I like it. This week, I tackled something relatively simple and slightly familiar: aigo buido.

Aigo Buido is a garlic soup out of Provence; I got the recipe from—who else?—Julia Child. I don’t own the Art of French Cooking (but I certainly covet it whenever I see it), but I do have the collected recipes from her PBS cooking show, The French Chef. She is such a wonderful lady. I really adore her. My sister (who, by the way, does own the Art of French Cooking) made this soup for me a couple of years ago, in honor of Julia and the date of her death. It was good—followed up, in a minor clash of cuisine, by the only eggplant parmesan I’ve ever liked.

Aigo Buido is made by simmering two heads worth of unpeeled garlic cloves, savory herbs, and saffron in water, then straining everything out. Squeeze the juices out of the garlic, and you have a clear garlic infused broth. In the meantime, beat a quarter cup of olive oil and three egg yolks into a thick, mayonnaise-like sauce. Let me tell you, my arm still hurts from all that work! Once the two components are ready, beat the sauce while adding a cup of soup a little at a time. Then mix in the rest of the broth. The trick is not to let the hot broth cook the eggs in the sauce. My sister reported that she messes up this soup every couple of times; sometimes it’s excellent, sometimes it’s a gray cloud with egg bits floating unappetizingly around. I am proud to report that I did not cook the egg; regardless, I’m still having mixed feelings about the resultant soup.

The soup was not overwhelmingly garlicky, though you’d expect that from two heads of garlic. It was a satisfying texture, very smooth and almost creamy. I think it would have benefited from cloves, which I discovered I do not own. The olive oil I used was also a little bit strong. The soup wasn’t bad; it was just lackluster. My dear GF agreed (she also gave me a quote, but I forgot what it was). I liked some spoonfuls, I didn’t like others. The worst thing is that we collectively spelled like garlic for hours after consumption.

So, my first foray into French cooking has been, I must admit, a little off-putting. While the soup as simple, a pretty large amount of effort went into making it—all that egg whisking. The soup was okay—not amazing. We’ll see how things turn out as the month progresses—I’m thinking coq au vin is on the way, maybe French onion soup, an exploration of salad dressings. If I’m feeling really adventurous, there will be soufflé, croissants, and crème brulee!

A Glorious Day for a Picnic

2008-05-29T15:07:00.002-04:00

This past Memorial WAS an absolutely glorious day for a picnic! Here's a glance at the spread I created for my dear GF and our friend Jill.

-Cucumber Sandwiches--with cream cheese, not mayonnaise.
-Herbed Parmesan Crisps--These little crackers (shredded parm, a little flour, and fresh rosemary, and nothing else) are the absolute last word in cheesy goodness. I found the recipe in Ted Allen's What You Want to Eat cookbook. I love that book.
-Edamame (thoughtfully cooked by by darling GF)
-Grapes, baby carrots, and a marvelously juicy D'Anjou pear.
-Handmade Chianti salami, from Trader Joe's.
-Laura Chenel's Chevre and Robusto, an aged cow's milk cheese, similar to Parrano but stronger, served with TJ's Hot and Sweet mustard for spreading purposes.
-Mini Toasts from Whole Foods.
-Blue Moon, my current favorite beer (this is one that recurs rather often).

Now that I have a cold, my current favorite drink is hot water with honey and lemon.

Stay Tuned for June--French Cooking month!

Eclectic

2008-05-20T16:06:00.002-04:00

Well, at least I’m trying, right? As the title says, this will be an eclectic post. I’ve found my interest in food and cooking picking back up—as I figured it would—with the advent of my darling GF into my apartment for the summer. She’s living with me in my tiny studio and we already have more food than ever in my apartment! We got things that I usually think about getting, but then don’t out of some misguided notion that I don’t need them. Things like Trader Joe’s dill pickles (“super dillish”, as the GF said), salad dressing, mango mochi, and macaroni and cheese. How have I lived without these things for so long?!

In the meantime, I’ve been preparing for first cuisine month—I think that it will be French, but I’m not sure yet. I hope that it will be a success! I’ve also been going out to sundry places in Philadelphia and gathering tidbits, both edible and inedible, for all to enjoy.

Last week was my 23rd birthday week. I decided that this meant that I got to go out a lot, stay up late, drink pleasant things, and then drag myself through my work days. Not the best plan, I admit, but it turned out pretty well in the end. I began the week with a Sunday night trip to Yakitori Boy, on 11th Street between Vine and Race (right near Vietnam, a very popular Asian restaurant here in Philadelphia). A Japanese restaurant, Yakitori Boy also advertises “Japas” or Japanese inspired tapas. They also have sushi, of course, as well as a wide range of sake and other cocktails. I ate a salad and a bowl of chicken ramen—so warm and filling, and nothing at all like it’s cheap, dried counterpart—but I’d really like to mention their sake mojito. Mojitos are definitely turning into my summer drink. And this one—made with sake instead of rum, was delicious. It was light and refreshing and not quite as potent as a mojito can sometimes be. I can’t wait to go drink one to cool off from the hot Philly summer.

I celebrated my actual birthday with karaoke at Bump, a gay bar in Philly’s celebrated gayboorhood. It’s a spacious and classy place; with good food and amazing Happy Hour offers (martinis for $3! Be still my beating heart!). I had an array of drinks, starting with a mojtio and moving from there. Bump has a really fascinating drink list—a lot of creative twists on champagne cocktails, as well as fruit-influenced cocktail variations (such as a blackberry mojito). I had something called a mexican peach martini, which had tequila, peach schnapps, simple syrup, and something else peachy in it. It was a fascinating drink—peachy and almost bellini-like in the beginning, and then finishing with the fiery taste of tequila. Not my favorite alcoholic peach drink—it certainly didn’t hold a candle to the peach cosmo I had in NYC in March—but something interesting to sip on, nonetheless.

While this seems like a rather booze-heavy post, I have something seemingly innocent to finish it off with: apriums. Apriums are a hybrid between plums and apricots and, unlike pluots, favor their apricot heritage. They are small, definitely apricot sized, and they look like apricots, but their taste. Oh my, their taste! They have the sweetness and softness of apricots with the tart and exciting bite of a plum. They truly are the best of both worlds. The darling GF and I picked up a box of them at Trader Joe’s on Sunday and have been hard put to limit ourselves to eating just two at a time. I do rather worry that our first bone of contention will be the last aprium. Apriums are a delightful spring snack. They would also make delicious preserves, crumble, or cobbler. They make me wish that I had a pressure cooker or an affinity to baking!

Plans

2008-05-14T11:09:00.003-04:00

Well, it has been just under a month since I last posted. Two jobs and life got in the way a bit. Now, I'm back to one job and turning my attention to other things...such as this blog.

I started this blog for a couple of reasons. One, I enjoyed eating and talking about food with my friend Perrin (my other counterpart who mostly dropped out of this blog). Two, I had been wishing to write more for some time. Most of my writing in the past years has been academic, and I have no hand for fiction. So I thought I'd try this as a different medium. Finally, I wanted to use this blog as a source of motivation and inspiration for my cooking and other culinary adventures.

Thus far, I'm not sure it is working. I have mostly ignored the restaurants that I've been eating at recently, and also the assorted Philadelphia foods that I enjoy. I've been writing a lot, but actually not cooking as much as I'd like.

I have some plans rolling around my head, though, to remedy this. I think I have taken a very haphazard approach to teaching myself how to cook. I think I might try for a more balanced and logical approach--I think I might start centering more on cuisines and styles than on random recipes that have caught my eye (though a fair amount of that will probably remain). I also want to push myself to research more--use this brain and college degree for good. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, I greatly appreciate your patience and kindness and attention. I'll be back with a post soon :)

Pesach

2008-04-23T16:25:00.002-04:00

Pesach—Passover—is one of my favorite Jewish holidays. Yeah, you get presents at Hanukah and you get to dress up and be silly for Purim. But Passover? It says family, celebration, food.

This year, sadly, my Passover did not say family to me. Because I’m saving my vacation days and my money for an upcoming trip to Israel this summer, I couldn’t go home to Virginia or to family in North Carolina this year. Sad, I know! I did usher in the Passover holiday with Sunday brunch with friends (Courtney made a wonderful matzah brei), but it’s not the same as Passover seder. This is also the first year I’ve ever been wholly responsible for my own care and feeding during Passover. I almost didn’t buy matzah! Imagine that.

I was inspired by my nostalgia for traditional Passover foods, so I decided to finally some of my store of frozen chicken stock and make chicken soup and matzah balls. I often forget that I love matzah balls and I should really look into making them all year round, instead of just during the Passover season. They are delicious! The recipe I followed was on the back of the matzah meal box, but there are hundreds of variations. Once I made them with dill mixed in—that was exceptional. The most important factors—and I believe most matzah ball makers will agree—are the salt and the density. No matzah ball, in my opinion, is worth the name if it doesn’t have that saltiness in each bite. Not overly salty, mind you, but definitely detectable.

Matzah ball density is a debate that has gone down through the ages, for sure. I prefer ‘sinkers’—matzah balls so dense that they sink right to the bottom of the soup bowl and require some effort to break apart. Others—and I know many!—prefer them to be light and fluffy, like little clouds of matzah meal floating in their soup. The deciding factor is cooking time. The less time you simmer the matzah balls in water, the denser they will be. The longer, the lighter. My matzah balls were dense, dense, dense. Almost brick-like. I loved them.

And thank goodness that matzah balls are great by themselves because my chicken soup? I did not love it so much. Or at all. I apparently didn’t have enough patience for soup making on Sunday. I couldn’t find a recipe that pleased me, so I decided to wing it on my own. That’s never a good idea for me—I’m definitely a recipe driven cook. I had both chicken stock in the freezer and chicken broth in my pantry, so I put both in. I also added an onion, a few crushed cloves of garlic for the fun of it, and threw in a whole array of spices (parsley flakes, some poultry seasoning, and things that I simply can’t remember) and set the whole mess on the stove to simmer. I’m not entirely sure what went wrong, but I’ll try to figure it out. In the first place, I started out with too little liquid—I should have definitely started with more stock. I believe I didn’t simmer it for long enough. I’m really not sure. I would like to try again, but we’ll see where my taste buds take me in the future.

(For a successful soup read, go read about spinach and green garlic soup at Orangette)

Salad Days, Part II

2008-04-17T15:04:00.001-04:00

Well, it’s been a couple of months since I started work at the Café, and, truly told, I’m ready for my tenure there to be done. It is a nice enough place to work—it’s just these 50-60 hour work weeks don’t agree with me. I am one tired blogger, that’s for sure. It is a stressful work environment, and sometimes entitled students at the end of the day is just too much for one girl. I have, in the meantime, made some friends and learned a little more about a different facet of the service industry. And I’ve certainly seen enough salad to last a lifetime.

I remain rather fascinated by the seemingly infinite combinations that people will come up with for their salads. My favorites are the ones that clearly show that a lot of thought was put into them. Some people go the sweet route: some combination of grapes, raisins, cranberries, dried pineapple, mango, mandarin oranges, dried figs, sometimes corn, beets, and carrots. These people often get the thai sesame lime dressing or the raspberry vinaigrette. Others go the crunchy road and ask for soy nuts, sunflower seeds, cashews, walnuts, croutons, tortilla strips, or sesame sticks to adorn their salad. Some of my favorite types are the ones who actually don’t get any vegetables on their salads at all—they order cheese (we have 5 different types), croutons, chicken, tuna, or tofu and never stop to consider the broccoli, beets, and other tasty veggies that we carry.

The salads that are unmistakable are the ones for the body-conscious girls (though, to be honest, very few overweight women come in to the Café…possibly because there are very few overweight women on the university campus. The environment at that school is not very conducive to any type of “big is beautiful” mindset, the more’s the pity). For the most part these salads are pretty well balanced: a healthy combination of vegetables and protein with one of the lighter dressings, accompanied by one of our addicting seeded rolls. But some of these salads are just simply a mess. These people will just get whatever catches their fancy, ignoring tastes and textures in the composition of their salad. One might get mango and garlic marinated mushrooms, along with capers, beets, dried figs, roasted red peppers, and, oh what the hell, tuna and pepperocinis with creamy smoked tomato dressing. A more typical occurrence is this: someone gets lentils, chickpeas, an egg (often just the whites—waste, waste, waste), chicken or tofu, cucumbers, tomatoes, and one of the grated cheeses (cheddar or pecorino romano), balsamic vinegar, and ask for it extra chopped. Or, as one young lady wrote on a slip last night, extra especially chopped. Which means the lettuce pieces and ingredients should be teeny tiny—unrecognizable as food, preferably. The more mushy parts of the salad—the chick peas, lentils, tomatoes, egg, and grated cheese—combine to become this mass of strange consistency. On one of my first shifts, I asked one of the other workers “Why extra chopped?” Her response was a shrug and “well, I don’t think many of them actually like salad…”

Which, of course, begs the question, why eat salad in the first place? Especially ones as expensive as ours (that chicken and hand-pulled mozzarella, not to mention the natural and organic veggies, are quite pricey).

And my favorite salad? Well, I prefer “no-base” salads—salads without lettuce. Because, honestly, I’ve always thought that lettuce is a usurper worthy of Napoleon. I invoke Israeli type salads and get lots of tomatoes and cucumbers, raw onions, and sometimes chick peas. Then I take a more Mediterranean twist as I put on the fresh mozzarella and black olives. Usually I finish it off with balsamic chicken, rosemary balsamic dressing, tortilla strips and toss to combine. The result? Always tasty.

An Offering for Goods in Return

2008-04-08T14:30:00.001-04:00

Well. It has been a while, hasn’t it? This blog is turning into a very interesting exercise for me. I started it because I wanted something to write—something other than my private on-line journal and the paper journal that I keep for My Eyes Only. I am continually excited to see that my readership seems to be growing! Or, at the very least, people glance at the blog once in a while. So, my friends, I have a question: what would you like to see on my blog? More recipes? More restaurants? Continue my musings any which way I please?

I live to serve. Well, within reason.

And, in return for your comments, I’ll tell you a story about eggs and greens and balsamic vinegar. Sounds good, right? Well, it was. A couple of weeks ago, I went through one of my periodic “I eat too many carbs, oh no, oh dear, what shall I do?” phases. This coincided with my arrival on www.chow.com, an all-things-food website which is really starting to take up a lot of my time. From the message boards to blog stories, this site is a veritable goldmine of information related to the culinary pursuits. I was looking for recipes for healthy, high-protein dishes. I found this: http://www.chow.com/recipes/11388- Wilted Green with Balsamic Fried Eggs.

What a lovely recipe! I made it for the dear GF and myself for dinner one Saturday night, using arugula (we both are just crazy about arugula’s peppery kick). Eggs over greens are mighty delicious, and the balsamic reduction just added a luxurious note to the entire dish—though I would have given quite a lot to have the balsamic that I ate in Arthur Avenue in NYC. This dish is healthful and, what’s more, very filling. We elected not to have toast with it, which was a mistake on our part. Next time, there will definitely be toast! As well as shallots, I think, as recommended in the comments. I also think that it will stay a dinner or lunch dish—it was just a tad too rich for my personal breakfast taste.

Food Meme

2008-03-24T16:49:00.003-04:00

Stolen from Court over at By Product

What were you cooking five years ago?
Not much of anything, to be honest. A killer macaroni and cheese (from the box?)?

What were you cooking 10 years ago?
Definitely nothing. I came to my love of cooking late in life.

Five snacks you enjoy:
-Sugar snap peas
-aged gouda and fresh baked bread
-cheddar and crackers
-frozen grapes
-pistachios

Five recipes you know by heart:
-My mother's this-is-how-you-fry-an-egg
-Tomato sauce with butter and onion
-I'm very bad at memorizing.

Five culinary luxuries you would indulge in if you were a millionaire:
-Following the fresh produce around the globe
-India
-Expansive countertops/stove
-Personal bartender
-My own garden

Five culinary indulgences you crave, and can afford without being a millionaire:
-New pans
-New knives
-Electric kettles
-Artisan cheese/bread
-Organic produce/meats/dairy

Five foods you love to cook
-Pasta
-Eggs
-Onions
-Tomatoes (canned or otherwise)
-Brussels Sprouts

Five ingredients you simply adore:
-Butter
-Salt
-Shallots
-Canned whole Italian tomatoes
-Garlic

Five things you cannot/will not eat:
-Fish
-Mushrooms
-Things suspended in jello
-Butternut Squash
-Veal

Five favourite culinary toys:
-KitchenAid
-Wooden spoons
-Stock Pot
-Electric Kettles
-I'm not much of a toy person...

Now you!

New York Minute

2008-03-18T13:46:00.001-04:00

I know this blog is subtitled ‘Food in Philadelphia’, but it really should be ‘Food in My Life.’ If only because, sometimes, this food-blogger sets forth to other places to sample their gastronomy.

This past weekend, I hopped on the Penn-to-Penn bus to New York City, to visit a very dear college friend, J. She and I lived next door to each other sophomore year, and have remained very close. I finally made good on my promise to come visit her, her boyfriend, and her kitten in their tiny apartment in Queens. On Friday last, I would be the first to tell you, I am no fan of New York City. Now, I would amend that statement to say I am no fan of Manhattan, but the rest of boroughs? Probably fine by me.

When I arrived on Friday, we went to a relatively new restaurant around the corner from their Astoria apartment, called, wittily, Rest*au*rant. A small, dark eatery, it is much like a less-sophisticated, deconstructed Tria. They had beer, wine, and cheese, as well as salads and paninis. I had the mozzarella, basil, and avocado Panini and it was delicious. The wine and beer list were disappointingly short, but the full bar and cocktail list made up for the dearth. I had a peach cosmopolitan that was just as bubbly and fresh as one could wish.

On Saturday, J. and I grabbed bagels and coffee from her neighborhood bagel place and hopped on a train over to the Bronx. We were aiming for Arthur Avenue, an ethnic Italian neighborhood that has also been called Little Italy in the Bronx. Arthur Avenue is a few streets, just a stone’s throw away from Fordham University, that is covered in ethnic Italian shops, businesses, restaurants, and cafes. There’s the covered market that reminded me of Philly’s Reading Terminal, just smaller and more Italian. We lunched at the Arthur Avenue Café, home to the best eggplant parmesan in New York City (the chef even beat Bobby Flay!). It was pretty good too. As was the mozzarella caprese (oh my goodness, REAL balsamic vinegar! I’ve never seen its equal) and the Caesar salad I had. But, my friends, the cannoli. The CANNOLI! Our waiter claimed that it was the best on Arthur Avenue, and boy, was he right! I ate half a dozen all by myself (though not all at once).

That evening, we changed our cuisine of choice, and dined at the Café Henri, in Long Island City (Queens). The Café Henri is a little, ex-BYOB filled to the gills with ambience and tasty Bellinis. I had a sweet sausage and chevre crepe. It was delicious. The goat cheese was warmed to almost melting point as it hit my tongue and disappeared in a haze of delight. We followed dinner up with drinks at the LIC Bar, where there’s a photo booth, good music and beer, and fontina and sage grilled cheese sandwiches!

Indolence

2008-03-12T14:38:00.000-04:00

This was most certainly a weekend of sloth and indolence. Granted, my GF and I did take several walks (including running errands in the thundering rain showers that Philly had on Saturday), but most of the weekend was spent lolling around in bed, drinking pineapple orange juice and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But, oh, the food! I sure did have some good eating.

On Saturday, I decided to reacquaint myself with my (disruptive and aggravating) oven. I haven’t used it since December, when I had to call maintenance when it took over an hour to heat up (and there went my visions of Christmas cookies). But I decided to be adventurous and see if I could coax it to work. It did, and I got a lovely, rosemary-scented roasted chicken as a prize. I love roasting chickens—it is one thing that I never fail to do well. This was a delightfully simple recipe from Marcella’s book. It only comprised of the chicken, three cloves of garlic, dried rosemary, and two tablespoons of olive oil. Pop it in a 375 degree oven for an hour and 15 minutes, basting it every 15 minutes in its own juices, and voila! You have a crispy-skinned, tender, juicy chicken.

Sunday showed up sunny and chilly for day light savings’ time. The GF had an interview in the Gayborhood, so I toddled down with her and sat in the Last Drop and drank a chai latte. Afterwards, as we walked with rumbling stomachs past the St. Patrick’s Day Parade on Broad Street, we debated what kind of food we wanted. Sandwiches? Pizza? Brunch? We finally settled on a whim for brunch at the Happy Rooster. The Happy Rooster is an eclectic little spot with a dark and cluttered bar and larger, airier dining room. It is one of those places that seem to abound in Philly, with very random decorations and beautiful old-fashioned walls and ceilings. I had chorizo hash with eggs over easy, while the GF has marinated skirt steak with potatoes and scrambled eggs. Her potatoes turned out more like Belgian French fries (think Monk’s), while her steak was delicious. My chorizo hash was very flavorful, though greasier than I would have wished. The best part was sopping up the leftovers with the crunchy toast points that accompanied my entrée. I also had a Bloody Mary, my favorite Sunday morning drink. And whoo-eee! Watch out for the Happy Rooster’s Bloodies! This one was made very strong with a lot of horseradish. Not for the faint at heart or horseradish hater!

Sunday afternoon was spent watching even more Buffy and simmering the chicken bones down into broth. I can’t really thinking of a more satisfying task. You don’t really even have to do anything, except watch the heat and skim off the fat if you so please. My broth came out a little fatty for my taste, but I’ll be able to skim that off when I want to use the broth. The most satisfying part is that I now have 4 tupperware containers of chicken broth in my freezer, just ready to be thawed and used in any number of soups, pasta sauces, vegetable dishes, and even quinoa to give it a little extra flavor. Nothing like setting food by for later use.

My favorite culinary happening of the weekend actually took place on Monday, which was an extension of the weekend anyway because I stayed home from work to nurse a cold. I made spaghetti with rosemary and butter sauce. Rosemary. Butter. The slightest eseence of garlic. Pasta. Combine all of that in a warm, Parmesan covered bowl of comfort, Italian style. It was so delicious. It wasn’t at all how I envisioned it—instead of being very buttery or very rosemary ridden, the tastes all blended together and became creamy with the addition of the Parmesan cheese. I think I’ll be making more tonight—it was delicious.

Wanted: Culinary Muse

2008-03-07T09:52:00.001-05:00

Hi, all.

I'm so sorry about the lack of posts recently. I've lost my motivation somewhere in the last week or so! But don't worry; I've put out an advertisement for a culinary muse and I'm sure one will find me soon.

In the meantime, I'll leave you a list of the food-related things that I've been pondering:
-extra-chopped salads--why?
-pasta with sage-butter sauce. Heaven in a pan.
-broccoli
-food related websites (thoughtfully recommended by fellow blogger Court): Chowhound and Yelp. Both are looking to be awesome resources and I'll be exploring them in conjunction with this blog in the near future.
-I also recently joined PhillyBlog. I'm in love.
-Revamping the look of this blog. Any suggestions?

Don't worry. I'll be back soon, with good food to write about!

A Saucy Trio

2008-02-19T16:02:00.000-05:00

As I stated some months ago, I have wanted to delve deeper into the world of Italian cuisine. As my first step, I went straight to the American icon of Italian cooking—Marcella Hazan. My, oh, my. What a woman! An Italian immigrant, she taught cooking lessons in the kitchen of her apartment. She later went on to teach at many cooking schools and write several cookbooks (for details of her career, check here http://www.harpercollins.com/authors/4331/Marcella_Hazan/index.aspx or here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcella_Hazan.)

I chose Essentials of Italian Cooking, published in 1992, as my starting book. And I’m still stuck on it. The book is actually a compilation of two of Marcella’s earlier books, Classic Italian Cooking and More Classic Italian Cooking. It is wonderful. Beautiful. Inspiring. I read it like a novel. Marcella describes the major components of Italian cooking in simple yet elegant prose, and provides regional culinary history as well as recipes. I have a lot more work to do with it; I’m sure there will be a lot more posts pertaining to Marcella and me.

But today, I present to you three pasta sauces. The first one I’d like to share was the least spectacular of the three, “aio e oio” or Roman garlic and oil sauce. A terribly simple sauce, it has just garlic, olive oil, and red pepper flakes as ingredients. The heated through combination coats the spaghetti just so, and the whole is a delightfully piquant, salty delight. Delightful as it was, it wasn’t particularly thrilling. Good, but not wonderful. The best part about it, honestly, was that it was nice and quick and uses ingredients that I always have on hand.

The second sauce I want to share with you is actually the one I’ve made most recently—in fact, I’ll be finishing up the leftovers tonight! A tomato sauce with San Marzano canned whole tomatoes, sautéed vegetables and olive oil. This is a hearty sauce, with a blunt taste and simple veggies (carrots, celery, and onion). It is actually a nice choice for winter as well, because it’s a little on the heavy side and warms you up. It also has a teasing taste of sunshine and summer from the tomatoes that’s just the thing in the middle of dark and dreary February.

I am the biggest fan of this last sauce: tomato sauce with garlic and basil. Yet another charmingly simple recipe, this sauce is, hand’s down, one of the more amazing things I’ve ever cooked for myself. The taste is the perfect blend of salt, pungent canned tomatoes (though I can’t wait to try it with fresh), and the soft and subtle sweetness of the basil. It was phenomenal. I was incredibly surprised by the depth of the taste of such a simple dish! The flavors were clean, the pasta was al dente, and the entire contents came together into a sublime whole.

Sandwiches!

2008-02-18T14:31:00.000-05:00

The wonderful GF sent me this link from this month's Esquire magazine:

http://www.esquire.com/features/food-drink/sandwiches--the Best Sandwiches in America.

Philly is holding its own against the rest of the country with 2 entries:
-One for the roast pork and provolone sandwich as John's Roast Pork, at 14 East Snyder Avenue.
-One for the chicken cutlet at Shank's and Evelyn's Luncheonette, at 932 South 10th Street.

I haven't gone to either of them, but now I want to visit both! Check it out!

Desire Fulfilled

2008-02-05T11:48:00.000-05:00

Do you ever wake up in the morning and want something? Just unaccountably desire it? You hadn’t been thinking about it at all previously but all of a sudden you want it? So much you can almost taste it? I do. Sometimes. I certainly did on Saturday morning. I awoke at the obscenely early hour of 8:30 and left my girlfriends sweetly sleeping behind me in bed, made tea, and sat down with a book. That’s when the craving hit.

I wanted a mimosa. A fresh, bubbly glass of orange juice and all the charm that champagne always brings. I really, really wanted one. I felt that if I had a mimosa at my side at that moment, life would be complete.

However, not possessing either champagne, orange juice, or the budget for a brunch out, it looked like I would be out of luck. But! I still had half a bottle of blood orange soda that I picked up from Trader Joe’s the other evening and a bottle of Absolute in my freezer. Those would be delightful together, I thought. But then I decided it wouldn’t be the same without enough food to cushion the alcohol and of course, that food needed to be brunch food. With a bound, I woke up my sweetly sleeping girlfriend and dragged her to the grocery store in my apartment complex. There we picked up, among other things, the essentials: organic eggs and bacon.

I played sous chef to my GF while she heated up butter in my (one, lone) skillet. Then, submerging slices of bread in whipped eggs and vanilla extract, I handed the drip pieces to her. And let me tell you, she makes amazing French toast. I don’t often eat French toast because it’s so often too sweet and complex for me. But this was beautifully simple, just eggs and vanilla and spattering of cinnamon at the end when it was served. It even kept well and I ate a piece this morning for breakfast as well.

The rest of brunch—bacon done to a perfect crisp and then eggs scrambled in the drippings with herbs de Provence to provide a light touch of flavor to balance all the heaviness—was delightful. And spiked blood orange juice was the absolute perfect accompaniment.

Leftovers

2008-01-29T16:22:00.000-05:00

This weekend, I returned to my quest for a food repertoire. I also indulged one of my (many) other great loves: leftovers. I find leftovers incredibly useful. I most often cook with the expectation that I will have at least one lunch left over at the end of it. With my new busier schedule as I pick up shifts at the Café, I’ve found that weekends are a great time for cooking up a mess, throwing it into the fridge, and eating it for the next couple of days.

Sunday afternoon, after a delightful brunch of yogurt parfaits and ginger pancakes made by the lovely Miss C. (of Not Quite Vegan fame), found me chopping broccoli and draining chick peas in my kitchen. I had a little over an hour until I needed to run off to the Café for my evening shift. I had returned to my scant cookbook collection, looking for something that was interesting yet simple, healthy and flavorful. I thought that this recipe for lemony broccoli and chickpea rigatoni would fit the bill quite nicely. I found it in the Food and Wine Annual Cook Book: An Entire Year of Recipes 2007. I think I found this on sale at a Barnes and Noble one day and bought it on impulse. The book is pretty, but most of the recipes are pretty impractical. I’m sure I’ll give it some more chances at some point, but I’ll probably not return to it any time soon.

This dish, crated by Manhattan chef Marc Meyer, is indeed simple and flavorful. There’s quite a lot of olive oil—the chickpeas are soaked in olive oil and lemon, while the broccoli is also sautéed in more oil. But the end product was quite nice. The rigatoni provided a lovely little hide-out for lemon-laden chick peas. I’m not very fond of chick peas, but I think I like them in this dish. The real winner, however, is the broccoli. First blanched and then lightly sautéed to tenderness and peak sweetness, the florets soaked in both the lemon and the olive oil, so each bite is full and delicious. The broccoli approaches sublime heights of broccoli-lemon-oily goodness when sprinkled with parmesan cheese. The dish has reheated rather well, so I think it is a good lunch choice.

On other food fronts, I am simultaneously reading The United States of Arugula (by David Kamp) and Marcella Hazan’s Classic Italian Cooking. My biggest problem is which to read at any given time. I suspect that this blog will be Italian-cuisine heavy for a little while….

Salad days are here again

2008-01-22T14:52:00.000-05:00

It has been a busy time, here in Philadelphia. Amidst sautéing peppers and onions, boiling Brussels sprouts, and braising kale (so good!), I started a new job. I should say, an additional job. In addition to my boring office job, I have embarked on a part-time job in the Café, near the university I work at.

This isn’t just any café, like Starbucks or even Bucks County Coffee (a local chain here in PA). There are, at the moment, only 2 locations, both located in the University City area of West Philly or in Center City (a third is slated to open in June). It centers around Italian-style sandwiches and made-to-order salads. There’s also an espresso bar, to fuel the caffeine addiction of the student body. The owner is a local man, and he’s super nice and committed to producing a good product for his customers. And get this: the Café uses all natural and organic products, including free range chicken, organic dressings, and locally produced cheeses. Even the chips and snack foods they sell are natural. This Café is pretty serious about patronizing independent businesses. Be still, my beating heart.

I’ve only worked a couple of shifts—but the other employees are friendly, the restaurant busy, and the tasks generally pretty easy. I have years of food service experience behind me and it actually feels good to get back to it. Tying my hair up in a bandana, throwing on an apron, dashing to and fro with precariously balanced containers in my hands. You’ll most likely find me behind the counter throwing sandwiches on to the grill to heat them up (and burning my fingers as well) or making salads as huge waves of people roll in from the semi-Arctic January air.

Here’s how we make salads: people pick up a container of either romaine or spring mix from the shelves and a little slip of paper. They then circle the ingredients they want, the type of dressing, and whether they want it tossed or chopped and for here or to go. We have your normal salad fixings—carrots, tomatoes, sunflower seeds, cheddar cheese. And we also have really exciting ingredients: ricotta salata, Portobello mushrooms, balsamic chicken, chick peas, lentils, capers, mango, dried pineapple, soy nuts, beets, radishes, and pepperocinis. That’s not all. The salad dressings are absolutely divine—a universal favorite is the rosemary balsamic vinaigrette, but the thai sesame lime and the soy ginger are quite popular as well. I can’t help but critique people’s choices in salad fixings—it really is great fun. There’s the guys who want both kinds of chicken and cheddar cheese with romaine, and the girls who want spring mix, chick peas, and lentils with no dressing at all. Then there’s everything in the middle. The combinations that people come up with! Whew—it is almost exhausting to think about.

The thing I just cannot wrap my around is chopped salads. A light chop, sure, I get that. But some of these people (girls—mostly young, college aged women, to be honest) want these things chopped within an inch of their salad-y lives. Suddenly, what was looking like a very pleasant salad with fresh mozzarella and chicken has been turned into a strange looking mass of tiny pieces of unidentifiable food. My coworkers said it’s a pretty major fad in the salad world. I don’t think I understand it. Any insights, my loyal readers?

Delight

2008-01-04T13:43:00.000-05:00

So, the winter holidays have come and gone in a flurry of vacation, fun, and even a little snow. Oh, and food. A lot of food.

I ate ham and biscuits, corn soufflé, and fried chicken at a Winter Solstice bonfire. Those were washed down by gin and tonics that were a tad too cold for the evening. I ate homemade pesto, organic cheese, kale, and other delightful foods at my dad’s house—all the foods that remind me of my childhood and adolescence. Then there was my mother’s potato latkes a couple of weeks too late for Chanukah. And on Christmas day, there were pancakes with dried beef gravy, sauerkraut with pork, stewed tomatoes, mashed potatoes, and ferociously spiked eggnog.

And that’s not all! There was also chicken and white bean chili on Boxing Day and milk shakes on New Year’s Eve. And lasagana, peppermint stick ice cream, and homemade hard cider in Connecticut. Oh, and could I forget the cheddar cheese and apples, and the creamy-smooth gruyere and crackers?

All in all, good eating.

I came home to Philadelphia after ten days away and was genuinely at a loss for a little while. What did I want to eat? What did I want to cook?

The answer: Brussels sprouts. I’m obsessed with Brussels sprouts. Last night I washed a handful of them and sliced them while sweet onions sweated over low heat until they were translucent. Then I added the sprouts with a splash of water and let them cook until they were tender and so incredibly sweet. Then I served them up with a side of spaghetti (liberally tossed with herbs de Provence), sprinkled with fontina, asiago, and parmesan cheese. So delicious.

The key to good Brussels sprouts is to not overcook them. Overcooking not only causes bland and mushy sprouts, but also deprives them of their not inconsiderable nutrients. I liked my dish from last night mostly because it was a nice—but beautifully simple—variation on normal steamed Brussels sprouts. I think the recipe could be tweaked by using shallots, for a more delicate onion taste, or a splash of white wine instead of water.

Favorite Things

2007-12-12T14:46:00.001-05:00

Ahhh, December. What a wet and weary, dreary, dreary December we’ve been having here in Philadelphia. I rant and wail about how much I hate winter-time—and for the most part, its true—but there’s some things that I remember from winters past that stick with me in pleasing memories. Like curling up in a warm bed in the warm darkness of a winter’s morning. Like hot chocolate. Like those beautiful, clear clear clear, blue days that are sunny and bitingly cold. Yeah, you know those days. The kinds of days that we just haven’t had yet.

Winter, I must admit, is getting me down. So here’s a list of my three most recent food favorites:

1) Wisconsin Mammoth cheddar cheese from Whole Foods. I don’t know what it is about this cheese. It is yellow and creamy with enough of a bite to satisfy that cheese craving. It is delightful. Delicious. I can barely keep it in my fridge long enough to share it with my cheese-loving girlfriend.

2) Tuscan bread from Whole Foods. I am actually a very picky bread eater. I don’t often eat it because I tend to be very unimaginative. But when I was grocery shopping at my local Whole Foods last weekend, I decided I wanted a nice loaf. Something freshly baked. Something smooth and delightful—not too chewy—not whole grain. I saw the Tuscan loaf and it looked just perfect. And it was, as light and airy as it was, with a delicious aftertaste of olive oil. Oh, it was. I almost ate half of the loaf when I got home. The Tuscan loaf is well on its way to being a staple.

3) Endless Feasts: 60 years of writing from Gourmet Magazine, edited by Ruth Reichl. What a lovely set of essays. Many of them hark back to ages past with much different theories about food—even as recently as the 1970s. This day and age looks at food so much and often seems to not really see it. You should read this book, though. Its yummy.

Oh! I lied! There’s 4 things on my list!

4) The shortbread recipe that I will be baking tonight. More on that later!

Quick Thanksgiving Rundown

2007-11-26T13:29:00.000-05:00

Well, here I am--back at work after a glorious 4 day holiday weekend. Of course, I'm updating the blog instead of catching up on work-related emails, tasks, and reading other blogs...

I had 2 Thanksgivings (I'm mighty grateful for THAT in and of itself):

The first at my aunt's house in North Carolina included:
-Roast turkey marinated over night in apple cider and apple brandy, served with apple cider and thyme gravey
-potato gratin with parmesan, onions, and mushrooms
-something that involved butternut squash that I didn't eat but was apparently undercooked
-stuffing
-brussels sprouts (fast becoming one of my favortie vegetables) sauteed in butter with shallots and lemon
-three different types of bread, including pumpkin cranberry bread and pan rustico
-and for dessert: pumpkin custard pie, tres leches cake, cranberry bread, and homemade pecan pie. The pumpkin custard and the tres leches were to DIE for.

The second at my mother's house in Virginia:
-Good old-fashioned roast turkey. Yum.
-"In the bird" stuffing which featured onions and sausage--one of my FAVORITE Thanksgiving foods
-RUM CREAM PIE
-peas
-carrots cooked with butter and brown sugar
-homemade mashed potatoes
-homemade pumpkin pie
-Did I mention the Rum Cream Pie??

All in all, two lovely Thanksgivings. As I have gained about 10 pounds in the past week, I think I'll be eating salads for the foreseeable future. Stay tuned as I attempt to make holiday treats for my friends and family! I hope y'all had wonderful, filling, fattening, and safe Thanksgivings.

Mercury in Retrograde

2007-11-13T13:14:00.000-05:00

Well, here we are—almost the middle of November and my plate is still festooned with culinary failures. Well, one failure and one success. Mercury is still in retrograde (has been since the middle of October and responsible for all sorts of celestial mishaps) and will be until around the 17th. Even if Mercury’s path across the zodiac has nothing to do with my cooking skills, I’m going to blame him all the same.

Last week, I attempted a frittata. A simple one. Zucchini and pecorino. You’d think that a girl can’t wrong with some eggs and a few simple ingredients. I certainly thought that. Little did I know…

I ruined it. Absolute disaster. Burnt the outside while the middle remained, to the bitter end, absolutely uncooked, runny egg. My pan was too small. My heat was apparently too high. But these are mistakes I have made before and from which I have been able to recover. But not so this time. I think that was one of the worst cooking disasters of mine yet—especially when you considered the mess I had made. I had egg all over my kitchen and almost all over me.

So, dear readers, you will be happy to know that the next night I got back on the horse and tried something else new. And this was a success! I made quinoa. I’ve never really eaten this grain, but have wanted to get into it because of its healthy qualities. I’m a big pasta fan but try not to eat too much. Quinoa, a grain that has much more protein than most others, is a good substitute in some of the recipes I make and also gives me a wider range of dishes at which to try my hand. I think next time I’m going to try making quinoa in chicken or vegetable broth to give it a little extra flavor.

So. Thus far, my quest for a repertoire has only been a little successful. I have gained a staple but not too many ideas of what to do with it.

Stay tuned for next week: I have a celebratory birthday dinner that I’m making this weekend that I’m sure will be a success!

Repertoires and other musings

2007-10-30T13:58:00.001-04:00

Long time, no entry. Oops.

I haven’t been cooking much recently—a busy schedule and a lack of foresight are the obstacles that seem to get standing in my way. Twice in a row now—twice!—I’ve gone to grocery store with out a list of any kind. I haven’t really given any forethought to what I want to make—which is good sometimes, for spontaneity’s sake but can also be bad (especially when it results in the strange mess of veggies that I sautéed last night and ate over whole wheat bread).

I am not a very spontaneous person. I like to plan things, to know where I stand, whether in the kitchen or out of it. I like the simplicity and straightforward nature of following a recipe. I’m not fond of tweaking, at least not at first. But what really restricts me when it comes to cooking is something else I lack: a repertoire.

I only seriously started cooking for myself about a year and a half ago. Before that I would half-heartedly make cookies and spend several days each summer churning out cups of pesto for the winter’s freezer, but that was really the extent of my interest. I don’t really have a basis for my cooking—there are very few dishes that I can make off the top of my head without a recipe. Sometimes I think this is a good thing—it means I’ll be constantly trying new things. But on a cold and tired Monday evening, when all I have is a handful of okra, tomatoes, onion, and frozen asparagus spears (I have more than that, I promise, but I wasn’t in the mood for it or it didn’t lend itself to the veggies)—it would’ve been nice to have a fall back.

I won’t lie—I’m certainly getting there. I have a tomato sauce recipe under my belt that is both rich and creamy and ridiculously easy to make (I stole the recipe from Orangette, who in turn took it from the talented Marcella Hazan). I have my sautéed fallback—a wonderful, easy dinner that consists of whatever I have lying around sautéed in olive oil and seasoned with salt, pepper, oregano, and parsley. I often put it over pasta, but bread, salad greens, or by itself works just as well. But that’s really it.

So. It seems clear to me that my next step is to work on my repertoire—be on the lookout in the coming weeks and months as I try to build one! We’ll see how successful this will be. At the moment, I’ve been eyeing recipes for frittatas, salad dressings, and quick chicken or turkey dishes. But I also want to experiment much much more with soups and pasta dishes, explore the world of quinoa, and maybe even branch out into baking desserts and breads. I’m also narrowing down my interests in cuisines—after several attempts to be fascinated by French cooking, I find that it just doesn’t resonate with me. I think Italian and Indian are those that most catch my interest. But we’ll see. I’m hoping that my horizons expand beyond my expectations. Any suggestions or help would be much appreciated—leave words of wisdom in the comments!

My Stomach Overfloweth with Grease (or: what not to eat, by Queasy)

2007-10-05T16:04:00.001-04:00

As you can probably tell by Cheesy’s last post, she has quite the penchant for those food carts. And for good reason too—they’re cheap, readily available, and they always smell so tempting. Being a tad snobbish, I have always stubbornly walked past them, mostly due my mother’s incessant talk of the value of “real” food that has been ingrained into my conscious meal choices. But food is food, right? Are not all eggs valued equal? Should not a hungry woman indulge every once in awhile? What’s in a bad egg? All important questions to ponder.

On the subject of eggs, I have been craving them for weeks. Too lazy / too hassled to cook, I have been tempted by the wafting smell of breakfast carts along Market Street ever since I began my new job. I held out for over three months before I had enough. An egg sandwich for $1.25? I couldn’t believe my eyes. If the price was right, how bad could it be?

Indeed, it certainly looked wonderful. Two eggs on a huge hoagie roll, with ketchup on top. I could go on forever about the value of ketchup and hot sauce (which I recently discovered after moving to Philadelphia), but that is a topic for another post. I was hungry, so it probably tasted better than it actually was. Delightful nonetheless. I vowed to never neglect eggs again!

Less than one hour later, the stomach pains began, which curbed my appetite for the rest of the day (but rest assured, did not stop me from eating lunch). I was annoyed, to say the least. What could it have been? Ketchup, eggs, a roll…what went wrong?? Perhaps I DID get a bad egg. More likely, it was probably the grease that did me in. As I have grown older, I have sadly learned that my stomach is not as…supple…as it used to be. Gone are the days of yore when I could eat an entire bag of Doritos and still eat dinner without an issue. I still love the smell of those food trucks, but I will not be returning to purchase a $1.25 egg sandwich any time soon.

Regretfully yours,

Queese

Upheaval, Distress, and Street Food

2007-10-04T13:00:00.000-04:00

Hello, poor readers. This blog of ours has been neglected of late, hasn’t it? We do apologize, but life has gotten in the way recently. (What do you mean, life got in the way? How does life get in the way of eating??) Well, life doesn’t get in the way of eating, but it certainly gets in the way of cooking.

Cheesy and Queesy have been having quite a time, indeed. One of us has been traveling all over the East Coast on the weekends and she has her own tales of foods good and bad. I have just been dealing with apartment woes. Remember the new apartment that I waxed poetic about a couple of entries ago? The one with the spacious and sunny kitchen? Well, it did not turn into the long-term home that I hoped it would be. What with badly cooked fish and crazy roommates, Cheesy is on the move again, this time to a tiny studio in a big high rise in the Art Museum area of Philadelphia.

Due to the high level of discomfort in that apartment, I have not spent much time in the kitchen, which saddens me to no end. You see, when I’m really upset, I don’t eat that much because my stomach hurts. But when some of that stress has abated but I’m still troubled in spirit, I eat. I would have loved to sit down with a bowl of pasta tossed with a little olive oil and the last of summer’s fresh tomatoes and soft, slightly melted mozzarella cheese. Or made a large pot of soup and read while it simmered gently on the stove. Instead, I’ve been studiously avoiding the awkward apartment and, when I’m actually there, keeping to my room (which is no where near the kitchen).

So, there have been very few chances to play with new or old recipes. But I have been exploring the exciting world of……street food!

Philadelphia—especially the area around the University of Pennsylvania’s campus where I work—is absolutely teeming with food trucks and vendors. My favorite so far is the Mexi-Philly burrito truck, located on Spruce somewhere between 36th and 38th. This truck offers several different kinds of burritos, including tofu, eggplant, and roasted pepper. But my favorite by far is the $2.25 bean burrito that is both tasty and filling. For so little money, you get a nice sized burrito with refried and blacks beans, rice, cheese, and your choice of fresh salsa inside it. If you’re not up for a burrito, right next door is the crepe truck that offers both sweet and savory crepes for about $5. There is a myriad other cuisines offered, from Chinese to Middle Eastern (there are several great falafel trucks) to your normal hoagies, hot dogs, and fries. And, as always, there’s the inevitable and invaluable Wawa!

Eating cheaply has always been a challenge for me. But, through self-imposed exile from my own kitchen, I think I’m starting to learn the art.

Eating the Amish

2007-09-24T12:19:00.000-04:00

Food is the great equalizer. Everyone needs to eat to stay alive, everyone experiences hunger. However, we all eat different things. Food is very indicative of the customs, traditions, and belief systems of different cultures and I find it simply fascinating to learn how/what other people eat. That being said, I decided to take a little adventure out to Pennsylvania Dutch Country this weekend to accomplish two things: ride in an Amish buggy and eat traditional Amish food. Check and check.

I had done extensive research (read as: checked a few web pages at work) on what the Amish eat. They eat foods that are laden in calories and fat in order to sustain them when they are hard at work in the fields. Vegetarians and the health conscious beware. But apparently the Amish have long life spans, so they must be immune to the artery-clogging that plagues the rest of us unfortunate Americans…?

They are a hearty people and so is their cuisine. They are of the fried chicken and potatoes persuasion, but it was the desserts that particularly interested me. Pie seemed to be the Amish dessert of choice and we had quite a selection that ranged from all the fruits to other denser, sugary fillings. With names like woopie pie, bear claws, and shoo-fly pie, how could you go wrong? Though there was an unfortunate deficiency of chocolate in Amish grub, sugar and sweets abound in traditional bakeries that seemingly present themselves every few feet on the road.

Our fearless group indulged in shoo-fly pie, an almond bear claw, and a sugar-free cranberry loaf for good measure. The Amish are best known for their shoo-fly pie, which is a simple, though fulfilling, dessert. It is basically a pie that is stuffed with no more than dark molasses and sugar, which oozed out of the side of the crust with the consistency of glue. Though I was initially hesitant about how it would taste, I found that the gooey, molten molasses was actually quite tasty (though very sweet). It had a very flaky and crumbly crust that broke easily, but it was easily harnessed onto my fork thanks to the paste-like consistency of the molasses.

Although I left Lancaster, PA with a stomachache, I think that the lesson here is clear: if you are going to eat your way through Amish country, do not eat a bar of chocolate for breakfast before you go.

Success and Failure--Cheesy Style

2007-09-20T15:52:00.000-04:00

I simply adore my new neighborhood. I love Philly anyway, but, I swear—this is true love. The tree-lined streets, the three-story houses, moms and dads pushing their kids on bicycles to schools…it’s simply lovely. And it really has the feel of a real neighborhood. One where you learn people’s names and recognize them on the street, instead just joining the faceless thousands of people who walk the streets of Philadelphia.

Did this all of a sudden become a different kind of blog, you ask? Are these two girls not going to discuss food anymore? Don’t worry. It’s still about food. The friendly nature of my new neighborhood got to me—that and the fact that my room is mostly put together now—and I entertained for the first time. My lovely blogging counterpart Queesy came to my house for an “oops, we’re Jewish and missed the high holidays!” dinner.

Our menu was not ambitious, not ambitious at all. My lovely counterpart brought apples and honey so we could celebrate a sweet new year as well as a cucumber and a beautiful perfectly ripe tomato for an Israeli inspired salad. I was going to do one of my favorite things: roast a chicken. I was also going to reach back to my Southern roots and make cheesy, creamy, oh-so-delightful grits. We also made a quick side trip to my neighborhood wine and spirits store and bought a bottle of Chianti. Not so much for the pairing, just because we both like red wine and wanted to explore the Chianti world.

So we had the wine, the apples, the unambitious menu. I prepared the chicken and put it into the oven, seriously tempting fate as this was the first time I had tried this oven out. We ate the salad: the cool cucumber and the juicy tomato tossed in olive oil and balsamic vinegar with salt and pepper. It was heavenly—just the right fresh start after a long day. The coolness also suited us as the oven heated up the kitchen while the chicken roasted.

Everything was going great…until the grits came. Up until this time, I worried mainly about the chicken. Why would I need to worry about the grits? I’ve been eating them for years. Until I remembered that I always always used measuring cups and spoons whenever I made grits. And I don’t have any in my new apartment (believe me, they’re on my list now). Grits do not lend themselves to ‘winging it.’ Instead of being hot and creamy, tangy with pepper and sharp cheddar cheese, my grits were watery, runny, and ultimately inedible.

Thank goodness my roommate had made rice and was willing to share.

To add insult to injury (in a sulky way), there was no reason that I should have worried about the chicken. None at all! It came out beautifully. The skin was crisp and golden and melted like butter (admittedly, that’s essentially what it was) in your mouth. The meat was tender and juicy, and the whole bird was essentially divine. I wish I had time to boil it down for stock, but this week is a little busy for me. I am, however, looking forward to making chicken salad tonight for tomorrow’s lunch.

The moral of this story? Don’t trust a transplanted southern girl when she says she knows how to makes grits. Because—at least in my personal experience—she might be lying to you.

A Cheesy Family

2007-09-13T14:23:00.000-04:00

My family, like my counterpart’s, is rather entrenched in the culinary arts. Take my immediate family, for example: my mother has been cooking amazing dishes for as along as I can remember and my father, after decided to live an organic, vegetarian lifestyle, taught himself to cook in ways that are healthy and environmentally friendly. My older sister was making soufflés and a mean crème brulee at a very young age. I was actually a late bloomer where cooking is involved—it took me till after my 3rd year of college to really get into it.

Then there’s my extended family. My aunt and uncle down in Georgia will cook multi-course meals at family reunions (there’s between 30 and 50 of all us!!). My father’s sister collects different kinds of salt and uses them to brine the turkey at Thanksgiving (it goes so well with the potatoes mashed with mascarpone cheese). My bubbe (my paternal grandmother) made the BEST noodle kuggel I’ve ever tasted. I know that every good Jewish girl says that, but this time it’s true. I swear.

Then there’s my grandfather—my mother’s father. We called him Grampy-Dad. Did he have some cooking stories! All of us grandkids used to sit down with him in the TV room of my grandparents’ house in Annapolis, Maryland and eat Fritos and dip and watch TV and nap. On Sunday mornings, he would make pancakes and dried beef gravy. I have never eaten dried beef gravy that can even come close to Grampy-Dad’s. It was creamy and savory with the salty bite from the dried beef to counteract the sweetness of the pancakes. He would stand over my mother’s shoulder—and mine when it was my turn last year—and make sure we roasted the Thanksgiving and Christmas turkeys just right. He was an adventuresome cook sometimes, but almost always returned to the food that he was raised on. Good Southern home-cooking with lots of grits for breakfast.

Grampy-Dad also had his idiosyncrasies and quirks when it came to food. He abhorred carrots. He had a strong appreciation for good French cooking, especially vichyssoise. He once spent an entire summer trying to make a watermelon pie—he was ultimately unsuccessful.

“You know why?” he asked me when he told me the story.

“Why, Grampy-Dad?” I replied.

“Its too damn watery!” (This said with a grin of impish delight).

But what I remember most vividly was his choice of beverage—one that I’ve inherited. Almost every evening that I’ve ever seen, Grampy-Dad sat down to a Beefeater gin martini with 3 olives on the rocks. No vermouth. Nothing but ice, cold gin, and green olives. I remember eating those gin soaked olives as a child and I also remember when I was finally old enough to join in this ritual. It was almost like a rite of passage. I remember my mother telling me about when Grampy-Dad finally let her join him. While it was a casual enough situation, I felt like I was following in the footsteps of my mother when I took that first, bitterly cold sip.

Grampy-Dad passed away last Thursday night in his sleep. The fibrosis of his heart and lungs had been getting pretty bad—he was frailer than I had ever seen him when I joined him to celebrate his birthday in early August. I spent the weekend in a whirlwind of family: eating, drinking, mourning, and remembering. My grandfather was a good man—an amazing, intelligent, and warm-hearted man. As we ate his favorite foods and drank his favorite drinks this weekend, I realized what was missing.

So last night, on my walk home from work, I picked up a bottle of Beefeater. I poured it into a tumbler with ice and 3 green olives and then I sat down at my kitchen table and drank Grampy-Dad’s martini and remembered him.

I miss you, Grampy-Dad. May you rest in peace.

Tofugies?

2007-08-30T14:19:00.000-04:00

I am a poser-vegetarian. Meaning, that when trying to decide between the cheeseburger and the black pinto bean burger, nine times out of ten I'll go with the veggie option. This is primarily for health reasons and to rationalize the ice cream that I had eaten for breakfast. I say "poser vegetarian" because I sometimes get the urge to transform my (admittedly preppy) self into one of those skinny-jeans-wearing, tofu-loving hipster chicks that frequent my West Philadelphia 'hood.

So, where do the vegetarian hippies and hipsters go when they crave a hoagie, one of the staples of the Philadelphian's diet? They flock to the Fu Wah Market, located on 47 th and Baltimore Ave., where they can purchase one of the famous tofu hoagies for a mere $3.00 and change. Personally, I have been dying to go to this place for ages. It's cheap, quick, and convenient, but some of my die-hard carnivore friends bemoan the bastardization of their precious hoagie when I beg them to join me in my quest.

Last night, however, I got my chance. When I sat down to unwrap my hoagie, I discovered a pleasantly spicy and fresh cilantro smell wafting from the wrapping. Thanks to the Vietnamese-influence of the Fu Wah owners, the spices were incredible. Sweet onions and tiny slices of carrot garnished the top of the hoagie roll. I had never tasted such sweet onions in my life! To compliment the sweetness, a few lone jalapeño peppers lay hidden under the layers of fried tofu, which made for a tantalizing combination of sweet and (very) spicy. Of course, one could ask the hoagie-makers to hold the peppers, but I do so enjoy living on the edge. The tofu itself had been marinated in some type of cilantro-Asian/fusion mixture and then fried, but the firmness of the tofu had not been ruined by the marinade.

The only caveat that I have with the "tofugie" is that the bread was sub-par. The white bread (I usually prefer wheat) was too crusty and mundane for my liking. Bread can definitely make or break a sandwich and this hoagie roll sadly didn't do the tofu justice. But for a mere $3, I'd return to this vegetarian's heaven again and again.

Hoagies or subs?

2007-08-29T11:21:00.000-04:00

–noun, plural -gies. New Jersey and Pennsylvania (chiefly Philadelphia ).
a hero sandwich.
Also, hoagie.

[Origin: 1965–70, Americanism; a number of anecdotal hypotheses have been advanced as to the orig. of the word, most claiming it to be derivative of hog, either in reference to pork as an ingredient, or as an epithet for a person capable of eating such a sandwich, or alluding to Hog Island, an industrial and shipping area of South Philadelphia; but corroborating evidence is lacking; see -ie ]

Cheesy here. Its been a busy week and will only get busier: I’m moving out of University City—escaping the returning UPenn students—and into the Graduate Hospital area of Center City. There has not been much in the way of culinary adventures or experiments in the kitchen. I’ve finally lost most of my patience with my present kitchen—small, dirty, badly stocked. That’s what I get for a sublet!

So I decided: instead of an account of a fine dish in a restaurant or one of my own failures or successes, I’d ruminate on something that’s been bothering me ever since I came from Virginia to the Philadelphia area: the word hoagie.

In my youth, I always knew this fine specimen of a sandwich to be a ‘sub’, short for submarine. So I looked submarine up, along with hoagie, at dictionary.com.

Submarine:
The long sandwich featuring layers of meat and cheese on a crusty Italian roll or French bread goes by a variety of names. These names are not distributed in a pattern similar to that of other regional words because their use depends on the business and marketing enterprise of the people who create the sandwiches and sell them. Submarine and sub are widespread terms, not assignable to any particular region. Many of the localized terms are clustered in the northeast United States, where the greatest numbers of Italian Americans live. In Maine, it is called an Italian sandwich, befitting its heritage. Elsewhere in New England and in Sacramento, California, it is often called a grinder. New York City knows it as a hero. In the Delaware Valley, including Philadelphia and southern New Jersey, the sandwich is called a hoagie. Speakers in Miami use the name Cuban sandwich. Along the Gulf Coast the same sandwich is often called a poor boy. In New Orleans, a poor boy is likely to be offered in a version featuring fried oysters.

When I was still in college—this was about 3 years ago during my sophomore year when I was courting my first girlfriend—I would say, “Gosh, I’d like to eat an Italian sub right now.” I’d get a look. I would repeat myself, in case I was somehow misunderstood. Then I would get the inevitable response: “You mean, an Italian hoagie, right?”

This happened a few times, and every time I wondered, where did this strange word ‘hoagie’ come from? Why is Philadelphia so strange? So, today at work, I went looking for some answers. One is supplied above. Here’s another:

Hoagie:
Amer.Eng. (originally Philadelphia) "hero, large sandwich made from a long, split roll," originally hoggie (c.1936), traditionally said to be named for Big Band songwriter Hoagland Howard "Hoagy" Carmichael (1899-1981), but the use of the word pre-dates his celebrity and the original spelling seems to suggest another source. Modern spelling is c.1945, and may have been altered by influence of Carmichael's nickname.

Wikipedia reports:
According to one reference[3], many older, Italian-descended, South Philadelphia residents, said that the real origin of the word "hoagie" arose in the late 19th-early 20th century, when there was a term "on the hoke" that was used to denote someone who was down-and-out. The word "hoke" may have been derived from a Scottish term, "howk," meaning "rummaging around." Men who were "on the hoke" would ask deli owners for handouts, who would put together scraps and off-cuts of their cheeses and meats and offer them in an Italian roll. The sandwich was known as a "hokie." The Italian immigrants, who spoke a slurred type of English, pronounced it as "hoagie."

Apparently, according to Mayor Ed Rendell, the hoagie if the official sandwich of Philadelphia (what? What happened to the famous Philly cheesesteak?). And May 5th is National Hoagie Day. Now that’s something to celebrate!

And now for....Queesy

2007-08-24T16:15:00.001-04:00

It's a hard life, growing up in a family of extraordinary cooks. Why so difficult? Well, after years of being pampered/catered to, I had discovered that I had never learned how to cook for myself! However, this does not mean that I am…not inventive…with my own food concoctions:

Exhibit A: chocolate donut, circa 1999

Hypothesis: Chocolate is ALWAYS better when melted and gooey. Therefore, chocolate + donut + microwave = brilliant.

The burning and melting that ensued delayed my willingness to experiment with food for several more years. Which brings me to the present day…

…and the reason that I (as opposed to my cooking-inclined cohort) will be presenting the forthcoming column "What Not to Eat". Brace your stomachs, readers, you're in for a bumpy ride.

Call me Cheesy...

2007-08-23T16:39:00.000-04:00

The chicken browned quite nicely and the shallots gave off their comforting smell as I prepared to pour in the chicken broth and white wine. Mmmm…this dish—braised chicken and red potatoes in a tarragon broth—had all the comforting smells of chicken soup with an added whiff of something more exotic. Of course, the exoticism could have been due to the tarragon or the fact that the white wine I had on hand to cook with was Carlo Rossi Chablis….

Since this is a first entry, I guess I should hold off on the food and talk about myself for a moment. I’m a (very) recent graduate from a women’s college and I’m living in Philadelphia for the time being as I work, muddle around the world, and decided what to do with myself. And I love food…talking about food, eating food, making food, looking at food, dreaming…you get the picture, right?

Now I’m not an expert chef, nor have I been cooking avidly for very long—only about a year. But I like to experiment and play with recipes, even if they do go badly sometimes (there’s a curry turkey dish that I made on accident that was special indeed…). And combined with my fellow cheeseordeath writer’s love of food (and our mutual passion for cheese), we decided it would be fun to give ourselves a forum by which we communicate our food joys and sorrows with the larger world. So here it is. Welcome to www.cheeseordeath.blogspot.com. I’ll call myself Cheesy (it works, really it does).

So, the braised chicken dish actually turned out really well. It was like a mix between a stew and a soup—without being either in reality. It was aromatic and hot and comforting, really just like a slightly more sophisticated version of your grandma’s chicken soup (in fact, I made it for a friend—let’s call him the Critic—who said it reminded him of something homey and family-oriented but he couldn’t put his finger on it). It wasn’t too salty, and the chicken and potatoes were nice and tender. The broth, however, was the real kicker. It was SO GOOD. It was robustly delicate (if such a thing can happen) and full of flavor.

I liked this dish so much that I’m going to experiment with it. I think that beef, beef broth, and red wine would make a different, yet just as yummy, variation on the recipe. I’m looking forward to it. I’ll post the recipe later, if wanted. Make sure to serve with a nice piece of crusty bread!