Given my chronic difficulties with presentation, a frittata is something I've put off trying to cook. The Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home has several interesting recipes for frittatas, but so far I've always had an excuse not to try them. Tonight, the excuses ran out and I tried the "Simple Frittata." This involves sauteeing potatoes and onions, adding garlic and an herb (rosemary was the one I chose), then adding the beaten eggs and letting them set.
It didn't come out too badly, though by the time it left the skillet, it was in pieces. I doubt it was sufficiently browned, either. It tasted fine, however, and now I'm ready to try the "Asian-Style Frittata" at some point.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Perfect Tommy and the perfect chicken sandwich
I'm starting to think that I should've named this blog "Seven Kinds of Soy Sauce and Jersey Fast Food." It's these birding trips. The actual trips are one part nature study, one part performance art, one part reality tv, one part Talmudic debate, one part kitsch appreciation... Perfect Tommy is really the one who should have a blog for all his rants, non sequiturs, Proustian reminiscences and restaurant reviews, but he prefers delivering his stream-of-consciousness ramblings to The Lurker and me. I can't possibly do justice to them.
Chick-fil-A is a southern-based fast food chain that has a bit of a presence in New Jersey. The Lurker, whose thing is fast-food chicken sandwiches, has been raving about them for some time, but every time we drove past the one on Rt. 130 in Hamilton, it was closed. Finally, the stars were aligned correctly yesterday and we were able to stop there for dinner.
Both Perfect Tommy and I had the basic sandwich, which is a fried piece of chicken breast on a buttered bun with two pickles. The chicken was pressure-cooked and moist, the breading was not too hard and not too soft. It was not excessively spicy, just nice and simple. The butter added a bit of decadence, while the pickles gave a complementary sour note (uh oh, this is sounding like a wine description). Another thing the chicken was not was greasy. All in all, it was a tasty chicken sandwich, a step up from what I expect at a fast food place. Oh, yeah, the waffle fries were generous, potatoey and also not greasy.
Judging from the "wow"s emanating from Perfect Tommy's end of the table, he was having another food religious experience. When questioned whether this was better than Krispy Kreme, he immediately said no, it wasn't. He said that the Krispy Kreme experience was transcendental, while Chick-fil-A gave a more earth-bound sense of well-being. The Lurker and I were just grateful for some sense of well-being, since Perfect Tommy's mood had gone sour ever since we had spotted a Pizza Hut Italian Bistro in south Jersey earlier that afternoon. This is apparently Pizza Hut's attempt to go upscale, complete with more subtly-colored buildings, but Perfect Tommy was incensed by the pairing of "Italian" and "bistro," since "bistro" is of course French. This whole episode linked back to a previous trip's rant about Olive Garden and real Italian food, but I'll spare you that for now. Then again, you can probably find similar rants in cyberspace anyway.
While two-thirds of the table were appreciating their chicken sandwiches, The Lurker was inhaling his chicken strips with "Polynesian sauce." "Polynesian sauce" is a takeoff on sweet-and-sour sauce, but with most of the sour removed. The result is sort of a tomato-fruit blend with what seems to be just a touch of something like cayenne. I've never been a big fan of sweet-and-sour dishes, but this sauce was more down my alley.
So that was Chick-fil-A, finally. It goes into the register as another fast-food place worth stopping at, if the opportunity arises.
Chick-fil-A is a southern-based fast food chain that has a bit of a presence in New Jersey. The Lurker, whose thing is fast-food chicken sandwiches, has been raving about them for some time, but every time we drove past the one on Rt. 130 in Hamilton, it was closed. Finally, the stars were aligned correctly yesterday and we were able to stop there for dinner.
Both Perfect Tommy and I had the basic sandwich, which is a fried piece of chicken breast on a buttered bun with two pickles. The chicken was pressure-cooked and moist, the breading was not too hard and not too soft. It was not excessively spicy, just nice and simple. The butter added a bit of decadence, while the pickles gave a complementary sour note (uh oh, this is sounding like a wine description). Another thing the chicken was not was greasy. All in all, it was a tasty chicken sandwich, a step up from what I expect at a fast food place. Oh, yeah, the waffle fries were generous, potatoey and also not greasy.
Judging from the "wow"s emanating from Perfect Tommy's end of the table, he was having another food religious experience. When questioned whether this was better than Krispy Kreme, he immediately said no, it wasn't. He said that the Krispy Kreme experience was transcendental, while Chick-fil-A gave a more earth-bound sense of well-being. The Lurker and I were just grateful for some sense of well-being, since Perfect Tommy's mood had gone sour ever since we had spotted a Pizza Hut Italian Bistro in south Jersey earlier that afternoon. This is apparently Pizza Hut's attempt to go upscale, complete with more subtly-colored buildings, but Perfect Tommy was incensed by the pairing of "Italian" and "bistro," since "bistro" is of course French. This whole episode linked back to a previous trip's rant about Olive Garden and real Italian food, but I'll spare you that for now. Then again, you can probably find similar rants in cyberspace anyway.
While two-thirds of the table were appreciating their chicken sandwiches, The Lurker was inhaling his chicken strips with "Polynesian sauce." "Polynesian sauce" is a takeoff on sweet-and-sour sauce, but with most of the sour removed. The result is sort of a tomato-fruit blend with what seems to be just a touch of something like cayenne. I've never been a big fan of sweet-and-sour dishes, but this sauce was more down my alley.
So that was Chick-fil-A, finally. It goes into the register as another fast-food place worth stopping at, if the opportunity arises.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Bad bad bad
This gardening thing has definitely gotten out of control. After getting out of work early due to the holiday weekend, I stopped off at the local high-end grocery on the way home. I had intended to pick up a few staples like milk and orange juice, but right there in the front were the potted herbs. Damn!
I've been meaning to get a rosemary plant, so that was a no-brainer. But there were so many other possibilities. Sweet basil. Various sages. Dill. Parsley. At least two varieties of thyme. Oregano (well, ok, I'm not a big oregano fan, so that wasn't much of a danger). Etcetera, etcetera.
In addition to the rosemary, I left with lemon thyme and a variegated sage (to replace the sage that died earlier this spring). But I'm still thinking back to the sweet basil and the parsley. And the dill. Ai yi yi.
I've been meaning to get a rosemary plant, so that was a no-brainer. But there were so many other possibilities. Sweet basil. Various sages. Dill. Parsley. At least two varieties of thyme. Oregano (well, ok, I'm not a big oregano fan, so that wasn't much of a danger). Etcetera, etcetera.
In addition to the rosemary, I left with lemon thyme and a variegated sage (to replace the sage that died earlier this spring). But I'm still thinking back to the sweet basil and the parsley. And the dill. Ai yi yi.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
One from the past
Back in late April, when I was drowning in busyness and malaise, I cooked a dish that I totally forgot to blog. I decided to post a quick note about it since I've been catching up lately.
I tried "Burmese-Style Red Lentil Soup" from From Bangkok to Bali in Thirty Minutes. Ever since I ate at Rangoon with friends a couple of winters ago, I've been impelled to find out more about Burmese food. The night market noodles at Rangoon were particularly excellent, but everything was tasty. Unfortunately, life has not been conducive to my goal of tossing everything else aside to concentrate on Burmese food. The best I can say is some of my pan-Asian cookbooks have scattered Burmese recipes included in them.
The soup is very simple, essentially a mix of red lentils (masoor dal in Indian food terms) with garlic, ginger and turmeric simmered in water. The end result was fine, but a little bland. On the other hand, Burmese cooking stresses garnishes, and I didn't garnish the soup with anything (the recipe recommends sesame salt and crisp-fried shallots). If I found the soup bland, it was my own fault for not garnishing it as I should have done. Maybe next time.
I tried "Burmese-Style Red Lentil Soup" from From Bangkok to Bali in Thirty Minutes. Ever since I ate at Rangoon with friends a couple of winters ago, I've been impelled to find out more about Burmese food. The night market noodles at Rangoon were particularly excellent, but everything was tasty. Unfortunately, life has not been conducive to my goal of tossing everything else aside to concentrate on Burmese food. The best I can say is some of my pan-Asian cookbooks have scattered Burmese recipes included in them.
The soup is very simple, essentially a mix of red lentils (masoor dal in Indian food terms) with garlic, ginger and turmeric simmered in water. The end result was fine, but a little bland. On the other hand, Burmese cooking stresses garnishes, and I didn't garnish the soup with anything (the recipe recommends sesame salt and crisp-fried shallots). If I found the soup bland, it was my own fault for not garnishing it as I should have done. Maybe next time.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Chicken korma
I really feel guilty about blogging this, but I'm going to go ahead and do it anyway. Last night, I made chicken korma. Before you get all enthused, let me point out that all I did was stir-fry chicken pieces in some canola oil for a few minutes, open a jar of Patak's korma sauce, dump the sauce into the pan and simmer for 20 minutes (recipe from the jar label). When it was done, I served it over jasmine rice. I wound up with a big pile of food that will give me leftovers for the next couple of days. I can scarcely call it real cooking, though.
Despite my on-again, off-again relationship with Indian food, chicken korma is one of the dishes I like. I think I first discovered it thanks to an Ethnic Gourmet frozen dinner that was out of this world (Ethnic Gourmet was still Taj Gourmet back then).
Last night's version of chicken korma was quite good, but the sauce was a little sweeter than what I'm familiar with, almost too sweet for my taste. The interplay of the spices in the sauce was terrific, however. Today I'm annoyed with myself for forgetting that I had a jar of ghee in the fridge; it would've been much better to use that rather than the canola oil. Oh, well, maybe next time.
Despite my on-again, off-again relationship with Indian food, chicken korma is one of the dishes I like. I think I first discovered it thanks to an Ethnic Gourmet frozen dinner that was out of this world (Ethnic Gourmet was still Taj Gourmet back then).
Last night's version of chicken korma was quite good, but the sauce was a little sweeter than what I'm familiar with, almost too sweet for my taste. The interplay of the spices in the sauce was terrific, however. Today I'm annoyed with myself for forgetting that I had a jar of ghee in the fridge; it would've been much better to use that rather than the canola oil. Oh, well, maybe next time.
Jersey Freeze
By Sunday, it had all the hallmarks of a lost weekend. Sorting through graphic novels had turned, as it always seems to, into rereading them. I was restless. I wanted to do something. Rereading ElfQuest all weekend was not going to satisfy that urge. So I dropped an e-mail to The Lurker and Perfect Tommy asking them if they wanted to go birding.
The trip to Sandy Hook provided a perfect excuse to wander all over Monmouth County for an afternoon. When we were ready for dinner (actually, first we wanted to go for ice cream, then dinner got added on to the program), we started looking for likely places. When Jersey Freeze crossed our ken, Perfect Tommy started raving about it having been on tv and so forth. We turned around and decided to check it out.
Jersey Freeze is famous up and down the east coast for its soft-serve ice cream; it is even featured on Ice Cream Unwrapped on The Food Network. Dinner was a more immediate concern, however, so we went into the wing of the building that promised food.
A glance at the blackboard behind the counter showed a mixed romaine salad on offer, a good sign. The Lurker and I ordered burgers, while Perfect Tommy got a chicken cheddar sandwich. The burgers were real handmade patties, good and juicy. My bacon burger was topped with three big strips (slabs, actually) of the best-looking bacon I’ve seen in a restaurant for a long time. The buns were real. The fries weren’t greasy. Perfect Tommy, our most severe restaurant critic, said his sandwich was very good. We hadn’t expected much from the meal, to be honest, since Jersey Freeze is a humble sort of roadside place and its fame is for ice cream, not food. We were very pleasantly surprised, however.
When we sidled up to the ice cream counter for dessert, however, things took a turn. There were only four flavors of ice cream listed, black raspberry being one. Unfortunately, they were out of the black raspberry. Forced to choose between eating famous ice cream and eating black raspberry ice cream, Perfect Tommy chose the latter, so off we went on our quest. What ensued was a session of wandering all over central Jersey while trying to remember the locations of ice cream places we had eaten at in the past. We finally ended up at a Friendly’s, which is probably some kind of heresy. Perfect Tommy didn’t care, though, because he got his black raspberry. I had a pistachio cone and The Lurker opted to be good. In any case, I have a feeling that I’ll be back at Jersey Freeze in the future.
The trip to Sandy Hook provided a perfect excuse to wander all over Monmouth County for an afternoon. When we were ready for dinner (actually, first we wanted to go for ice cream, then dinner got added on to the program), we started looking for likely places. When Jersey Freeze crossed our ken, Perfect Tommy started raving about it having been on tv and so forth. We turned around and decided to check it out.
Jersey Freeze is famous up and down the east coast for its soft-serve ice cream; it is even featured on Ice Cream Unwrapped on The Food Network. Dinner was a more immediate concern, however, so we went into the wing of the building that promised food.
A glance at the blackboard behind the counter showed a mixed romaine salad on offer, a good sign. The Lurker and I ordered burgers, while Perfect Tommy got a chicken cheddar sandwich. The burgers were real handmade patties, good and juicy. My bacon burger was topped with three big strips (slabs, actually) of the best-looking bacon I’ve seen in a restaurant for a long time. The buns were real. The fries weren’t greasy. Perfect Tommy, our most severe restaurant critic, said his sandwich was very good. We hadn’t expected much from the meal, to be honest, since Jersey Freeze is a humble sort of roadside place and its fame is for ice cream, not food. We were very pleasantly surprised, however.
When we sidled up to the ice cream counter for dessert, however, things took a turn. There were only four flavors of ice cream listed, black raspberry being one. Unfortunately, they were out of the black raspberry. Forced to choose between eating famous ice cream and eating black raspberry ice cream, Perfect Tommy chose the latter, so off we went on our quest. What ensued was a session of wandering all over central Jersey while trying to remember the locations of ice cream places we had eaten at in the past. We finally ended up at a Friendly’s, which is probably some kind of heresy. Perfect Tommy didn’t care, though, because he got his black raspberry. I had a pistachio cone and The Lurker opted to be good. In any case, I have a feeling that I’ll be back at Jersey Freeze in the future.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Simmered hijiki tofu
Checking the expiration date on my package of firm tofu yesterday made me realize that I had to use it up or else. Time to throw something else together. What I ended up with was the following:
Stir-fry some hydrated hijiki in oil for a couple of minutes. Then add a cup of dashi, three tablespoons shoyu, three tablespoons sugar and two tablespoons mirin. Add sliced tofu, bring to a boil, then cover and lower heat. Simmer for ten minutes.
The sauce was a bit thin; I probably should’ve cooked it down some more to make it more intense. Having said that, it was still a good sweet shoyu broth. There was a bit too much oil, but that was because I started with a little too much peanut oil in the pan. I adapted the shoyu broth from Hiroko Urakami’s broth in her recipe for braised hijiki, just substituting dashi for water. I finally have real mirin back in the house, too, thanks to a trip to Whole Foods.
Stir-fry some hydrated hijiki in oil for a couple of minutes. Then add a cup of dashi, three tablespoons shoyu, three tablespoons sugar and two tablespoons mirin. Add sliced tofu, bring to a boil, then cover and lower heat. Simmer for ten minutes.
The sauce was a bit thin; I probably should’ve cooked it down some more to make it more intense. Having said that, it was still a good sweet shoyu broth. There was a bit too much oil, but that was because I started with a little too much peanut oil in the pan. I adapted the shoyu broth from Hiroko Urakami’s broth in her recipe for braised hijiki, just substituting dashi for water. I finally have real mirin back in the house, too, thanks to a trip to Whole Foods.
Southeast Asian sauté
On Wednesday (I think, it was a long week) I cooked one of my favorite dishes for the first time since starting this blog. It’s Marnie Henricksson’s “Southeast Asian Sauté with Shrimp, Spinach, and Coconut Milk” from Everyday Asian. I’ve never cooked it with shrimp but usually use chicken; this week I used Quorn tenders. It’s pretty simple. First you stir-fry some garlic and ginger in oil for a few seconds, then you add some fish sauce and spinach and continue stir-frying. This is the moment when the pan starts splattering like a demon. Then you add the meat and finally, a mixture of half a can of coconut milk and half a cup of water. On top of this, you add some precooked noodles (Henricksson recommends udon because its consistency takes the sauce well) and heat through.
This was a red-letter meal because I harvested some spinach from the garden for it. Of course, the spinach cooked down into little green bits, so it was lost in the final reckoning. Moral: next time use more spinach. The Quorn tenders worked well in this dish; they had a little more flavor than the chicken breast meat I normally use. The overall taste of the dish is rather mild; on one hand very bland meat (or tofu) will make it boring but on the other hand something like beef is too strongly flavored. On this occasion, I got some toasty bits on the pan while stir-frying the Quorn tenders, so that added more of a reddish tint to the meal (as well as more flavor) than usual.
This sauté reminds me of Italian pasta meals with a cheese-based sauce, such as fettucini Alfredo. The coconut milk is curdled by the fish sauce, and becomes a creamy cheese-like sauce.
This was a red-letter meal because I harvested some spinach from the garden for it. Of course, the spinach cooked down into little green bits, so it was lost in the final reckoning. Moral: next time use more spinach. The Quorn tenders worked well in this dish; they had a little more flavor than the chicken breast meat I normally use. The overall taste of the dish is rather mild; on one hand very bland meat (or tofu) will make it boring but on the other hand something like beef is too strongly flavored. On this occasion, I got some toasty bits on the pan while stir-frying the Quorn tenders, so that added more of a reddish tint to the meal (as well as more flavor) than usual.
This sauté reminds me of Italian pasta meals with a cheese-based sauce, such as fettucini Alfredo. The coconut milk is curdled by the fish sauce, and becomes a creamy cheese-like sauce.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
World Series of Birding
Twenty-four hours, one county, 99 birds, two home-cooked meals. Saturday was the annual World Series of Birding sponsored by the New Jersey Audubon Society. The idea is to see as many bird species as possible during 24 hours, all in the state of New Jersey. Participants take pledges from sponsors (so many cents per bird species seen) and contribute to NJAS or the conservation cause of their choice.
Since this is not a birding blog, I will spare you the gory details but instead focus on the food. I have learned from hard experience that a long day birding requires good food and drink. Underfueling the body leads to headaches, nausea and general debility. When I was recommended Gatorade after a near-heatstroke event, it changed my birding life. Clif Bars are also good birding food. The real clincher, though, was the day I made some chicken donburi, froze it, then brought it along for WSB. That was a couple of years ago and though it wasn’t what you might think of for breakfast, it kept me going all day without headaches or wimping out in the doldrums of the afternoon. I was sold. Freezing the food ahead of time and letting it dethaw keeps it cool and unspoiled for a long time. This is important when you’re careening all over the state, far away from reliable refrigeration.
This year’s food was a multipart event. Breakfast was chicken donburi, but made with porcini soaking water rather than dashi. It was very tasty, and the leftovers were still good earlier this evening, several days after they were originally dethawed. Maybe I’m courting salmonella, but so far I feel fine. Plus I have unused dashi ice cubes in the freezer, ready for some other dish.
The second course was a portion of beef yakisoba. Boy, that was good. Finally, we wound up for a dinner break (we must be getting old, normally we don’t stop for food on a WSB) at the Clinton Station Diner. The Lurker and Perfect Tommy had sandwich-type things (sorry for the lack of specificity, but staying awake nearly 48 hours straight really does a number on your memory), while I just ordered breakfast (at 10:00 PM!), two eggs sunnyside up and home fries. I look forward to getting back to this diner under less extreme circumstances, because everyone gave their meal high marks.
Another thing that keeps me going on long birding days (or long days at outdoor music festivals, for that matter) is grapes. A big bunch of chilled green grapes provides a perfect snack. It’s food and drink, all at once. Plus they come in manageable portions.
Since this is not a birding blog, I will spare you the gory details but instead focus on the food. I have learned from hard experience that a long day birding requires good food and drink. Underfueling the body leads to headaches, nausea and general debility. When I was recommended Gatorade after a near-heatstroke event, it changed my birding life. Clif Bars are also good birding food. The real clincher, though, was the day I made some chicken donburi, froze it, then brought it along for WSB. That was a couple of years ago and though it wasn’t what you might think of for breakfast, it kept me going all day without headaches or wimping out in the doldrums of the afternoon. I was sold. Freezing the food ahead of time and letting it dethaw keeps it cool and unspoiled for a long time. This is important when you’re careening all over the state, far away from reliable refrigeration.
This year’s food was a multipart event. Breakfast was chicken donburi, but made with porcini soaking water rather than dashi. It was very tasty, and the leftovers were still good earlier this evening, several days after they were originally dethawed. Maybe I’m courting salmonella, but so far I feel fine. Plus I have unused dashi ice cubes in the freezer, ready for some other dish.
The second course was a portion of beef yakisoba. Boy, that was good. Finally, we wound up for a dinner break (we must be getting old, normally we don’t stop for food on a WSB) at the Clinton Station Diner. The Lurker and Perfect Tommy had sandwich-type things (sorry for the lack of specificity, but staying awake nearly 48 hours straight really does a number on your memory), while I just ordered breakfast (at 10:00 PM!), two eggs sunnyside up and home fries. I look forward to getting back to this diner under less extreme circumstances, because everyone gave their meal high marks.
Another thing that keeps me going on long birding days (or long days at outdoor music festivals, for that matter) is grapes. A big bunch of chilled green grapes provides a perfect snack. It’s food and drink, all at once. Plus they come in manageable portions.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Sprouts
The garden has been busy in the last few days. On Friday, my remaining indoor starts started sprouting, so now I have hot pepper, bergamot and Thai basil seedlings. On Saturday, right on schedule, the Asian greens mix started sprouting as well. The spinach leaves are getting big enough to be considered "baby spinach," so I can probably start harvesting it soon (I need to thin some leaves anyway).
Friday, May 06, 2005
Sesame noodles
I have this perfect fantasy of sesame noodles. I envision a bowl of steaming golden noodles, like really good beef yakisoba, imbued with the aroma and flavor of sesame. It would be the most wonderful thing, at least it would be if I could create something like that.
In real life, I’m not much of a peanut butter fan, and sesame paste’s resemblance to peanut butter in texture and (surprisingly) flavor puts me off. My first try at sesame noodles was Marnie Henricksson’s recipe of the same name from Everyday Asian. It was fine, but the strong nutty flavor of the sesame paste and the peanut-butter consistency of the sauce was not what I expected. Why can’t sesame noodles taste more like sesame chicken? I know, maybe the radical differences in cooking technique used to reach each destination have something to do with it. (It was a rhetorical question.)
Last night, I decided to give sesame noodles another try. This time I used the Frugal Gourmet’s recipe for “Chowed Noodles with Pork and Sesame Sauce” from The Frugal Gourmet Cooks Three Ancient Cuisines. Interestingly, his recipe for the sesame sauce (from his “Shredded Sesame Chicken”) is not too different from Henricksson’s sauce; the main difference is The Frug’s addition of Chinese red vinegar and chopped scallions to the mix of sesame paste, garlic, ginger, light soy sauce, sesame oil, pepper oil and sugar. The dishes are also assembled differently, which I discovered when I really read the directions for pan-browning the noodles. Once I realized that those noodles were not going to be given two hours to dry on an oiled broiling rack, it was clear some changes would be made. When I read further and saw how many ingredients were supposed to be cooked in the pan, taken out, then returned to the pan later, it was even clearer that I was going to take the lazy cook’s path to sesame noodles.
So I cooked some Chinese egg noodles, then pan-fried them. I extricated most of them from the skillet, then poured in a bit more oil and stir-fried the chopped garlic and salt upon a steadily browning bed of noodle fragments which had stuck to the bottom of the skillet. I added chicken pieces (I discovered at the last moment that the only pork I currently have is a lonely pork chop) and stir-fried them. Then I put the noodles back in, along with some chicken broth ice cubes. Once the broth was assimilated by the noodles, I poured everything into a bowl, added the sesame sauce (which I had made separately) and mixed well.
Given the similarities in the sauce ingredients, it wasn’t that different from the Henricksson version. Again, it was good, but did not approach my fantasy of the perfect bowl of sesame noodles. I’m starting to think my fantasy is more trouble than it’s worth.
In real life, I’m not much of a peanut butter fan, and sesame paste’s resemblance to peanut butter in texture and (surprisingly) flavor puts me off. My first try at sesame noodles was Marnie Henricksson’s recipe of the same name from Everyday Asian. It was fine, but the strong nutty flavor of the sesame paste and the peanut-butter consistency of the sauce was not what I expected. Why can’t sesame noodles taste more like sesame chicken? I know, maybe the radical differences in cooking technique used to reach each destination have something to do with it. (It was a rhetorical question.)
Last night, I decided to give sesame noodles another try. This time I used the Frugal Gourmet’s recipe for “Chowed Noodles with Pork and Sesame Sauce” from The Frugal Gourmet Cooks Three Ancient Cuisines. Interestingly, his recipe for the sesame sauce (from his “Shredded Sesame Chicken”) is not too different from Henricksson’s sauce; the main difference is The Frug’s addition of Chinese red vinegar and chopped scallions to the mix of sesame paste, garlic, ginger, light soy sauce, sesame oil, pepper oil and sugar. The dishes are also assembled differently, which I discovered when I really read the directions for pan-browning the noodles. Once I realized that those noodles were not going to be given two hours to dry on an oiled broiling rack, it was clear some changes would be made. When I read further and saw how many ingredients were supposed to be cooked in the pan, taken out, then returned to the pan later, it was even clearer that I was going to take the lazy cook’s path to sesame noodles.
So I cooked some Chinese egg noodles, then pan-fried them. I extricated most of them from the skillet, then poured in a bit more oil and stir-fried the chopped garlic and salt upon a steadily browning bed of noodle fragments which had stuck to the bottom of the skillet. I added chicken pieces (I discovered at the last moment that the only pork I currently have is a lonely pork chop) and stir-fried them. Then I put the noodles back in, along with some chicken broth ice cubes. Once the broth was assimilated by the noodles, I poured everything into a bowl, added the sesame sauce (which I had made separately) and mixed well.
Given the similarities in the sauce ingredients, it wasn’t that different from the Henricksson version. Again, it was good, but did not approach my fantasy of the perfect bowl of sesame noodles. I’m starting to think my fantasy is more trouble than it’s worth.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Garden report 05.01.05
It's been quiet here lately. Life has been busy and discouraging lately. I haven't been motivated to cook anything special.
The garden continues along, though I have yet to harvest anything from it. The big success story so far is the spinach, which is growing well. The two mints are also very rambunctious. This week I moved most of my plants out onto the deck to stay, since nighttime temperatures have risen out of the 30s. The mitsuba is still inside because it seems a bit frail. I repotted it a few days ago. The lettuce is also not as far along as I had hoped it would be, but it finally seems to be doing better. Some of the red lettuces are getting the red color in their leaves.
About a week ago, I planted some snow peas, and today I planted some seeds from an Asian stir-fry mix, as well as cilantro. The stir-fry mix includes bok choy, mizuna, komatsuna, mibuna, red romaine lettuce, red kale and celtuce. Since I haven't tried most of these greens before (at least, not knowingly), I look forward to finding out which I like best.
My indoor starts have been slow, but I finally saw a seedling in one of the pots today. I neglected to mark the pots when I planted my starts (oops), so I'm not completely certain, but I think it may be a hot pepper.
Tonight I plan to make some porcini marsala fettucini. Something so easy and delicious is always a morale-booster.
The garden continues along, though I have yet to harvest anything from it. The big success story so far is the spinach, which is growing well. The two mints are also very rambunctious. This week I moved most of my plants out onto the deck to stay, since nighttime temperatures have risen out of the 30s. The mitsuba is still inside because it seems a bit frail. I repotted it a few days ago. The lettuce is also not as far along as I had hoped it would be, but it finally seems to be doing better. Some of the red lettuces are getting the red color in their leaves.
About a week ago, I planted some snow peas, and today I planted some seeds from an Asian stir-fry mix, as well as cilantro. The stir-fry mix includes bok choy, mizuna, komatsuna, mibuna, red romaine lettuce, red kale and celtuce. Since I haven't tried most of these greens before (at least, not knowingly), I look forward to finding out which I like best.
My indoor starts have been slow, but I finally saw a seedling in one of the pots today. I neglected to mark the pots when I planted my starts (oops), so I'm not completely certain, but I think it may be a hot pepper.
Tonight I plan to make some porcini marsala fettucini. Something so easy and delicious is always a morale-booster.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Adobo
Last night I added another notch to the culinary belt by attempting another cuisine - Filipino. I used the recipe for "Filipino-style Potatoes Adobo" from From Bangkok to Bali in Thirty Minutes. Bruce Cost's Asian Ingredients also has an adobo recipe which involves marinating, which the Laursens' recipe does not. After surfing the web and looking at various adobo recipes, I concluded that marination is not compulsory for adobo.
Adobo sauce blends vinegar, light soy sauce and garlic for a tangy flavor; it was originally a way of preserving food. I bought a bottle of Filipino palm vinegar for this dish at the Asian supermarket. It may be milder than some other vinegars, but still packs a decent bite.
This recipe calls for stir-frying garlic and a sliced onion in olive oil, then adding the sliced potatoes. After about five minutes, in go the sauce ingredients (vinegar, light soy and palm sugar). An interval of covering the pan and simmering follows. I never got all the potatoes to be equally tender; those that cooked in the sauce ended up as desired, while those piled on top were harder. The tart sauce was different from anything I've encountered before, and may be tinkered with somewhat, but I enjoyed it. I look forward to cooking other adobo meals in the future, using meat and marinating it.
An enjoyable musing on adobo can be found here.
Adobo sauce blends vinegar, light soy sauce and garlic for a tangy flavor; it was originally a way of preserving food. I bought a bottle of Filipino palm vinegar for this dish at the Asian supermarket. It may be milder than some other vinegars, but still packs a decent bite.
This recipe calls for stir-frying garlic and a sliced onion in olive oil, then adding the sliced potatoes. After about five minutes, in go the sauce ingredients (vinegar, light soy and palm sugar). An interval of covering the pan and simmering follows. I never got all the potatoes to be equally tender; those that cooked in the sauce ended up as desired, while those piled on top were harder. The tart sauce was different from anything I've encountered before, and may be tinkered with somewhat, but I enjoyed it. I look forward to cooking other adobo meals in the future, using meat and marinating it.
An enjoyable musing on adobo can be found here.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
The cult of Krispy Kreme
By rights, I should be blogging about last night's Thai-style sweet pork, which made a good dinner and even better brunch this morning, once the flavors melded. But no, this will be a brief foray into fast food land with my usual companions on such occasions, The Lurker and Perfect Tommy.
Our excuse for an outing today was the beluga whale that has gained notoriety by swimming up the Delaware River to the Trenton area. We did not see the whale and spent much of the day in wandering mode. To make a long story short, we ended up in the mall-verse known as Langhorne, Pennsylvania. There is a Cheeburger Cheeburger located there, and Perfect Tommy has been itching for a visit.
Passing quickly over dinner (good burgers, nice spicy fries and a generous root beer float), we continued on our way. As we tried to find our way out of the mall zone, The Lurker directed Perfect Tommy (who was driving). As we paused at an intersection, Perfect Tommy suddenly cried, "Krispy Kreme!" and executed a Dukes of Hazzard-style turn to follow the Krispy Kreme pointer. Perfect Tommy has a strong affinity (some might say fixation, but we're trying to be diplomatic here) for certain eateries and chains; Krispy Kreme is one of them.
We followed the road around the side of a building and found no Krispy Kreme. We continued, thinking that maybe it had gone out of business and the sign hadn't been updated. Then, around another turn, there it was, and the "Hot and Fresh" sign was lit up.
Perfect Tommy and The Lurker went in; I demurred because I was stuffed from dinner. They soon returned, Perfect Tommy with a box of a dozen steaming fresh doughnuts. He insisted on having one before driving away, and before long it was evident that Perfect Tommy had attained nirvana. He had never had a Krispy Kreme doughnut so fresh and hot before, and he said, "Now I understand why people go crazy about these things." That was when he wasn't saying, "Oh, my god," or similar expressions of awe. Swayed by his enthusiasm, I even had one. The doughnuts are at their lightest when they're fresh-made, after all.
After another futile try at whale-watching, we headed home, with Perfect Tommy ready to form a new cult around Krispy Kreme. Since the doughnuts are light, airy and sweet, apparently what the worshipper does is to become one with the doughnuts by ingesting them; then the lightness, airiness and sweetness becomes part of the worshipper's personality. Since Perfect Tommy had been out of sorts for most of the day, this was quite an accomplishment. When they dropped me off at my place, Perfect Tommy was trying to figure out how he could get his medical insurance to cover fresh Krispy Kremes. I always suspected they ought to be a controlled substance.
In other (non-food) cultic news, I have to note that we saw a car with a Cthulhu fish magnet on it. It's always nice to see there are other H. P. Lovecraft fans out there.
Our excuse for an outing today was the beluga whale that has gained notoriety by swimming up the Delaware River to the Trenton area. We did not see the whale and spent much of the day in wandering mode. To make a long story short, we ended up in the mall-verse known as Langhorne, Pennsylvania. There is a Cheeburger Cheeburger located there, and Perfect Tommy has been itching for a visit.
Passing quickly over dinner (good burgers, nice spicy fries and a generous root beer float), we continued on our way. As we tried to find our way out of the mall zone, The Lurker directed Perfect Tommy (who was driving). As we paused at an intersection, Perfect Tommy suddenly cried, "Krispy Kreme!" and executed a Dukes of Hazzard-style turn to follow the Krispy Kreme pointer. Perfect Tommy has a strong affinity (some might say fixation, but we're trying to be diplomatic here) for certain eateries and chains; Krispy Kreme is one of them.
We followed the road around the side of a building and found no Krispy Kreme. We continued, thinking that maybe it had gone out of business and the sign hadn't been updated. Then, around another turn, there it was, and the "Hot and Fresh" sign was lit up.
Perfect Tommy and The Lurker went in; I demurred because I was stuffed from dinner. They soon returned, Perfect Tommy with a box of a dozen steaming fresh doughnuts. He insisted on having one before driving away, and before long it was evident that Perfect Tommy had attained nirvana. He had never had a Krispy Kreme doughnut so fresh and hot before, and he said, "Now I understand why people go crazy about these things." That was when he wasn't saying, "Oh, my god," or similar expressions of awe. Swayed by his enthusiasm, I even had one. The doughnuts are at their lightest when they're fresh-made, after all.
After another futile try at whale-watching, we headed home, with Perfect Tommy ready to form a new cult around Krispy Kreme. Since the doughnuts are light, airy and sweet, apparently what the worshipper does is to become one with the doughnuts by ingesting them; then the lightness, airiness and sweetness becomes part of the worshipper's personality. Since Perfect Tommy had been out of sorts for most of the day, this was quite an accomplishment. When they dropped me off at my place, Perfect Tommy was trying to figure out how he could get his medical insurance to cover fresh Krispy Kremes. I always suspected they ought to be a controlled substance.
In other (non-food) cultic news, I have to note that we saw a car with a Cthulhu fish magnet on it. It's always nice to see there are other H. P. Lovecraft fans out there.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Intense baked chicken
There are a pile of recipes for roast chicken that I want to try, but since I'm usually cooking for one person, roasting a whole chicken is generally not in the cards (unless it's a Cornish game hen). Last night I compromised by baking some pieces of a cut-up kosher chicken.
I used the recipe for "Chicken Baked with Honey and Soy Sauce" from The Frugal Gourmet Cooks Three Ancient Cuisines. It's a Chinese recipe The Frug got from a Roman prince (well, that's what the cookbook says). It's pretty simple. First you marinate the chicken in two tablespoons each of dark soy sauce, honey and sesame oil. (The hardest part of the whole exercise was getting the crystallized honey out of its squeeze bottle.) Then you bake it, starting at 350 for 15 minutes, then 325 for 20 minutes and finally 300 for a half-hour, basting periodically. I mistakenly turned the oven up to 375 rather than down (yikes!), but it seemed to not matter in the final analysis.
The chicken probably could've baked a tad longer to remove the bits of pink at the bone, but it wasn't what I'd call underdone, either. The meat was juicy and tender, thanks to the marinade. The skin was crisp, and flavored intensely with the dark soy sauce. The next time I try this, I might use regular soy sauce to lighten it up just a bit.
I used the recipe for "Chicken Baked with Honey and Soy Sauce" from The Frugal Gourmet Cooks Three Ancient Cuisines. It's a Chinese recipe The Frug got from a Roman prince (well, that's what the cookbook says). It's pretty simple. First you marinate the chicken in two tablespoons each of dark soy sauce, honey and sesame oil. (The hardest part of the whole exercise was getting the crystallized honey out of its squeeze bottle.) Then you bake it, starting at 350 for 15 minutes, then 325 for 20 minutes and finally 300 for a half-hour, basting periodically. I mistakenly turned the oven up to 375 rather than down (yikes!), but it seemed to not matter in the final analysis.
The chicken probably could've baked a tad longer to remove the bits of pink at the bone, but it wasn't what I'd call underdone, either. The meat was juicy and tender, thanks to the marinade. The skin was crisp, and flavored intensely with the dark soy sauce. The next time I try this, I might use regular soy sauce to lighten it up just a bit.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Homemade noodles
The brand of udon I usually buy is Shirakiku's inaka udon. "Inaka" means "rustic" or "country-style" in Japanese. If that udon is rustic, then the egg noodles I made today hailed from way out in the boonies.
I've been craving egg noodles for a while, but I'm trying not to spend too much money right now. That means the usual shopping trips where I buy lots of intriguing things are out for the moment. It dawned on me that rather than buying a bag of egg noodles at the store, I could try making my own. It would be a culinary adventure.
I used the recipe from the Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook (the same cookbook that gave me my first stir-fry recipe, but that's another story). I had to add a little water to get the dough to the right consistency for effective kneading, but after that, things went fine. I divided the dough into quarters; two of them got rolled into noodles while the other two got stashed in the freezer. I used one batch of noodles for dinner tonight, and the other batch got frozen as well.
When I realized I was using two egg yolks without the egg whites, I remembered that velveting meat in the Chinese manner requires egg whites but not yolks. There was the inspiration for a stir-fry. I decided to velvet some Quorn tenders, cook them in the sauce from wrong noodle stir-fry and pour them over the homemade noodles. Of course, the velveting solution calls for one egg white, so I just doubled the proportions of the other ingredients.
The Quorn tenders velveted adequately, though doubling the velveting solution was decidedly overkill. The sauce, possibly from the added infusion of cornstarch, ended up strongly resembling the sauce from cold Sichuan chicken; clearly a case of convergent evolution despite the different ingredients of oyster sauce and Worcestershire sauce. And the noodles looked frayed and irregular around the edges; some had not wanted to be picked up off the counter, so they were a little bunchy into the bargain. Some were thicker than others. It was not a polished collection of pasta pulchritude.
It was a great moment when I bit into a test noodle steaming from the pot and discovered that it tasted like a real noodle, however. Not only that, it had the right consistency. Somehow those little pieces of floury dough had been transformed into real pasta. None of the world's great pasta empires need tremble in fear, but my world is a somewhat brighter place. I love pasta, and today I made a batch all by myself.
I've been craving egg noodles for a while, but I'm trying not to spend too much money right now. That means the usual shopping trips where I buy lots of intriguing things are out for the moment. It dawned on me that rather than buying a bag of egg noodles at the store, I could try making my own. It would be a culinary adventure.
I used the recipe from the Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook (the same cookbook that gave me my first stir-fry recipe, but that's another story). I had to add a little water to get the dough to the right consistency for effective kneading, but after that, things went fine. I divided the dough into quarters; two of them got rolled into noodles while the other two got stashed in the freezer. I used one batch of noodles for dinner tonight, and the other batch got frozen as well.
When I realized I was using two egg yolks without the egg whites, I remembered that velveting meat in the Chinese manner requires egg whites but not yolks. There was the inspiration for a stir-fry. I decided to velvet some Quorn tenders, cook them in the sauce from wrong noodle stir-fry and pour them over the homemade noodles. Of course, the velveting solution calls for one egg white, so I just doubled the proportions of the other ingredients.
The Quorn tenders velveted adequately, though doubling the velveting solution was decidedly overkill. The sauce, possibly from the added infusion of cornstarch, ended up strongly resembling the sauce from cold Sichuan chicken; clearly a case of convergent evolution despite the different ingredients of oyster sauce and Worcestershire sauce. And the noodles looked frayed and irregular around the edges; some had not wanted to be picked up off the counter, so they were a little bunchy into the bargain. Some were thicker than others. It was not a polished collection of pasta pulchritude.
It was a great moment when I bit into a test noodle steaming from the pot and discovered that it tasted like a real noodle, however. Not only that, it had the right consistency. Somehow those little pieces of floury dough had been transformed into real pasta. None of the world's great pasta empires need tremble in fear, but my world is a somewhat brighter place. I love pasta, and today I made a batch all by myself.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Chicken hijiki noodles
I froze some of my chicken stock in an ice cube tray so I could use it in future stir-fries, but that still left a generous amount of chicken stock hanging around. I ended up using it to help cobble together dinner last night.
I heated the stock in the big skillet, and added some shoyu and sugar. Then I put in some hijiki and somen noodles (somen are very thin Japanese noodles often used in soups). The combination of the straw-colored somen (ok, so at least some of the straw color came from the chicken stock, not the noodles) and the inky curls of the hijiki was reminiscent of some abstract Japanese print. I tore myself away to sit on the deck and enjoy the sunset.
When I came back, the liquid was all gone and the noodles were hydrated. The final result was a little bland, perhaps, but it was a great way to use up some random ingredients.
In other news, today I found a new sprout sticking up in one of the pots. The Chinese celery has decided to join the garden population.
I heated the stock in the big skillet, and added some shoyu and sugar. Then I put in some hijiki and somen noodles (somen are very thin Japanese noodles often used in soups). The combination of the straw-colored somen (ok, so at least some of the straw color came from the chicken stock, not the noodles) and the inky curls of the hijiki was reminiscent of some abstract Japanese print. I tore myself away to sit on the deck and enjoy the sunset.
When I came back, the liquid was all gone and the noodles were hydrated. The final result was a little bland, perhaps, but it was a great way to use up some random ingredients.
In other news, today I found a new sprout sticking up in one of the pots. The Chinese celery has decided to join the garden population.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Chicken stock
I get the impression that every proper cook has homemade from scratch stock of various kinds. At least, many cookbooks give that impression. You're just not a real cook if you don't make your own stock.
I've had this pile of chicken bones and giblets accumulating in the freezer for quite a while, so yesterday I finally decided that it was high time to make some stock. I used Bruce Cost's recipe from Asian Ingredients. The big attraction of that recipe was that it isn't as specific as some other stock recipes. It's all very well to call for three pounds of chicken bones, but I don't have a scale, and I'm not getting one any time soon.
I tossed the bones, necks, feet, heads and thighs into my pot and covered with water. I added some ginger slices, brought to a boil, then simmered for four hours. The aroma of the simmering stock was maddening. Somehow I managed to survive without going completely nuts.
Today I used some of the stock for chicken noodle soup (with wide Chinese noodles). For some reason, I frequently get indigestion from normal (i.e., store-bought) chicken broth. This soup, however, was fine, and gave me no digestive difficulties at all. It needed some seasonings to liven it up, perhaps, but apart from that it was fine.
One thing I wonder about is the cloudy appearance of the stock. I know that Chinese banquet-style stock is clear, and I wasn't trying for that. But the cloudiness bothers me. I suspect that means there's a problem with the broth, or maybe I'm just being paranoid. Further research is definitely needed.
In other news, yesterday I noticed some green threadlike sprouts in the spinach pot. It looks like the scallions are beginning to make themselves known.
I've had this pile of chicken bones and giblets accumulating in the freezer for quite a while, so yesterday I finally decided that it was high time to make some stock. I used Bruce Cost's recipe from Asian Ingredients. The big attraction of that recipe was that it isn't as specific as some other stock recipes. It's all very well to call for three pounds of chicken bones, but I don't have a scale, and I'm not getting one any time soon.
I tossed the bones, necks, feet, heads and thighs into my pot and covered with water. I added some ginger slices, brought to a boil, then simmered for four hours. The aroma of the simmering stock was maddening. Somehow I managed to survive without going completely nuts.
Today I used some of the stock for chicken noodle soup (with wide Chinese noodles). For some reason, I frequently get indigestion from normal (i.e., store-bought) chicken broth. This soup, however, was fine, and gave me no digestive difficulties at all. It needed some seasonings to liven it up, perhaps, but apart from that it was fine.
One thing I wonder about is the cloudy appearance of the stock. I know that Chinese banquet-style stock is clear, and I wasn't trying for that. But the cloudiness bothers me. I suspect that means there's a problem with the broth, or maybe I'm just being paranoid. Further research is definitely needed.
In other news, yesterday I noticed some green threadlike sprouts in the spinach pot. It looks like the scallions are beginning to make themselves known.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
The realm of the senses
Today's culinary experiment is to make Chinese chicken stock. It isn't done yet, but all I can say is that the wonderful aroma is already driving me crazy, and it still has over an hour to go. Humans may be visually-oriented creatures, but the other senses can cause all kinds of mayhem.
More later.
More later.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Trefoil
One of the distinctive things about mitsuba is its trefoil shape. This gives a decorative touch to dishes where mitsuba is used as a garnish.
As my mitsuba sprouted, I was pleased yet a little puzzled. The tiny leaves on the sprouts were rounded, not three-lobed, and certainly not serrated. I didn't think the seed company had made a mistake, but it seemed odd. Today, however, the mystery was solved.
When I got home from work, I checked the garden (or "the farm," as my mother called it the last time I talked to her). One of the mitsuba sprouts was showing two new leaves, and these had the expected serrated trefoil shape, in miniature. I heaved a sigh of relief. All was well with the world again (or, at least, the world in that mitsuba pot).
As my mitsuba sprouted, I was pleased yet a little puzzled. The tiny leaves on the sprouts were rounded, not three-lobed, and certainly not serrated. I didn't think the seed company had made a mistake, but it seemed odd. Today, however, the mystery was solved.
When I got home from work, I checked the garden (or "the farm," as my mother called it the last time I talked to her). One of the mitsuba sprouts was showing two new leaves, and these had the expected serrated trefoil shape, in miniature. I heaved a sigh of relief. All was well with the world again (or, at least, the world in that mitsuba pot).
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