Bacon and Bakin'

No, I didn't fall off the face of the earth

2008-07-15T08:35:00.005-07:00

I've just been busy.

I won't bore you with the details, though, because you come here to read about food, not about my shenanigans.

So, after years of making tasty food that's not necessarily unique, I think I may have come up with something original and delicious that could be what my sister-in-law deemed my "signature dish." It's not so much a dish as a side dish, although adding a protein could easily make it meal.

I came up with this dish one night when I was trying to think of something salty, sweet, and fresh to serve with chicken. I had some random fruits and veggies on hand, plus an overpriced package of mint, so I decided to use all of those ingredients to make something delicious.

The result was mango pepper rice with mint. It sounds like a questionable combination, I know, but the flavors complement and enhance one another beautifully.

Of course, a recipe isn't really in the cards with me, but I can give you general proportions of each ingredient. This is one of those dishes you can tailor depending on how much you like ingredient, so if you're a big mango fan, you can throw in more a greater proportion of mango.

Mango Pepper Rice with Mint

2 parts diced mango
2 parts diced red pepper
1 part diced red onion
mint chiffonade to taste

Toss the mango, red pepper, and red onion with some olive oil and a splash of sriracha or other hot sauce (optional). Dump the mixture onto a hot grill pan. Move fruit and veggies around to prevent burning and sticking. Remove after 4-5 minutes, once everything has some slight charring and has softened a bit.

Toss mixture with hot or cold rice--jasmine, basmati, white, whatever. I find that the exact ratio above is good for two cups of uncooked rice. Season with plenty of salt, which will make the mango and red pepper taste even sweeter.

To prevent wilting, stir in mint immediately before serving.

Tastes great with chicken or pork.

The second time I made this rice, I served it with slices of pork tenderloin and peach-pineapple salsa. I'm not sure I've made a better meal in the past six months.
My sister-in-law loved the rice, and my wannabe-gourmand brother deemed it "phenomenal." Me? Well, I just call it my signature (side) dish.

KC Shopping: Smoke 'n' Fire

2008-03-12T14:06:00.015-07:00

This post is the first in a series about shopping in Kansas City. Since I'm new here, I want to see the best the city has to offer. For example: Where do they sell the best imported Italian ingredients? Where can you find awesome artisanal cheeses? Who's the best butcher in KC? Where do restaurants buy their supplies--pots and pans, dinnerware, food?

A Honda Civic my Argo, I'm in pursuit of the many Golden Fleeces this city has to offer.

My first stop on this journey was Smoke 'n' Fire, "a family owned fireplace and barbeque store established in 1998, specializing in both indoor heating and outdoor cooking." Now that I live in one of the BBQ meccas of the country, I knew I needed to find a comprehensive source for all things grilling and BBQing. With friendly, helpful employees and more spices than you'd find in Paul Prudhomme's pantry, Smoke 'n' Fire is a wonderful store for both the amateur and the professional grillmeister. Although the prices are slightly higher than what you might find at a grocery store, the selection at Smoke 'n' Fire is far more extensive than what you'd find anywhere else -- and I prefer to support local businesses and vendors.

The photos on the store's website were more than enough to convince me to drive 20 minutes to check the place out. The banner at the top of the homepage is a panoramic shot of the inside of store, showing not only the different grills and smokers, but also the aisles of cooking utensils and food products.

The site has a specials section from which I printed a page of coupons. The coupon that appealed to me most was the spice cabinet "spring cleaning": bring in any old rub, spice or seasoning and get $1 off the purchase of a new rub or seasoning. So, I condensed multiple bottles of the same spice, threw some of the nearly empty ones in a bag and looked forward to swapping out the old for the new.

I also looked forward to snapping some great shots of the inside of the store. But I was put off by the sign on the window of Smoke 'n' Fire that said something along the lines of, "No video cameras or photography permitted." I didn't ask anyone if they'd make an exception, remembering that the banner at the top of the homepage was a better shot of the whole store than I'd be able to get on my own. The banner on the site changes depending on which page of the site you navigate to, so you can pretend you're taking a mini-tour through those photos.

My own tour of the store focused completely on the retail section, which was stocked with every grilling accessory imaginable, from the standard -- wood chips and chunks, charcoal, grill brushes, sauce mops, kabob racks, thermometers -- to the unorthodox -- telescoping forks, 20" tongs with an LED flashlight, seasoned wood skewers, the "turkey cannon." The store also carries all sorts of cookware, including Lodge cast-iron products. As a single girl who's not quite ready to invest in a full-sized grill, I picked up a one-burner Lodge Logic reversible grill pan/griddle instead ($37.95).

The next step was figuring out what to cook on my new toy. An entire wall is stocked about five-feet high with rubs, marinades, spices, oils, vinegars, sauces and dry mixes. I must've looked as confused as a guy at Victoria's Secret, because after just a couple of minutes of clueless gawking, a handsome young employee sauntered over to me and asked if I needed any help. I took him up on his offer and kept him occupied with questions for at least the next 10 minutes.

He helped me pick out a sauce: Blues Hog BBQ ($5.25/pint), which he declared the best BBQ sauce ever.

He helped me pick out a rub: Obie-Cue's TX Sweet Rub ($8.00/12 oz.), which he recommended for use on chicken.

He helped me pick out a crust: Char Crust Sundried Tomato and Garlic ($6.00/4 oz.), which he said would work on any type of meat or fish. I found it at Price Chopper for a buck less, evidence that some of the products in the store can be found for (marginally) less elsewhere.

I picked out a dry mix on my own: The Garlic of Eatin' ($3.75/2 oz.).

I hauled my wares to the cash register, passing the grills as I made my way. In addition to standard Weber and Ducane grills, Smoke 'n' Fire sells custom-built grills and islands. The large showroom contains numerous examples of what you can have installed on your patio or in your backyard.

I also peeked at the kitchen, where classes are held almost every Saturday and on the occasional Thursday. Regular classes last two hours and mini-classes last one, and cost $55 and $25, respectively. Chef Richard McPeake, a regular instructor at the Culinary Center of Kansas City, teaches the majority of the classes, which are on techniques of grilling and smoking.

After staring at grills and other large things I cannot afford, I finally made it up to the cash register. I presented my coupon, which I was able to use for the rub and the crust. The lady ringing me up said the Garlic of Eatin' mix is delicious, and that the recipe on the packaging for garlic and artichoke dip is worth the calories in the mayo. With full endorsements from the staff on all of the food products I bought, I was very excited to bring them home and try them out.

The next night, I tried the Char Crust on some boneless, skinless chicken. The grill pan did its job, creating perfect, parallel sear marks on the chicken. A little rotating created those awesome hatchmarks.

And the Char Crust did its job, too, forming a flavorful, not-too-salty crust wherever it was dredged on the chicken.

With or without BBQ sauce, the chicken was delicious. I used a very small amount of the Char Crust on the two breasts I cooked, so I think I'd be able to coat at least another dozen. I'm looking forward to tasting the other products I bought at Smoke 'n' Fire, as the Char Crust didn't disappoint and the grill pan made a fine debut.

If you like to grill, BBQ, smoke or do any sort of cooking, head over to Smoke 'n' Fire. Don't bring your camera, but do bring an appetite for grilling -- and some coupons of those printable coupons.

Smoke 'n' Fire
8030 W. 151st St.
Overland Park, KS 66223
913.685.1111
www.smokenfire.com

So much better

2008-03-10T14:20:00.004-07:00

My remedy for flavorless chicken worked like a charm.

Behold, chicken and waffles.

Sitting atop a buttery waffle and then doused with syrup and hot sauce, Stroud's chicken undergoes a complete transformation. At once sweet, salty and savory, this is the royal treatment for chicken.

Review: Stroud's

2008-03-10T00:04:00.002-07:00

I went to an institution yesterday. Yes, I'm fine. No, the walls weren't padded. And no, I didn't have to wear a straight jacket. It wasn't that kind of institution.

In Kansas City, Stroud's is an institution people willingly go to. There aren't any barred windows or nurses in white uniforms, but rather pan-fried chicken and whole lot of history. I know for sure that I never want to be in an institution, but because of the underwhelming chicken and mediocre sides, I'm not so sure I'll be running back to this culinary institution.

Ira shows you where you can park.

As of 2005, Stroud's had two locations in Kansas City and one in Wichita. Since then, the original South KC location has closed; a new one is due to open later this month in Fairway. Stroud's at Oak Ridge Manor in North KC is a good 40-minute drive from the Kansas suburbs, but as a fried chicken fanatic, I was hardly put off by the distance.

Set back from the highway off a two-lane road, Stroud's occupies a 179-year-old building which served for years as a home for the Compton family. After changing hands a few times, the building was purchased by the owners of the original Stroud's in South KC, whose restaurant had already been frying up chicken for 50 years. Since 1983, Stroud's at Oak Ridge Manor has carried on the traditions established by the flagship restaurant.

Oak Ridge Manor is more charming than that guy who opens doors and pulls out chairs. Its white siding and green shutters give way inside to rustic oak and walnut logs and beams.

As if still being used as a home, the restaurant is composed of many rooms, all of which are used for dining. The walls are adorned with plaques and awards for the restaurant's famous fried chicken, with a number of newspaper and magazine articles interspersed for good measure. Hidden among the self-appreciation is a worn, ragged document in a black frame. Turns out it's the original deed for the property, signed in 1827 by some guy named John Quincy Adams.

I arrived at Stroud's with my friend Ira at 2:25 on a Saturday afternoon, just short of half an hour after opening. The hostess informed us that the dining room was full, so we had two options: wait 45 minutes for a table or eat the bar. Irked at first, we opted to eat at the five- or six-person bar, which was empty when we arrived, but full five minutes later.

If unable to eat in a dining room, the bar is an acceptable backup. Wrapped in the same warm wood as the dining rooms, the small bar has a warm, homey atmosphere that's not too prim or stuffy for licking grease off your fingers.

The bartender, who tended to us acutely during our entire lunch, took our orders and passed them on to the kitchen. In addition to a side dish and cinnamon rolls, a first course is served with every meal, giving diners a choice between chicken noodle soup and salad. I chose the soup and Ira the salad. Both arrived about five minutes after we placed our order.

The soup was a yellow broth with small globules of golden fat floating on top. In the broth were small, soft pieces of carrot, celery and onion, as well as shredded bits of chicken, evidence that the soup was made down the hall in the kitchen. I could've happily eaten a bowlful of the noodles and nothing more. Thick, hearty and tender, the noodles were among the best I've eaten.

Ira's salad was standard iceberg with one unusual ingredient. Nestled alongside the standard cucumber and croutons was a slice of ruby-red beet. Add a sprinkling of mozzarella and a couple of wedges of lemon for some extra flavor, and you have your Stroud's salad.

Half an hour after Ira and I finished our first courses, our entrees arrived. My wing, thigh, leg and breast were served on the same large platter as Ira's all-dark meal of two thighs and two legs. The chicken had a light brown crust that didn't quite qualify as golden.

Beneath the slight crunch of the underseasoned crust was underseasoned chicken. Nothing about the chicken as a whole was particularly flavorful, leaving my tastebuds disappointed. I applaud the kitchen for keeping the chicken moist, but I want to take the cooks shopping at Penzey's.

Being starch lovers, Ira and I ordered mashed potatoes and cottage fries as our side dishes. The mashed potatoes were starchy, which I like in baked potatoes but not in their mashed counterparts. The consistency was grainy, not creamy like mashed potatoes should be. Like the chicken, the mashers were sorely lacking in flavor. A hearty pinch of salt and some pepper would've made up for the fact that I couldn't taste any butter in the potatoes.

Perhaps the mashed potatoes were underseasoned so gravy could be ladled on top, but the gravy was sort of congealed and not particularly appealing, so I refrained from using it, instead letting it jiggle in its bowl. Please notice, though, the abundance of pepper in the gravy, evidence that someone in the kitchen knows where to find some and how to use it.

I associate cottage fries with Yours Truly, a small chain of restaurants in Northeast Ohio. Their crinkle-cut circular fries were golden and crispy on the outside, but fluffy and tender on the inside. Given the yardstick Stroud's cottage fries had to live up to, it's no surprise that they were a disappointment. They weren't crispy, they weren't golden, they weren't fluffy. I sometimes call myself a "French fry whore" because I enjoy and eat all fries, but I didn't eat more than a dozen of these cottage fries. Even a swim in some Heinz couldn't save these spuds.

For some reason, we were served a bowl of green beans. I don't think we were supposed to get them -- and Ira and I don't like green beans -- so they sat there on the bar, looking like they'd just emerged from an aluminum can. Yummy.

The cinnamon rolls served with the meal seemed better treated as a breakfast or as dessert, which may be why Stroud's doesn't have a dessert menu. With tops crusted in cinnamon sugar...

...the rolls were yeasty and fluffy inside...

...and buttery on the bottom. I'd eat one of these for breakfast, but I kept them far away from my fried chicken. I really would've enjoyed a flaky, buttery biscuit with my chicken, but there was no KFC within walking distance.

After licking my fingers clean, I pulled my credit card out of my wallet and paid for the $34 meal. Considering how much food comes with each meal, the $16-$20 price is a pretty good deal. But if you find that food lacking in flavor, a reasonable deal won't bring you back to any restaurant. So, I basically spent $20 on a really good bowl of chicken noodle soup.

I brought home some leftover chicken, which is now sitting in my fridge, waiting to be consumed. And I know just how to bring some flavor to it: butter, syrup and hot sauce. Chicken and waffles, here I come.

Stroud's
5410 NE Oak Ridge Dr.
Kansas City, MO 64119
816.454.9600
www.strouds.com

P.S. Gratuitous chicken mailbox shot:

A message from Bacon and Bakin'

2008-03-09T12:48:00.010-07:00

And also today's lunch.

It's the double-smoked bacon from the Italian grocery and deli ("Specialita d'Italia") at City Market in KC. Four thick slices cost me $1.05. The bacon was out of this world. I baked it at 350 degrees for, oh, 10-15 minutes, until it was slightly crispy. Bacon this thick would have to be charred in order to be completely crispy, so aiming for a combination of meatiness and crispiness is best for this bacon. (I normally broil bacon, but I didn't feel like cleaning up a bacony broiler pan, so I opted for bakin' the bacon. Worked out nicely.)

The double-smoked bacon had a smoky flavor that did not overwhelm the flavor of the meat. I tasted not only smoke, but also pork; it was a nice balance. The tiny bit of rind was the best part of each slice. It got crispy out the outside, but stayed tender underneath that crust. The rind melted in my mouth.

As you see, there was a lot of meat in each slice and not a whole lot of fat. I hate when the fat in bacon is floppy, gelatinous, and generally unappetizing, but the dearth of fat in this bacon and the method of cooking ensured that I didn't end up with anything nasty on my plate.

I liked this grocery not only for their awesome bacon, but also for their groceries. Take, for example, their selection of DeCecco pastas. For $2, I bought a box of one of my favorite shapes of pasta. Here are the little tennis racquets bathing in creamy vodka sauce:

The store also sells the unbeatable San Marzano tomatoes, all sorts of olive oils and vinegars, and other imported products from Italy. Unfortunately, I didn't see pici there, that thick, Tuscan pasta I couldn't get enough of during my 10 days in Italy.

When I need good Italian groceries--or some outrageously good bacon--I know where I'll be going.

(P.S. I apologize for my truancy as of late. I have all sorts of stuff to write about now, so hang tight.)

Since You've Been Gone: Discontinued, Rebranded, and Changed for the Worse (Part IV)

2008-02-21T21:17:00.005-07:00

After three posts about dearly departed foods, I conclude this series on discontinued, rebranded, and changed food. Please feel free to continue to chatter about this topic, though!

This final installation will deal with foods from my middle childhood, consisting of the years 1990-1995. The items below were some of my favorite snack foods, things I'd bring in my lunch to school or munch on after getting home from school.

I don't think Nabisco Zings "cracker chips" were around for more than a year or two. I clearly remember sitting on a beanbag chair in the corner of my second-grade classroom, reading a book and snacking on a Ziploc baggy-ful of Zings. The Z-shaped crackers were ranch-flavored and packed a zippy punch. Because they were baked, my mom sent me to school w/these as a snack, not feeling too guilty about what she was letting me eat. As for the items below? Well, she probably felt kinda guilty about them... (No photo included 'cause there doesn't appear to be one online. There is textual documentation of these zingy crackers, though.)

Keebler rules. I mean, freakin' elves make such delicacies as Fudge Stripe and Grasshopper cookies! Those pointy-shoed sprites once made chips called O'Boises. O'Boises are quite possibly in my top 5 chips of all time. In BBQ, sour cream and onion, and plain (my favorite) flavors, O'Boises were really salty, really light, and really bubbly. Yes, bubbly. Each chip was covered with lots of small air pockets, resulting in an extremely light and crunchy consistency. The bubbles ranged in size from tiny to thumbnail-sized, and while some of the bubbles broke while the chips bounced around in the bag, most of them remained intact. The burst-bubble bits and other broken pieces ended up at the bottom of the bag, and they tasted every bit as good as the whole chips. I haven't seen a chip like this since, and, sadly, I doubt I'll see one again. Shame. (Photo courtesy of Flickr user englishkris.)

Okay, I don't even remember the name of these things, but they were really quite tasty. Keebler may have made them...but maybe not. (Off to a good, helpful start here, huh?) Anyway, these were basically shortbread cookies studded w/a sole Hershey Kiss. Each cookie was kinda crispy and kinda sandy, and was a little larger in diameter to a half dollar. It was poofy, too, but didn't have any sort of the softness or moistness you'd expect from a taller cookie. In the center of each cookie, a Hershey Kiss was inserted, topping off the not-too-sweet shortbread w/a great rush of chocolate and sugar. Eating the cookie away from the Kiss was my modus operandi, as I didn't care so much about the cookie as I did the Kiss. The Kiss had a few little bumps on the bottom; my guess is that the cookie had indentations in it so when the Kiss was inserted, the two would stick together better. These came two or three to a package (don't remember), with numerous packages in a box. I have memories of eating these, too, in class. I was kind enough to share them with Robert Schultz, who was grumpy even as an eight-year-old. (The photo is what the cookies looked like, but isn't actually them. Photo courtesy of www.cookies4alloccasions.com.)

My mom used to buy Handi-Snacks at Sam's Club when I was younger 'cause I ate the things like Kobayashi eats hot dogs. During summer 1994, I brought one or two w/me to camp each day to eat as a snack or as part of my lunch. On some days, I probably had three or four packs of these a day. Yep, that's right. If you do the math, that's 12-16 crackers and about 3-4 oz. of "processed cheese food." At some point, though, Kraft bought the Nabisco product and then changed the cheese, the bright orange stuff I smeared onto the buttery crackers using that famous little red, plastic stick. When Kraft began making Handi-Snacks, the cheese changed. The old cheese used to be kind of light w/some bubbly sponginess to it (sounds weird, but it worked); the new cheese is heavy, goopy, and solid. The old cheese wasn't too pungent; the new cheese tastes strongly of fake cheese and dirty feet. The old cheese was a light orange color; the new cheese is a darker orange that looks more like something you'd expect from Tropicana. In all, the Kraft cheese is a complete disappointment, ruining Handi-Snacks for me forever. Oh, and nothing against Ritz crackers, but the original crackers were NOT Ritz, so the current Kraft product--Ritz crackers and whack-ass cheese--is a complete fraud. After buying and trying the Kraft version a few years ago, I ended up throwing out the remaining packages in the box 'cause, yeah, the cheese is that bad. (Photo courtesy of www.lanaihello.com.)

Although this is my last post in the "Since You've Been Gone" series, I encourage you to keep posting comments about your favorite discontinued, rebranded, and changed foods. I know that foods from my youth like O'Boises will forever be stuck in my brain and on my palate, so please share your thoughts and memories!

Since You've Been Gone: Discontinued, Rebranded, and Changed for the Worse (Part III)

2008-02-18T21:20:00.008-07:00

Restaurant chains do stupid stuff. A prime--yet arguable, to some--example: the McRib. Others contest that McDonald's old fries, the ones boiled in tasty, tasty lard, were the greatest thing ever to grace a fast-food tray.

For one reason or another, such as lack of popularity or the artery-clogging factor, chain restaurants discontinue or change certain menu items. Although the McRib surfaces annually in certain locations, you won't find the lard fries anywhere. I mourn the loss/change of other items.

The first item is the old McDonald's McNugget. A few years ago, I remember McDonald's started advertising their new all-white-meat chicken nuggets. I hadn't eaten their nuggets for a good number of years, but I remembered them as processed, mystery-meat-filled morsels that were shaped either like ovals or the state of Louisiana. Regardless of shape, the coating was usually crisp, and the "meat" inside was spongy, yet moist and flavorful. Flash forward March 2007. I made my annual pilgrimage to McDonald's for a Shamrock Shake. I had some coupons, so I got some McNuggets, too. It had been a good five years or so since I'd tasted one of these bad boys, which were still formed into those unnatural, yet familiar shapes. I bit into one of the Louisianas first. The chicken inside was definitely white, but it was still processed and spongy. I could've dealt w/sponginess, but I needed some flavor! Apparently the flavor in McNuggets used to come from meats/items that don't fall into the category of "white meat," perhaps falling instead into the category of "dark meat, organs, and lymph nodes." I'd take Mystery Nuggets over the all-white-meat McNuggets any day; what I don't know won't hurt me. (Photo courtesy of www.wowdavao.com.)

While we're on the subject of fast-food chicken products, I found out something disturbing the other day: Burger King discontinued their Chicken Tenders. I wanted to be absolutely sure that BK had discontinued another item (which I will talk about below), so I went to their website. The menu lists "Chicken Fries" and "Chicken Crowns" on the menu, but Chicken Tenders were nowhere to be found. I won't even get started on my feelings on chicken shaped like a fry and a crown, but I'll say just one word: huh??? Chicken Tenders at BK were about three times as long as they were wide, and they were a mix of processed chicken and real chicken. They were spongier than McNuggets, but tasted a billion times better than those when plucked right from a vat of boiling fat. Come to think of it, they weren't so bad cold, either. As the years went on, the real chicken in the tenders was phased out, meaning a better name for them would've been Chicken-Flavored Sponges. (Photo of crown-shaped "chicken" courtesy of www.bp2.blogger.com.)

Continuing w/Burger King, what happened to their Sourdough Bacon Cheeseburger? This was the burger that actually got me to like burgers! It was my gateway burger! Who can resist uber-buttery toasted sourdough rounds, cheese, bacon, and some meaty patties? Um, not me, for one. I introduced my friend Rob to these edible coronaries, and we still talk about their glory 6+ years later. I give credit to BK for helping me to learn the beauty that is the bacon cheeseburger, but I also blame them for taking away their greatest sandwich ever. The photo here is not of the original Sourdough Bacon Cheeseburger, but rather a decent photo of what it might have looked like it its heyday. Imagine that sandwich...but compressed to about 1/4" thick, 'cause real burgers never look the same in person as they do in photos. (Photo courtesy of www.foodfacts.info.)

Although the Cheesecake Factory makes these Buffalo Blasts things that I love more than some of my family members (I will boycott if they get rid of these, too--seriously), they committed a huuuuge crime in my book. Their Triple Chocolate Chip Cheesecake was my favorite dessert there, but in honor of Godiva's 25th anniversary or something equally unimportant, they got rid of the Triple Chocolate Chip and replaced it with a Godiva Cheesecake. I don't even like Godiva chocolate, so this was a real slap in the face. Why get rid of tiny chocolate chips, normal chocolate chips, and jumbo chocolate chips??? Just to do some cross-promotion w/Godiva? Bullroar, as my dad would say. (Photo courtesy of reviewsby.us.com.)

Little Caesar's pizza pales in comparison to Pizzeria Bianco's, but the one thing they used to do right was Chocolate Ravioli. Instead of pasta, the "dough" was white chocolate; instead of meat or cheese, the "filling" was chocolate truffle. How brilliant is that? The little ravioli were sold two to a pack for a buck. Each ravioli was the size of a normal frozen one you'd find at the grocery store, and because they came in pairs, they made a perfect little snack for me and my brother. I remember eating Chocolate Ravioli when I was 6 or 7, probably, but to this day I remember them as being extremely delicious. I loved eating the edges, which appeared to be cut with pinking shears, and which didn't contain any of the "filling." These things looked like real ravioli but tasted way better than your store-bought stuff. I'd like to find a ravioli-shaped chocolate mold so I could make these at home. There's no record of these things online, either in writing or in photo form, it appears, so here's some generic ravioli. Pretend they're made completely of chocolate. (Photo courtesy of www.orderpasta.com.)

Have popular chain restaurants discontinued your favorite sandwich? Have they changed the recipe for their fries or their chicken fingers? Have they done anything else to their food to piss you off? Lemme know what you miss!

Since You've Been Gone: Discontinued, Rebranded, and Changed for the Worse (Part II)

2008-02-15T21:42:00.009-07:00

Welcome to the second part of my ranting on discontinued/changed foods! Part I can be found here.

I've noticed that many of the foods on my list are sweet, frozen ones, which I find kinda strange. I'm the type of person who typically gets a craving for salty rather than sweet food, yet it's the sweet foods that I so fondly miss. Take, for instance, these chilly, tasty treats...

I wish Viennetta had been around by the time I was out of college and living on my own. I would've had two, um, loaves (?) of the stuff in my freezer at all times. And my mom wouldn't have been able to yell at me for this! A virtual lasagna of ice cream and chocolate, Viennetta is described by Unilever, the manufacturer, as "waves of soft ice cream and cracking chocolate flavour layers." Unilever then expands upon that fact, stating that families in the UK have been enjoying the dessert for 20 years. Why have Americans been cut off? Why do UK residents have the privilege of buying and eating Viennetta? I miss the thin layers of ice cream--vanilla, chocolate, and sometimes even mint!--and the delicate, crisp layers of chocolate. I loved eating a narrow slice of Viennetta layer by layer. This dessert alone is almost enough to make me want to move to the other side of the Pond. (Photo courtesy of www.i1.bebo.com; better photos here, but the photos from the site won't work w/Blogger .)

The first time I had Rondos was at a family friend's house. I wasn't sure what I was getting into, but I was told it involved chocolate and ice cream, so I didn't argue. Even at six- or seven-years-old, I could've eaten a dozen of these rich little treats. Roughly the size of mini corn dogs, Rondos were small, rectangular slabs of ice cream covered in chocolate. The contrast of the crisp chocolate w/the smooth ice cream was particularly lovely, even to my uncultured palate. Rondos--made by Mars--had plenty of ice cream in the middle, and the chocolate coating on the outside was in an appropriate ratio. The three flavors of Rondos--chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry--were equally delicious. Larger than bonbons but smaller than Eskimo Pies, Rondos were a great two-bite snack when all you wanted was a bit of sugar. Sure, Mars makes mini ice-cream-bar versions of Snickers and Milky Way and stuff, but nothing on the market today stacks up to Rondos. (And booooooo. Couldn't find any photos of this discontinued/changed gem!)

Since I've already bitched about two other ice creams, what's one more? This time, I wanna spill my guts on Ben and Jerry's--Bovinity Divinity, to be more specific. To begin with, how cute is the name? Even cuter were the teensy chocolate cows interspersed in the ice cream. Ben and Jerry's describes this graveyard-relegated ice cream as: "Milk chocolate ice cream and white chocolate cows swirled with white chocolate ice cream and dark fudge cows. " Black and white are a classic color combination in clothes, and in Bovinity Divinity, Ben and Jerry's found the edible equivalent of this duo. Black and white will never go out of style--so why did this ice cream go to the graveyard? (Photo courtesy of news.webshots.com.)

It's a what? Itzakadoozie! When I was in high school, my mom brought home from the grocery store a box of freakishly long popsicles made by Nestle. A lemon popsicle striped with ribbons of cherry, orange, and lime, Itzakadoozie was awesome. It took, like, 10 minutes to finish one pop due to the sheer size of the thing. And at something like 100 calories a pop (haha, literally!), it was a reasonable snack. For some reason, Itzakadoozies were pulled from the shelf about two years ago. I haven't called Nestle to find out why they yanked the Ron Jeremy of popsicles out of the freezers, but maybe I should. These things were the embodiment of food porn. (Photo courtesy of susqhb.blogspot.com.)

Oh, Nestle, how you love to torture me. Another novelty my mom introduced me to was the Cyclone, a swirl of sherbet on a stick. With a green, lime sherbet center accompanied by orange and raspberry sherbets, the Cyclone was another lo-cal treat I didn't feel guilty about eating. I couldn't find a photo of the Cyclone online, which leads me to believe that I may not be recalling the name correctly... But whatever. You know those twirly lollipops they sell at carnivals and candy stores? They kinda look like unicorn horns? Well, that's what Cyclones looked like, except they didn't taper off at the top. Again, Nestle yanked these a few years ago, causing me to lose even more faith in the company that almost has the frozen-novelty market cornered (and I've voiced my qualms w/the Popsicle brand, too).

Digging way back, I remember these push-up strawberry frozen yogurt things that were packaged in triangular(ish) paper. Imagine taking a straw, pinching one end vertically, and then pinching the other end horizontally. That's how these things were packaged, except more squat and much larger. I believe these were made by Yoplait, and they were the only way I'd eat anything resembling yogurt at the tender age of six. The yogurt was a little tart, but it didn't taste overly acidic or bacterial, like most yogurt tastes to me now. There were little chunks of strawberry in the yogurt, and pushing it all out of the triangle thingy and into my mouth was part of the fun in eating it. If anyone remembers what these were called, please let me know! I'd love to put a name on these late-'80s treats.

I've named a few frozen treats that I miss on this post and on the previous one, but what popsicle do you longingly remember? What discontinued ice cream would cause you to write to Popsicle or Ben and Jerry's or Nestle?

Since You've Been Gone: Discontinued, Rebranded, and Changed for the Worse (Part I)

2008-02-13T21:10:00.012-07:00

Do you remember that one food you loved? That snack chip that you couldn't get enough of? Do you recall moments of pure bliss, just you and your favorite beverage?

Do you remember the traumatizing day when you were no longer able to buy those crackers? When the well ran dry and you couldn't find that soda on the shelf?

Every once in a while, I remember foods like that, leading me to enter a temporary state of mourning for my dearly departed edible friends. I always move on--yet I always look back on our times together w/the greatest fondness.

This posting is one of many in a series I will write about discontinued, rebranded, and changed-for-the-worse food products. I'll also touch on some restaurant items that fall into one of the above categories. I hope my rants--and raves--make you salivate a little bit in remembrance of these tasty treats...

One of the most-missed discontinued products is Surge, the caffeine-concentrated sludge that others referred to as "soda" or "pop." I referred to it as "gross" or "WTF were they thinking?" so I shall move on to products I actually miss. (Photo courtesy of www.spartantailgate.com.)

Let us start with Alpine White. When almonds and white chocolate marry, their offspring taste like Alpine White. This candy was the only way I, at five-years-old, would eat any sort of nut. The creamy white chocolate combined w/the crunchy bits of almond made for a luscious combination. I remember the white chocolate being very rich, meaning that even half of an Alpine White was sufficient. (Minuscule photo courtesy of www.aol.com. Click on picture for a 1980s Alpine White commercial!)

I know I'm not the only one who misses Jell-O Pudding Pops. In online forums, tons of people say one of their most-missed discontinued foods is this hunk of frozen pudding on a stick--and not just because Bill Cosby was an amazing spokesman for these "puddin' pops!" A few years ago, Popsicle started making a subpar variant of the original pudding pop under their own label. The box boasts that the product inside is Jell-O pudding, duping consumers into thinking they're purchasing a product they had long adored. Once you break into the box, however, you'll find something much different from what you remember from the '80s. Instead of the large, paddle-shaped pops you so happily devoured while you wore slap bracelets, you'll find skinny, "normal"-shaped popsicles instead. Sure, the pictures on the box warn you of the new shape, but even that warning isn't enough to save these pudding pops. The new shape is too thin; I remember putting the paddle-shaped pop into my mouth, the edges of my mouth stretching out to accommodate the wide pop. I liked that. The pops still come in the three original flavors: chocolate, vanilla, and swirl. Of the three, chocolate is the best of the revamped pops. As a kid, through, I loved the vanilla and swirl flavors. The updated versions taste too fake for my taste, and the swirl pop isn't very swirly. (Photo courtesy of www.curlycomedy.blogspot.com.)

A real popsicle-shaped popsicle I enjoyed was the Lifesaver Popsicle. I'm not sure who manufactured them way back when, but the Popsicle company is currently hawking a bastardized version of what used to be a simple popsicle. The original Lifesaver Popsicle was an icy, sweet treat. Each Lifesaver candy had a corresponding popsicle flavor: cherry, orange, lemon, lime, and pineapple. When you bit into a pop, it made a small crunch, the sound of ice crystals breaking between your front teeth. The flavors were sweet, syrupy, and pretty accurate to the flavors of Lifesavers candies. But look what the Popsicle people have done! I mean, take a peek at that box. Five flavors on one stick. Still sugar-free like the original Lifesaver pops, these new ones include some jacked up flavors. Raspberry? Watermelon? What's next, pomegranate? I haven't tried these pops, so I can't comment on their taste. I can, however, say that I miss the old ones. And as an editor, I weep for the Popsicle company: "These Five Flavors of LIFE SAVERS will please your palette with incredible flavor, and are sugar free!" If they could show me how to please a palette, I'd be much obliged. (Photo courtesy of www.popsicle.com.)

I've mentioned before my feelings about the discontinuation of Hershey's "Bites" line. Kit Kat Bites were my favorite candy, are my favorite candy, and will forever be my favorite candy. I found the snack-size bags at a 99 Cent Store in Phoenix but have not seen them anywhere else. At 50 cents apiece, however, the snack-size bags are a great find. The chocolate-to-wafer ratio in Kit Kat Bites is ideal, with a thicker layer of chocolate coating the outside of the wafers. This, of course, bumps up the number of calories and grams of fat in each serving, but it also improves upon the original Kit Kat. Eating one little sugary nugget was nearly impossible; if I had no will power and/or mirror, I would eat hundreds of these at a time. (Tiny photo courtesy of www.nationwidecandy.com.)

So, what do YOU miss? Do you think they should bring back Crystal Pepsi? Have you lost direction in your life since the discontinuation of Boo Berry? Do you think the "cheese" in Handi-Snacks tastes like crap since it was reformulated? (I do.) I'd love to know what foods you wish you could taste just once more.

Review: Rubio's

2008-02-01T21:41:00.001-07:00

After tasting my first authentic Baja-style fish taco in San Diego on January 6, 2007 (a momentous day that just happened to coincide w/my brother and sister-in-law's wedding), I was hooked. Upon leaving San Diego and returning to DC, I shed a melancholy tear, elated to have sampled such pleasure, yet disappointed to leave it.

Whoever thought to combine fish, shredded cabbage, and a creamy, mayo-based sauce was a genius. Slightly crazy to throw such diverse ingredients together, but still a genius.

The recipe for Rubio's fish tacos fell into my hands last year by some glorious twist of fate. The Pacific Coast-based restaurant chain is famous for their fish tacos, made from fresh, vibrant ingredients. Although I'd never eaten at Rubio's, I liked their recipe, one I've made at home many times.

So imagine my delight when a Rubio's franchise opened just down the street from my parents' house in Phoenix. At long last I'd be able to taste a glorious Rubio's fish taco, as legendary as Excalibur.

Since Rubio's opened three or four weeks ago, I've been there four or five times. I probably wouldn't have gone so much had I not had so many coupons, but I have no regrets about the frequency of my visits. These multiple visits have allowed me to sample a few menu items, including a carnitas taco and chips w/guac. Both contained fresh, juicy ingredients, from the plump, ripe chunks of tomato to the tender shredded pork.

But the standout at Rubio's is--of course!--the fish. Slap a piece of that fried, golden deliciousness on a corn or flour tortilla, a bed of lettuce, a mound of rice, or anything else, and prepare your mouth for a partaaaay. I'm convinced that fried fish would taste good on, like, a sundae.

While the fish tacos at Rubio's are fantastic, it takes at least two or three to fill up a normal-sized adult. Each taco, served on your choice of corn or flour tortilla, contains a piece of crispy fish, a swath of white sauce, and a hefty pinch of shredded cabbage. Sometimes I've found little bits of tomato in the tacos, turning the white sauce a pale shade of salmon. The inconsistency regarding the tomato confuses me.

My solution to the gotta-eat-sixteen-fish-tacos-in-order-to-be-sated problem is to order a fish burrito. The burrito contains the same great fish, but more of it. Served on a flour tortilla, the hot fish is accompanied by beans (refried or black--your choice--which I decline completely), shredded cabbage, and white sauce. Depending on who makes your burrito, you may end up with tomato and/or guac. Again, the consistency here is lacking. I'd like to know if my burrito will always have guac, as my first burrito there had it, but my second did not. In contrast, my second burrito there had tomato (or some sort of pico de gallo), but my first did not. I like both toppings, but what I'd like even more is to know that I'll be getting the same burrito every time, as I'd expect.

Costing only slightly more than twice as much as a sole taco, the fish burrito is about three times the size of a taco. See?

Burritos come w/a serving of warm, fresh tortilla chips, too, meaning you can use the chips to scoop up the burrito innards that are sure to fall out. If the innards don't fall out by some strange miracle, you can always use the chips to transport some of Rubio's salsas directly into your mouth. The regular, spicy, smoky chipotle, and tomatillo salsas available at the salsa bar can be chunkified by adding some of the onion/cilantro mixture, also found at the salsa bar. My favorite combo is 1 part regular + 1 part chipotle + 2 parts onion/cilantro. Ooh baby.

Here's a cross-section of a fish burrito. You can see many strata, including the crunchy coating on the fish, the flaky flesh, the white sauce, and the shredded cabbage.

While I've enjoyed many a fish taco both at Rubio's and at home, I think I'm a fish burrito convert. The sheer enormity of the thing is superb, but the taste is what clinches the deal. But w/a move back to the Midwest in my near future, my days of $1 Fish Taco Tuesdays and $4 anytime fish burritos at Rubio's are numbered.

Good thing I have their recipe.

Pork tenderloin: Take 2

2008-01-22T22:54:00.001-07:00

My first attempt at a pork tenderloin wasn't all that bad. As a matter of fact, it was a noble effort. The meat came marinated, so all I had to do was cook it enough to get rid of the E-coli and worms and stuff.

This time around, I made a pork tenderloin for an appreciative audience (aren't parents always happy when they don't have to cook for themselves?). The meat wasn't marinated, so I did an online search for recipes, hoping to find a recipe composed entirely of ingredients I already had on hand. Success arrived in the form of Chipotle Citrus Marinated Pork Tenderloin, a tangy, sweet recipe I found on Simply Recipes (via Epicurious).

Chipotle Citrus Marinated Pork Tenderloin (recipe courtesy of Simply Recipes)

2 pork tenderloins, about 1 pound each, halved crosswise
1 c. orange juice
6 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
6 cloves garlic, smashed
2 shallots, chopped
2 dried chipotle chilies, crushed into small pieces with your hands
1 tbsp. olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
3/4 c. chicken stock
2 tbsp. chopped fresh cilantro

Trim the tenderloins of any excess fat and silver skin. Set in a small nonreactive baking dish.
Combine the orange juice, lemon juice, garlic, shallots, and chilies in a small bowl and stir well. Pour over the tenderloins and let sit for 20 minutes at room temperature.

I added the cilantro to the marinade 'cause, well, I just really like cilantro.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Heat the olive oil in a large, ovenproof skillet over medium-high heat.
Remove the tenderloins from the marinade, reserving the marinade. Wipe the tenderloins dry with a paper towel and season with salt and pepper. Add to the skillet and cook, turning as needed, for 4 to 5 minutes, until evenly browned.

The slits on the sides of the meat served two purposes: 1) to allow the marinade to seep deeper into the meat, and 2) to prevent the tenderloin from curling up while cooking.

Transfer to the oven and roast for 12 to 15 minutes, until an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center reads 140 degrees. Remove skillet from oven and transfer the tenderloins to a plate and cover loosely with aluminum foil to keep warm. Remember that the skillet handle is still hot after you put the skillet on the stove top. Use oven mitts or cool off the handle with ice.
Pour the marinade into the skillet and add the chicken stock. Bring to a boil over high heat and cook for 8 to 10 minutes, until reduced and thickened. Pour through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl.
Cut tenderloins across the grain into thin slices and arrange on a platter. Drizzle sauce over top and sprinkle with cilantro. Serve.

Wide egg noodles are a fine accompaniment, sopping up the tangy sauce beautifully.

The idea of a 20-minute marinade seemed unrealistic and untasty to me, so I let the tenderloin sit for something like three or four hours. The extra time certainly didn't hurt, either, imparting more flavor into the very center of the meat.

Adding cilantro to the marinade (although accidental!) turned out to be a glorious mistake. Instead of using cilantro simply as a garnish, it become a sort of flavor undertone for the pork. With each bite, I tasted nuances of freshness and brightness from the cilantro. And a sprinkling as a garnish wasn't overkill, either, so I'd suggest putting it in the marinade AND using it to brighten up the dish, both literally and figuratively.

I used fresh orange juice in the marinade instead of the boxed Tropicana stuff, which, I think, smacks of added sugar. The oranges I used were sweet with just a hint of tartness, so the pork didn't pick up any unnecessary sweetness. But even if you use box o' juice, the fresh lemon juice will certain cut the sweet OJ.

And something completely random: wasn't that marinade really pretty? It looked like potpourri and smelled even better.

Cooking the tenderloin was easy, but having a good instant-read thermometer is a necessity, as pork isn't something you want to make guesses about. The thickest part of my tenderloin was a little too pink for comfort, so it ended up being reserved and reheated as leftovers, thus eliminating any chance of porcine-induced food poisoning. The ends, however, were extremely moist and pleasantly pink--the kind of pink that doesn't keep you running to the bathroom all night.

Turning the marinade into a sauce for the pork made me nervous, but it worked out okay. Despite boiling the marinade for the designated 8-10 minutes, it didn't thicken up. I was hoping for something I little more syrupy, like a great wine reduction, but it just didn't happen. Maybe another 10 minutes would've done the trick, but the family was hungry, so we put the thin sauce into a gravy boat and grabbed forks and knives.

About 50% of the time my mom tries my cooking, she makes a remark along the lines of, "OMG, this is so good!" or "Nicole, this is absolutely delicious!" The day after eating the tenderloin, her review was very laudatory: "I think that was my favorite meat I've eaten in a long time." Coming from a woman who eats very little meat due to reflux, this was quite the compliment.

But even if the pork had given her reflux, I don't think she would've been too terribly upset. After all, she's one of those people who says things like, "It tasted as good coming up as it did going down" . . .

Chicken and dumplings

2008-01-17T22:35:00.000-07:00

Once a delicious roasted chicken is completely eaten, the enjoyment doesn't have to end. Save those bones and scraps and make a stock, baby!

Chicken stock requires so little effort for such a rewarding result. Throw some bones--and maybe meat--veggies, and herbs into a pot, simmer for an hour or two or three, and voila! What was once just a pot of bones and other crap you wouldn't eat has turned into a flavorful, golden stock you can use for flavoring sauces, boiling pasta, preparing risotto, making matzoh ball and other types of soup, and any number of other things.

Today's stock consisted of...

Meat and bones of half a chicken
Chicken neck and backbone
Water
A few bullion cubes
2 large carrots
2 stalks of celery
2 large onions, quartered
2 bay leaves
10-12 peppercorns
A handful of fresh parsley

All of that simmered for a few hours today. Once salted and lightly peppered, I had a completely bitchin' stock on the stove, and had one thing in mind to do with it: chicken and dumplings. (Does that count as two things, actually?)

I've experimented w/chicken and dumplings on a few occasions, and my most recent foray was the most successful one, although the dumplings were kinda heavy. I wasn't impressed enough w/the last batch to write down the dumpling recipe, so I needed to do some research for tonight's dinner. The first recipes I looked at was on Simply Recipes, and it looked rather promising. I felt like the bride-to-be who knows after trying on just one dress that it's the one for her!

I followed Elise's recipe for the dumplings, using my own methods for the stock and the veggies and the gravy/broth. The full recipe is here, but I'm just going to list the one for the dumplings...

Elise's Dumplings (recipe courtesy of Simply Recipes; serves 6-8)

2 c. all-purpose flour
1 tbsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. salt
3 tbsp. butter
1 c. milk
1/4 c. minced fresh herb leaves such as parsley, chives, or tarragon (optional)

Mix flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl. Add (optional) chopped fresh herbs.
Heat butter and milk to simmer and add to dry ingredients.
Mix with a fork or knead by hand two to three times until mixture just comes together. (Note: do not overknead! or your dumplings will turn out too dense.)
Form dough into balls or lightly roll out and use the end of a 2-inch diameter water glass as a mold to cut the dough into even circles.
Lay formed dumplings on the surface of chicken stock. Cover and simmer until dumplings are cooked through, about 15 minutes.

I played w/the dumpling dough as little as possible, hoping against hope that the resulting doughy lumps wouldn't be tough. In addition to some fresh thyme and parsley, I added two caramelized shallots to the dumplings. After all, caramelized shallots can only improve the flavor of all foods, except for cupcakes. So I would be able to drop all the dumplings into the pot at the same time, I rolled them all out one after the other, and then put them on a lined baking sheet. I popped the sheet into the freezer until I was ready to boil the dumplings.

And here's what I ended up with, a hearty combination of chicken, veggies, and dumplings:

My lack of playing w/the dough paid off, as the resulting dumplings were far lighter than my last batch. The shallots imparted a richer flavor to the dumplings, as if dumplings could possibly be any richer. The herbs not only looked pretty, but they also added another dimension to the flavor--something spring-like and comforting.

I now have a go-to dumpling recipe, something worthy of repeating. The dough is basic, so it can be spruced up w/sauteed veggies or herbs or a combo of both. Somehow I just don't see myself ever eating chicken and dumplings out of a Campbell's can ever again...

Poultry and potatoes

2008-01-14T23:03:00.001-07:00

Meat and potatoes are an unbeatable pair. Burger and fries, steak and baked potato, meatloaf and mashers--they're natural partners.

But what happens when you replace the bovine element of the duo with an avian one? Does it make the meal less American? Does it lose its general appeal?

As far as I'm concerned, no appeal is lost--but chicken nuggets and fries just aren't as American as a burger and fries. Nonetheless, the poultry/spud combination is a winner, as evidenced by my dinner tonight.

I did some nosing around for recipes for roasted chicken, eventually deciding on Roasted Chicken with Garlic Confit, a recipe that was originally published in Gourmet a few years ago. I decided to pair the bird w/yesterday's Recipe of the Day on Epicurious, "potato casserole." This name really does belong in quotes, as there's nothing casserole-y about the dish except for the fact that it's baked in the same kind of dish in which you'd bake a casserole. But I digress...

Both recipes involved few ingredients and little prep work, two qualities I value highly in a recipe. Both recipes also got very good reviews online, thus reinforcing my decision to make both dishes.

I was psyched for that chicken, very much looking forward to crispy skin and garlicky confit. Before I could roast the chicken, though, I had to quarter the whole chicken. Now, I'm the type who buys boneless meat for boneless recipes, thighs only for thigh-only recipes, skinless chicken for skinless recipes. I'd never before quartered a chicken, so I consulted the Web for some advice. It wasn't pretty, but I did my best, ending up w/chicken pieces that were (mostly) intact. I did lose a good portion of the skin on the breasts, though, so I obviously haven't quite mastered quartering. Regardless, it was a noble first effort. See?

The breast was the hardest piece of meat to remove from the frame, but look how nice all the other pieces turned out? Skin intact!

~~Mutilating~~ Quartering the chicken was the hardest part of the recipe, which otherwise involves the simple acts of smearing garlic and baking. My photos of the chicken aren't even worth posting, so if you wanna see what the chicken looks like in a food stylist's world, take a peek at the Epicurious page...

Roasted Chicken with Garlic Confit (Recipe courtesy of Gourmet, via Epicurious)

12 garlic cloves (about 1 head), lightly smashed and peeled
3 fresh thyme sprigs
3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon olive oil
1 (3-lb) chicken, quartered
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, softened
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

Put oven rack in upper third of oven and preheat oven to 500°F.
Cook garlic, thyme, and 3/4 cup oil in a 1- to 1 1/2-quart heavy saucepan over low heat, uncovered, until garlic is very tender but not golden, about 25 minutes.
While garlic is cooking, pat chicken pieces dry and rub all over with butter and remaining tablespoon oil. Sprinkle all over with salt and pepper. Arrange chicken, skin sides up, in a shallow baking pan and roast 20 minutes.
Transfer garlic to a small bowl along with 1 tablespoon garlic oil and mash with a fork. Spread mashed garlic over skin of roasted chicken, then return chicken to oven and roast until just cooked through and skin is crisp, about 5 minutes.
Eat. Yum.

Yes, the chicken was pretty tasty, but my garlic was overdone, despite keeping it at a low temperature on the stove. The meat was extremely moist and very flavorful. I seasoned the chicken liberally w/S&P and also stuck some of the "confit" underneath the skin before the initial 20-minute roasting. The garlic flavor penetrated the meat right down to the bone, so it's a good thing I didn't have to kiss anyone tonight. What I didn't get, though, was that deliciously crispy skin I had so been looking forward to. The skin was mostly soggy, getting crispy just around the edges. In the end, though, that's better for my cholesterol. No chicken fat = no aorta fat.

As tasty and moist as the chicken was, the potatoes were the best thing on the plate. With crispy top and bottom layers and tender middle layers, the thinly sliced potatoes were as simple as could be. Containing just spuds, butter, chicken brother, and S&P, the potatoes couldn't have been any more basic. This recipe proves that sometimes the simplest things are the best...

Potato Casserole (Recipe courtesy of Gourmet, via Epicurious)

2 pounds boiling potatoes
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1/2 cup reduced-sodium chicken broth

Preheat oven to 425°F with rack in middle.
Peel potatoes and thinly slice (about 1/16 inch thick), then toss with butter, 3/4 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper.
Spread evenly in a 2-quart shallow baking dish and add broth. Cover tightly with foil and bake 30 minutes.
After 30 minutes, uncover and bake until top is well-browned and most of stock is absorbed, 30 to 35 minutes more.

I suggest using a mandoline in order to get consistent, thin slices--and to save your fingertips from the danger of your santoku. Also, don't be tempted to add anything else to the recipe. I tossed around the idea of mandoline-ing some onions to throw in, but I resisted the urge. Before experimenting, I figured I owed it to myself to try the original recipe.

And I'm so glad I resisted.

Top of "casserole"

Bottom of "casserole"

The bottom layer of potatoes was so freakin' amazing. The potatoes cooked up almost like potato chips, providing a really nice contrast in texture to the soft layers of potato for which it served as a base. The top layer of potatoes crisped up nicely, too, but that bottom layer is the stuff of which dreams are made.

And with that, I'm going to sleep. I want to relive those potatoes ASAP.

Asian restaurant knockoffs

2008-01-02T23:02:00.000-07:00

The challenge was issued: can she make orange chicken from scratch?

The challenge was accepted.

The challenge was completed: yes, she can make orange chicken from scratch.

The challenge was issued by my dad, a picky eater who didn't eat Chinese food until he turned 38. He still doesn't eat anything he can't identify by looks alone. Anyway, I accepted my father's challenge in order to avoid eating the frozen orange chicken from Trader Joe's (which, in all fairness, really isn't that bad). I'm not crazy about that stuff, plus I remembered that I have a knockoff version of Panda Express's orange chicken. I know, I know, it's a Panda Express knockoff, and not only is Panda Express a chain, it's a fast-food chain. Sweep this out of your mind for just a moment and remember: the beauty of knockoff recipes is that the final dish is always homemade, thus giving you control over all ingredients and additives, and thus giving you the ease of mind of having prepared the food in a kitchen not infested w/who-knows-what (unless you're a real pig, in which case eating at a fast-food chain would actually be better).

Knocking off one Asian recipe that night simply wasn't good enough. What better way to supplement the Panda Express orange chicken than w/Benihana fried rice? Lucky for me, that knockoff recipe is in my collection, too! W/those two recipes at hand, I began my evening of Asian restaurant knockoffs...

Panda Express Orange Chicken

Chicken

2 lbs. boneless, skinless chicken
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp. salt
white pepper, to taste
oil (for frying)

Sauce Base

1/2 c. plus 1 tbsp. cornstarch
1/4 c. flour
1 tbsp. minced ginger root
1 tsp. minced garlic
dash crushed hot red chiles
1/4 c. chopped green onions
1 tbsp. rice wine
1/4 c. water
1/2 to 1 tsp. sesame oil
orange sauce (recipe below)

Orange Sauce

2 tsp. minced orange zest
1/4 c. orange juice, preferably fresh-squeezed
1/2 tsp. sugar
2 tbsp. chicken stock
1 tbsp. light soy sauce

To make Orange Sauce, combine all ingredients in a small(ish) bowl. Stir. Tada!

Cut chicken pieces in 2" squares and place in large bowl. Stir in egg, salt, pepper, and 1 T oil and mix well. Stir cornstarch and flour together. Add chicken pieces, stirring to coat.
Heat oil for deep-frying in wok or deep-fryer to 375.
Add chicken pieces, a small batch at time, and fry 3 to 4 minutes or until golden and crisp. (Do not overcook or chicken will be tough.)
Remove chicken from oil with slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. Set aside.

Clean wok and heat 15 seconds over high heat. Add 1 T oil. Add ginger and garlic and stir−fry until fragrant.
Add and stirfry crushed chiles and green onions. Add rice wine and stir 3 seconds.
Add Orange Sauce and bring to boil.
Stir water into remaining 1 T cornstarch until smooth.
Add to chicken and heat until sauce is thick. Stir in 1 t. sesame oil.

Benihana Fried Rice

1 c. uncooked rice
5 tbsp. butter
1 c. chopped onion
1 c. chopped carrots
2/3 c. chopped scallions
3 tbsp. sesame seeds
5 eggs
5 tbsp. soy sauce
Salt and pepper, to taste

Cook rice according to package directions.
In a large skillet melt butter. Add onions, carrots and scallions. Saute until carrots are translucent. Set aside.
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Place sesame seeds in a shallow pan. Bake until golden brown (10 to 15 minutes), shaking pan occasionally for even color.
Lightly grease another skillet. Beat eggs. Pour into hot skillet. Cook as you would scrambled eggs.
Combine rice, vegetables,sesame seeds, and eggs. Add soy sauce. Stir.
Salt and pepper to taste.

As you can tell, there were LOTS of pots and pans to clean that night. There were also lots of adjustments to the recipes...

I didn't use white pepper in the coating for the chicken, but rather black pepper. Why? 'Cause that's what was available.
I didn't add any chiles to the sauce. I may be in Arizona now, but there are no red chiles in the pantry.
Light soy sauce? Nah, not here. I used the regular stuff.
Five eggs were far too many for that recipe; I'd say that three do the trick.
I add sesame oil to the mix to give it a more authentic taste.
I used maaaaybe 2 tbsp. soy sauce. Much more than that makes the rice taste like soy sauce w/some weird, starchy bits mixed in (aka. rice). Use the soy sparingly.
Extra scallions are good, both during cooking AND for plating. The scallions lose their pretty brightness once cooked, so a sprinkle of cool, crunchy scallions at the end will perk up the otherwise blah-looking rice.

What it really came down to was that I didn't go out of my way to buy ingredients I did not already have. I didn't leave out anything essential like, say, chicken or rice, but rather the ingredients that add subtle nuances of flavor. Nuances often make a dish special, but in a pinch, I'm not too big of a stickler. Just don't ask me to make orange chicken w/o chicken; that's one nuance I can't substitute for.

So what did all the pot-washing, ingredient-eliding, and stir-frying get me?

Something a few steps up from Panda Express.

But how does it compare w/Trader Joe's orange chicken?

According to my dad, "It's different. It's like comparing oranges and apples." That sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me, so I asked my mom for her thoughts. Instead of a straight answer, though, I got moans and other happy noises. She was loving the rice, using the sesame-flavored grains to soak up some of the orange sauce. "It just tastes so fresh," she raved. I agreed. Unlike the orange chicken from Panda Express and Trader Joe's, this stuff was pleasantly NOT sweet. The sauces in other versions of orange chicken are overwhelmingly sticky and saccharine, making my lips pucker because of the sweetness. The fresh orange juice used in this recipe didn't have any added sugar, so the orange flavor really had a chance to shine through. And because no corn syrup was added to the recipe, the sauce didn't get thick and gooey, characteristics I had always assumed were requirements for orange chicken sauce.

My dad may not have been able to compare this chicken to the frozen, bagged stuff, but the ladies in the family were able to say that the homemade version edged out the competition. Unfortunately, I determined that the effort put forth in making the chicken was not worth the flavor. For a reasonable price, you can get a pretty good product from Trader Joe's. Sure, the packet of sauce included w/the chicken is kinda sticky and weird, but you won't be slaving over the stove for hours.

A fine compromise can be found, however, in making your own orange sauce at home and serving it w/a pre-breaded chicken product. The chicken was the messy, sloppy part of making the recipe, so by using frozen breaded chicken instead (like popcorn chicken), you completely cut out the hassles, leaving just the sauce to make from scratch.

And as for the rice? Just do it. It's easy to make and even easier to eat. Which reminds me: I think there are leftovers in the fridge...

Happy New Year!

2008-01-01T21:55:00.000-07:00

Is there anything more anticlimactic than New Year's Eve? Whether you're watching Ryan Seacrest or Carson Daly, your heart begins to beat a little faster when you see that sparkly ball begin to make its descent. The clock in the lower right corner of the TV ticks away, the number of seconds left in the current year in a constant decline. Your heart beating fast, you begin the ritual countdown: "Ten! Nine! Eight!" The drunken people on TV and the drunken people in your living room all shout "Happy New Year!" as the clock strikes midnight.

But what was all that buildup for? For a sip of champagne? For a flip of a calendar page? For cursing yourself every time you write "2007" in the date?

Thankfully, last night's New Year's Eve was not anticlimactic. Thank you, spanikopita, for bringing my New Year's Eve to climax. Hehe.

All the spanikopita I'd ever tasted up until a few months ago was far too salty for me. My tastebuds think feta is the dairy equivalent of a salt lick. The overwhelming saltiness of the feta was enough to turn me off completely from what was otherwise a perfectly pleasant combination of phyllo, spinach, and feta.

A family-run restaurant in the suburbs of Phoenix completely changed my perception of spanikopita. (Reminder to self: write a review of this place!) The restaurant, Dino's, makes a spanikopita filled w/spinach, spiked w/dill, and studded just slightly w/feta. The resulting pie is flaky, moist, crispy, and just salty enough.

Because Dino's spanikopita made me a believer, I set out to find a spanikopita recipe I could tweak to meet my feta-fearing tastes. When looking for recipes online, I take a few things into consideration:

Who wrote the recipe? Someone trustworthy, like a respected chef or cookbook author? Someone I've never heard of, like Mrs. Mabel Fenderbuss of Tuscaloosa, Alabama?
Has the recipe been reviewed? If so, how many stars does it have?
Are there any written reviews? If so, are they generally favorable?
Does the recipe look easy to follow/make, on the whole?

Using those criteria, I found a recipe on Recipezaar. Here's how the recipe does in regard to the aforementioned criteria:

1Steve wrote the recipe. He's not necessarily a trustworthy, famous chef, but he is a diabetic from Long Island.
The recipe has been reviewed eight times, racking up more than 4.5 stars.
There were six helpful written reviews, including one from a person who said it was the best spanikopita she'd ever had.
After browsing at least a dozen recipes, this one was the simplest. I could've gone w/the Rachael Ray version, which was quicker and easier to make, but it involved sour cream and some other questionable ingredients, so I ruled that one out, despite the number of favorable reviews. It's like, "I don't care how good your carbonara is. You used cream in it, and that's illegal."

So, without further ado, here's 1Steve's spanikopita...

Spanikopita Triangles (recipe courtesy of 1Steve on Recipezaar; makes 27 triangles)

1/2 c. vegetable oil
2 large onions, chopped
20 oz. frozen chopped spinach, thawed and drained
2 tbsp. chopped fresh dill
2 tbsp. all-purpose flour
8 oz. feta cheese
4 eggs, lightly beaten
24 oz. phyllo dough
3/4 lb. butter, melted
salt and pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
Heat vegetable oil in a large saucepan over medium heat.
Slowly cook and stir onions until softened.
Mix in spinach, dill and flour.
Cook approximately 10 minutes, or until most of the moisture has been absorbed. Remove from heat.
Mix in feta cheese, eggs, salt and pepper.
Lay phyllo dough flat and brush with butter.
Place a small amount of spinach mixture onto each piece of dough.
Fold phyllo into triangles around the mixture.
Brush with butter.
Place filled phyllo dough triangles on a large baking sheet.
Bake in the preheated oven 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until golden brown.

I tweaked the recipe, of course, 'cause that's what I do. Here are the tweaks I made, as well as some observations/comments:

You don't have to make triangles; experiment w/different shapes, like pouches and rolls.
8 oz. of feta is quite a bit. I used a 5 oz. tub of feta and then tasted the filling. I didn't think it was cheesy or salty enough, so I added in about 2 oz. of freshly grated parm. Parm is milder and less salty than feta, so I liked the combination of the two cheeses. I think I could probably handle 8 oz. of feta.
I used one stick of butter (instead of 1.5) and still had some to spare.
I love dill, so I used about 3 tbsp. I think 4-5 tbsp. would've been fine for my palate. It makes the spanikopita taste so fresh and yummy.
After about 30 minutes, my spanikopita triangles (and rolls) were golden brown and ready to come out of the oven; 45-60 minutes seems like way too long for baking.
Leave a barely moist towel or paper towel over the unused sheets of phyllo while you're assembling the spanikopita. Phyllo dries up and crumbles in just a matter of seconds, so keep that dough covered!
Use salted butter for brushing. If you're gonna use butter, you might as well use sodium, too.
There may be raw eggs in the filling, but if you don't taste it before you bake it into the phyllo, you're taking a huge risk. Suck it up and taste the raw filling so you can add salt and pepper as necessary. Odds are pretty good that you're not gonna die.

So, here's what I ended up with...

These triangles are on a dinner plate, so you can tell they're pretty hefty packages. One would be a hefty appetizer for one person; two would be gluttonously delicious. I'm going to freeze these for future reheating. Phyllo reheats well, so I'll be able to enjoy these spanikopita a few weeks from now, fresh and hot from the toaster oven.

I baked these rolls of spanikopita for about 25 minutes and then popped them back into the oven when I reached the place I was celebrating New Year's. Look how flaky...

Once the spanikopita rolls were reheated and recrisped, I cut them into bite-size pieces, perfect for popping into mouths between sips of champagne.

Well before that anticlimactic moment, that peacock-colored Fiestaware plate was empty. All the spanikopita bites--in their flaky, salty goodness--were consumed within about an hour or two.

Verdict on 1Steve's recipe? Winner. My advice? Make lots and freeze. After all, there are few things better than being able to have hot spanikopita, fresh out of your own toaster oven, in the middle of the night.

Happy New Year from Bacon and Bakin'!

Rib roast redux

2007-12-30T22:32:00.000-07:00

That large piece of spa-treated beef from the other day produced enough meat for a few meals, but there are only so many things you can do to leftovers before you realize you've been eating the same damn thing for the past four days.

My favorite slipcover for the beef was a roasted garlic and rosemary cream sauce, a concoction I threw together based on the offerings in the fridge. Of course, I didn't measure anything, resorting instead just to throwing stuff into a pot, tasting it from time to time, and making adjustments to the flavor. I think that's how glue was invented.

Anyway, the sauce started out w/some chopped onions sauteed in a small pool of olive oil. Once translucent, I threw in some roasted garlic and smushed the combination around, making sure the garlic was chopped up into pieces about the same size as the onions. Some nice little bits were stuck to the bottom of the pan, so I deglazed w/some organic chicken broth--maybe 3/4 c. or so. After deglazing, I grabbed three twigs of rosemary and tossed those, branchy stuff and all, into the pan. I brought everything up to a boil and then reduced the heat a tad, letting everything simmer in the broth for about five minutes. I reduced the heat further and then stirred in some half-and-half and some heavy (!!!) whipping cream. In order to thicken the sauce, I turned the heat back up, letting the mixture come to a slow boil. Six or seven minutes later, the sauce had reduced and thickened into a dangerously rich cream sauce. My stirring caused most of the rosemary leaves to fall off the stem, which I didn't mind--although my original plan was just to get the rosemary flavor w/o actually leaving any of the leaves in the sauce. I left the leaves in and started plating my dinner.

I took a small piece of room-temperature prime rib and sliced it into about a dozen strips. I put those on top of just-boiled pasta and let the heat warm up the beef a bit.

I then poured the entire pot of sauce on top of the pasta. The heat from the sauce warmed up the beef even more, taking it from red and rare to pink and warm.

I stirred it all together after taking the picture, completely ruining the prettiness, but also mixing the flavors and textures of the firm pasta, the tender beef, and the creamy sauce.
And holy caloric blitzkrieg, Batman! My throw-stuff-into-a-pot sauce was a wonderful complement to the beef.

I can imagine this sauce really kicking up shrimp and other seafood, but only if used in moderation, as not to overwhelm the flavors of the sea. This sauce would also be a good alternative to an Alfredo for garlic lovers or those adverse to cheese. And my imagination is the only thing that would limit me here, as anything would taste good in a cream sauce.

Maybe next time I'll throw in some bacon...

Prime rib

2007-12-28T00:24:00.000-07:00

When prime rib goes on sale, you buy it. It doesn't matter how many Lean Cuisines you have packed into your freezer; you'll find room.

The three-bone rib roast in my freezer beckoned my name, so the day after Christmas I gave it a variety of meat-style spa treatments. The first treatment was a bath in warm water. Following a pat-down w/paper towels, the roast was treated to a massage. I rubbed a paste of crushed garlic, thyme, rosemary, salt, pepper, and olive oil onto the top and sides of the roast. (I also inserted slivers of garlic into slits I made in the roast using a paring knife. If anything has even been inserted into you at a spa, you probably have some pretty strong grounds for a lawsuit.) After its massage, the roast was ready for some time in a dry sauna that topped out at a whopping 375 degrees. After an hour of sauna time, I turned the heat off completely, letting the roast take in the heat already contained in the oven. I didn't open the door to the oven for two hours, as the roast does best undisturbed. Following that leisurely two-hour rest, I reinvigorated the beef by turning the heat back up to 375 for 25 minutes. This short blast of heat produced a medium-rare doneness; five minutes longer would've taken the roast to medium.

This beefy spa treatment is pretty foolproof; unless you're more anal than a proctologist, you really don't need to use a meat thermometer. This method is good for roasts that weigh about 5-8 pounds, so if you're making one that weighs more, do some research to see what'll work best for your hunk of meat.

I let the meat sit for 5-10 minutes so I wouldn't lose any of the savory, pink juices I sopped up w/roasted potatoes. (The potatoes were pretty good, but not good enough that I'd post a recipe or directions here.) No matter what starch you serve w/your prime rib, it's definitely going to play second fiddle...

Christmas in Kansas City

2007-12-25T23:09:00.000-07:00

Con: The parking lot at Fiorella's Jack Stack was packed
Pro: We waited only 7-8 minutes for a table

Con: RJ's Bob-Be-Que was a dive
Pro: The food was pretty tasty (mm, corn fritters)

Con: I had microwave rice w/dinner one night
Pro: It was accompanied by a fantastic home-grilled KC strip steak

Con: My sister-in-law's dad's (Otto's) kitchen lacks any helpful cooking equipment
Pro: I used creative, alternate means to prepare food

Con: Otto doesn't have good, sharp knives, either
Pro: No one got cut

Con: The prime rib I ordered at Hereford House was expensive
Pro: I did not have to pay for it (thanks, Adam and Amy!)

Con: I broke one of the whisks
Pro: There were two more

Con: My gougeres fell flat
Pro: Everyone still liked them once I stuffed them w/scallion-spiked cream cheese

Con: My profiteroles also fell flat
Pro: People ate them w/ice cream on top anyway

Con: There was a lot of pasta w/basil cream sauce left over
Pro: Dinner the next day

Con: My brother burned the tenderloin on the grill
Pro: The char was just perfect, resulting in a crusty, flavorful outside and a cool, pink inside

Con: I filled up on gougeres before dinner
Pro: Damn, they were really good

Con: Aunt Susie fed the new puppy a gougere
Pro: The puppy did not die

Con: The cabernet reduction didn't actually reduce, plus it tasted kinda crappy
Pro: No one had to eat it

Con: I burned my wrist on a cookie sheet
Pro: It'll feel better by the end of the week

Con: I had to eat Taco Bell for lunch one day
Pro: I remembered just how awesome the Crunchwrap Supreme is

Con: Those potholders simply were not thick enough
Pro: The feeling in my hands is starting to come back

Con: I can't be in Phoenix and Kansas City simultaneously
Pro: . . .

White-Trash Chicken?

2007-12-17T17:24:00.000-07:00

According to my brother, French's Fried Onions are for "white trash." When I told him I coated chicken breasts in crushed FFOs, then further explained that the recipe was on the can, he said that was even more evidence of it being white-trashy.

If FFOs and recipes on food packaging are white-trashy, then wrap me in a big, white Hefty bag and dub me Princess of White Trash. (I certainly cannot qualify as the queen.)

FFOs are a guilty pleasure, but the fact that they stay crunchy in their can must mean that there are some sort of preservatives inside that will eventually give me leprosy or cause me to lose my sense of hearing. For now, I'm okay w/that notion, 'cause FFOs add a pleasant crunch and flavor to soups, salads, sandwiches, and even pizzas. These golden morsels are more than just a vital ingredient for that nasty holiday green bean casserole.

On the can of FFOs, the French's people say you can substitute the product for bread crumbs. They even go so far to provide a recipe for what my brother deemed "White-Trash Chicken." Contrary to what my brother thinks, my dad loooooves the chicken, saying it tastes like latkes, and thus dubbing it "Latke Chicken." The French's people call it "Crunchy Onion Chicken." So, whatever you call it, here's the recipe...

White-Trash Chicken/Latke Chicken/Crunchy Onion Chicken
(recipe courtesy of French's site)

1 1/3 c. French's® Original or Cheddar French Fried Onions
4 boneless skinless chicken breast halves
1 egg, beaten

Place French Fried Onions into plastic bag. Lightly crush with hands or with rolling pin.
Dip chicken into egg; then coat with onion crumbs, pressing firmly to adhere. Place chicken on baking sheet. Sprinkle with additional crumbs, if desired.
Bake at 400°F for 20 minutes or until no longer pink in center.

Easy enough for even a bachelor to make, no?

The directions are pretty easy, but I made some adjustments, and also have some tips and observations...

One large can of the onions will coat 3 boneless, skinless breasts rather well, but not completely. If you want your chicken coated like the piece shown on the FFO site, you're only gonna get two per can. Thus, I recommend buying the big-ass bag of FFOs sold at Sam's Club and other club stores. You'll cover a good 8-10 breasts w/the contents of the big, resealable bag.
One egg to coat four breasts? Surely, you kid. Four breasts can be coated w/one or two eggs plus a few tbsp. of water.
I pound out the chicken breasts so they're even in thickness. They're not as thick as regular breasts when I'm done, but they're not as thin as scaloppine breasts. At about 1/2" thick, they can be cut rather easily w/just a fork.
The onions need to be crushed fairly well in order to stick to the chicken. A mini Cuisinart-style chopper is the best tool for this job. Otherwise crush as the recipe above recommends; I've used a meat tenderizer.
The FFOs don't want to stick to the chicken for some reason, so they need to be coaxed. Typical breading procedure dictates that you have one "wet hand" for touching raw meat and liquids, and one "dry hand" for touching flour and bread crumbs and other dry coatings. I find that the dual-hand system is pure crap here, and that using both hands for whatever task you want will make the FFOs stick better. The moister the FFOs are, the better they're gonna stick.
If you're not satisfied w/the amount of FFOs on the chicken, moisten up some remaining FFO crumbs w/just a touch of the egg/water mixture, and then press those crumbs onto the chicken. Just sprinkling the FFOs on, as the recipe says, isn't sufficient; those puppies will fall right off.
Don't be afraid to go heavy on the FFOs; it's better to have too much as a coating than too few.

Even if your chicken is sparsely coated, it's still gonna taste good. After all, what's bad about chicken and crispy onions? So, dear brother, I challenge you to make this chicken for you and your wife. If you're hesitant to buy the FFOs yourself, thus giving off the vibe that you may be white trash, I'll give you a can. But even after you decide that, hey, this chicken is bitchin', we can still call it White-Trash Chicken.

I saved $10!

2007-12-16T00:18:00.000-07:00

There are many ways to save $10, like buying generic products or only shopping the sale rack. Today, though, I saved $10 or so by making a pizza from scratch instead of going out for one. Referring to my PDF of restaurant knockoff recipes, I made a Pizzeria Uno-style pizza. Say what you will about Uno's not being authentic and blah blah blah, but I like it--despite being mostly anti-chain--so I wanted to give this recipe a try.

The recipe itself is easy, but the dough involves plenty of time for rising, so you need to start it around, say, 4 p.m. in order to eat dinner at a reasonable time. I opted not to make the sauce or the filling/topping of sausage and stuff, so I basically topped the dough w/my homemade marinara sauce and other stuff I like. Take that, overpriced corporate pizza!

What gets me about Uno's pizza is the crust: it's flaky to the point of being kind of buttery, like a savory pie crust. I expected the recipe for the dough to include butter or Crisco or some sort of congealed fat, but the only fat in the recipe was vegetable oil. Hm. I wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not, but I proceeded according to the directions. So, here's how to make the dough for your own $10-cheaper-than-the-real-thing Uno's pizza...

Pizzeria Uno Chicago-Style Deep-Dish Pizza Dough

1 c. warm tap water
1 pkg. active dry yeast
3 1/2 c. flour
1/2 c. course ground cornmeal
1 tsp. salt
1/4 c. vegetable oil

Pour the warm water into a large mixing bowl and dissolve the yeast until bubbly. Add 1 cup of flour, all of the cornmeal, salt, and vegetable oil. Mix well with a spoon. Continue stirring in the rest of the flour 1/2 cup at a time, until the dough comes away from the sides of the bowl. Flour your hands and a surface and knead the ball of dough until it is no longer sticky.
Let the dough rise in an oiled bowl, sealed with plastic wrap, for 45-60 minutes in a warm place, until it is doubled in bulk.
After 45-60 minutes, punch it down and knead it briefly. Press it into an oiled 15-inch deep-dish pizza pan, until it comes 2 inches up the sides and is even on the bottom of the pan. Let the dough rise 15-20 minutes before filling.

Preheat the oven to 500 degrees.
Once the dough has risen again, put in your toppings. To be traditional, put the cheese on the bottom and the sauce on top, or be a rebel and do it your own damn way.

Bake for 15 minutes at 500 degrees, then lower the temperature to 400 degrees and bake for 25 to 35 minutes longer. The crust will be golden brown when done.

Let rest a few minutes before serving, otherwise the cheese will ooze all over.

One pizza has cheese on it, while the other doesn't; the pretty one is the cheeseless one. Despite the cheese being underneath the sauce when it went in the oven, it didn't stay there. The oozing of the cheese above the sauce made it an ugly pie, albeit a tastier one than the cheeseless pie.

Looks aside, how was the crust?

Well, porous.

The little bubbles of air in the crust make it crunchy but also a little spongy. As you can tell, the crust is deep (duh) and a warm golden color. But does it have the flakiness and butteriness of Uno's pizza that I love?

No. No no no. Not even close. In terms of denseness, the crust is right on, but there's no butteriness or flakiness like in pie crust. Big letdown! I think I was onto something when I said some sort of solidified fat needs to be used. After all, layers of butter and flour are what make pie crust so flaky and wonderful.

Despite the crust not tasting just like Uno's, it was still tasty. I made some adjustments, though...

I didn't use close to 3.5 c. flour--more like 2.5 c., including what I kneaded in.
I don't have a 15" deep-dish pan. I used two smaller spring-form pans instead. The dough worked well for the two pans, which were probably 9" and 12". The crust turned out perfectly thick. Also, the spring form pan will allow the pizza to pop out w/o a problem--no broken-pizza mishaps.

Give this dough a shot and save yourself $10 you'd otherwise spend at Uno's. Just don't expect that flaky, oily, salty, deliciousness of the crust you can only find at the corporate behemoth (or in your grocer's refrigerator case).

Everything tastes better wrapped in bacon

2007-12-12T00:04:00.000-07:00

Because I'm not a seafood fan, I know I'm missing out on a good number of sea-creature delicacies, including scallops wrapped in bacon. I'm not a fan of the consistency of water chestnuts, either, so I'm not tempted to eat those wrapped in bacon, either. But if you take something I like--say, chicken--and wrap it in bacon, I'll eat it.

I first saw skewered chicken wrapped in bacon at Quincy Market in Boston. In my three years in Boston, I only had these skewers once. The particular stand had all sorts of stuff wrapped in bacon, including scallops and shrimp, I think, but only the poultry siren sang her song.

Convinced I could recreate these skewers, which combined juicy chicken and crispy bacon, I bought some bamboo skewers. My first attempt resulted in really soggy bacon, while the second resulted in slightly crispier bacon that was still kinda limp. With a third attempt now under my belt, I've figured out how to produce bacon-wrapped, moist chicken...on a stick.

For a special dish like this, I used some of the Niman Ranch bacon I bought at Trader Joe's. Bacon you can buy at a regular grocery store works, too, but I like the thick cut and smokier flavor of Niman Ranch's stuff. A pound of bacon cost under $5, and after making these skewers and two grilled cheese-and-bacon sandwiches, I still have half a dozen slices left to make the perfect BLT.

Anyway, these skewers are simple, tasty, and pretty. If you're health-conscious in any way, you can add some veggies to your skewers, but because I am a pork purist, I just went for pig and poultry. Mm.

Chicken-Bacon Skewers

2 boneless, skinless split chicken breasts
10 strips bacon
Salt, pepper, any spices you want
4 bamboo skewers

Soak skewers in water for at least 15-20 min. to prevent burning once they go in the oven.
Put bacon on a broiler sheet under the broiler until the bacon looks about half-cooked or a bit more. Remove from oven once done, and then set baking temperature to 375.
Cut eat chicken breast into 10 (or so) 1-2" chunks.
Cut each bacon strip in two so you have two shorter pieces.
Wrap each piece of chicken with a half slice of bacon, being sure to overlap the two ends of the bacon. Stick the soaked skewer through the chicken and bacon, piecing the overlap of bacon so the whole bundle stays on the stick. Repeat process until five chunks are on each of the four skewers.

Place the wrapped skewers back on the broiler sheet. Season w/salt, pepper, and any other spices you want (I also used garlic powder) and put in the oven. Cook 15-20 min., flipping over halfway through.

Serve one skewer per person w/a side dish and/or salad--or, if you're a hoss like me, eat two of them on your own.

I'll admit that the whole double-cooking thing isn't necessarily the most convenient method, but look at it this way: you'll only have one pan to clean AND you're guaranteed to get a good crisp on your bacon. If you're afraid of any chewiness in your bacon, I'd stay away from the thick-sliced kind, going right for the normal stuff. Thicker bacon is chewier by nature, so it will NOT get 100% crispy w/this recipe...just 80% crispy.

Crispy or not, it tastes good. And it looks good, too...

Moist and juicy on the inside! Also with a skewer indentation!

With the method used here, you can wrap anything w/bacon and end up w/something tasty. I'm sure cubes of filet would be good (like a mini bacon-wrapped steak), as would roasted potatoes. And for everyone who loves seafood, scallops and shrimp are no-brainers. Now if only I could rationalize wrapping bacon in bacon and threading it onto a skewer...

Happy Hanukkah!

2007-12-10T01:11:00.001-07:00

Admit it: even if you're not Jewish, you love latkes. I mean, what's not to like about a fried mixture of potatoes and onions?

The history of the holiday centers around oil, which was needed to light the temple. Because of the miraculous oil that lasted eight days instead of just one, traditional Hanukkah foods are fried. This is my kinda holiday! So, during Hanukkah, you are obligated to eat fried foods like latkes and jelly donuts. Yes, I said obligated.

On the sixth night of the holiday, I finally pulled out the grater and feared for my knuckles. Having grown up on box o' latkes, one would think I'm okay with the stuff, but this couldn't be farther from the truth.

How is it possible that a freakin' 12-pack of this crap SOLD OUT on Amazon??? Anyone who bought that boxed blasphemy--in bulk, no less--is missing out on really good latkes.

Much like matzoh balls, latkes are a hands-on kinda food; you just "know" when your batter is the right consistency. So, I just kinda shred up potatoes and onions, add some eggs and flour/matzoh meal, and have confidence in the fact that, no matter what, it's gonna taste better than the Manischewitz version. But today I paid close attention to what I was doing so I could share some sort of recipe here. Here's a rough version of the delicious latkes I fried up tonight...

Latkes (makes about a dozen 3-4" diameter latkes)

5 small potatoes (Yukon gold are awesome, but I used little white ones 'cause that's what I had)
2 small onions
2 eggs
Flour (or matzoh meal)
Salt and pepper to taste
Canola oil, for frying

Shred potatoes into a bowl using a grater or grating attachment in a Cuisinart. When done shredding, cover potatoes w/cold water. Swish around for a minute, then pour out water. Cover again w/more water.
Chop onions fairly roughly in the Cuisinart using the regular blade. This will spare your eyes.
Pour out the remaining water from the potatoes, and then add the chopped onions to the bowl. Set in the fridge until right before you're ready to start frying.
Remove bowl from fridge and pour off any liquid. Heat 1-2" oil to medium-high heat in a deep(ish) pot to contain splattering.
Put 3/4 potato/onion mixture into a Cuisinart w/the regular blade. Spin the mixture around for about 30 seconds, until fairly smooth.
Return mixture to bowl w/shredded potatoes/onions. To keep the latkes crispy, I use my hands to squeeze out as much of the liquid possible from the creamy mixture.
Crack eggs and add to bowl. Stir 'em in until evenly incorporated.
Add 2-3 tbsp. flour for a loose mixture; add up to 3/4 c. for a creamier mixture (which I prefer, but which many latke naturalists advise against.)
Add salt and pepper. You won't overdo the pepper no matter how hard you try, but salting is a tricky one. For this amount of potato, 1.5 tbsp. is probably about right. Start off light, as you can always add more salt, but you can't remove it. Stir it all up.
Use a spoon to put a small blob of batter into the oil. Fry 2-3 min. or until golden brown, then flip. Taste. Add more salt, pepper, or flour to the recipe to to fit your tastes.
Once satisfied w/the flavor of the batter, use 1 heaping tbsp. to form each latke, dropping the batter directly into the oil. A tbsp. should create a latke 3-4 in. in diameter. Complete step above, flipping to achieve goldenness on both sides.

Remove latkes from oil and drain quickly on a paper towel. If not eating immediately, transfer the latkes to a foil-lined baking sheet, then slide into a 250 degree oven.
Serve w/applesauce, sour cream, caviar, etc.

The step w/blending up 3/4 of the potatoes/onions seems kinda strange, but there's a method to that madness. By blending a good portion of the batter into a smoother mixture, you ensure that the insides of the latkes will be creamy. At the same time, that remaining 1/4 of potatoes/onions will give the latkes a better texture both inside and out. Solely shredded is too rough for me, while 100% pureed is boring. The 75/25 is my preferred ratio, but you can play around w/your ideal.

So, if you're tempted to buy box o' latkes, take a Tylenol, put on some Yanni, and take a deep breath. Once you regain both consciousness and sanity, make your own latkes. W/a little bit of effort, you're gonna get great results. And even if your first batch isn't great, well, it's gonna be a hell of a lot better than Manischewitz.

Bakin' for the holidays

2007-12-08T00:57:00.001-07:00

Tis the season to eat butter, clog-ged ar-teries and heart at-tacks!

Thus, for an appetizer-and-dessert potluck, I made mini cream puffs and toffee. Although the cream puffs and their chocolate-mousse filling had about a stick of butter in them total, the toffee contained a whopping SIX sticks (I doubled the recipe). I can only assume that the guests at the party will be paying visits to their cardiologists in the coming months.

(Heads up: I'm not going to post any recipes on this page, but rather link you to those pages where I found the recipes. Gotta give credit where it's due.)

Since I made the toffee first, let's take a peek at it.

Impressive results for a very easy recipe. Homemade toffee tastes much better than Heath or Skor, in my opinion, as the homemade stuff doesn't contain preservatives or artificial flavors. I found my toffee recipe online, posted--of all places--on Flickr! The person who posted the recipe also posted a step-by-step tutorial, complete w/pictures, of how to make toffee. So, I refer you there: http://www.flickr.com/photos/ruthieki/sets/72057594070423836/. The recipe itself is located on the last page, here.

A couple of notes on the recipe:

It makes really thick toffee. Like, crack-your-tooth thick. Spreading it into two pans instead of one will make the toffee thinner, more like Skor or Heath.
Add as much chocolate as you want. After all, YOU have the control over the toffee-to-chocolate ratio.

I made the chocolate mousse for the cream puffs a day ahead of time so the mousse could set up overnight. I chose to fill the puffs w/chocolate mousse because most custards and custardy-textured things make me gag. Besides, who doesn't like chocolate mousse?

I've used the Tyler Florence recipe for chocolate mousse on a number of occasions. Everyone at my old office loved the stuff, basically begging to lick the bowl when full glasses of mousse were gone. This recipe involves three bowls, maybe four if you're a complete spaz. Aside from the proliferation of bowls, though, the recipe is an easy one. Chocolate, egg yolks, meringue, whipped cream, and a couple other ingredients come together to make a light-yet-rich, fluffy dessert.

Of course, I've experimented w/the recipe...

If you forget to let the butter come to room temperature, your mousse will still be fine.
Cream of tartar isn't necessary, especially if you have to walk 20 minutes to a grocery store to obtain it. (But it will stabilize the mousse.)
I add a dash of salt. Have you had the chocolate silk pie from Baker's Square? Ya know how it has that tang of salt in it? Yeah, that's what makes it so good. A pinch or two of salt will do the trick.
For a lighter mousse, use 3/4 or 1 c. of whipped cream instead of 1/2 c.
White chocolate works, but leave out the 1/4 c. sugar.
This recipe serves four--four wildebeests. It serves 8-10 humans.

The last step was the pate a choux for the cream puffs. I harken ye back to the time I made cheesy poofs, known by the sophisticated set as gougeres. Gougeres are savory snacks made using a savory pate a choux, while cream puffs are made using a slightly sweetened version of the same dough. Since I saw Alton Brown making pate a choux a couple weeks, ago and since he seemed to know what he was talking about, I opted to use his version this time instead of one from Ina Garten (she of Barefoot Contessa fame), whose gougeres recipe produced marvelous results. Alton's recipe uses water instead of milk as the main liquid, but there was no noticeable difference between his recipe and Ina's regarding ease of preparation, ease of use, texture, and taste.

Having made a sweet pate a choux, though, I have some observations...

Use more sugar. A sole tbsp.? Hellz no. Try three or four if you actually want your dough to taste like something
Add vanilla. It can't hurt, plus it'll make the dough--again--taste like something.
Measure your flour. But if you can't (or don't wanna), use a cup for the recipe. That's what I did.
Pat down the tips of the piped puffs using water. Wet your finger (or a pastry brush) with water, then gently press down on the tips.
Let the puffs sit for two minutes before slitting them, especially if you're slitting the bottoms. They're too damn hot--and delicate--to handle right away.
If you're piping stuff in from the bottom, don't just make a slit, but rather an X. An X will provide a much better entrance for your pastry tip.

So, once the poofs were cooled and the hour of the potluck was near, I piped in the mousse. I'd never filled cream puffs before, but the process couldn't have been any easier. Insert the tip in the X, squeeze a bit, twist (to clean off the tip AND to keep the filling inside the puff), and remove. For some added panache and a bit of winter wonderlandiness, I sprinkled the tops of the cream puffs w/powdered sugar.

Looks like a tray of professional baked goods!

Business on the outside...

...party on the inside!

Even w/pretty minimal effort, impressive homemade desserts can make an appearance at your holiday party this year. Cream puffs--and other pate a choux desserts, like eclairs--never fail to impress, and that toffee... Well, it'll get gobbled up faster than Takeru Kobayashi can inhale a hot dog.

Macaroni Grill bread

2007-12-03T23:54:00.000-07:00

I basically dislike restaurant chains. But in giving chain restaurants a bit of respect, I'll say that they usually make one or two things that are pretty tasty. At the Macaroni Grill, that thing is the bread. A hot focaccia accompanies the mediocre food at the Macaroni Grill, making the long wait, oversalted sauces, and questionable decor almost tolerable.

Earlier this year, my best friend sent me a PDF of 100 or so knockoff recipes, much like those Todd Wilbur creates and compiles into books. (Maybe these are some of his recipes. I dunno.) I've made the bourbon chicken (like the kind they thrust into your face at mall food courts) and Chick-Fil-A chicken, as well as the fantastic Macaroni Grill focaccia knockoff.

The recipe for the bread is easy, so long as you have a few hours to make it; active prep time is about 5-10 minutes, while idle prep time is around 2 hours. On a lazy Sunday afternoon, this simple bread will fill your home w/a warm, yummy smell while it's baking. Sopped w/olive oil and herbs, it will fill your stomach w/carbs, grease, and rosemary.

While it lacks the air pockets traditionally found inside a focaccia, this stuff is still pretty good. It's a denser focaccia than you might expect, but this means the bread is spongier, thus soaking up more olive oil or sauce or whatever else you have a taste for.

Macaroni Grill Focaccia

1 packet dry yeast
1 tsp. canola oil (I use olive)
1 tbsp. sugar
Nonstick cooking spray
1 c. warm water
2 tbsp. margarine (I find that 2 tsp. is enough)
2 c. white flour
1/4 c. fresh rosemary, chopped, or 2 tbsp. dried
1 tsp. salt

-Place yeast, sugar and water in a large bowl or food processor and allow the
mixture to become bubbly.
-Mix in 2 c. of flour and salt.
-Flour a surface and knead dough for about 10 min. OR process in food processor for 15 sec. until smooth and elastic. Add flour if necessary.
-Oil a bowl, put dough in it. and cover with a towel. Let dough rise in a warm place for 1 hr., until doubled.
-Punch down dough and divide in half. Let the dough rest for a few minutes.
-Coat 2 9-in. square cake pans with nonstick spray. (Use just one pan if you want your bread to be tall, like it is at the Macaroni Grill; this is my preferred method.)
-Press dough into pans. Melt margarine. Brush margarine over the tops of the loaves. Sprinkle rosemary over the loaves and lightly press into the surface. Let the loaves rise again until doubled, about 45 min.
-Preheat oven to 450 F. Lightly sprinkle salt over the loaves. Bake for 20-25 min, until lightly browned.
-Serve immediately. Great dipped in olive oil w/herbs!

UPDATE: Crumb cake

2007-12-02T19:31:00.001-07:00

Back in September, I wrote a post about some particularly tasty crumb cake. I mentioned that I didn't have the recipe, but due to my mom digging around in her inbox, the recipe has been retrieved! I found this recipe online, courtesy of everyone's favorite felonious homemaker, Martha Stewart.

So, without further ado, I present the recipe for the artery-clogging, calorie-laden, buttery-good crumb cake of my dreams.

Martha's Classic Crumb Cake (recipe courtesy of www.bakeorbreak.com)

Cake batter

10 tablespoons butter, softened
2 & 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
3 large eggs
1 & 1/4 cups sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

-Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9″x13″ pan and set aside.
-Mix together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
-Beat butter and sugar on medium speed until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after adding each one. Add vanilla. Add flour mixture and sour cream. Mix just until blended.
-Spread batter evenly into pan. Bake for 10-15 minutes.
-While cake is baking, prepare the...

Crumb topping

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 & 1/2 teaspoons coarse salt
1 & 3/4 cups (2 3/4 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

-Combine flour, sugar, cinnamon, and salt. Cut in the butter with a pastry blender or a fork. When well mixed, the mixture should form.
-Remove cake from oven after 10-15 minutes. Top w/crumb topping, then return to oven for an additional 20-25 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean. -Cool on a wire rack. Dust with confectioners' sugar.

(Editor's note: The original recipe doesn't call for a two-step baking process. I found that if the cake and topping are cooked together at once, the cake doesn't fully rise and bake. The inside may be gummy if you don't bake the cake for 10-15 minutes first.)

'Cause I couldn't find a missing person poster generator online...

2007-12-02T00:02:00.000-07:00

Height: 3/4 in.
Weight: 2.75 oz., 5.3 oz., or 12 oz.
Last seen: 2005

Oh, Hershey gurus,
Did you discontinue these
Awesome little bites?

What I wouldn't give
To be able to buy them
At a groc'ry store...

12/14/07, UPDATE: I called Hershey's today. They stopped making their Bites line in December 2006. I am now officially in mourning.

Review: Pizzeria Bianco

2007-12-01T19:45:00.000-07:00

Visit Pizzeria Bianco on a Saturday night, and you'll understand why, in a special Halloween article, the Republic named it the #1 scariest thing about Phoenix. Visit Pizzeria Bianco on a Wednesday night, however, and you'll swear you're at a completely different restaurant.

Although the quality of the food doesn't differ depending on the day of your visit, your wait time will. Let's play a little game. One of the two photos below was taken on a Wednesday afternoon at 3:50, while the other was taken at the exact same time on a Saturday night. Can you guess which is which?

The first picture--with the Bacon and Bakin' parents flashing a victorious "WE ARE #1!!!"--was indeed taken on a Wednesday afternoon. At 3:50, we were the first to arrive at the restaurant, and the second party didn't show up until a good 10-15 minutes later. The second picture, taken from underneath the awning shown in the first picture, illustrates the madness you will undoubtedly find at the popular pizzeria on Friday or Saturday. Arriving at 3:40 or so, my friends weren't the first people there; they were more like the seventh group to stand in formation. Ten minutes later, you'd think you were smack dab in the middle of a line for that ET ride at Disney World.

Although Bianco doesn't open until 5 p.m., crowds of people gather at its entrance long before opening time just so they can be guaranteed a spot in the first or second seating. The first time I went to Pizzeria Bianco, my family had planned on arriving at 3:45. We turned in the wrong place and couldn't find the street and ran into myriad other problems, but we eventually found it--at 4:15. By this time, we were already about 75-80 people back in the line, but we decided to stick it out. Once the restaurant's doors opened, the lucky people at the start of the line were ushered inside, seated, and served pizza. The rest of us were forced to continue waiting online--another 40-45 minutes--just to add our names to a list, one containing enough parties to constitute a three-hour wait. We decided to stick that out, too, and waited another 45-50 minutes. Figuring we'd have our orders ready far in advance, my family gathered at the menu posted on the window to ogle the descriptions of the doughy disks. My grandfather looked at the menu and decided that nothing looked good. I nearly cried. And yes, I was in a foul mood the rest of the evening.

Flash forward ten months, and my family does things right. We didn't get lost, we arrived at 3:50, we brought entertainment (Sudoku and cards), we even toted soccer-mom-style chairs. First to arrive at Pizzeria Bianco, my family let out a whoop, assumed seats at one of the outdoor tables (stashing the pop-up chairs in the car), and began our wait. The wait was painless, as we had a place to sit, brought stuff to keep us occupied, and were in the shade. I applied these lessons to my next visit to Pizzeria Bianco, w/friends about a month later, bringing the soccer-mom chairs back (which, again, we didn't need), as well as a full-sized, Deluxe Edition of Scrabble. Entertainment in tow, the wait was just about as painless as what I experienced during a mid-week visit.

Now that you're fully prepared for what to expect before you even enter the doors at Pizzeria Bianco, I can start talking about the food. Yes, it's definitely good enough to merit a one-hour wait. A three- or four-hour wait, though? I'd reconsider, especially if it's hot outside.

The menu at Pizzeria Bianco is extremely limited, with two "Small Plates," two salads (three, if there's a seasonal salad available), and six pizzas. There are ten toppings you can add to jazz up your pizza, but you won't find meatballs, Canadian bacon, green pepper, and other Domino's-style toppings here. Unlike eating at Stax, decision-making here is easy because of the small menu.

Bianco's small plates are an antipasto selection and spiedini, which consists of "Italian Fontina wrapped in Prosciutto di Parma, served warm." At $12 and $9 respectively, they're costlier than your typical appetizer. Salads, too, come at a higher price, with the house salad w/mixed greens going for $6 and the caprese carrying a hefty $9 price tag. Fresh bread arrives w/each salad ordered, while bread can be ordered on its own for $2. The bread is crisp on the outside, moist and chewy on the inside, and well worth every calorie.

A sawbuck at Bianco will get you a circle of dough w/marinara sauce on top, while a dollar more will make it a traditional margherita pizza. Pizzas w/more toppings cost up to $14, while toppings such as fresh garlic, Arizona pistachios, Gaeta olives, roasted cremini mushrooms, and anchovies cost anywhere from $1 to $4. Each pie will serve 1-2 people, depending on how hungry you are. I vote for a 1-to-1 ratio for people-to-pizzas, as the leftovers reheat well.

The dining room at Bianco is about 1/65,245 the size of a dining room at the Cheesecake Factory, making it a far more intimate space. With tall ceilings and brick walls, Pizzeria Bianco feels as rustic as it looks. Although the dining room is small, your waiter has a lot of other customers to take care of, so don't expect star treatment. But you didn't decide to eat there expecting white tablecloths and bowtie-clad waiters, anyway, so just sit back and try not to expect too much from you waiter aside from drink refills and a smattering of attention.

Over the course of two visits to Bianco, I sampled the house salad, the caprese, and the spiedini. Composed of fresh mixed greens and nary a leaf of iceberg lettuce, the house salad is similar to what you'd find in upscale restaurants. A light vinaigrette dressed the leaves, but the greens--including some peppery arugula--did the bulk of the talking. Without onions or croutons or anything extraneous, the salad proved that the freshest, simplest ingredients are the basis for the best dishes.

Containing the three colors in the Italian flag, the caprese is a plate of thick, watery slices of house-made mozzarella, large slices of ruby-red tomatoes, and bright leaves of basil. Olive oil and vinegar are perched in the middle of the table, so patrons can garnish their salad as they see fit. Although caprese is a summery dish, it was equally enjoyable in November.

My favorite pre-pizza dish was the spiedini. Atop mixed greens (not mentioned on the menu! yay for unexpected salad!) sit two skewers. Each skewer is poked through a chunk of fontina cheese, all of which is then wrapped up like a birthday present in prosciutto. Slightly sauteed or grilled, the spiedini arrive at the table in a pink-and-green flourish. Inside the slightly caramelized prosciutto hides softly melted cheese which oozes out upon being cut. The contrasts of temperature, texture, and flavor dance inside your mouth.

No matter which pie you order, the standout of the pizza will be the crust. Fired in a wood oven, every pizza is prepared individually by owner/chef Chris Bianco. Like the bread served at the beginning of the meal, the pizza crust is incredibly delicious. A slight crunch on the crust gives way to a chewy center. Char marks freckle the ring of crust at the circumference as well as the bottom of the pizza.

During my two visits to Pizzeria Bianco, I had the opportunity to sample four of the six pizzas on the menu. The first, the marinara, is the plainest pizza on the menu. The sauce overpowered the crust both in flavor and in texture, making an otherwise glorious crust into something floppy and flaccid. (Plus, this pie's less than photogenic, hence it not appearing here.) The addition of cheese and basil, as found on the margherita, makes a world of difference. Less sauce is used on this pizza, meaning the crust stays crisp and the flavors are allowed to complement each other in better proportions. In all honesty, though, I found these pizzas boring.

Margherita + red onion rings

Gutsier choices on the menu include the Rosa and the Wiseguy. The Rosa, sans tomato sauce, is topped w/red onion, parmigiano reggiano, rosemary, and Arizona pistachios. Although I've put walnuts on a pizza before (curry sauce + walnuts = whoa), I'd never thought to crumble up pistachios to use as a topping. The crushed nuts provide an earthy flavor as well as a fantastic contrast in texture. The combination of toppings makes for a light yet satisfying pie.

The Wiseguy, also without red sauce, comes topped w/thick, wood-roasted rings of onion, house-smoked mozzarella, and fennel sausage. A hearty pie, the Wiseguy tastes mostly of the fennel-spiked sausage. It's easy to lose the smoky flavor of the cheese and the roasty flavor of the onion beneath the overpowering punch of fennel. Regardless, that sausage is really, really tasty.

During one visit, I combined the Rosa and the Wiseguy by ordering a Rosa topped w/some of the fennel sausage ($3 extra as a topping). The sausage had the same effect on the Rosa as it had on the Wiseguy, basically wiping out any other flavors I would've tasted otherwise. So, while the fennel tasted good, it was impossible to distinguish the rosemary, cheese, or pistachio. Unless you can taste beyond the sausage, you'd be wise to leave it off your pizza.

These are no desserts at Pizzeria Bianco--unless you consider pizza a dessert, which I certainly do. There is a list of a couple dozen whites and reds, though, so oenophiles will be able to enjoy their pizza w/a glass or a bottle of the good stuff.

But don't feel obligated to order a drink. Unlike those chain pizza restaurants, you don't have to get drunk first in order to enjoy the pizza.

Pizzeria Bianco
623 E. Adams St.
Phoenix, AZ
602.258.8300
www.pizzeriabianco.com

Review: Stax

2007-11-29T23:34:00.000-07:00

An Ode to Sliders, Haiku-Style

Minuscule burgers,
Perfect, juicy three-biters,
Disappear so fast.

Choose your favorite meat,
Add any toppings you want,
Open mouth and eat.

What is that great smell?
Oh, it is sliders cooking!
Bring me one, pronto.

Harold and Kumar,
Those wise and hungry stoners,
Were onto something...

This beautiful landscape is rife not only w/brilliant colors, but also with vibrant flavors. This edible sunset tops one of the bite-sized burgers found at Stax Burger Bistro, a bar and restaurant around the corner from Scottsdale Fashion Square. So, steer yourself away from the food court and toward burger bliss.

Behind an oversized door lies a dining room w/a long bar, as well as an outdoor eating area where burger buffs can enjoy both their food and the weather. Both the indoor and outside areas are adorned with retro-chic furniture, cozy enough to support your back, but not cozy enough to keep you comfortable during a long stretch of burger-eating and martini-drinking. Based on the tables and chairs, I fulled expected to see shag carpet make a cameo, but, alas, it was nowhere in sight.

While the decor at Stax is straight out of the late '60s, the menu is anything but. Yet somehow the retro feel is very appropriate for the menu, which takes classic comfort foods--like burgers and mac and cheese--and brings them into the 21st century.

The muse of the double-sided menu at Stax is the burger. Poor decision-makers may find a meal at Stax overwhelming, as building your burger can be a multi-step process. So, let's break down the ordering process:

1a) Order one or two of the Stax-style burgers, pre-built sliders w/topping ranging from bruschetta to exotic salsas. Basically, you're putting your trust in the kitchen, but have confidence in the chefs, as they know what they're doing when it comes to combining flavors. Skip to step 8.

1b) Begin building your own burger. "Burger," however, is loosely defined at Stax, where your sandwich patty can be made from 3 oz. of beef, bison, turkey, lamb, ostrich, salmon, or veggies. (I took my own liberties at home, making sliders out of chicken.) Choose one meat per sandwich. Order two for lunch, three for dinner, four for coronary.

2) Add a cheese like cheddar, jack, or feta. Or not.

3) Add some bacon. This is not an option, but rather a requirement, as far as I see it.

4) Add some veggies, like the traditional lettuce and tomato or the more exotic flamingo-pink pickled onions.

5) Add a sauce, including a couple variety of salsas.

6) Add an aioli, such as pesto, chipotle, or spicy.

7) Choose how many carbs you can take: have your burger(s) served on a bun, topless (just the bottom of the bun), naked (no bun), or on a bed of greens

8) Ogle other people's food as it comes out of the kitchen, wondering if your food is going to look as awesome.

9) Rejoice! Your food does look as awesome as other's people's.

10) Sink your teeth into your juicy meat gem

If you stick w/step 1a, eating at Stax is plain and simple, and you will also most likely try flavor combinations you'd never even imagined would work well together. If you go w/step 1b, though, your options are unlimited. If you want a salmon burger topped w/bleu cheese, caramelized onions, bacon (duh), pineapple, avocado, and pesto aioli--well, hot damn, you go ahead and order that disgusting thing.

No matter what you order, you won't walk away w/empty pockets. Stax-style burgers are $4-5 apiece, while plain meat on a but costs $3-4. All of the toppings--bacon, cheese, salsas, aiolis--cost $.25 per burger, meaning you can throw on a good number of topping and still keep your slider under $5. That is, unless you splurge on a slice of foie gras, which will double the price of your custom creation.

Burgers of this caliber deserve classy-yet-comforting side dishes. Stax hits the mark by serving up crispy, golden tater tots in a mini frying basket. The tots, about $5, feed 2-3 people. Other side dishes include sweet potato fries, onion rings and macaroni and cheese.

During my visit, the order of tater tots were treated as an appetizer, brought out a good 10-15 minutes before the sliders arrived. I figured the burgers would be out soon, so I began dipping the tots into mayo and ketchup (standard sauces w/an order of tots) and two aiolis, one a basil-flecked pesto and the other a spicy pink sauce which turned out to be the standout of the bunch.

Oops! Couldn't wait to dip!

By the time the burgers arrived, I was contemplating whether or not another order of tater tots would be necessary. It would have been enjoyable to eat the potatoes w/the burgers, but I couldn't rationalize ordering more of the crispy taters.

The sliders, served on long, slender, white dishes, look like artwork on a clean canvas. Take, for example, the aforementioned sunset, which sits atop one of the two Stax-style lamb burgers. The bright colors of the pink pickled onions, emerald chives, and peach-mint-mango salsa pop against the dark, grilled beef and the white porcelain plate.

Presentation is just one of many criteria that contributes to the enjoyment of a meal. More important, though, is flavor. The salsa atop this slider was delicious, and the melted cheese (feta?) provided the right amount of saltiness to complement the lamb. The meat, unfortunately, tasted gamy, which I tend not to appreciate in lamb. While lamb can dry out easily, this little patty of meat was juicy and flavorful.

Having sampled elk within the past couple of months, I was feeling adventurous. Thus, I ordered the Stax-style ostrich burger, topped with hand-pulled mozzarella, bruschetta tomatoes, and leaves of fresh basil. The ostrich was juicy and flavorful, tasting less like chicken and more like beef. The burger's toppings were surprisingly complementary, as I would have thought those toppings would have been better-suited for chicken or beef. The final verdict on ostrich is YUM.

The salmon slider is not a mini fillet of fish, but rather a ground-up mixture of fish and other spices. The Stax-style salmon slider presents hints of Asian--specifically Thai--flavors, thanks to an Asian-style slaw and a hint of lemongrass. Once again, the burger was cooked just right, retaining the moisture fish can lose after being cooked just a moment too long. The decorative, edible greenery on top? I do not know what this is. Looks like a piece of the lawn I had back in Cleveland.

The Stax-style buffalo burger is topped w/those same fluorescent pink onions and a smattering of chives. The burger is a one-ring circus--literally. Encircling those bright colors is a hefty breaded onion ring. Between the buffalo and the ring are peach BBQ sauce and a slice of melted jack cheese. At the very bottom of the burger sits a redeeming feature: one healthy leaf of lettuce. Buffalo, although easy to dry out due to its leanness, retains most of its juices in this slider. Your chance of actually tasting the flavor of the meat, however, directly in proportion to the amount of BBQ sauce doused upon your burger; the more sauce there is, the less likely you are to taste anything but sauce. When I tasted the burger, I was immediately brought back to Israel, to the time when I swam in the Dead Sea and then decided to lick the tip of my finger. I couldn't do much to dilute the painful saltiness of the Dead Sea, but at Stax I was able to scrape some of the BBQ sauce off the slider in order to make the tiny sandwich edible. The sauce didn't taste at all of peaches, so you really won't lose much by scraping off as much sauce as possible, as it's already permeated the bun.

Some Stax-style burgers are winners, while others are losers. But for $5 a pop, it's worth trying a few Stax-style sliders or building your own burgers at this trendy Scottsdale bistro.

Stax Burger Bistro
4400 N. Scottsdale Rd.
Scottsdale, AZ
480.946.4222
No website available

Sliding into home

2007-11-29T00:30:00.000-07:00

Would you ride a cheetah just for a bite of your favorite food? Would you hang-glide--while stoned--to get your hands on that perfect morsel? Would you forgive Neil Patrick Harris for stealing and, uh, defacing your car if it meant you could taste your own personal ambrosia?

Well, Harold and Kumar did all of the above in pursuit of White Castle sliders. Why do tiny sandwiches wield such power?

For the past five years, food that takes us back to childhood has gained incredible popularity. Souped-up macaroni and cheese for adults, featuring everything from poached lobster to kurobuta pork, appears on a number of restaurant menus, including those at upscale restaurants. Bakeries devoted entirely to cupcakes can be found in every major city, with the buttery, sugary mini-cakes selling up upwards of $4 apiece. (In a similar vein, some couples are opting for wedding cakes made up of cupcakes in a cupcake "tree" instead of a traditional tiered cake.) And while hamburgers have never left restaurant menus or lost popularity, they're undergoing a resurgence in popularity when served in smaller portions. Waaaay smaller portions. Mini foods are clearly a novelty.

Matchbox in Washington, DC, is a pizza joint that touts its wood oven. Although you may not see a pizza on every table when you eat in the restaurant, you will see "mini burgers" on every table. The small patties of ground beef are served on buttery brioche buns, come with or without cheese, and can be further salinated with the addition of pickle chips. The burgers, arranged in a ring on the plate, surround a tangled mound of fried onion straws tossed with a parmesan-parsley blend.

Photo courtesy of www.dceatz.com

The presentation of the burgers, with the onions piled high in the middle, is a sight to behold. And the burgers are worth of such attention to detail. The lightly toasted buns provide just the right bun-to-meat ratio for each three-bite burger, and the beef oozes juice that will: a) be absorbed by the bun, b) run down your chin and get licked up, or c) drop gently onto your plate. My preferred method of eating Matchbox's sliders involves a smear of ketchup, a hefty pinch of fried onion, and a wide mouth. No matter how you eat them, Matchbox's burgers are a tasty example of why childhood foods are not only okay for adults to eat, but also encouraged.

The American fascination with sliders is not lost on me. Over the past month, I have prepared three types of sliders: beef, chicken, and pork. While the first two turned out beautifully, the pork ones hardly merit mentioning. I used premade pulled pork from Trader Joe's, and the consistency of the meat was not at all what I expected. Instead of being able to distinguish one piece of pork from the next, I found myself barely having to chew the meat. It was pretty vile-looking, too, so I refrained from taking pictures. Yeah, it was that bad.

My preferred base for sliders, however, is a superior product from Trader Joe's: tiny sesame seed-studded rolls sold in a pack of eight. The fresh little rolls are hearty enough to hold a good bit of meat; I put nearly 1/8 lb. beef onto each roll and was pleased with the outcome. So, if you're going to get the rolls, I recommend using 1 lb. beef (ground pork, turkey, etc.).

You can pan-fry the burgers, stick 'em on the Foreman, broil them, or grill them. The last option is the preferred, of course, but I think broiling is next best. If you want to make a White Castle-style slider, there's no need to get fancy: saute some onions, plop 'em on the bun w/the beef, and call it a day. Since I don't like White Castle burgers to begin w/, I tend to go w/other toppings, such as...

cheese (chevre is great, but even American works)
bacon
BBQ sauce
flavored aiolis (pesto, for example)
lettuce, tomato, onion
French's fried onions
bruschetta topping (tomato, garlic, and basil)

Creativity can't hurt in this department. For my sliders, I went for melted American, crispy bacon, and Sherry-sauteed onions. The result was a moist little burger that was taller than it was wide:

Ground beef mixed w/finely chopped onions, fresh parsley, salt, pepper, and water

Two of these beauties would've been sufficient, but I'm a pig, so I ate three.

The sliders were such a success that I ended up making a different version a couple weeks later. Using a knockoff recipe for Chick-Fil-A chicken sandwiches, I made chicken sliders. I used different buns this time; because Chick-Fil-A doesn't used sesame seed buns, I didn't either. These buns were larger, closer to the size of my palm, meaning I could only consume two of these in good conscience. After adding what makes Chick-Fil-A sandwiches so extraordinary--pickle chips (but I use more than two)--these golden slider-wannabes were ready for a taste test.

Ignore the shadow...then try to tell me this doesn't look like Chick-Fil-A chicken. You just try.

The knockoff recipe I used was awesome, producing a chicken fillet that tasted almost like the real thing. And the novelty of the tiny size was the icing on the cake.

My home research revealed that almost any kind of slider is a winner so long as you keep that TJ's BBQ pork out of your house. Whether chicken or beef or any other kind of meat, it's always more fun to eat when it's made into a three-bite sandwich.

There's a general consensus that baby animals are so much cuter than adult animals. Well, mini foods are the baby animals of the culinary world, brimming with cuteness, novelty, and fun.

I can cut on these?

2007-11-27T22:19:00.000-07:00

I went to an art fest a few weeks ago. Most of the stuff there was crap: melted wine bottles, jewelry of the type I can make myself, scented soaps that make me wish I could never smell again, ugly knitted stuff. So, when I found some absolutely stunning art among all the junk, I slowed down my frenetic pace to a mere shuffle.

The items that caught my attention were cutting boards. Cutting boards might as well be called cutting boreds, right? I mean, who cares about a glass or plastic or wood cutting board that's gonna get all scratched up anyway?

Think again.

Not only were the cutting boards at the fair stunningly beautiful, but they were also made from end-grain wood, which is of the utmost importance if you want your knives to stay sharp. Knives glide between the grains of end-grain wood, meaning the blade is not dulled by any rough fibers. The grains pull back together once the knife is lifted, meaning the wood heals itself. Sweet Jesus, it's a miracle! It's magic! End-grain boards do not stain, show little--if any--wear, and are restored to their original beauty w/a swipe of mineral oil.

There was a nice selection of boards at the fair, but I wasn't prepared to purchase anything right then and there. I grabbed the artist's card, though, and rushed home to see his website. The site contains an entire page of cutting boards, some similar to the ones I saw at the fair, some far more ornate. The artist, Barry, mentioned on his page that he did custom work, so I sent him an e-mail and set up a time to see if he could make a couple of custom-made boards for me.

Working out of a shop in his garage, Barry turns out more than drop-dead gorgeous cutting boards. Check out some furniture he has made, much of which I recognized when I walked around his house. I oohed and aahed over a number of wood items in the house: a turned bowl, a coffee table, a side table, a jewelry chest (a fitting place for precious baubles). Barry's hobby has outfitted his house beautifully.

Barry pulled out a a mini forest of cutting boards, some sized for carving a turkey, others more suited for chopping a single clove of garlic. I recognized some of them from the website, but there were far more than I had not yet seen. Each one unique, each one beautiful, I was utterly impressed not only by the looks of the boards, but also by the quality. The heavy, sturdy boards are true butcher blocks. Just really pretty butcher blocks.

After looking at the different types of woods used and the way Barry pieced together different woods to form different patterns, I was able to tell him what I wanted my boards to look like. He had absolutely no problem w/my requests.

About three weeks later, the boards were done. Barry told me I could swing by to pick 'em up, so I eagerly hopped in the car and hauled ass to his house.

So, what did I end up with? Well, to begin with, the cutting board pictured above. It is mine. The lighter wood in the center is osage orange and the border is purple heart. The texture of the grain is beautiful. It looks as if it would be bumpy or scratchy, but looks can be deceiving:

Nary a splinter in sight. The board is completely smooth, and the self-healing properties of the wood will be gentle on my knives. At 12.5x17x1, this bad boy will be just the right size for carving meat.

These cutting boards must be like Lays potato chips, 'cause I couldn't buy just one. Even before I got to Barry's, I decided I wanted a big board and a small board. The small board, I reasoned, would be great for serving cheese, crackers, and fruit. And look!

A little smaller than an 8.5x11 piece of paper, it is great for serving cheese, crackers, and fruit! Underneath the tasty food, the board is pretty damn gorgeous. The border is maple, the inside is carob, and the entire thing is bitchin'.

I think it has something of a Georgia O'Keeffe thing going on--but that's not a bad thing! It's unlike any cutting board I've ever seen.

And that's what I love about Barry's boards. Since seeing his for the first time, I've been to two other art shows. Other artists sold similar items, but none were as beautiful or as well-made as Barry's boards. Because each piece is made by hand, no two are exactly alike. Besides, the man is a wizard with wood, and I have no doubt he could turn any idea someone had into a tangible work of art.

Well, how much does art cost? An artist at one of the shows I went to was selling cutting boards--not nearly as pretty, mind you, and as big as my larger board--for $150-160. Boards slightly larger were closer to $250. His quality wasn't as nice, nor were the texture and pattern of the wood. From Barry, Fat Man cost $90 and Little Boy cost $30. Bargain, anyone???

Barry is so humble about his art, yet he is an extremely talented craftsman who produces cutting boards and other woodwork that make me swoon. I think everyone should own one of these cutting boards--if not for practical reasons, then for aesthetic ones. Barry likes to keep his work local, but he said he'd be willing to ship. You probably won't find cutting boards like this anywhere else, so I suggest you find a board you like on Barry's site, order it, and enjoy using it in your home.

To see my entire gallery of cutting board glory--including macro pictures and pictures of the grooves on the short sides of the boards--click here. Enjoy!

Review: Fair fare

2007-11-26T23:11:00.000-07:00

Jeanne Crain glamorized state fairs. After all, who wouldn't want to go to the State Fair, meet a handsome stranger, and fall in love?

This girl, that's who.

My one and only reason for going to the Arizona State Fair this year was to sample as many fried treats on a stick as my arteries (and health-conscious mom) would permit. Had I gone alone, I would have tried far more fattening treats, but the 5'2", 110-pound bird on my shoulder steered me away from the pork chop on a stick, dammit, and toward the petting zoo!

My mom led me to another sort of pork chop...

Sweet, angelic, corkscrew-tailed piglets aside, the Arizona State Fair offers a sufficient selection of punctured, fried foods. I'd never been to a state fair before, so I didn't know what to expect. But knowing that "state fair" is virtually synonymous for "mecca of all things skewered, battered, and fried," I figured I'd run into some interesting, greasy creations.

Not even 30 yards from the entrance, this array of signs greeted me:

Viking Balls??? If for some reason you didn't know what curly fries or burger sliders were, the cheery little illustrations of these foods on their respective banners would be helpful. But the diagram for Viking Balls would just lead you to believe you're about to order a pair of dark brown testicles on a stick, complete with standard mustache and Viking hat. Some clarification from the server inside the stand proved most helpful. Viking Balls are not the manhood of some 10th century Scandinavian pirate, but rather meatballs threaded onto a wooden stick, coated in batter, and deep-fried. Far batter than a testicle, if you ask me--but not by much. One greasy ball (the "sampler") cost $2, while a three-pack went for $6. I wisely ordered just one Viking Ball.

Oooh, looks good to me, kinda like a fried lollipop. One bit, though, revealed a flavorless batter that would have benefited from a lesson from a corn dog. The corn dog balances flavor and texture, resulting in a slightly salty batter that is at once crunchy and pillowy. The Viking Ball had the pillowy part down, but I was left hungering for some crunch. The meatball itself, however, was quite tasty. A combination of pork and other-stuff-I-probably-don't-wanna-know about, the meatball was well-seasoned and juicy.

I would've liked a couple of those on a stick, wrapped w/spaghetti. And then fried, of course.

There are few things I enjoy more than a blazing hot, homemade, golden brown egg roll. Egg rolls are already deep-fried, so putting that on a sign would've been redundant. But because this egg roll was featured at the State Fair, one more thing had to be done to it:

If I poked a chopstick through an egg roll, I could call it an "eggroll on a stick," but instead I paid $3 or $4 for someone else to do it for me. The huge egg roll was half-dipped in duck sauce, which I find pretty revolting. I ate the naked half, letting my parents sample the saccharine-soaked upper half.

Oops! Mom is in focus, but the egg roll, she is not

Upon inspecting the egg roll, I noticed that its surface was not the smooth, crispy exterior of your traditional fried egg roll. Oh no, this bad boy was chicken-fried. If there's one way to make an egg roll even unhealthier, the purveyor of these egg rolls figured it out.

The first bite into the egg roll released a torrent of cabbage-scented steam. Some shreds of carrot were incorporated into the cabbage, but where was the meat? Nowhere to be seen. Maybe the owners of this stand figured that because they were coating the egg roll in batter, they'd cut back on the fat and cholesterol by eliminating meat. Although the veggies were tender and well-seasoned, I missed the usual ground pork found inside egg rolls. And how about the batter? Well, it was tasty and crispy, I'll give it that. But had it not worn its chicken-fried coat, the egg roll would have been far lighter, crunchier, and more enjoyable. This was a prime example of why messing with perfection often ends disastrously.

After eating the egg roll, I felt healthy, as I'd just eaten so many veggies! I continued this healthy streak with an order of Frilly Fries for $5. I'm an absolute fried-potato junkie, whether in fry or chip form. I had my pick at the fair of spiced fries, chili fries, curly fries, steak fries, and other potato products, but I'd never seen anything like the Frilly Fries. As I carried the basket of FFs to a picnic table, my mom's jaw dropped. "What did you get???" she asked.

A big-ass basket of ruffly fries, that's what! although not on a stick, the FFs met the other main criterion of state fair food. The heaping mound of FFs reminded me of those Victorian collars you see in old paintings and in period pictures with Queen Elizabeth.

Once again, food out of focus, Mom in focus

The fries, as you see, certainly were frilly. And long. The FFs were also unseasoned--perfect, in my opinion. I like tasting the natural flavor of the potato when I'm eating fries/chips. Some of the FFs were completely crunchy like chips, while others had sections of sogginess that were more like fries. I would have preferred consistency regarding texture, but when you're frying pounds and pounds of potatoes, some of the spuds just won't cook up as crispy as others. This didn't faze me in the least, and I was soon shedding tears into an empty paper basket, wishing I had more Frilly Fries and a Lipitor.

Having already eaten more grams of fat than one should eat in an entire week, I limited myself to just one more fried item. The natural progression of courses led directly to desserts. But what to eat? The options included the traditional funnel cake (only meeting one criterion) and birthday cake on a stick (meeting the other criterion), but I needed to find something unusual to wrap up my experience at the State Fair. This stand looked promising:

Oreos! Cheesecake! Cookie dough! Twinkies! All battered and fried! My interest was piqued, but I pressed on, stumbling into this stand a few minutes later:

I'd heard of England's infamous deep-fried Mars Bar, which, all at once, sounds disgusting and delicious. Resembling a corn dog with a snowy shower of powdered sugar, the Snickers cost about $4.

One bite into the delicacy revealed that I wasn't eating tubular meat on a stick, though. There was no mistaking this for a corn dog. I mean, when was the last time the inside of your corn dog looked like this?

I hope your answer to that question is "never," 'cause I don't think the inside of any fried, be-sticked food should look like this. I ignored the vile-looking interior of the Snickers, trying to think of anything except...well, shit. Although it looked gross, it tasted pretty good. The Snickers was perfectly gooey, although the chocolate and caramel melted together, rendering the flavor of the caramel virtually unnoticeable. The batter around the candy was unremarkable, lacking crunch and flavor. The powdered sugar sweetened up the entire creation to the point of a sugar coma. A Snickers bar is bad enough for you, so why bother coating it in batter and frying it? In regard to both taste and healthiness, you're better off eating the Snickers directly out of its wrapper--or with a fork and knife, if Mr. Pitt says you must.

I didn't meet a handsome stranger at the State Fair, but I sampled some really interesting foods I never would have been able to taste outside of this venue. In addition to fried standards like zucchini and corn dogs, vendors at the State Fair sold some of the most unusual, fattening things they could put on a stick and/or fry. I can't wait to see what they come up with next.

Oh, and I totally wasn't kidding about the pork chop on a stick.

Thanksgiving in Vegas

2007-11-25T23:10:00.001-07:00

This year, I'm torn as to what the best part of Thanksgiving was: the fried turkey or my grandmother, who called some guy on Deal or No Deal an asshole and also verbalized the phrase "suck my balls." But because this blog is called Bacon and Bakin' and not Cussin' with Granny, I'll just have to say that the turkey was the star of the holiday.

Last year, my family began a new tradition: frying a turkey as the centerpiece of our Thanksgiving meal. My family has tried many variations on this traditional meal, including the Thanksgiving beef tenderloin and the Thanksgiving lo mein (my brother, a college freshman at the time, said we could never do that again, as he wanted home-cooked food while visiting home). After a number of failures, it was a pleasure to find something that everyone would enjoy. Besides, what better way to bring a family together than by gathering over a 20-pound bird fried to golden perfection?

Online research--and the instruction manual included with the fryer--proved vital in both safe and tasty turkey frying. Here are some of the basics, learned last year and utilized again this year:

Start drying the bird thoroughly, at least a few hours before the bird hits the oil. My family uses a fan, which makes for a fantastic photo opportunity. The dryer the skin, the crispier it will get. If the inside of the bird is still moist, pat it down w/some paper towels.

Pretend you're a plastic surgeon and cut slits at the thighs. This will let any trapped oil drain once the turkey is removed from the pot.
Use an injectable marinade. For the past two years, I've used an herb-laced butter, flavored w/garlic and assorted herbs (this year it was just garlic and thyme). Lift the skin off the meat of the turkey, then squirt the marinade between the skin and the flesh. Be sure to do the breast, the legs, the wings, the thighs--anything and everything.

Don't use a small turkey. Last year we fried a 12-pounder, but because of liquid displacement, we had to use a whole lotta oil. It makes far more sense to get a bigger bird, as you'll actually end up using less oil.
Start heating up your oil at least an hour before submerging the poultry. For a 20-pound bird, it took 70 minutes for the oil to hit 350 degrees.
Do not fry under any sort of covering. If flames fly up (start your own tradition: fireworks on Thanksgiving!), you won't burn down your patio or house.
Keep your eye on the thermometer. Once the turkey is in the oil, the temperature is going to drop. If you don't get it back up to 350 (or thereabout), your bird is gonna be soggy, and really now, what's the point of frying a turkey if the skin is gonna be flaccid?

Right after the turkey went in. Get that temperature back up!

Make someone the designated turkeysitter. NEVER walk away from a boiling pot of fat, even for a second.
Let the turkey sit for at least 10 minutes before slicing. All the oil will have drained by then and you run less of a risk of losing all the moistness.

Eat the skin. You didn't fry a turkey for any other reason.

With the turkey in tow, how did the Bacon and Bakin' clan round out the rest of Thanksgiving?

Butternut Squash Bisque
Mixed Greens with Mandarin Orange Wedges and Toasted Pine Nuts (not photogenic, so no photos below)
Deep-Fried Turkey
Couscous and Assorted Grains
Traditional Stuffing with Gala Apples)
Key Lime Pie (recipe available here)

So moist!

So delicious!

Fried turkey really is moister than roasted turkey, especially when it comes to leftovers. Second-day fried turkey isn't gamy or dry; what you're left with makes amazingly tasty sandwiches, or it can simply be eaten on its own. Another bonus of frying your turkey is the cooking time. An hour in the oil and a 20-pounder is done. How long would that take in an oven? Longer than it's worth, as far as I'm concerned. But as I said before, the only reason people really fry turkeys is for the skin. In honor of the best reason to fry a turkey, I've posted some poultry porn. I hope you all had a fantastic Thanksgiving, and enjoy the sexy, artery-clogging photos below!

Totally unrelated...

2007-11-24T17:31:00.000-07:00

...but I think I love this baby more than I love my new All-Clad.

Butternut squash bisque

2007-11-24T17:02:00.001-07:00

The first time I had butternut squash bisque was during the last couple of months of my final year of college, when I attended a mini-seminar about how to eat properly during a business luncheon. Not only did I learn that I should spoon soup away from myself, but I also learned that I liked butternut squash bisque. The first course of the meal at the seminar was a warm, creamy, hearty bisque, and despite my fear of the soup's color (depending on your outlook, it's either the color of the contents of the worst diaper you've ever changed OR the color of buttercups and sunshine), I pressed on, finding that, damn, that stuff's good.

My next encounter with the bisque/soup was at my previous place of employment. As I mentioned on a number of occasions, the chef there was a miracle worker when it came to soup. His soups were just what I needed on any given day: sometimes light and brothy, sometimes rich and thick. Chef Midas's butternut squash bisque was exceptional, but I never asked him for his recipe. So, when I decided to make it for Thanksgiving, I was on my own.

Crap.

Before embarking on any serious culinary venture, I do some research online. I rarely use recipes (except when baking), so I looked at any number of recipes and suggestions online, then took some tips from all of them when making my own soup. This time, though, I actually measured the ingredients so I'd be able to share a formal recipe w/you--no estimates this time!

The recipe below was a pretty damn good first attempt, if I say so myself. I'd make this again and probably wouldn't change a thing. The immersion blender I used to puree the soup made the biggest mess possible in the kitchen (it was like a 40-lb. diaper exploded), so maybe a blender would've been a better choice. Regardless, everyone at Thanksgiving was thankful for this bisque.

Nicole's Butternut Squash Bisque

Serves 8-10 as a first course

2 butternut squash
1 tbsp. olive oil (or so)
1 large onion, chopped*
2 carrots, chopped
2 gala apples, peeled and chopped
3-4 cloves roasted garlic
5 tbsp. butter
4 c. chicken broth
1 tbsp. fresh grated ginger (or the liquidy stuff in a jar--NO powder!)
1 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
3-4 sprigs thyme, leaves only
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 c. half-and-half (optional)
sour cream, creme fraiche, nutmeg, parsley, etc., to garnish

* Chopped ingredients should be about 1"x1"; cutting them any smaller is wholly unnecessary, as they're going to be pureed later.

-Heat oven to 425 degrees.
-Cut each squash in half, removing the seeds and goo from the circular cavity inside. Rub the cut surface of the four squash halves w/olive oil, then place cut side down onto a baking sheet lined w/foil. Bake until soft and caramelized, about 45-50 min. Remove from oven and cool until room temperature.
-Melt butter in a large stockpot. Over low to medium heat, add onion, carrots, garlic, and apple. Cook over low to medium heat about 30 minutes, until onions are translucent and carrots are slightly tender. Scoop squash out of peel using a spoon. Cut into rough chunks and add to the onion mixture.
-Turn heat up to medium and add chicken broth. Add ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, and thyme leaves. Stir mixture thoroughly. Cover w/lid and let simmer 30-40 minutes. (I let mine simmer for, like, 1.5 hrs. and it was just fine! Unnecessary, but fine.)
-Remove stockpot from heat and let cool; 30 min. should be sufficient. If you don't let it cool, you risk getting burned while pureeing.
-If adding half-and-half (for a richer, creamier soup...although it, too, is unnecessary. It just adds some decadence. It doesn't make enough of a difference that you should use it if you're on a low-cal or low-fat diet), now is the time to do so.
-Puree soup directly in stockpot if using an immersion blender. If using a regular blender, puree the soup in batches to avoid unslightly bisque explosions. Puree until smooth.
-Return bisque to stove, heating up to desired serving temperature. Take a taste. Need salt? Pepper? Add 'em. Also, if you prefer your bisque on the soupy side, feel free to add some extra chicken broth and incorporate thoroughly; adding it now won't do any harm. Without extra broth the bisque will be thick, kind of like clam chowder, but sans shellfish.
-Ladle bisque into bowls and garnish w/fresh parsley or other items of your choosing.

Yum.

P.S. I will have a Thanksgiving play-by-play posted within the next couple of days.

The new loves of my life

2007-10-25T21:34:00.000-07:00

Gougeres

2007-10-25T21:08:00.000-07:00

I've heard for who-knows-how-long that pate a choux is ridiculously easy to make and ridiculously difficult to mess up. I like profiteroles and other puffy pastry things, so I bought some gruyere, stocked up on butter, and took a stab at gougeres.

Traditionally, gougeres are small puffs of pastry dough flavored with gruyere cheese. I've seen variations on gougeres, one of the more popular subbing the nutty Swiss cheese with a bleu. The cheese can be shredded over the top, stuffed into the middle, or mixed into the batter. I went with the final option for a more uniform flavor.

The recipe I used is originally a Barefoot Contessa one. It called for 1/2 c. gruyere and 1/4 c. shredded parm, but I opted to do 100% gruyere for a more authentic flavor...

Barefoot Contessa Gougeres

1 c. milk
1 stick unsalted butter
1 tsp kosher salt
1/8 tsp. black pepper
Shake of cayenne
1 c. flour
4 extra-large eggs
¾ c. gruyere, grated

-Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
-Heat over medium heat milk, butter, salt, pepper, and cayenne until just before the milk begins to boil. When the milk is just about to boil, dump in flour and beat it with a wooden spoon until everything comes together. Cook over low heat for 2 minutes, stirring all the time.
-Dump the flour ball into your food processor. Pulse in all at once 4 extra-large eggs (or 5 large) and Gruyere; pulse until incorporated into a smooth, thick dough.
-Pipe or spoon dots onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper. The dots of dough should be 1.25 inches wide and .75 inch tall. Brush the tops of the gougeres with a wash of 1 egg beaten with 1 tsp water. Sprinkle a little extra grated Gruyere on top. Bake for 15 minutes, until golden brown.

Because I'm a culinary rebel--and because pate a choux is supposed to be a forgiving, easy dough--I made a couple other changes. First, I didn't use any cayenne. Second, I added some garlic powder (I didn't want chunks of fresh, chewy garlic in the puffs). Third, I didn't use an egg wash, but rather just some water to push down the peaks formed by the pastry bag. Fourth, I didn't sprinkle any cheese on top.

The results, in spite of all my changes, were fabulous. Pate a choux is, in fact, a very easy dough to make, although even a heavy-duty Cuisinart got jammed by the cheesy dough and, ultimately, failed to spin anymore. But in the end, my results were a hit. The small puffs baked to a uniformly brown-gold color and emitted a small billow of cheesy steam when split open. The insides of the gougeres were flaky yet hollow, making them perfect receptacles for a variety of fillings (a ricotta or marscapone cream, rare beef and creme fraiche, pesto, salmon mousse, crab salad, etc.).

Without the cheese and with the addition of some sugar, pate a choux turn into profiteroles, which can be filled with ice cream, pastry cream, chocolate mousse, fruit, and other sweet treats. And after finding out just how easy it is to make gougeres, I may be adding pate a choux to my repertoire of appetizers. A big-ass tray of sweet AND savory puffs to share w/friends? Sounds like a part to me...

Vodka sauce

2007-10-16T16:52:00.000-07:00

(If anyone reads my blog regularly, I apologize for the dearth of posts. There are a few reasons for this: 1) I haven't taken photos of anything I've eaten recently; 2) I haven't eaten anything recently that would make a good post without pix; 3) I've been spending a lot of time sending out resumes.)

For Hanukkah last year, a coworker bought me a gift that combines two of my loves: food and Jewish men. Enter Young and Hungry, a book by twenty-something foodmeister Dave Lieberman. Lieberman is mainly known from work on the Food Network, and I am hesitant to buy a cookbook written by anyone deemed a celebrity chef. In this case, though I didn't have to buy the cookbook, so there was no guilt involved.

When I buy or receive a new cookbook, I read the entire book and place a sticky tab on each page that contains a recipe I like. This makes it easy to find recipes I know I'll like, thus preventing me from having to reread the book or go to the index unnecessarily. All my cookbooks have little yellow or blue flags popping out from the sides, but that's okay; it gives them character.

To be honest, I've only made one recipe from Young and Hungry: vodka sauce. Vodka sauce is one of those sauces that brings out my inner canine, making me lick plates and bowls clean. There's something about tomatoes and cream that hits me just right, and this sauce goes well w/everything--bread, pasta, chicken, ice cream, drywall. Seriously, it's that good. Just as good is that this recipe is easy as can be, meaning you can have a pot of vodka sauce ready in 15 minutes. So, go out and buy some heavy whipping cream, 'cause your tastebuds and arteries both deserve some excitement.

Vodka Sauce (serves 2, but this recipe multiples well, so I make at least 4x the recipe)

2 tbsp. EVOO

2 garlic cloves, pressed

1/2 c. canned tomato puree (or diced, if you like it chunky)

Pinch of red pepper flakes (which I didn't use)

1/4 c. vodka

A couple big pinches of basil (and more for garnish)

1/2 c. heavy cream

Heat oil in a large skillet over high heat. Press garlic in pan and cook until it starts to sizzle and you can smell it--about 30 seconds. Make sure it doesn't turn brown.

Add the tomato puree and the red pepper flakes and bring to a simmer. Stir in the vodka and cook until you can't smell the vodka anymore--about 4 minutes. Stir in the basil and cook a few minutes more.

Pour in the cream, bring to a simmer, and simmer until the sauce is a rosy pink and is slightly thickened--about 5 minutes.

Serve with pasta, chicken, drywall--you can't go wrong.

Review: Cowboy Ciao

2007-10-04T16:41:00.000-07:00

When my brother's in Phoenix for spring training, he eats and cooks on his employer's dime. Thus, he shops at frou frou grocery stores and eats at nice restaurants. A couple of years ago, Jeff discovered Cowboy Ciao, located in Old Town Scottsdale. He and my mom have raved about it--so much so that Jeff and I bought our mom a gift certificate there for her birthday. And because my mom is ~~a retard~~ generous, she decided to use part of the certificate on me.

My finicky father didn't even eat Chinese food until he was 40, so getting this man to eat something aside from a hamburger or a plate of spaghetti can often be a challenge. Good guy that he is, though, he agreed to join me and my mom for lunch at Cowboy Ciao. Smack-dab in the middle of Old Town, parking can be a challenge at Cowboy Ciao. But because we arrived around 1 p.m., we didn't have a problem finding a spot just a two-minute walk from the restaurant.

When we walked through the front doors, an older man greeted us and showed us to a four-top. I noticed that I was the youngest person in the restaurant by, oh, at least 20 years. Are old people catching Early Bird Specials, like, four hours earlier than they used to? I would've expected to see more young people there, but it's possible that the diners around that hour are simply retirees and not younger working people. My eye was also caught by the large, rustic bar lining the left side of the restaurant, which has enough room to comfortably seat about 20 people.

As we walked to our table, I soaked in the blue ceiling painted w/gold stars, and noticed the strange chandeliers on the ceiling. Draped in Mardi Gras beads in the standard yellow, green and purple, the chandeliers added a touch of whimsy to the otherwise rustic dining room.

Once we were seated, we were handed the lunch menu, which contains half a dozen inventive sandwiches (i.e., a seared tuna sandwich and the "Extreme Grilled Cheese," which replaces processed cheese food w/brie and fontina) and a bunch of items under the heading "Grazing." Dishes for grazing include ahi carpaccio and a quesadilla of the day. Six or seven salads round out the reasonably priced section of the menu, with that famous Stetson chopped salad among them. While the items in the sections mentioned above generally fall in the range of $8-12, the entrees for lunch at Cowboy Ciao can set you back more, with the filet mignon going for $32 and other entrees averaging $18-20.

When I suggested to my mom that we split the Stetson chopped salad, she initally said, greedily, "No, I want my own!" I think she was kidding, though, because a couple minutes later she said she'd happily split the $12 salad w/me. For $12, I figured that salad would be huge, but she said it's definitely not, and that it certainly wouldn't be a good option for two people to split without ordering something else. With that resolved, it was back to the menu for the both of us to find something to have as a main course.

After taking our drink orders and delivering our beverages to the table, our waiter told us about the specials of the day. The soup sounded like a combination of tortilla soup and pozole, which sounded amazing until I remembered it was 102 degrees outside. The quesadilla of the day was pulled curry pork and caramelized onion, which immediately piqued both my interest and my mom's. We decided that one of us had to order that.

Because I like trying new things (well, new things that don't swim, for the most part), I decided to order the elk tostada, served w/white bean "hummus" and roasted corn salsa. And because I ordered this, my mom went w/the curry pork quesadilla. My dad was able to find one thing on the menu that wasn't completely gross, in his taste: the Berkshire ham sandwich.

Once we placed our orders, I snapped into seven-year-old-at-a-restaurant mode, pulling out a pencil, drawing some lines and gallows on the white paper covering the table, and telling my parents to guess a letter. Oh yes, Hangman time. It was on.

Fifteen minutes and three puzzles later, the Stetson arrived. I'd heard so much about this salad and had even gone to Cowboy Ciao's website to see what all the fanfare was about. Well, as beautiful as the salad looked online, it looked even more so in person. Delivered to the table, the salad is separated in six clean sections, each vibrantly colored and chopped into teeny, tiny pieces. So, here's whatcha get, from top to bottom: chopped tomatoes and asiago, freeze-dried corn, pepitas (pumpkin seeds) and black currants, arugula, pearl (Israeli) couscous, and smoked salmon.

Once the waiter explains what each component in the salad is, he uses two spoons to toss the ingredients into a big mishmash of color. Whoever thought of combining all of these ingredients into one salad was probably just in the process of cleaning out his fridge, but he certainly came up w/one killer salad. No two components in the salad have the same consistency, meaning you enjoy the creaminess of the couscous, the squishiness of the fish, the crunchiness of the pepitas, and the lightness of the corn in every bite. Strangely enough, all the flavors are complementary to one another, too. I'm not sure why all the ingredients work together, but they do. Topping the salad is a light, tangy, just-acidic-enough dressing that pulls all the pieces together, resulting in a well-composed salad that works perfectly as an appetizer for two.

As a means of bragging for my brother, check out his replica of this salad. He made them full-size, so each served as a complete meal for him and his in-laws. Jeff had a separate section for the asiago, but aside from that, it's pretty much the exact same salad.

As we finished up the salad, our waiter stopped by to check on us and also to clear the empty plate and used silverware. I invited him to take a guess at the first letter of the Hangman puzzle my dad had drawn out. Fun, young guy he was, the waiter took a stab at it. I appreciated the fact that the wait staff at the restaurant wasn't too serious to have a bit of fun w/customers during lunch service.

About 15-20 minutes later, our entrees arrived at the table. My dad's ham sandwich, topped w/caramelized onions and bourbon mustard, and served on grilled brioche, was a tall sandwich w/thick slices of tender ham. The meat isn't your typical Hormel variety of deli meat; it was obvious that this came from a real piece of pork, not from a vacuum-sealed pack from the grocery store. Alongside the sandwich were thick, homemade potato chips. My dad dug in immediately, enjoying the sweet onions a lot. Although this sandwich is pretty gourmet, it was simple enough to please even my father's simple palate. Unfortunately, I don't have a picture to post because I the computer accidentally deleted it.

The presentation of the elk tostada was beautiful. With more layers than a wedding cake, the dish was stacked high. The base of the tostada was a blue corn tortilla topped w/the white bean "hummus" and some melted cheddar cheese. Atop that were four or five large pieces of cornmeal-dredged elk. Crowning the elk was pico de gallo spiked with roasted corn. I'd never tasted elk before, so I was unsure of what I was getting myself into. The consistency is similar to beef, but with a gamier taste. I would have expected it to be prepared medium-rare, but the elk seemed to be well-done, making it just a bit moister than a Phoenix summer. The creamy "hummus" and mild salsa helped lubricate the elk, though, so it wasn't a total bust. The entire dish could have also used some salt and pepper. My experience w/this dish may have been a fluke, however, as when I told my brother I had this particular dish, he said, "That's one of my favorites," and he typically knows what he's talking about when it comes to food.

The standout meal on the table was my mom's quesadilla of the day. A large flour tortilla was stuffed w/pulled curry pork, caramelized onions, and cheese, and was topped w/a dollop of dollop of chipotle sour cream. The pork was tender, while the curry provided an unexpected but very welcome contrast in flavor. I'd never had pork w/curry, but I'd certainly give it another go because of the success of this dish. The quesadilla was a tad floppy due to it not being toasted/grilled/broiled quite long enough. I come from a family that appreciates crispness (it's a good thing my dad likes things burned, 'cause my mom tends to burn things), so I would have preferred more color and crunch in the tortilla.

Throughout the afternoon, the service continued to be attentive and friendly. We were brought our check not too long after the table was cleared, and we slipped the gift certificate into the folder-thingy to pay for our lunch. Our waiter wasn't quite sure what to do w/the certificate, but w/the help of the older gentleman who greeted and seated us, there were no problems. $50 later (not including tip), my parents and I were well-fed and content w/our lunches.

I'd like to go back to Cowboy Ciao for dinner, as my lunchtime experience there was so positive. The creative dishes on the menu make Cowboy Ciao a staple on my brother's culinary roster when he's in Phoenix, and I look forward to seeing how the restaurant's menu evolves as trends in the restaurant world change.

Cowboy Ciao
7133 E. Stetson Dr.
Scottsdale, AZ 85251
480.946.3111
www.cowboyciao.com

I'm an aunt!

2007-10-02T22:26:00.000-07:00

When I told my recently married brother and sister-in-law to make me an aunt soon, they must've really taken it to heart. Nine months later, I'm a first-time aunt. And damn, that baby is really cute!

About halfway through the pregnancy, my brother called me up out-of-the-blue and asked if I'd make a penis cake for the baby's bris. He must've thought that because I took two cake-decorating classes, I'd be able to create an edible phallus for his child's circumcision. Can you imagine a roomful of family and friends w/a hankering for dessert, only to find a huge penis filled w/frosting? And there goes everyone's appetites.

I'd actually planned on making special baby-themed sugar cookies, so I suggested those to my brother instead. He asked if I'd make a penis-shaped one. Just remember: this man is now a father.

I'd planned on using baby-themed cookie cutters to make the cookies, so I went w/my sister-in-law and bought some fun cutters: a onesie, a stroller, a rattle, and some other stuff. But due to some unforeseen circumstances, I didn't have access to the cutters, as they were in Chicago and I was in Phoenix. Regardless, I wasn't going to let a little cookie-cutter snafu ruin dessert for the bris.

I used my standard cookie-cutter sugar cookie recipe, which produces cookies that hold their shape extremely well. I also made royal icing using real egg whites--instead of meringue powder--this time. I didn't measure anything, but rather whipped together egg whites, confectioner's sugar, vanilla, and some lemon juice. I beat the icing until stiff, and added water to it to thin it down for color flow.

Because I only had a circular cookie cutter to work w/, I did very simple designs using two colors of icing: white and baby blue. I decorated w/cornelli and also lowercase cursive Js (for Jac, the sweetest baby I know!) dotted w/silver dragees. My mom decorated a couple dozen cookies, too. Hers were topped w/swirls, lines, dots, smiley faces, and one portrait that looked like my dad, right down to the mustache/goatee combination.

I had actually forgotten my brother's one request, but as I was cutting out the cookie dough to bake, my best friend reminded me: "Have you made any penis cookies yet?" So, Michael, thank you reminding me.

I Googled "penis cookie cutter" to get an idea of what my little cockies (not cookies!) should look like. I used a paring knife to cut out the desired shape. I showed a sample to my dad ("What is that? A bone?" Haha, it is a type of bone...), who said it would be more realistic w/a little hole at the top. Good suggestion, Dad, good suggestion.

Another good suggestion from Dad came in the form of a question: "Do you think the tip needs a little bit of blood?" A dab of red tube o' frosting later, the penises were newly circumcised.

Shit, my family is grotesque.

Now, the good, the bad, and the ugly. First, the good:

Next, the bad--my dad's likeness in a cookie:

Last, the ugly:

The penis cookies, as you see, did not make it into the tray of cookies. Select people were escorted to the kitchen, however, to witness the small army of sugar cookie penises nestled into a Tupperware. While my brother appreciated this gesture of humor, I think one person enjoyed the cookies even more: my 77-year-old grandma.

Review: Oregano's

2007-10-02T21:10:00.001-07:00

A few months ago, my friend David told me he was going to Oregano's. Curious kinda girl I am, I Googled the name and pulled up the menu online. There were at least a dozen things I wanted to try. I was jealous that David was going out to dinner that night and I was not. A couple of weeks ago I finally got to go w/him to Oregano's.

Oregano's is an Arizona mini-chain consisting of eight restaurants, most of them in the Phoenix metro area. Based on what I've read on Yelp, Oregano's is notoriously slow in its service, but all the locations produce consistently tasty food in hefty portions.

David and I arrived at the Oregano's location on Camelback around noon on a weekday. I was hoping there would be outdoor seating, as natural light is so much better than fluorescent lights for food photography! Luckily, there were open tables on the back patio, so we were showed immediately to a table protected from the sun by an umbrella. David was quite surprised by the fact that we didn't have to wait. In the past, he'd waited for anywhere from 45 minutes to over an hour to get a table. Oregano's is notoriously busy--and w/notoriously slow service. But w/one of those issues already taken care of, all I could do was hope for reasonably speedy service.

After seating us, the hostess gave us each a menu the size of a newspaper. Behold:

Where is David? Agggggggh! The menu, it is eating him!

Aside from being HUGE, the menu is packed full of dishes. Surprisingly, there are no mozzarella sticks listed under the appetizers. Instead, pick from items like stuffed mushrooms and Italian guacamole, each averaging around $5-6. We passed on the appetizers, going right for the heartier stuff.

David suggested we have pizza, as he'd had it in the past and really enjoyed it. We considered getting a whole pie, which is available in thin, pan, or deep-dish crusts. Specialty pizzas at Oregano's are particular inventive. Take the 'Frisco, for example ("A tomato cream sauce covers this baby, topped with spiced feta cheese, bacon, diced roma tomatoes and cheddar cheese"), or Grandma G's Rosemary Chicken Potato ("This family favorite is made with our red pepper pesto, Grandma’s special roasted garlic chicken, diced roma tomatoes, gorgonzola, sliced potatoes, havarti, our four cheese blend, caramelized onions and fresh rosemary"). Oregano's takes chances w/toppings, which I really appreciate. I'd love to return to try one of these more adventurous pies.

But because David isn't all ballsy as I am--plus we were at the restaurant during lunch--we ended up ordering one of the lunch specials: a big ass slice of pizza for something like $3.95 (Other specials include all-you-can-eat angel hair pasta w/marinara for a few bucks more, and a personal-size calzone of the day for a few bucks more, too). David added pepperoni to his, while I topped mine w/basil and sun-dried tomatoes. David also ordered a small dinner salad ($2.99) for us to share. Our waiter explained that the salad would take longer than the pizza (huh?), so he said he'd have things timed so that the salad and the pizza would arrive at the same time.

After we put in our orders, I watched as other tables were served their food. A number of other diners ordered salads, each of which appeared to contain a serving of greens more suited for a giraffe. The mounds of lettuce were piled high above the rim of the serving dish, creating what appeared to be a verdant mountain in a bowl. The mountains were topped w/all sorts of proteins and carbs: roasted red peppers, feta and cheddar cheese, fried tortilla strips, pine nuts, shaved ribeye... If there's any way to make a plain green salad taste good, it's to load tons of crap on it. As far as I'm concerned, the more crap, the better! At about $10 for a full salad and $7 for a half, these salads--so long as they're tasty--are a bargain.

Fewer tables ordered pastas, but a couple options there looked pretty good. For $8.69, the Big Rig Pasta is a hearty meal for a long-distance truck driver: "A huge bowl of rigatoni pasta covered with a tasty tomato-chipotle cream sauce, chopped basil, diced roma tomatoes, Parmesan and a spicy finish." I'm not such a ricotta fan, but if I were, I'd be ordering the Big 'Ol Ravioli for $9.29: "A large 6" ravioli (1/4 lb) stuffed with ricotta and other Italian cheeses, slathered with our meat sauce, then baked with cheese on top." Just thinking about it makes me want to play Frisbee...

If you're not hungry enough for a flying disk of stuffed pasta, go for some layers instead. Four different lasagnas, all priced at $9.29, seem like a good options for those who are willing to wait 30-45 minutes for a special dish. The chicken lasagna piques my interest, while the artichoke version combines an unusual ingredient in a very traditional dish. I wouldn't expect that sort of risk at a chain restaurant in Phoenix, of all places, but it's good to know that such options are available.

In addition to the pizzas and pastas, Oregano's covers another base w/sandwiches. The sandwiches seem pretty typical of what you'd find at your local college pizzeria: meatball and Italian subs. In terms of quality, though, these sandwiches appear to be a step or two above University Pizza and Wings, the likes of which deliver to drunk coeds until 3 a.m. Oregano's subs are served on 10" rolls or focaccia. I saw a woman at another table tackle her sandwich, but she was only able to finish half of it. The remaining half, stuffed w/meatballs, would certainly make another meal for her.

By the time I'd finished daydreaming and people watching--half an hour later--our food had arrived. The small salad was really anything but. The two of us still had leftovers, so the small salad would probably be a good side for three or so people. The fresh mixed greens contained nary a brown leaf. Topped w/tomatoes, red onion rings, and a surprisingly large portion of crumbled gorgonzola, the salad is a different take on the ho-hum house salad. The tangy cheese was accentuated by the honey vinaigrette dressing, which was both sweet and zippy.

I didn't fill up too much on salad, as I had pizza sitting in front of me. Each pizza turned out to be a quarter of a full pie, and each massive slice was served on a large, circular pizza tray. Our silverware did not include knives, so eating the big, floppy slice could only be achieved New York-style. (David did ask for knives, though. We got them about five minutes later, by which time I'd grown impatient and had already started eating.) No matter how you eat the pizza, it's pretty darn good: the crust is very thin, but it's not crackery, and the bottom has a tad less char than I prefer; the cheese is mild, chewy, and a tad stringy; the toppings are fresh and plentiful. The amount of sauce may have been a tad much, and I also found it too sweet.

If the marinara sauce doesn't satisfy your sweet tooth, the one dessert at Oregano's will. The pizza cookie is a half-pound cookie--your choice of white chocolate macadamia nut, chocolate chip, or peanut butter--topped with three scoops of vanilla ice cream. Baked in its own mini pizza pan, the cookie arrives warm, w/the ice cream already melting on top. For $4.99, this dessert is easily enough for four people. A table of six sitting on the patio wasn't even able to finish theirs.

We skipped dessert and went right to the bill. For something like $12 w/tax, David and I split a fresh salad and had our massive slices of pizza. A large pizza from a crappy delivery chain costs more than that, and chain pizzas typically taste about as good as the boxes in which they arrive. While Oregano's food is above average, the food is not worth the epic waits so common for a table at the restaurant. In a rush, Oregano's is the last place I'd want to eat. But on a leisurely night, when I don't mind waiting too long for a table or for my meal, I'll head back to Oregano's for its friendly service, reasonable prices, and above-average food.

Oregano's
Multiple locations across Arizona
www.oreganos.com

Review: Perry's Drag Brunch

2007-09-23T19:07:00.001-07:00

I learned about Perry's a couple years ago and have since associated it w/sushi. So imagine my surprise when my cousin invited me to Perry's drag brunch one Sunday.

And imagine my surprise when a very pretty tranny in pasties proceeded to grab my hooters.

But more on that later!

Perry's drag brunch is a Sunday-only event, and apparently it's a popular one. My cousin's g/f and one of her friends arrived at the restaurant about 45 minutes before the rest of us got there. Luckily that meant I didn't have to wait (haha!), as the two girls did the hard part for us.

The hostess took our party of five to the worst table in the place. The table was shoved into the far back corner under a large speaker, which, from the time we arrived, blared tranny-liciouis standards like Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie" and Aretha Franklin's "Respect." In addition to instant deafness, there was also instant blindness--and not because of spotlights hitting sequins. Instead, a wall in the restaurant all but blocked our view of the majority of the restaurant. Not until a performer was five feet away from us could we actually see any of the fantastic dancing. Again, more on that later...

Once we were seated, my four companions ordered a pitcher of Bloody Mary. We were a little confused about whether or not we could go right up to the buffet ($24.95, I believe), so we took a random waitress aside and asked. She told us to go right ahead.

At that particular moment, the line at the buffet was rather short. Score! It was probably short because a good number of the dishes needed to be replaced: some of the bread baskets contained only crumbs, for example. The selection in front of me was not lacking, although there was no sense of cohesiveness or theme to the buffet: breads (scones, muffins, pastry, waffles, etc.), cold dishes (pasta salad, bowtie salad, caprese, cold carved meats, the aforementioned sushi, fresh fruit, etc.), and hot dishes (bacon and sausage, soup, eggs, potstickers, appetizery things, etc.). I loaded up a plate w/some random stuff and took it back to the table.

I had snagged the last scone of a particular flavor from a basket. From what I could tell, it was cheddar and bacon. From what I could taste, it was nice. I would have preferred for it to be a tad moister, but I think scones are, by definition, supposed to be dry and crumbly and sandy. The bacon itself, though, was great. It was not: limp, soggy, floppy, oily, chewy, undercooked, overcooked. It was: crisp, salty, porky, yummy. This bacon even outdid Wonderland Ballroom's Bottomless Bacon!

I didn't try the sushi, but I grabbed some of the other little Asian appetizers. Honestly, I don't even remember what I ate--that is how memorable that stuff was. I think I had a potsticker and maybe something resembling crab Rangoon.

As the afternoon pressed on, the buffet was refreshed w/more lunch food: more meats, more salads, less pastry. Dessert was also put out: some little tartlets and cakes and stuff.

Well, I'm now realizing, three weeks later, that I don't remember anything else I ate. I have a few theories as to why this may be the case: 1) it was three weeks ago, after all; 2) the food just wasn't that good; 3) see below.

Sorry to the unwilling dude who has now been blackmailed on my blog

It's really no wonder that I recall next to nothing about the food. I was too distracted by this:

And this:

Who's prettier?

And this:

Have you ever watched your cousin feel up a 6'3" drag queen?

These women--there's no denying these are women--are truly beautiful! And the outfits, oh, the outfits. Unfortunately, I didn't get a good picture of the chick in the pasties--she who went for my boobs like were her own. I was caught pretty off guard by that, but it makes for a good story! Some outfits were sheer (like the one on the big girl above), while others were just tight. What they all had in common, however, was that they were all WAY over-the-top. And awesome.

I mentioned earlier that there were "tranny-licious staples." Well, sure, these songs were playing, but what was so much fun was that the ladies were lip syncing to the music. They faked singing, danced all over, looked beautiful, and posed for pictures. People generally tipped the girls when they posed for photos. I was so glad I had about $5 in singles, as I was able to pay many a dancer to pose w/my cousin. After one performer's song ended, she walked out of the room, and for the next few minutes, I waited impatiently to see who would come out next. That anticipation was fantastic. But because our table was set back in Nepal, we had to wait until half a minute or so into the song until we saw who was performing. Around 1 or so, there was a 45-minute long break, which gave the performers enough time to change outfits and prep for the second act. They were just as flamboyant and fun as they were during the first act.

After I grabbed my plate of brunch, I actually stopped our waitress on my way back to the table. I noticed that a party sitting at a prime table was getting up to leave. I asked the waitress if our group could switch to that table in order to get a better view. She explained to me that the table I'd been eying was being attended to by another server, so we would not be able to switch. She said we could pull the table out of the corner--which we already did--so our view was generally obstructed the entire time.

I think most of the people in my group were satisfied, although there was one damper on the afternoon: the pitcher of Bloody Mary. I'm really not a drinker, so I'd never even tasted a Bloody Mary. Everyone said the drink was gross, though, so I tasted it. Sure enough, it was really strong. And it tasted like tomato-based rectum. They thought maybe it needed some more tomato juice, so my cousin had the waitress bring over a glass. Unfortunately, the tomato juice did nothing to fix the drink that tasted like the inside of one's lower gastrointestinal track. My cousin's g/f told the waitress that the drink tasted like cocktail sauce, and everyone explained that it was pretty much undrinkable. The waitress said she'd have the manager come over (which we hadn't even requested!), but as it turned out, the waitress just removed the pitcher of vileness from the tab.

We were a table of five, but when our bill arrived, we noticed that gratuity had been tacked on already. Hmmm... I didn't recall seeing anything about that on the menu. Regardless, we paid our bill and went on our way.

Had I know about the drag brunch any earlier during my time in DC, I would have taken all of my out-of-town visitors there. The food wasn't memorable, nor was the service very serviceable, but the entertainment alone is worth the price of admission.

Perry's
1811 Columbia Rd., NW
Washington, DC 20009
202.234.6218
www.perrysadamsmorgan.com

Review: Wonderland Ballroom

2007-09-22T11:55:00.000-07:00

For months, my coworker Evan had been talking about what is probably the best menu item ever: Bottomless Bacon at Wonderland Ballroom. I've heard of bottomless drinks of all varieties and all-you-can-eat whatnot, but bacon bacon bacon 'til you can bacon no more? That's something special.

On my last Saturday in Washington, Evan and I went to Wonderland Ballroom to gorge ourselves silly w/bacon. I met Evan at the Columbia Hts. Metro stop, which is a 6-8 min. walk to the restaurant. It was the first day of September, and not at all sticky and gross outside.

From the outside, Wonderland Ballroom is completely nondescript. You actually have to look rather hard to find the sign. Inside, the place is a complete dive. A fairly long bar lines one side of the place, while some tables and booths fill out the rest of the small space. When we walked in, we said to the guy behind the bar that we were there for brunch, then asked him if we could sit outside. He explained that we couldn't have drinks outside. And by drinks, he meant anything that wasn't a solid or a gas. Apparently they got in trouble for having patrons outside--obviously drinking liquor, not orange juice or milk--making too much noise. So, instead of enjoying the first day of September outside, Evan and I sat at a two-top inside the small, dark restaurant. Atop each table was a vase filled w/fake flowers. The corner booth actually had the removable seats from vans used as the bench seats. It looked comfy!

After a few minutes of perusing the sadly sparse menu, Evan and I were ready to order. Our options were quite limited to a few breakfast items and a few more lunch items: eggs, breakfast meats on the side, toast, sandwiches... Yeah, that was about it. But when our waitress stopped by w/a couple glasses of water, Evan and I were ready to order. Evan ordered an egg and cheese sandwich on toast, while I went w/a grilled cheese sandwich. Evan asked the waitress if we could split the Bottomless Bacon ($6) and, much to my surprise, she said yes! We tacked on an order of bacon, too, w/which I fully intended on loading up my sandwich.

Good thing Evan's a good conversationalist, 'cause we waited about half an hour for our food to arrive. Only one or two other tables were taken, so it's not like there was a huge brunch rush. Anyway, everything but the bacon came out first. Both our plates had fries on them, too. I think fries are fine w/a lunch sandwich, but I would have preferred something more breakfasty w/my sandwich had I been Evan. After another five minutes or so, our first basket of six strips of bacon arrived. Pork, glorious pork, how I love thee! (Note the irony: today is Yom Kippur.)

Both sandwiches were served on white toast, and were not overly greasy from butter or oil or whatever else would have been used in the kitchen to grill the sandwiches. While Evan scarfed down his breakfast, I opened up my sandwich, grabbed a few slices of bacon from the basket, and inserted them into the warm cheesy center. The bacon was crisp, adding a great crunch to an otherwise blah sandwich; I am not a fan of limp, soggy, floppy bacon, so this was a plus. Only a matter of minutes after basket #1 arrived, it was empty. We pushed it to the side of the table in an attempt to make it obvious we wanted more strips of cured pig. We eventually got our waitress's attention, and not too long after that we got another basket of bacon.

We were both filling up as we neared the end of our meal, but I had one triangle of my sandwich left, and it was yearning for another couple slices of salty bacon. Evan said he could go for more bacon, too, so we let our waitress know. About 10 minutes later, she reappeared w/two baskets of bacon--apparently the kitchen made an oops. Gluttonous porcophiles we are, we took both baskets. Behold...

As you see, each basket contained a good number of crisp, wriggly strips--a fine accompaniment to any meal! Yes, I mean any meal.

By the time we were done, Evan and I had eaten more bacon than any cardiologist would recommend, but because we're young and stupid, so we'll clog our arteries while they're still fairly clean. Brunch for two, including a tip, was under $20. The food was nothing special, aside from the perfectly prepared bacon, whose bottomless status made it all the more spectacular.

I know lots of people love Wonderland Ballroom for the atmosphere and drinks and juke, but I think the food still leaves much to be desired.

Wonderland Ballroom
1101 Kenyon St., NW
Washington, DC 20009
202.232.5263
www.thewonderlandballroom.com

Review: Orange

2007-09-20T15:33:00.000-07:00

Before I even arrived in Chicago to visit my brother, he had e-mailed me to let me know that one of the things he wanted to do together was go to Orange.

While I was in Chicago, I did indeed go to Orange. Twice. But neither time was w/my brother. Oops!

Jeff explained to me that Orange is a brunchy mini-chain of restaurants at which Dale from this season's Top Chef previously worked. I did a little research on my own, eventually finding the menu online. Orange doesn't have its own website, really, but rather a URL (www.orangebrunch.com) that redirect you to another website. Regardless, the menu is there, so I was able to peruse the creative dishes that would await me in the Windy City.

The original plan had been to go to Orange the morning after I arrived in Chicago, but due to some business traveling, that plan never happened. So, the day after that, my sister-in-law, Sara, and I walked to the Orange on Harrison.

The restaurant was not terribly busy when we walked in around 1 that Thursday afternoon. The back area, in front of the open kitchen, was blocked off, so customers were corralled into the front section, which still had many tables open. While Sara and I were at the hostess stand, someone came over to her and said "HI!!!" so excitedly. Sara hugged this perky stranger, who then proceeded to say, "Now I can tell you're pregnant!" Sara introduced me to the friendly waitress, whose name was Cat. My brother and Sara are somewhat frequent patrons at Orange, and Cat has often been their server. Cat knew Sara was pregnant months earlier, but because Sara has the best genes ever, she probably didn't start showing until she was five or six months along. Bitch.

Orange's decor is certainly funky. The atmosphere is very warehouse-y, which is pretty appropriate for that part of town. The ceilings are very high, giving the restaurant an industrial feel. Adorning the walls are all sorts of art for sale, most of them paintings in extremely vibrant colors. Although I'd never buy any of that stuff, I enjoyed looking at it.

Cat seated us and brought over two things: glasses of water w/a cucumber slice floating on top (you'd think they'd use orange, but no! The water had a hint of cucumber flavor, which was really quite refreshing) and a little card detailing the week's pancake flight, which teams up four different pancakes on one segmented plate. The week's theme was "Back to School," so each of the pancakes had a name like "After-School Snack." The one pancake out of the four that made me really curious was the "Cafeteria Lunch": pancakes topped w/popcorn chicken and tater tots. To some people, that would be vile. To people like me, however, that would be heavenly. Despite the call of Lunchlady Land, I looked at the rest of the menu.

Orange's menu is ridiculously creative but a tad limited. For example, they offer five types of omelets, and five types only ($7.95-8.95); custom orders can take a hike. In addition to your traditional Eggs Benedict, you can get Caprese Benedict and Steak and Eggs Benedict. Pancakes are available in a number of versions ($6.95-8.95), including cinnamon roll and jelly donut, and a particularly interesting take on French toast involves skewers, coconut, and fresh fruit ($8.95).

In addition to breakfast standards like eggs and oatmeal, Orange also serves some lunch items. For under $10, you can have your choice of soups, salad, and sandwiches, all served in hefty portions.

When I went to Orange w/Sara, we decided to split the pancake flight. Sara also ordered an egg or two on the side to supplement the flight. After about 20ish minutes of waiting, the pancake flight arrived. Hoooooooly shit.

The presentation of the flight was absolutely gorgeous. A square plate segmented into quadrants held each variety of pancake. The pancakes themselves were stacks of kiddie-sized cakes, which made perfect sense considering how many pancakes come in the flight (four or five per stack I think). Sara and I looked all over for that "Cafeteria Lunch" combo, but couldn't find it. Cat returned to the table, so we asked her what the deal was. As it turned out, people thought the combination of pancakes w/tater tots and popcorn chicken was gross (WTF?!), so they substituted that w/something else. Psh. I was disappointed.

Disappointment soon gave way to elation, though, as I dug into the pancakes. The one in the upper right corner was PB&J. A good bit of PB was drizzled artfully across the stack in Jackson Pollock fashion. I don't like J or anything w/a J-like texture, but I gave it a shot anyway. I was surprised to find that these pancakes were not saccharine sweet; the peanut butter and the jelly were definitely toned down as to not taste like pure sugar. I was expecting something a little sweeter, though, so I wasn't really into these pancakes. (It's like thinking you're going to be drinking water and then realizing you're drinking Sprite. Ugh!) PB lover that she is, Sara enjoyed these pancakes. She later revealed them to be her favorite of the bunch.

Beneath the PB&J was a very dessert-like pancake topped w/chocolate chips and condensed milk. The chocolate chips were a touch melty and the condensed milk was warm and syrupy. The sweet flavors here were not toned down, so it tasted just as sugary as I had expected. A good blend of flavors and textures overall.

Moving to the left were that pancakes that substituted the "Cafeteria Lunch." Sitting atop these cakes were very thin slices of pineapple and watermelon--two fruits I'd never seen paired w/pancakes. Topping the mound was whipped cream, and a there was a rosette of whipped cream in each corner of the quadrant. A little upset that there was no chicken, I bitterly forked off a piece of these pancakes. But sweet Jesus, I saw the light! The pairing of the two fruits worked so amazingly w/the pancakes. The thinly sliced fruits added a heartier texture to the pancakes, which made for a great mouthfeel. The whipped cream made everything lighter and not too sweet. So, while Sara devoured the PB&J pancakes, I inhaled the fruity ones.

The last set in the flight consisted of pancakes layered w/applesauce and topped w/slices of apple and some cinnamon. I'm not really an applesauce kinda girl, but I happily gave these beautiful golden disks a chance. I did not find the apple flavor overwhelming, but rather complementary to the cakes. The crisp Granny Smith apples provided just the right tartness to balance the sweetness of the applesauce and the richness of the cinnamon.

The pancake flight set us back $10.95, but it was soooo worth it. Plus, it fed two of us handily, so it was a rather good bargain.

A couple days later, I was still thinking about Orange. So, my best friend, Michael, and I ended up going right back to the Orange on Harrison around noon on a Saturday. When Michael walked in, he said, "Whoa, this one's a lot bigger than the one by me." So, apparently the location in/near Wrigleyville is small. Well, I can say the location is small enough, because when we drove by it around 11:30 that morning, it was packed, w/a substantial crowd waiting outside to be seated.

But not at the big location! The hostess seated us immediately at the table next to the one I had sat in just a couple days earlier. While Michael and I perused the menu, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Cat, who had recognized me. I felt kinda special. :o) It was nice to be remembered.

I told Michael that my brother loved the kid-sized Fruity Pebble pancakes ($4.95), which, appropriate, appear under the kids' section of the menu. Despite being on the kids' menu, the pancakes made enough of an impression on my brother that he actually called me one day to tell me about them. This was enough to sell Michael on ordering those w/a side of eggs. I ordered the grilled cheese sandwich (which comes w/caramelized onions and roasted tomatoes; $6.95), then topped it w/some pesto, as recommended by the waitress, for a buck extra.

Orange has an orange-squeezing machine behind the bar which is in constant production. In addition to orange juice, the restaurant has a make-your-own-fresh-juice menu. Check off your main juice (orange, apple, etc.), add a second flavor (watermelon, mango, carrot, etc.), and throw something else in there (ginger, etc.) for a bit more panache if you're feeling sassy. For $3-4, you can have a custom-squeezed juice to enjoy w/your brunch. Michael, boring fellow he is, ordered a straight orange juice.

About 20 minutes after ordering, our meals arrived. Michael's pancakes consisted of about five Fruity-Pebbly cakes topped w/a blob of Fruity Pebble butter. Sprinkled on the plate like confetti was--you guessed it!--more of the colorful cereal. Michael took a bite of the pancakes and looked very happy. He told me I had to share in the joy, so I forked off just a bit. The original combination was so unique, so faux-fruity, and so truly tasty. Fantastic presentation aside, these cakes are winners, with just the right amount of fluff and just the right size pat of butter.

Sara told me that Jeff loves the grilled cheese at Orange, although she described it as being greasy. When my grilled cheese arrived, however, it was not the least bit greasy, as I had feared it might be. Two thick slices of bread had been topped w/cheese, onions, tomato, and pesto, and then thrown under a broiler; thus, no butter, margarine, oil, or mayo had been used to lube up the bread. The bread was crisp and golden, the filling melty and warm. The heartiest grilled cheese I've eaten, I had to use a fork and a knife to tackle the monster. There may have been a bit more cheese on there than my arteries would have preferred, but what good is a grilled cheese sandwich if there's hardly any cheese on it? Served alongside the sandwich was Orange's potatoes, which seem to me like roughly mashed potatoes thrown briefly onto a griddle to crisp up the outside. I think this is a great concept, one that is effectively used at my favorite brunch place near where I went to college. What these potatoes needed was a good dash of S&P, so I took the liberty of giving them this myself. I would have preferred French fries w/this sandwich instead of underseasoned mashers.

When I go back to Chicago in the next week or so for the birth of my nephew, I'll be eating at Orange. Maybe even twice. It's hard to find an original breakfast place that serves quality food at good prices. But with friendly, personal service, nice-sized portions, a completely bitchin' menu, and damn tasty food, I know Orange is a winner. Places like that make me sad that I don't have a reliable brunch place near me to fall back on.

Orange
75 W. Harrison St.
Chicago, IL 60605
312.447.1000
www.orangebrunch.com

Review: Les Halles

2007-09-19T20:53:00.002-07:00

Yelp folks are cool. After meeting me once or twice, they organized a little going-away party for me. (Cue "awwww"ing.) So, on a cool late August evening, a bunch of DC Yelpers met at Les Halles for what were supposedly the best French fries in the city.

The restaurant's website describes Les Halles as "is a typical Parisian Brasserie bustling and lively serving the fresh and simple dishes of France's everyday cuisine, in a relaxed environment." The menu is full of things our surrender monkey friends across the Pond eat: mussels, steak frites, escargot, and twice-fried French fries. Anthony Bourdain, he of Kitchen Confidential and general smartassiness, is the restaurant's "chef-at-large," stepping down in sorts as full-time chef du cuisine in order to pursue a career in TV and traveling. Lucky bastard.

About 10 of us showed up at Les Halles over the course of an hour or so. The restaurant was accommodating of our large group, even taking a reservation for a large table al fresco on the patio. Although unnecessary for that night, there were large oscillating fan hanging from the roof, making balmy DC nights just a touch more bearable. The patio had a view of busy Pennsylvania Ave., but it was set back far enough from the street to drown out the honking and screeching of passing cars. (I didn't go inside the restaurant, so I cannot comment on the interior decor.)

Outside, we started off w/two or three orders of the famous Les Halles frites. Fifteen minutes or so after we ordered them, they arrived at the table, piping hot. Golden and steaming, the fries looked great. I have a weakness for fries w/the skins on, which these did not have, but that didn't take away from the magnetic connection between my fingers and the plate. I tried a fry, which was crisp on the outside and soft and fluffy on the inside. The fries had a slight salty taste, but there were no grains of salt on the outside.

Not shoestring and not steak fries, these spuds were somewhere in between, standing up to condiments. Although ketchup was on the table, the Euros in us felt the need to ask for some mayo. Our waitress brought out small tins of mayo in a matter of minutes for dipping purposes. As a fan of Thousand Island dressing, I mixed together some ketchup and mayo, creating a rose-colored dip worthy of a good fry. (No, I did not have relish available. And no, I did not miss it.)

After pigging out on some fries, we placed our entree orders. I ended up going w/the French dip, while others around me ended up w/steak frites or mussels or other French bistro classics. I know we were a big party, but it seemed like forever until our entrees arrived. As a matter of fact, by the time they arrived, I was no longer hungry: the French fries had settled and I was full. Sitting in front of me, though, was an 8" or so French roll topped w/sliced steak and sauteed onions. The steak was medium, as I had ordered, so it had just a touch of pink inside. Another heap of French fries, a mini salad of mixed greens, and black peppercorn dipping sauce filled out the rest of the plate.

No natural light = crappy picture. And that hand? Well, Lauren just couldn't resist fries.

Just looking at it all, however, reminded me of just how unhungry I was. That 45 minute wait for our entrees was not only unexpected, but--as I saw it--inappropriate. I told the girl next to me, who hadn't ordered anything, to eat some of the sandwich, so she proceeded to grab one of the halves. I think she ate it all, so it must've been good. :o) I had the other half of the sandwich and the fries packed up to go.

Our service was generally unattentive. My water glass wasn't refilled, plus the 45-minute wait due to some lack-of-hustle in the kitchen was rather offputting. For a $15-20 entree, I expect better service. Frankly, I got better service last week from the folks at the Chick-Fil-A by my parents' house. Oh, and the waffle fries there? Lovely.

So, are Les Halles's the best fries in DC? Well, I think that's debatable. I liked the combination of a golden, crusty exterior w/a soft, hot interior, but something about the flavor seemed off. It didn't really taste potatoey, but I can't put my finger on what it was. As I mentioned earlier, I tend to prefer skin-on fries, as the skin contains so much of the flavor that makes a potato taste like a potato. I think I also prefer thinner fries over thicker ones, as a general rule. But in my two years in DC, did I taste a better fry? No, I don't think so, but that may only be because I didn't have fries in many other places. But I'm good w/Great Steak and Potato/Fry fries, so I'm obviously not a fry snob.

I wouldn't run back to Les Halles, but if I wanted a good, consistent fry, I'd know where to go.

Les Halles
1201 Pennsylvania Ave., NW
Washington, DC 20004
202.347.6848
www.leshalles.net/washington.php

Thai one on

2007-09-17T15:14:00.001-07:00

While visiting my brother and sister-in-law, Jeff and Sara, in Chicago, I made a point of eating good food. When I arrived in Chicago, my brother had a hot spinach pizza from Edwardo's waiting in the car. My last night there, we had our Iron Chef rematch. And somewhere in the middle of it all, we decided to make Thai food.

The inspiration for Thai came from a stop in a random Asian grocery store. Whenever I find one of these, I go inside to see if they sell frozen roti. Sure enough, this particular store had the brand of Roti I used to buy back in Arlington. (Note: Jeff--let me know what that brand is. There's still a bag in your freezer.) I bought two packages of roti for, like, $1.50 apiece, each package containing six roti.

For those who aren't in the know, Roti is an Asian flatbread. I've had it at Thai restaurants and even used to go to FlatTop just to get it. Roti is divinely flaky, meaning it's most likely loaded w/butter and/or other fats. I always sopped up yellow Thai curry sauce w/roti at FlatTop, so I associate it w/Thai food. Once I had the frozen packages of roti in hand, I automatically felt required to make some curry.

Now, I've never made Thai curry from scratch before. I bought some bags of yellow and massaman curry at a food show last year, and they function as simmer sauces; really easy, really quick, really delicious. (CurrySimple is good stuff. I froze it in little portioned off bags and was then able to make about six portions of Thai food over the course of a few months.) But since I didn't have lazy man's curry, I had no choice but to make it from scratch.

Even before I got to Chicago, my brother was like, "Yooooo. I want to make larb." I don't know when he'd first tried larb, but I get the impression it was recent enough that he was still reveling in the joy one feels upon eating it for the first time. An ex introduced me to larb, which I took for ground chicken, red onion, cilantro, and mint. After reading a recipe, though, I found out there was much more to it than just that handful of ingredients.

Given that Jeff didn't have fish sauce in the house, nor did he have lemongrass or Thai chilis or galangal or shrimp paste or most of the necessary produce, we decided to find a nearby Asian market to scrap up the ingredients we needed. We were mostly successful, apart from not being able to find shrimp paste or galangal (whatever that is). But we did find any number of fermented bean products in cans, 'cause, ya know, those are pantry staples.

Back in the apartment, preparation for our Thai feast began. Sara planted herself at the dining room table, surrounded by a lush garden of cilantro, mint, and scallions. As if she wasn't cute enough, check her out chopping up the green in her sunglasses. She said the herbs (maybe she was cutting onions, too?) were making her tear up!

Back in the kitchen, Jeff and I prepared our respective dishes. Wielding a Wusthof knife, Jeff minced up all sorts of stuff for his larb. Observe his superior knife skills:

I was in charge of the raw chicken. For Jeff's larb, I chopped two chicken breasts up rather finely. Ground chicken takes on a funky texture, so Jeff wanted to have hand-chopped chicken. When the breasts are slightly frozen, they're very easy to chop. Regardless, this was my least favorite part of the prep work. I got some sort poultry-induced repetitive motion injury, but it abated a few hours later.

Jeff's recipe involved lots of chopping, while mine involved throwing a handful of ingredients into the Cuisinart, giving it a whir, and ending up w/curry paste. Curry paste is surprisingly easy to make, as you'll see in the recipe below. Add it to some coconut milk and splash it w/some fish sauce, and you have a fine curry sauce.

Once the chicken had simmered in its sauce for a lengthy 1 hr. and 15 min., Jeff began throwing all the ingredients into the wok to make the larb. Like Alton Brown said in his pad thai episode, Asian cooking commonly involves a LOT of prep, but only a very short amount of cooking time. Sure enough, the larb was ready about five minutes after Jeff threw the first ingredient into the wok.

Accompanying our Thai feast would be the roti--of course--and some jasmine rice. I tend to think of larb as an appetizer, but that's probably only because I see it on the appetizer menu at every Thai restaurant. Regardless of what larb really is, we treated it as an entree that evening.

The best line of the night came out of Jeff's mouth: "I don't want to talk to you guys right now 'cause I want to keep eating." Sara oohed and aahed, and I couldn't believe I made a curry sauce that tasted like the stuff I got at that food show. We were all extremely impressed w/our labor.

See why?

Larb Gai (recipe courtesy of Shiok)

Chicken breast meat (boneless), ground (minced) very coarsely - 200 gm
Chicken stock - 90 ml (6 tablespoons)
Peanut oil - 2 teaspoons
Galangal (finely chopped) - 2 teaspoons (substitute young ginger if you can't find this)
Lemongrass (finely chopped) - 1 tablespoon (Use only the tender heart and not the fibrous outer layer. Substitute 1 teaspoon lemon rind if you can't find this)
Fresh red chillies - from 1 teaspoon to 2 tablespoons depending on your tolerance - very finely sliced
Shallots (sliced) - 4 (Substitute with quarter of a medium purple onion if you can't find this)
Fresh mint leaves (chopped) - 1/2 cup
Fresh coriander (cilantro) leaves (chopped) - 1/2 cup
Spring onions (scallions for the Americans) - finely chopped - 2 tablespoons
4 tablespoons raw rice (we're gonna make toasted ground rice with this)

Dressing
2 tablespoons lime juice
2 tablespoons fish sauce
1/2 teaspoon red chilli powder
1/2 teaspoon sugar

First, we're going to make our special ingredient - toasted ground rice. This gives the salad a nutty flavour.

Heat a skillet over low heat and when it's hot enough, add the raw rice grains. Keep the heat low and stir from time to time. Keep toasting till the grains turn golden brown. Remove from heat and set aside to cool.

When it has cooled down, put it into a coffee grinder and grind till you have a coarse powder. You should not grind it till it's fine. It should still have some "bite".

Combine the salad dressing ingredients and set aside. Adjust to taste if something seems out of balance.

Heat a wok or large pan and when it's hot, add the peanut oil. Once the oil is hot, add the lemon grass, shallots, and galangal. Stir for 20 seconds, and add the stock. Turn the heat down to medium and add the minced chicken. Cook for another 3-4 minutes (about 30-60 seconds past the time that the chicken turns white completely and is no longer pink) Don't overcook the chicken or it will get tough. By the time you finish cooking, the stock would have evaporated.

There, the chicken is done. Turn off the heat. Add the salad dressing, the chillies, the toasted rice, spring onions, the mint and coriander leaves. Mix well.

Take a serving plate, arrange the lettuce leaves in the corners of the plate, and empty the chicken and its dressing on to the plate in between the leaves.

Ta da! Your salad is ready. Traditionally, it is served with plenty of veggies and herbs on the side. You can have the salad as an accompaniment to your main course, or wrap the chicken and some dressing in lettuce leaves and enjoy it as a hot n' sour package. Be adventurous and use more chilli than you'd normally use. The flavour of the fresh herbs will prevent any serious damage to your taste buds.

This salad can be served at room temperature, but I like to serve it warm. If you allow it to cool, the chilli flavour recedes and the salty flavour becomes more assertive. Try making the salad with beef too.

* * *

Thai Yellow Curry Paste and Chicken (recipe courtesy of templeofthai.com)

Curry Paste

12 dried thai chilis
2 tsp sea salt(or coarse salt)
2 shallots, peeled
4 cloves garlic, peeled
1 thick slice fresh galangal (or dried galangal soaked in water until softened) --> didn't have/use!
1 stalk lemongrass, sliced crosswise (discard tough outer leaves and the root end)
1 thick slice peeled ginger root
1 tbsp coriander seeds --> didn't have/use!
1 tsp cumin seeds --> didn't have/use!
2 tsp curry powder
1 tsp shrimp paste (kapee) --> didn't have/use!

Dry roast coriander seeds and cumin seeds until fragrant over low flame in a heavy bottom pan (be careful not to burn). Set aside. (See a more detailed explanation of dry roasting spices).

Pound in a mortar and pestle or process in a small blender/food processor container in the following order: dried chiles, sea salt, shallots, garlic, galangal, lemon grass, and ginger root. Process or pound until smooth but some small pieces can still be seen.

Now add the roasted spices and curry powder. Process or pound again until the seeds are completely broken up into powder and the paste is blended through. Last add the shrimp paste and gently blend in, using the mortar or processor.

Yellow Chicken Curry

3 tbsp yellow curry paste (either from the recipe above or from a can like MaeSri brand)
1 lb chicken, cut into 2 inch pieces (cut through the bones with a sharp cleaver if using chicken with bones) --> we used boneless, skinless breasts
2-3 small red potatoes, scrubbed and cut into 2 inch pieces --> left this out
1/2 tsp sea salt
1 can (16 oz.) coconut milk, shake before opening to mix separated milk
2 tbsp fried shallots (available ready-made in a plastic jar), optional
1 tsp fish sauce, to taste

In a small bowl mix the curry paste with 1 tbsp. of water to dilute. Add to the coconut milk in a medium sized sauce pan. Stir to mix. Add the chicken and potatoes, and 1/2 tsp of sea salt. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Cook until the meat and potatoes are cooked through, not simmering on low heat, but let the curry roll on a low boil.

At the end of cooking, taste and add fish sauce to adjust the saltiness. Cook a minute longer. Remove from heat. Garnish with fried shallots (available ready made in a plastic container), if desired. Serve with Thai jasmine rice.

Editor's note: because we didn't have/use a good number of ingredients, our finished product obviously didn't taste exactly as the recipe would have it. I'm not sure if galangal is sweet, but if it is, that definitely would have made a difference. I was unhappy w/the fact that my curry sauce wasn't sweet, so I asked Jeff and Sara whether or not I should add some sugar or honey. Sara was all over the honey idea, so I added about 2 tbsp. of it. I've gotta say, it was a perfect remedy. The sauce had just that added bit of sweetness that I like so much about Thai curries.

Crumb cake

2007-09-16T20:12:00.000-07:00

Well, this post is going to be mostly pointless, except for the fact that I want to show off photos of one of the tastier cakes I have ever made.

Why pointless? Well, I can't share the recipe right now because the cookbook from which I took it is back in storage in Virginia, and I'm in Phoenix. (Editor's note, 12/2: No, I lied. This recipe is not from a cookbook. My bad! Anyway, you can find the recipe here.) This cake is SO bad, it's one of those recipes that you never want to bake yourself, lest you find out just how fatty it is. (My former coworker Evan actually said to me, while eating this crumb cake, "Mm, I can feel my arteries clogging!)

I made this cake for my last Monday at work. I had been cleaning out my fridge over the weekend, and I had a whole lotta butter that needed to be used. Of all recipes I know, this cake has the most butter--six or seven sticks, I think! But the cake cake make 30 servings, so when you break it down, it's not that bad. Regardless, I wouldn't dare give my cholesterol-challenged grandparents a crumb of it.

If you're interested in the recipe, leave a comment so I'll be reminded to input the recipe once I get my stuff out of storage. The more you nag me, the more likely I'll be to listen. :o)

In the meantime, here are some pictures to tempt your tastebuds. I forgot to sprinkle the top of the cake w/powdered sugar, which makes it look a little fancier, but that's not a make-or-break kinda thing. My cake was consumed, in full, in just a matter of hours at my office. And here's why...

Iron Chef: Burger Battle

2007-09-16T18:21:00.000-07:00

In February last year, my brother and I arranged a particularly bitchin' fiftieth b-day surprise for our mom. We both flew into Phoenix w/our significant others, and our grandparents drove in from Vegas. My mom couldn't have been more surprised had she given birth to a baby dinosaur. It was great.

That weekend was filled w/other surprises: tickets to a concert, a new Coach purse, a big arrangement of flowers. But, to me, the most memorable part of the weekend was our Iron Chef battle. My mom had a big ass beef tenderloin hanging around the house, so she pulled it out, as it would feed eight of us easily. After some shopping and some chopping, the battle was on! My brother ended up winning Battle Tenderloin, which was basically a big slap in the face. Jeff? Won the cooking competition?! WTF?!?! He used to call me from college to ask how long to microwave things for. Slap. In. The face.

At my brother's suggestion, we had a rematch, this time featuring the mighty hamburger. During a weeklong stay in Chicago after packing up and leaving DC, the battle was on. Whose cuisine would reign supreme???

On a Monday evening, Jeff and I went to the grocery store, where he had the butcher blend up some sirloin and some chuck (maybe?): no standard ground beef for him! We didn't set a budget for ingredients nor did we really make any rules. We each grabbed a basket, walked around Whole Foods, picked out our ingredients, and met at the checkout line. $52 later (this included flowers for my sister-in-law, so we weren't completely retarded over ingredients), we walked out of the grocery store and headed back to the apartment.

Back in the apartment, we began to cook. We didn't have time limits like Kenichi and Sakai and Morimoto, so we went about things at whatever pace we damn well felt like. Both of us started off about two hours before ETE (estimated time of eating), Jeff preparing cabbage in red wine and me simmering down onions for some caramelized onions w/sherry.

But what were these low-heat-cooking, savory toppings going to garnish?

Jeff's burger: drunken goat cheese and bacon-stuffed burger w/red wine cabbage and basil yogurt sauce

Nic's burger: simple water burger w/caramelized sherry onions and herbed chevre, mozzarella thyme skewers, and four condiments: roasted red pepper and ginger relish, roasted yellow pepper w/chili relish, lemon herb aioli, and spicy balsamic ketchup

Jeff said his inspiration was the cabbage, which he created after tasting something similar at a restaurant in Alaska. What was my inspiration, you ask? Uhhhh...not making something that tastes like shit? Oh, that must not be the answer you're looking for. Well, then, I'd have to say the onions, which serve as a great for French onion soup.

The most interesting component of Jeff's burger was definitely the cabbage. From what I can tell, it was composed of half a head of purple cabbage, half an onion, and about half a bottle of red wine. Simmer, simmer, simmer, baby, and a couple hours later you have a deep reddish-purple concoction that tastes pretty damn good. It doesn't taste or smell like feet, which I think cabbage typically does.

The most interesting component of my burger wasn't actually on the burger: it was the mozzarella thyme skewer that accompanied my hunk of charred cow. My original plan was to thread the mini fresh mozzarella balls onto regular wooden skewers, but those had already been packed up, as Jeff and his wife, Sara, are getting ready to move. Instead of having them go through boxes of stuff, I improvised w/herbs. I found the heartiest herb in the kitchen, thyme, and poked stalks of that through the cheese. I dipped the skewers in seasoned flour, then an egg wash, then seasoned flour, then an egg wash, then seasoned flour, ensuring a thick enough coating to protect the cheese from the hot oil into which it was plunged. A few of the balls eviscerated, but most of them stayed inside their floury coating, getting oozy on the inside and crispy on the outside. And as it turned out, the thyme was soooo much better than wooden skewers. I think rosemary, an even heartier herb, would have imparted just as nice a flavor and would have also held up even better.

What I thought about the burgers didn't matter, through, because Sara and my best friend, Michael, were our judges. Oh, how I pitied them. A hard decision was in their hands. Thanks to some criteria, though, their job was made a bit easier. We used the same scoring as Iron Chef:

Taste: 10
Presentation: 5
Creativity: 5

Each judge saw a complete plating of each burger, and then each burger was cut in half so the four of us could taste both burgers. After about 10 minutes, all that was left was burger carnage: the remains that fell off the ciabatta buns. I genuinely preferred Jeff's burger: the meat held together better (I probably added too much water), it had a better sear, the top of the bun was crisper, the cheese and bacon lended a better flavor, and the cabbage was such a unique touch. Mine? Well, I had condiments a-gogo. And fried cheese.

The judges agreed that Jeff's burger was more creative, but they preferred my presentation. As for taste? Our judges were split. In the end, however, my burger reigned supreme--but half a point. The squelch Jeff made when he heard the results was music to my ears, though. :o)

So, Jeffrey-san, thank you for being a worthy competitor. The battle is tied at 1-1. I look forward to meeting again in Kitchen Stadium, where we will once again create amazing food and indulge in some healthy sibling rivalry.

THE BATTLE WILL BE ON!

Review: Citronelle

2007-09-16T12:51:00.000-07:00

About two months ago, my (former) boss told me to start thinking about where I'd like to go for my goodbye lunch w/her. Frankly, I wasn't going to be picky: if she wanted to take me out, I would be happy to accompany her anywhere, even McDonald's. Almost immediately after asking me this question, she asked another: "Would you like to go to Citronelle?" I responded, "You're crazy!" And she said, "Well, that's what we're going to do."

And that's what we did.

Almost, at least, because Citronelle is only open for dinner.

Last night, my boss (henceforth referred to as "The Boss") took me to Citronelle for dinner. Ranked #12 on Gourmet's list of top 50 restaurants in the U.S., Citronelle is chef Michel Richard's flagship restaurant, located in the Georgetown neighborhood of Washington. It's not a cheap restaurant by any means; it's definitely a very, very special occasion kind of place that I never thought I'd get to experience. Well, The Boss is awesomeness embodied. She'd been to Citronelle years earlier and wanted to return, so must've seen this as a perfect opportunity to do so. And who am I to turn down someone who wants to do something so nice for me?

After strolling around Georgetown for a couple of hours, The Boss and I arrived at Citronelle, which is nestled on a side street in quaint-yet-swanky Georgetown. We got there early, so the hostess seated us at a table at the upper-level bar. A couple of bar menus were on the table when we sat down, so The Boss suggested we peruse those. Food items on the menu ranged from fried chicken to a lobster burger to lamb to a cheese plate, and were priced from about $15 to $40. So, Citronelle is also accessible to people whose pockets aren't stuffed with Benjamins.

Once our table was ready, the hostess informed us in the bar, then showed us downstairs to a four-top table. Armless chairs were pulled out for us, and dinner menus were inserted into our hands. The two unused place settings were cleared as well. One of many waiters we would see that night explained to us what our options on the menu were: the three-course prix fixe ($95), the nine-course prix fixe ($155, I think), and the fifteen-course prix fixe ($225). The three-course version has full-sized portions, while the other two options have mini dishes, as to not overstuff restaurant patrons. Being sane people, we ordered the three-course menu, which provides diners w/at least 10 options per course.

The first courses are mostly seafood, with options like lobster, scallops, tuna, and the like. One of the first courses was called "surf and turf," while another was called "new vichyssoise." Given that I tend to prefer fish in bowls rather than on plates, I ordered the tomato tartare, fairly unsure of what I was going to get. The Boss ordered the tuna napoleon.

Main courses run the gamut from lamb to rockfish to salmon to beef to veal/sweetbreads to capon (I think it was capon, at least). Vegetarians can also order a four-veggie plate. I ended up ordering the chateaubriand, while The Boss opted for the salmon.

Between sitting down and ordering, The Boss asked the hostess if the chef was in the restaurant that night. A few minutes later, someone came up to us (the maitre d', I assume) to report that, alas, Michel Richard was on the West Coast. The Boss explained that I had a cookbook I'd like signed. The maitre d' said he could swap out my unsigned book for one that was presigned (and for sale at the restaurant). Well, hot damn! Works for me! The maitre d' brought the book over in a fancy little bag, replacing my Borders-purchased one. When I opened the book later that night, I saw the signature--AND a cute little caricature Michel Richard drew of himself! He looks like a mini Muppet in the sketch, but, eerily, it's a pretty accurate depiction...

Shortly after we placed our orders, an amuse bouche arrived from the kitchen. The waiter explained the small bite we were about to savor. He described it as tuna sausage with blah-blah-blah-dee-blah (he noted every detail, which I obviously do not remember--plus, he had a French accent, making every little detail even more difficult to remember and understand). I had told The Boss that I was going to eat the amuse bouche no matter what it was, so I was relieved to see that it was tuna and not, say, paté of hornswoggle. The tuna sausage didn't appear to have any casing, so maybe "sausage" was a loosely used term. Regardless, the tuna was cooked rather than raw or rare, which seems to be very uncommon in restaurants these days. The fish was flaked and formed into a short cylinder, which was then topped w/cucumber and some sprout-like things, as well as a couple of marble-sized quail eggs. The tasty morsel was presented on a small, square, white plate. The unfishy fish was rather tasty, and the fact that it was fully cooked didn't do anything to take away from its moisture. The tuna was slightly pink in color, so something else was mixed into the "sausage." The sprouty stuff on top tasted like baby watercress, which added a pepperiness to the amuse that was fantastic. (At this point in the night, I didn't want to be one of those people obnoxiously taking pictures of food. But I got over that.)

Once we had finished the amuse, a waiter came by w/a basket, from which he plucked a crusty wedge of bread for each of us. A small plate with cold (gaaaah!), salted butter was also placed on the table. While we waited for our main course, The Boss and I tried the bread. It was light and airy with an extremely crisp crust. The Boss tasted hints of sourdough.

The first courses arrived a short time later. The Boss's tuna napoleon was visually stunning. The ruby slices of raw fish were layered between...well, I'm not sure what, but they looked crunchy! On top was a mini salad, and I think there may have been a quail egg or two up there, too. The plate was garnished w/what appeared to be some sort of greens-based sauce (arugula, maybe?) w/some creme fraiche. Towering plates are so cliche nowadays, but the height on the napoleon was just right: tall enough to catch your eye, but not so tall that it's unpractical and will make for clumsy eating.

I wasn't quite sure what to expect out of the tomato tartare. Frankly, I chose it because it was one of the few first courses that didn't contain ingredients that also starred in The Little Mermaid. What I got was a heaping circle of finely chopped tomatoes, paired w/other ingredients, that was almost like a creamy salsa. A really good creamy salsa. The plate was decorated w/a circle of green liquid--perhaps another greens-based coulis? Stuck inside the tartare were alternating pieces of crunchy fried potato and beet. Propped up on the tomato was a piece of "country bread," which was basically a piece of bread sliced so thinly that, when toasted, it was like a cracker. I broke off a couple bits of it, but it was pretty much unnecessary. I ate about 3/5 of the first course (I'm so exact) before deciding to save room for the main course.

About 30 min. after finishing our first courses, a flourish began in preparation for the arrival of our main courses. The silverware was changed out, the plates were shuffled, the bread plates were refreshed. Two waiters arrived at the table, each one carrying a main course. The Boss's salmon w/boudin blanc was presented first. The presentation was stunning. A filet of salmon sat diagonally in the middle of a square plate. Atop the salmon were five perfect circles of seared boudin blanc. A couple pieces of baby eggplant were on the plate, as was some sort of veggie medley. A nice bit of vibrant caviar decorated the veggies, brightening up the dish like confetti. The waiter asked The Boss if she would like sauce atop her meal. As you see below, The Boss obliged.

Now, I'm not a seafood lover by any means (see: The Little Mermaid reference above). But because I was at the #12 restaurant in the country, I was gonna eat whatever was in front of me. Plus, The Boss cut off a piece of her meal and slid it onto my plate, so could I really be like, "No, thanks, but I don't eat anything that lives underwater"? Nope. The Boss could have asked me to eat eyeballs or testicles or something and I would have not only eaten it, but also have asked for more. So, how was it? The salmon wasn't at all fishy, and it was moist. Score: entree 1, Nicole 0. The eggplant wasn't mushy and offensive. Score: entree 2, Nicole 0. The boudin blanc? Well, WTF is boudin blanc? In Spanish, a white sausagey thing is called "pudin blanco" and blood sausage is "pudin negro," so I could only imagine that boudin blanc would be a white sausagey pudding. Based on a bit of research, boudin blanc is a sausage made from chicken, veal, or pork (or any combination thereof) w/milk, and sometimes w/rice. Hm, that doesn't sound so bad. As a matter of fact, I really like Aidell's sausages w/chicken and turkey, so boudin blanc should theoretically be right up my alley! But it wasn't. I had no idea what I was getting into--was it seafood? was it congealed turkey testicles? was it fermented eggs and taro?--so my palette was tainted before I even took the first bite. The consistency of the boudin blanc was kinda squishy and spongy, and I'm not so sure I like those qualities in tubular meats. Also, there wasn't much flavor to it, which only added to the mystery. Had I know what I was eating before I ate it, I might have felt differently about the boudin blanc, but because I didn't the score rests: entree 2, Nicole 1.

But what do I know? The Boss commented on how incredible and perfectly cooked the salmon was, then proceeded to do everything but lick the plate clean.

I chose pretty safely in getting the chateaubriand. I typically order meat medium, as medium-rare meat at restaurants is often served more like rare, but this time around I got my steak medium-rare, putting all my trust in the kitchen. Smart move on my part, as I was soon to find out. The presentation of my entree was far simpler than The Boss's: on a similar square plate was a pool of dark wine reduction atop which was placed a crusty piece of beef. On the beef, like a crown of agricultural joy, were thick strips of carrot, rutabaga, and zucchini. On the other side of the plate was what looked like one of those coconut-crusted marshmallows that you eat only during Passover, 'cause you're so desperate for something sweet that you'd eat coconut-crusted roadkill. Luckily, that mysterious, spiny rectangle in the corner was NOT a Manischewitz-inspired side dish. Instead, it was potatoes au gratin inside of some sort of crunchy breadinig. As you can see, the breading wasn't breadcrumbs or panko or something traditional. It may have been very fine threads of potato, perhaps, or maybe some sort of extremely thin pasta. Whatever it was, it provided a crunch that complemented perfectly the creaminess of the potatoes and cheese inside. I could have eaten three or four of those things for dinner and nothing more. And I would have been happy.

But there was steak to eat, so who needs starch? The chauteaubriand had a crusty exterior speckled w/flecks of seasoning (like crushed peppercorn, I think). The meat was melt-in-your-mouth tender, and wouldn't have required more than a butter knife for slicing. The marbling of the meat ensured that it was moist throughout, so I encountered no rough, tough, dry spots. In addition, there was no gristle or cartilage or other unsavory morsels. The reduction (red wine? syrah? I don't remember) was smooth and syrupy, combining savory and sweet flavors. It coated the meat without being gloppy, but wasn't so thin that it dripped off. It was my ideal sauce in every way, and I wish I could make such a fine accompaniment for meat. Regardless, the meat didn't need a sauce; I just thought of it as an enhancement for an already superb dish.

Adjusted the lighting A LOT to show the outline of the meat

I couldn't finish my meal, which, initially, made me very sad (but I didn't wanna overdo it, as dessert is the real star at Citronelle). I figured the remaining half of my chateaubriand would be pitched, meaning half of that glorious cut of meat (and the sauce) would go unsavored. But when the waiter came to clear the table, he asked if I wanted to take the remaining food on my plate with me. CITRONELLE DOES DOGGY BAGS. But they don't do tinfoil swans.

I wasn't yet at the point of needing to switch into elastic-waisted pants, but I was moving in that direction. Our waiter gave us the dessert menu, a moment I had been excitedly anticipating since, like, 8 a.m. the day before. So many of the options looked good: a chocolate sampler, some sort of meringue thing (The Boss loves meringue), three vacherins, and a bunch of other stuff. I think I had my mind made up even before I saw the menu, though, as I'd heard that Breakfast at Citronelle (for a $5 supplement) was a showstopper. I decided that either The Boss or I had to get it, so I hopped on that one. The Boss opted for the Chocolate Flake.

But before dessert, The Boss and I were presented w/something of a pre-dessert dessert that I took for a palate cleanser. We were told it was a passion fruit mousse w/orange sauce. The Boss was first to grab her spoon and dig in. She blurted out, "Wow. This is so light. I've never had anything like it." After I sunk my spoon in, I understood what she meant. The dessert was somewhere between air and helium; I could imagine it floating right off the plate. When I dipped my spoon into the mousse, I sure as hell couldn't tell. It was as if there was no substance on the plate. But when I tasted the mousse, it was evident there was a lot more going on than just some lighter-than-air mini dessert. The flavor of the passion fruit was not overwhelming, but it was surprisingly evident for something that light and airy. The mousse, in a way similar to my bovine entree, melted in my mouth. I felt the mousse collapse between my tongue and the roof of my mouth; at first it was there, then it wasn't. It was one of the more bizarre textures I'd ever had the pleasure of experiencing. The small, sweet serving of mousse didn't cleanse the palate, but it definitely prepared the palate for what was to come.

About 10 min. after we downed our mousses, our desserts arrived. And hooooooly geez. Michel Richard was trained as a pastry chef, so desserts are his specialty. It is obvious that he takes great pride in his desserts especially, as they are works of art disguised as food. The Boss's Chocolate Flake was a scoop of bergamot ice cream w/flakes of chocolate (which I'd describe more as sails of chocolate). Tumbling around in the bottom of the bowl were little chocolatey balls which The Boss said tasted like Cocoa Puffs! She couldn't quite understand the waiter's description of what bergamot is ("ergrah-TEE" is what he said, which I took to mean "Earl Gray tea), but some later research revealed that it's citrus. I think The Boss would have been happier w/the chocolate orgy thing or the meringue, but she seemed pretty satisfied. I can only judge the Chocolate Flake based on looks, as I didn't taste it, but I can definitely say that it was HUGE.

Breakfast at Citronelle reveals Chef Richard's unfathomable creativity. Behold the following exhibits: French toast, egg, sausage, hash brown potatoes and ketchup, and cappuccino:

French toast

Egg

Sausage in syrup (or unfortunate visit to the dog park?)

Hash browns w/ketchup

Cappuccino

So, they obviously didn't serve sausage and hash browns for dessert. That's where the creativity comes in. Breakfast at Citronelle is composed of five desserts cleverly masquerading and things you'd eat only before 10 a.m. The French toast? Banana bread pudding. The egg? A real egg shell filled w/lemon curd and topped w/a fluffy torched meringue. The sausage and syrup? Pears and chocolate in a pear syrup. The hash browns and ketchup? Lightly roasted apples w/raspberry sauce. And the cappuccino? A light coffee mousse topped w/sweet whipped cream and chocolate shavings. And I thought my bacon and egg cookies were creative...

The four "foods" (as opposed to the one "drink") were served in a large square dish sectioned into equal quadrants, each quadrant housing a different item. The presentation was quite impressive: clean, clever, concise. I don't like bananas (wanna see me gag? maybe even projectilel vomit?), so I left the French toast where it was. (The Boss took "just a taste," though, which turned into "a few bites shy of the whole thing.") The lemon curd filling the egg shell was dense and creamy, w/just the right balance of acidity, tartness, and sweetness. The texture of curd general weirds me out, though, so I limited my curd intake to just a few bites w/the small spoon provided for that part of the dessert. The sausage wasn't cake, and it wasn't candy, and I'm really not quite sure what it was. The pear was sweet, though, so it balanced out the dramatic flavor of the dark chocolate. After a couple bites of that, I moved on. The hash browns looked so realistic, I was expecting to taste starch and earthiness instead of crispiness and sweetness. The apples were lovely and sweet, so I would have preferred more of a tart flavor from the raspberry sauce. At first, I thought the cappuccino was just a cup full o' whipped cream to slather on top of the other items. To be sure of this, though, I dug my spoon down into the cup. When it came out brown, I licked it. (Wow. That's not a phrase I get to use very often!). I tasted coffee. Good, sweet, creamy, yummy coffee. Beneath a thick layer of whipped cream was a cappuccino-flavored mousse, which was surely my favorite part of the dessert. The mousse wasn't dense, but rather airy; I could feel the air bubbles collapsing in my mouth. A little mousse and a little whipped cream paired together made for an amazing cup of coffee.

As if The Boss and I weren't already stuffed to the gills, a waiter stopped by w/a silver platter adorned w/petit fours. There were two of each small bite, so The Boss and I didn't have to pull straws over who would eat what.

From the top down, there were chocolate cookies w/a fudgy chocolate button, lemon macarons, chocolate-covered grapes, and mini fruit tartlets. I told The Boss I thought the grapes were truffles, so she went right for those. Once she realized there was fruit in the middle, I said, "Ohhhh! Those are chocolate-covered grapes!" Richard is famous for making these, as I've read, so it only made sense that these were among the petit fours. The chocolate cookies were somewhere between a cookie and brownie, and a rich chocolate ganache button in the middle made the treat even more luxurious. I could only take half a bite! The macarons were absolutely perfect: they had lofty domes, frilly feet, and a smooth lemon filling. I haven't tried making macarons yet, but when I do, I know they won't turn out half as well--or as good--as these. The tartlet was basically pie crust w/a couple pieces of juicy fruit on top. Eh. Nothing to get moist over.

As the even wore down, I took in the final moments of my evening. The service was surprisingly unstuffy, as was the decor. Simple linens, simple furniture, simple lighting. (Although there was this color-changing wall thing that could have caused seizures in the young and the elderly. A tad '80s, in my opinion.) I worried that I'd feel out of place among DC's high and mighty, but I was actually comfortable, there in one of the best restaurants in the country.

I couldn't have asked for a better person than The Boss w/whom to share my experience at Citronelle. I won't soon forget it.

Citronelle
3000 M. St., NW
Washington, DC 20007
202.625.2150
www.citronelledc.com

Movin' out

2007-09-01T07:52:00.000-07:00

This post has absolutely nothing to do w/food. So if you don't care about my personal life, stop reading!

This is just a little update to let my faithful readers know that I won't be posting for a period of time that is yet to be determined. My computer has been packed up and shipped off to a storage warehouse, so I am without personal computer, and thus feel like a fetus stripped of her umbilical cord. My computer access will be pretty limited over the next couple of weeks while I leave DC, visit a bunch of people in Chicago, and figure out what my next step is.

Things to look forward to, though, are reviews of...

Les Halles
Citronelle (!!!!!!!)
Wonderland Ballroom
Perry's Drag Brunch

In the meantime, if anyone has suggestions for where to eat during my week or so in Chicago, throw 'em at me!

Matchbox-style miniburgers

2007-08-25T09:27:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago, I bought a pound of ground bison and a bag of dinner rolls at Wegman's with the intention of making mini burgers a la Matchbox. Matchbox's mini burgers are served in multiples of three for $8/12/15. Each burger is served on a mini brioche roll full of buttery goodness (and fat, of course). For an extra buck per trio, you can add cheese to the burgers. Each little hunk o' beef is cooked to your preference, slipped onto the pillowy brioche, and plated with a heaping mound of parmesan-and-parsley-flecked onion straws. Holy fried delight, Batman! My modus operandi is removing the domed bun that serves as a lid to the burger, smearing it w/some ketchup, piling some fried onion onto the cheesy surface of the burger, and then replacing the ketchupy lid atop the slider. Two or three burgers are easily a meal for me.

I'd made mini burgers at home before and loved 'em so much that I decided to make them again. This time, however, I used bison as my meat, which is a much leaner, healthier alternative. I also decided to take a stab at homemade onion rings/straws, which I'd never done before. Here's what I did for the straws...

Onion Rings/Straws

1 large Vidalia onion
1/4 c. hot sauce
1 c. flour
S&P to taste

Cut onion thinly into either rings or pieces ("straws"). Place in a bowl and top with hot sauce. If you want spicy onions, leave as is; if you want milder onions, add some water to the bowl to dilute the mixture. Let sit 10-15 min.

In another bowl, combine flour and S&P.

Pour liquid off onions and use a paper towel to remove some of the excess moisture. Be careful not to remove all of it, otherwise not as much flour will stick. Throw all the onions into the flour mixture. Use your hands to toss the onions in the flour, coating all sides thoroughly.

Heat oil for frying to about medium-high heat. (I don't really use thermometers; I just throw stuff in the oil to gauge how hot it is and how hot it should be.) The onions should sizzle right away, but they should not turn brown right away. After three minutes or so, the onions should be golden. Flip them around a bit w/a metal utensil (tongs, spatula, etc.), and let fry for a couple minutes longer. Remove from oil when golden and crisp. Season immediately with salt if necessary/desired. After the onions have cooled a bit, add some minced (fresh or dry) parsley to look pretty. :o)

* * *

So, that's the idea for the onions, and they turn out really well--not really greasy at all. My roommate was like, "Wow," but he always says "OH MY G-D" no matter what I make, so maybe he's not the best taste tester to base opinions on. But whatever. Now, onto the meat...

Bison dries out faster than beef, as it's very lean. I remembered reading on Chowhound that adding water to ground meat (turkey, beef, etc.) for meatballs and burgers will keep even lean meat moist. So, bowing to the Niki Rothman Method, I made a "water burger." I mixed in about 1/3 c. water w/my ground bison. She recommends 1/4 c. water to 1/2 lb. meat, but I couldn't bring myself to do that! In addition to the water, I added 1/4 c. chopped Vidalia onion, kosher salt, and coarse black pepper. Squish squish squish, then form into small patties to fit on the buttered and toasted mini rolls (I ended up w/seven patties from 1 lb. meat). I cooked my burgers under the broiler, although the Foreman grill would have been quicker and cleaner. But I wanted a charred taste that good ol' George just doesn't provide. I was busy frying onions and cleaning up as I cooked, so I let the burgers sit under the broiler for a touch too longer. They weren't quite medium rare, as I would have preferred, but more like medium.

But damn, those burgers were still moist, thanks to the Niki Rothman Method! Skeptical as I was, I can now endorse the idea of a "water burger." Give it a shot; now you too can have moist burgers made with even the leanest meat.

With Matchbox in mind, I plated my burgers. In retrospect, I'm realizing that I put five on the plate--not six--which really isn't Matchboxy at all. Well, shit.

I did hit the mark on a mound of onions in the middle of the plate surrounded by the burgers. My onion mountain wasn't quite as voluminous as the one you'd get at Matchbox, but I know my arteries will thank me for that. There are always leftover onions at Matchbox, but I made just the right amount. My roommate grabbed a burger on his way out the door for the night, and two of these bad boys were plenty as my dinner. In an attempt to empty out my fridge, I took the last pickle slice from a jar and cut it into five segments, one to top each plated burger. My roommate had the leftovers the next day for lunch and ended up telling me that the pickles were a "nice touch." And I agree.

So, this week I assuaged two fears by facing them: making a water burger and frying my own onion rings/straws. Mission accomplished--and tasty.

Review: Vapiano

2007-08-22T09:03:00.000-07:00

Despite a stigmatized reputation,

Germany

has given us many things to be thankful for, including the BMW and Beetle, Bach and Beethoven, and Black Forest Cake. Germany’s newest import to this side of the Atlantic goes beyond braunschweiger and bratwurst, however, fusing Italian cuisine with Swedish simplicity. Willkommen--or benvenuti or välkommen, if you prefer--to Vapiano.

Touting itself as “the future of fresh casual,” Vapiano is the latest European dining concept to reach the US. After opening 17 successful restaurants across Europe, Vapiano expanded its empire westward, opening its first American store in Arlington, Virginia, and adding another location in the trendy downtown Washington, DC, area of Dupont Circle. Another store is slated to open in DC’s Chinatown in August 2007.

Vapiano’s concept is high-tech yet simple: customers are presented with a menu and a “chip card,” which keeps an electronic “tab” of what you order from a number of different stations around the restaurant. Want an order of penne with pesto? Place your chip card in front of the computer at the pasta station, wait for your pasta to be ready, and walk away. Your penne has been added to your tab. Thirsty? Order a gin and tonic at the bar, swipe your card, and keep the tab running. With the exception of the pizza station, the stations require that you wait in line until your order is finished and presented to you, hearkening back to the days of grade-school cafeterias. Thankfully, though, there are no Sloppy Joes or grumpy, hairnetted ladies here.

The food at Vapiano is broken down into three stations: salads, pastas, and pizzas. Each station has anywhere from one to four lines to better serve customers. The popular pasta station, for example, has four lines, each corresponding to an individual chef who will prepare your meal.

Salads are available in small and large sizes, and are hand-tossed before your eyes upon placing your order. The large salad is your better bargain at $6.50, as fresh mixed greens are topped with nearly a dozen more vegetables than its small counterpart. For a couple bucks more, either size can be dressed up with a protein of your choice: turkey, beef filet, or shrimp.

Poor decision-makers, beware the pasta station. Nine different shapes of pasta--including the ribbon-like tagliatelle and pappardelle, traditional spaghetti, and bowtie-shaped farfalle--can be paired with 20 sauces. Sauces are broken down into four price points. A simple pomodoro, for example, costs $6.75, while the unusual “salsiccia calabrese,” with spicy Italian sausage, white beans and sun-dried tomatoes, costs $9.75. The “limone e menta”--a refreshingly light sauce of chicken broth, butter, lime (not lemon, as the name of the dish incorrectly implies), and mint--is a fitting foil to summer’s heat and humidity, and costs only $6.75.

Pick your pasta

Watch it boil

Neat conduction cooking

No matter what you order, you will be treated to a show: watch your chef prepare your sauce from scratch and toss it with freshly made pasta from Vapiano’s in-house pasta “manifattura.” Once the chef finishes preparing your creation, he pours it into a white ceramic bowl, tops it with a sprinkle of parmesan, and presents you with a portion of pasta which is just the right size for a filling lunch. Team it up with two slices of chewy ciabatta to soak up the sauce, and you may not even be able to finish all your food.

Limone e menta tagliatelle

Penne bolognese

There’s no show to watch at the pizza station. After placing your order, the chef gives you a pager, in the same vein as a sit-down restaurant. But when this pager goes off, approximately 10 minutes later, you’re not whisked away to your table. Instead, you return to the station at which you placed your order, and are presented with a hot pizza about a foot in diameter. Antipasti such as bruschetta and carpaccio are also available at the pizza station.

Just like the pasta at Vapiano, pizzas are broken down into four price points. A margherita or pepperoni pizza costs $6.75, while a pizza with tomato sauce, mozzarella, prosciutto, figs, and acacia blossom honey falls into the highest price point, at $9.75. If eating honey and figs on your pizza isn’t quite adventurous enough, dare to try the “vitello tonnato” pizza, adorned with tomato sauce, mozzarella, capers, roasted veal slices, and a tuna cream sauce.

Each pizza, with eight slices, serves one very hungry or two semi-hungry pizza lovers. With a crisp yet chewy crust, the pizza is reminiscent of a pie from Naples. While the crust in this style of pizza is primarily intended as a vehicle upon which to transport the sauce, cheese, and toppings, it is the best part of Vapiano’s pizza. With a slightly charred bottom, the crust brings depth and smokiness to each slice. To better balance the thick layer of cheese, an extra ladleful or two of sauce would be appropriate.

Cipolle pizza: onion, grilled cherry tomatoes, and mozzarella--with a few leaves of freshly plucked basil

The décor of Vapiano is in stark contrast to the cuisine. Instead of resembling the Tuscan countryside or a Napolitano villa, Vapiano looks like it has been hit by an Ikea bomb. The juxtaposition of sharp lines and smooth curves works well, however, in this modern, Euro-style restaurant. Trays to carry your food, which add to the cafeteria feel of Vapiano, are simple, sleek, and metallic. Seating is communal, with square tables for anywhere from eight to 20 people. In the middle of each table is a pot sprouting with fresh rosemary and basil. Pluck off a few leaves of either--and try not to think about who has already touched each plant--and add a distinctively Italian touch to your meal. Cruets of vinegar and olive oil are also perched on each table.

The bar, outfitted with comfortable red chairs and low tables, has a fully stocked bar. If you don’t feel like drinking a shiraz or a Pellegrino, though, you can always get a Coke or a Fanta from any one of the food stations. The beverages are served in tiny bottles, transporting you immediately to Europe--and simultaneously reminding you how wonderful it is to live in the land of Big Gulps.

After downing enough carbohydrates to send an Atkins follower into anaphylactic shock, diners leave their trays on the table--they will be bussed by an employee shortly--and make their way toward the front door. On your way out, you give your chip card to the employee behind the register. She will swipe your card in order to pull up the electronic tab, which correctly details what you have eaten. Vapiano takes cash or credit, but don’t forget to thank the chefs, bussers, and other staff: add a tip to your receipt or drop a couple of bucks in the tip jar.Vapiano has the “future of fresh casual” dining down to a science, but its payment system leaves much to be desired. Each restaurant is equipped with no more than three cash registers, meaning lines during the lunchtime rush often stretch up to 30-people long. If you decide to get your food for carryout, it will most likely not be hot by the time you leave.

A fun concept, friendly staff, fresh ingredients, and quality food have already made Vapiano popular. Once it works out its main kink, Vapiano will be off to an uncommonly strong--and tasty--start in the States.

Vapiano

4401 Wilson Blvd. (Ballston)
Arlington, VA 22203
703-528-3113

1800 M St., NW (Dupont Circle)
Washington, DC 20036
202-640-1868

www.vapiano.com

The First Annual Yelp Chocolate Chip Cookie Bake-Off

2007-08-20T10:41:00.000-07:00

It all started with one woman's late-night craving for cookies. It escalated into a full-fledged, balls-out bakeoff. It ended with humiliating pictures of me in a toque.

Yelp, a social networking cum restaurant/salon/spa/store/club/bar reviewing site, rules. I've been on the site for a few months now and have written a few dozen reviews on museums, restaurants, and the like. Yelp also has events, like wine tastings, trivia nights at local bars, skydiving excursions, and trips to Delware (just for ice cream). My first Yelp event was the Chocolate Chip Cookie Bake-Off, and based on that event alone, Yelp happenings are awesome.

Here were the rules for the bakeoff, as drafted by our grand marshal, Miriam:

THE OFFICIAL RULES

All contestants and judges must send a message via Yelp to MiRIAM w. (aka "The Grand Marshall") by Thursday, August 16, 2007 stating their intention to enter/judge the contest.

All contestants must submit 1 dozen cookies along with a list of all ingredients contained in said cookies to the Grand Marshall by 4:30 PM on Sunday, August 19 at 1210 Massachusetts Avenue, Washington DC. No late entries will be judged. Contestants must also submit a name for their cookies to the Grand Marshall.

Multiple entries by a single contestant are allowed provided each entry follows the rules established above.

The Grand Marshall will assign a number to each entry to ensure confidentiality.

JUDGING
Judges will score on a scale of 1-5 (whole numbers only) with 5 being the highest rating and 1 being the lowest.

Judges will score each cookie on the following:
Taste
Texture
Appearance
Overall (this encompasses originality, "joy felt in heart upon eating", etc.)

Thus, the maximum score allowable will be 20 points.

Hmmm...multiple entries, eh? Well, I had lots of ideas for cookies. I took a very simple recipe and used that as my base. To the base, which I split into four portions, I added different ingredients: 1) white chocolate and walnuts, 2) milk chocolate chunks and crushed potato chips, 3) just semisweet chips, and 4) milk, white, and semisweet chocolate. I'm moving in a couple of weeks and need to empty my pantry (among other rooms/places in the apartment), so I used up as many ingredients as possible, thus making a double batch of cookies--and thus feeling the urge to make so many types of cookies. I was planning on submitting three of the four (the plain semisweet would not be entered), and as it turned out, I was able to do just that.

At first, the grand marshal told me to just enter two, as there were slots for 10 entries. When nine slots were filled, however, Miriam told me to pick another one of my cookies to enter. What was the last-minute entry? The White Wall Cookies: white chocolate and walnut. I wasn't overly thrilled with them, so they didn't make my initial cut for two flavors to submit. But because they were more exciting than the plain cookies, they became cookie #10 in the tasting.

I have to admit: it was pretty unfair that I submitted 30% of the cookies the judges tasted. I felt kinda like a cookie whore by entering so many cookies.

With that said, here are some photos from the event...

Miriam photographs the first eight entries...

...and then explains the rules

The judges taking notes

'Cause "Gatorade and cookies" just doesn't have the same ring to it

I really hope Kevin wasn't eating my cookies when he made this face

All the entries available for public consumption

The judges announcing the winner

***To see all the photos from before and during the Yelp CCCBO, go here.***

The odds were on my side, and I ended up winning the First Annual Yelp Chocolate Chip Cookie Bake-Off. I swear--I only won 'cause I baked 30% of the cookies involved. I was stacked up against some pretty stiff competition: One person used home-churned butter, Tahitian vanilla beans, and three types of European chocolate. Another set of cookies were made by a restaurant chef. One guy made something like two dozen test batches, which he brought to work and pawned off on his coworkers, attempting to find out which cookie was best. Me? I emptied out my pantry and didn't put toooo much though or effort into this. Sure, I did talk about cookies w/some coworkers and friends and my brother, but I feel like my simple cookies weren't the winners in the bunch. Regardless, it's kinda neat knowing that my humble treats beat out a professional chef's. :o)

Crowned w/a toque (incriminating pictures, anyone?), I received a bottle of wine for the winning cookie.

Before I post the recipe, I have people to thank...

The Yelp judges: thanks for choosing my cookies!
The Yelp crew: 'cause you guys just rule. It was so great meeting all of you and tasting all your cookies. They were fantastic.
My friend Lindsey: without your mom's recipe, I wouldn't have had a basis upon which to build.
My brother Jeff: baking cookies on a pizza stone? Genius. Adding chili powder to the recipe? A nice touch.

* * *

White Wall Cookies (makes about 4 dozen cookies)

1 c. Crisco
1 tsp. water
1 c. packed light brown sugar
1/2 c. white granulated sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
2 eggs

2 1/4 c. flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 tsp. salt
2 tbsp. chili powder
2 tbsp. cinnamon

1 1/2 c. white chocolate chips
1 1/2 c. crushed walnuts

Preheat oven to 375º.

In a large bowl, mix together the Crisco, water, vanilla, and two types of sugar. Incorporate eggs one at a time until thoroughly combined.

In a medium bowl, combine all dry ingredients. Add incrementally to the egg/sugar mixture in the larger bowl until completely incorporated. This will form a thick dough.

Fold into the dough, using a spatula, the chocolate and nuts.

Roll the dough into 1-inch balls. Place on a pizza stone (or ungreased cookie sheet) separated by about 1 1/2" on all sides. Bake 7-8 minutes. Remove from oven and let sit for one or two minutes. Remove from stone (or sheet) and let cool on a rack.

If you wanna be fancy, drizzle melted white chocolate over the top, like I did. This is definitely more for show than for taste.

Note: I prefer these the day after they've been baked. Surprising, eh?

The White Wall Cookie

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The First Annual Yelp Chocolate Chip Cookie Bake-Off

Dressing
2 tablespoons lime juice
2 tablespoons fish sauce
1/2 teaspoon red chilli powder
1/2 teaspoon sugar