As I have yet to hear from Slashfood, I've applied for the position of Cooking Equipment Guide on About.com. Obviously, should either of the sites decide they want me, I'll withdraw my application from the other in order to avoid any concerns over conflict of interest.
Incidentally, on the subject of cooking equipment, the Sagaform cookbook page holder is an excellent gift idea for a home cook. I've found that it's perfectly weighted to hold even the largest and most page-heavy tomes open, but it does so without undue pressure on the pages themselves: the book stays flat, but the pages don't crease.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
How about a glass of cobbler?
One of the earliest recipes for a Whiskey Cobbler came from Jerry Thomas in 1862. His version called for whiskey, granulated sugar, a wedge of orange, and a bit of Maraschino liqueur. One of the smoothest recipes, however, is a bit more modern.
The Playboy Bartender's Guide offers this twist on an old classic: fill a 12 ounce glass with finely cracked or shaved ice, then add 2.5 oz. blended whiskey, .75 ounces of lemon juice, .5 oz. grapefruit juice, and 1.5 tsp. orgeat or orzata. For those not familiar with either of those, orgeat is an almond-flavored liqueur, while orzaga is a non-alcoholic almond-based syrup. Once you've added all of the wet ingredients, garnish with a slice of brandied peach and -- as a nod to tradition -- a wedge of orange.
One of three submissions for Slashfood
The Playboy Bartender's Guide offers this twist on an old classic: fill a 12 ounce glass with finely cracked or shaved ice, then add 2.5 oz. blended whiskey, .75 ounces of lemon juice, .5 oz. grapefruit juice, and 1.5 tsp. orgeat or orzata. For those not familiar with either of those, orgeat is an almond-flavored liqueur, while orzaga is a non-alcoholic almond-based syrup. Once you've added all of the wet ingredients, garnish with a slice of brandied peach and -- as a nod to tradition -- a wedge of orange.
One of three submissions for Slashfood
Baklava, humbug
Who needs Christmas Cookies when you can have Baklava?
Unlike cookies (and pies, and most other dessert dishes), Baklava relies on sheets of phyllo dough -- dough made from unleavened flour -- for its base, and the final product resembles a light, airy, exceedingly sweet puff pastry.
For this dish, you'll need the following:
Mix the walnuts with the cinnamon and make sure they're fairly evenly coated. Butter your baking dish thoroughly, and make sure all the rest of your butter is melted. Now that your prep work is done, you can begin making the dessert.
Lay a sheet of phyllo in the bottom of your dish, then -- using a pastry brush -- thoroughly butter it. Make five layers of buttered pastry, then sprinkle 2 Tbsp of the chopped walnuts on top. Now you repeat, five layers of phyllo then a layer of nuts until you run out of nuts, then top with the remainder of the phyllo. The top layer of the phyllo should be between 5 and 10 layers thick. Cut the baklava into squares, then drizzle any remaining melted butter over the top and bake for 45-60 minutes, or until the baklava is golden, and the edges of the squares begin to curl.
While the baklava is baking, start the water boiling and add the sugar, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Lower the temperature, then add the vanilla extract and honey and keep stirring at a simmer until the liquid has reduced to the consistency of a medium-thick syrup, between 20-30 minutes. Remove the baklava from the oven once it's done cooking and immediately spoon the syrup over the top, then allow to cool, uncovered, for a minimum of 30 minutes. Once the pan has cooled, place it uncovered in the refrigerator to finish setting up.
Enjoy!
One of three submissions for Slashfood
Unlike cookies (and pies, and most other dessert dishes), Baklava relies on sheets of phyllo dough -- dough made from unleavened flour -- for its base, and the final product resembles a light, airy, exceedingly sweet puff pastry.
For this dish, you'll need the following:
- 1 package phyllo dough
- 1.5 c butter
- 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
- 1 lb chopped walnuts
- 1 c water
- 1 c caster/superfine sugar
- 1/2 c honey
- 1 t pure vanilla extract
Mix the walnuts with the cinnamon and make sure they're fairly evenly coated. Butter your baking dish thoroughly, and make sure all the rest of your butter is melted. Now that your prep work is done, you can begin making the dessert.
Lay a sheet of phyllo in the bottom of your dish, then -- using a pastry brush -- thoroughly butter it. Make five layers of buttered pastry, then sprinkle 2 Tbsp of the chopped walnuts on top. Now you repeat, five layers of phyllo then a layer of nuts until you run out of nuts, then top with the remainder of the phyllo. The top layer of the phyllo should be between 5 and 10 layers thick. Cut the baklava into squares, then drizzle any remaining melted butter over the top and bake for 45-60 minutes, or until the baklava is golden, and the edges of the squares begin to curl.
While the baklava is baking, start the water boiling and add the sugar, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Lower the temperature, then add the vanilla extract and honey and keep stirring at a simmer until the liquid has reduced to the consistency of a medium-thick syrup, between 20-30 minutes. Remove the baklava from the oven once it's done cooking and immediately spoon the syrup over the top, then allow to cool, uncovered, for a minimum of 30 minutes. Once the pan has cooled, place it uncovered in the refrigerator to finish setting up.
Enjoy!
One of three submissions for Slashfood
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Oregon Truffle Festival: 25-28 January 2008
The Third Annual Oregon Truffle Festival is taking place in Eugene, Oregon, from 25-28 January 2008. Although you can purchase à la carte tickets to events such as the Oregon Truffle Festival Cooking Class, the Grand Truffle Dinner, and the Truffle Growers' Forum, the most cost-effective means of participation is to purchase one of the packages which includes the events in which you would like to participate. While certain limited-seating packages are already sold out, some general admission packages are still available starting at $425 per person.
If you're interested in Oregon Truffles, I strongly suggest you take this opportunity to attend the festival: the winter truffles will be at the peak of their flavor, you'll have the opportunity to partake in a fabulous set of events, and really, with it involving truffles, what's not to like?
If you're interested in Oregon Truffles, I strongly suggest you take this opportunity to attend the festival: the winter truffles will be at the peak of their flavor, you'll have the opportunity to partake in a fabulous set of events, and really, with it involving truffles, what's not to like?
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Crème fraîche: French for "delicious"
Whether you make your own with heavy cream, buttermilk, and just the right amount of heat, or you purchase it at your local grocery store, crème fraîche (pronounced "krem fresh") is a thick, tangy change of pace from sour cream, and is also the perfect whipped accompaniment to a lemon meringue or key lime pie.
As it's produced by culturing cream with bacteria, it's rather easy to make. In France, the cream is unpasteurized, so the bacteria has rather a great deal more to work with; however, in North America, most of the cream sold is pasteurized, so it needs a little help.
Start with a 1:1 ratio of buttermilk and cream: use 1 Tbsp buttermilk to 1 c. heavy cream. Combine the two together and carefully heat to between 83-87 degrees on an instant-read thermometer, then pour into a clean glass jar or bowl. Partially cover the opening, then let sit at room temperature for up to 24 hours, allowing the crème fraîche to thicken. Once thickened, stir gently and place in the refrigerator, then let sit for 24 hours before use.
Crème fraîche can be used in sauces, as a topping for fruit, to stretch and season scrambled eggs, as an addition to cream-based soups, as a whipped topping ... realistically, if you have a good imagination, it can be used just about anywhere. So go ahead, pick some up or try your hand at making it. It's a wonderful change of pace from sour cream, and a delicious addition to almost any meal.
One of three submissions for Slashfood
As it's produced by culturing cream with bacteria, it's rather easy to make. In France, the cream is unpasteurized, so the bacteria has rather a great deal more to work with; however, in North America, most of the cream sold is pasteurized, so it needs a little help.
Start with a 1:1 ratio of buttermilk and cream: use 1 Tbsp buttermilk to 1 c. heavy cream. Combine the two together and carefully heat to between 83-87 degrees on an instant-read thermometer, then pour into a clean glass jar or bowl. Partially cover the opening, then let sit at room temperature for up to 24 hours, allowing the crème fraîche to thicken. Once thickened, stir gently and place in the refrigerator, then let sit for 24 hours before use.
Crème fraîche can be used in sauces, as a topping for fruit, to stretch and season scrambled eggs, as an addition to cream-based soups, as a whipped topping ... realistically, if you have a good imagination, it can be used just about anywhere. So go ahead, pick some up or try your hand at making it. It's a wonderful change of pace from sour cream, and a delicious addition to almost any meal.
One of three submissions for Slashfood
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
And so we shall see ...
I submitted an application for Slashfood, one of the blogs in the Weblogs, Inc. family.
I'm currently writing for Massively -- a blog focused on MMOs -- and it will be interesting to see whether or not I can make my voice heard on the second forum, as well. I know food and drink, and heavens knows I consume enough of it, so I think it'd be a reasonable fit. I'll just have to wait and see whether or not they agree.
As I told them, "I've been cooking since I was fourteen, and spent approximately three years in restaurants working as a waiter and a cook. I've never lost my appreciation for the aesthetic of fine dining, or my love of crazy foodstuffs."
I'm currently writing for Massively -- a blog focused on MMOs -- and it will be interesting to see whether or not I can make my voice heard on the second forum, as well. I know food and drink, and heavens knows I consume enough of it, so I think it'd be a reasonable fit. I'll just have to wait and see whether or not they agree.
As I told them, "I've been cooking since I was fourteen, and spent approximately three years in restaurants working as a waiter and a cook. I've never lost my appreciation for the aesthetic of fine dining, or my love of crazy foodstuffs."
Fine Dining: a minefield for the unwary
Even though many of us do not formally review restaurants, we have all had the opportunity to share with others our experiences and feelings about our dining experiences. And, inevitably, we've given advice that worked for us and didn't work for our listeners.
How often have you told someone that a restaurant is lovely and the food is flavorful, only to have them tell you that their experience included rude service and horrible food? And let's face it: the opposite is true, as well. I can't count the number of times I've shied away from eating at an establishment that displeased me earlier, only to find -- thanks to a friend or co-worker -- that they have truly turned around.
In some cases, however, it's more difficult to provide support or discouragement: what if the restaurant in question is owned by a friend? As a case in point, there's a small establishment I wanted to patronize because it's owned by a former co-worker; unfortunately, such was not to be.
A month after opening, they still hadn't completed the painting, the carpeting was coming up in some areas, the host stand was showing unfinished plywood, and the lighting was exceptionally dim. Add to that a menu rife with misspellings, a wine list that indicated no understanding of food pairings, an executive chef more interested in glad-handing and greeting customers than in overseeing their kitchen, and a crew filled with slow wait staff and undertrained cooks. The service was pathetic, and the food was abysmal.
My first meal there began with stale bread that appeared store-bought and a seafood-stuffed mushroom dish which tasted of nothing so much as soured artificial crab in motor oil-soaked cardboard. I also tried the Tuscan Bean soup, which reminded me of a taco cart's rather watery refried beans, only without the complexity of flavor brought forth via the cart's ambiance. My main course was a clam linguine with alfredo sauce: I'd never before had clams cooked until they become meal-filled rubber strips, and the pasta was surprisingly mushy in some spots while remaining exceptionally crunchy in others. The alfredo sauce tasted like cream of chicken soup ... condensed cream of chicken soup, fresh from the can, and before any additional liquid had been added. Needless to say, I was actually quite relieved that my dinner companion was called away from the table before we had to suffer through dessert. According to my friend, the desserts and pastries there were wonderful, but I was too horrified to try anything else. To be fair to the establishment, however, I went back three more times, hoping against hope that I'd have at least one good experience.
The second meal provided me with a limp, stringy salad as an appetizer, and a carpaccio of beef that could only have been improved had they used catsup on it. The wine served was forgettable: a thin vinegar scent only hinted at the horror contained in my glass. I was worried at first that the wine was oxidized or that it had been corked, but after sampling a second bottle, I'm forced to admit that it was just a poorly-chosen wine. To be fair, I bear part of the embarrassment for that selection: I was, after all, the one who ordered it.
The third meal was chicken. I skipped the appetizer. To say that the breast I was served was slightly dry is to say that the interior still needed a few minor touch-ups. The pasta was reasonably well cooked, and not overdone; however, the sauce served with the chicken was not what I had expected: I had ordered alfredo, and received pesto. When it was sent back to the kitchen, I received marinara in return.
The fourth meal was my breaking point: after waiting nearly half an hour for my order to be taken, the waitress was rude and abrasive. When my fish came out, it was so dry that it squeaked when I attempted to cut it, and did not flake so much as snap and crumble. I asked if the waitress would take the meal back so that I could get a piece prepared properly, and was told that this was how the fish was prepared, and if I did not like it, I could patronize another establishment. Needless to say, I paid my check and left, planning never to return.
I was informed about two weeks ago that the owners had made sure their servers were trained, made some changes to the restaurant, and had hired a new executive chef. I was not glowing with anticipation, but I agreed to accompany the friend who had first introduced me to this location for lunch.
The plywood host stand was gone, but the walls still needed paint. The lighting had been improved, but the menu was still riddled with misspellings. The tables had been rearranged, but they were crowded together. Spare glasses and plates were now displayed in bookcases around the establishment, but the bookcases themselves were aesthetically unpleasant. Artwork was strewn around the walls, but the choices detracted from the atmosphere. Their new executive chef was their former pâtisserie chef -- at least the desserts would still be good -- but the fact that they were promoting rather than seeking outside assistance made me wonder if the rest of the staff was still the same. I felt tentatively hopeful, but I was -- luckily, as it turned out -- not expecting perfection.
Once again, we had the seafood-stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer, but this time they were edible. The bread was fresher, although I'm still tempted to say it's store-bought. While my salad lettuce was more chewy than crunchy, they did bring me the dressing on the side, as I requested. My main dish was fettucini with chicken in a carbonara sauce. The chicken was slightly overdone, but the pasta was cooked quite well; however, the carbonara was ... interesting. Ostensibly, it had pancetta; however, the taste and texture was far more reminiscent of slightly soured bacon or aging Spam. Ironically, even with the melange of flavors, everything was exceptionally bland, and I wound up using far more salt and pepper than I prefer to get some flavor into the dish. Our waitress, while pleasant, was exceptionally slow: she had three tables with two patrons each in her section, and all were kept waiting.
Ultimately, it's unlikely that I'll return any time in the near future. I want to support my friends, but I prefer to support restaurants that know what good food is, how to prepare it, and both how and when to serve it. I do hope, however, that this particular restaurant continues the turnaround they've started: I want them to succeed, but they're going to have to do it without my patronage.
How often have you told someone that a restaurant is lovely and the food is flavorful, only to have them tell you that their experience included rude service and horrible food? And let's face it: the opposite is true, as well. I can't count the number of times I've shied away from eating at an establishment that displeased me earlier, only to find -- thanks to a friend or co-worker -- that they have truly turned around.
In some cases, however, it's more difficult to provide support or discouragement: what if the restaurant in question is owned by a friend? As a case in point, there's a small establishment I wanted to patronize because it's owned by a former co-worker; unfortunately, such was not to be.
A month after opening, they still hadn't completed the painting, the carpeting was coming up in some areas, the host stand was showing unfinished plywood, and the lighting was exceptionally dim. Add to that a menu rife with misspellings, a wine list that indicated no understanding of food pairings, an executive chef more interested in glad-handing and greeting customers than in overseeing their kitchen, and a crew filled with slow wait staff and undertrained cooks. The service was pathetic, and the food was abysmal.
My first meal there began with stale bread that appeared store-bought and a seafood-stuffed mushroom dish which tasted of nothing so much as soured artificial crab in motor oil-soaked cardboard. I also tried the Tuscan Bean soup, which reminded me of a taco cart's rather watery refried beans, only without the complexity of flavor brought forth via the cart's ambiance. My main course was a clam linguine with alfredo sauce: I'd never before had clams cooked until they become meal-filled rubber strips, and the pasta was surprisingly mushy in some spots while remaining exceptionally crunchy in others. The alfredo sauce tasted like cream of chicken soup ... condensed cream of chicken soup, fresh from the can, and before any additional liquid had been added. Needless to say, I was actually quite relieved that my dinner companion was called away from the table before we had to suffer through dessert. According to my friend, the desserts and pastries there were wonderful, but I was too horrified to try anything else. To be fair to the establishment, however, I went back three more times, hoping against hope that I'd have at least one good experience.
The second meal provided me with a limp, stringy salad as an appetizer, and a carpaccio of beef that could only have been improved had they used catsup on it. The wine served was forgettable: a thin vinegar scent only hinted at the horror contained in my glass. I was worried at first that the wine was oxidized or that it had been corked, but after sampling a second bottle, I'm forced to admit that it was just a poorly-chosen wine. To be fair, I bear part of the embarrassment for that selection: I was, after all, the one who ordered it.
The third meal was chicken. I skipped the appetizer. To say that the breast I was served was slightly dry is to say that the interior still needed a few minor touch-ups. The pasta was reasonably well cooked, and not overdone; however, the sauce served with the chicken was not what I had expected: I had ordered alfredo, and received pesto. When it was sent back to the kitchen, I received marinara in return.
The fourth meal was my breaking point: after waiting nearly half an hour for my order to be taken, the waitress was rude and abrasive. When my fish came out, it was so dry that it squeaked when I attempted to cut it, and did not flake so much as snap and crumble. I asked if the waitress would take the meal back so that I could get a piece prepared properly, and was told that this was how the fish was prepared, and if I did not like it, I could patronize another establishment. Needless to say, I paid my check and left, planning never to return.
I was informed about two weeks ago that the owners had made sure their servers were trained, made some changes to the restaurant, and had hired a new executive chef. I was not glowing with anticipation, but I agreed to accompany the friend who had first introduced me to this location for lunch.
The plywood host stand was gone, but the walls still needed paint. The lighting had been improved, but the menu was still riddled with misspellings. The tables had been rearranged, but they were crowded together. Spare glasses and plates were now displayed in bookcases around the establishment, but the bookcases themselves were aesthetically unpleasant. Artwork was strewn around the walls, but the choices detracted from the atmosphere. Their new executive chef was their former pâtisserie chef -- at least the desserts would still be good -- but the fact that they were promoting rather than seeking outside assistance made me wonder if the rest of the staff was still the same. I felt tentatively hopeful, but I was -- luckily, as it turned out -- not expecting perfection.
Once again, we had the seafood-stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer, but this time they were edible. The bread was fresher, although I'm still tempted to say it's store-bought. While my salad lettuce was more chewy than crunchy, they did bring me the dressing on the side, as I requested. My main dish was fettucini with chicken in a carbonara sauce. The chicken was slightly overdone, but the pasta was cooked quite well; however, the carbonara was ... interesting. Ostensibly, it had pancetta; however, the taste and texture was far more reminiscent of slightly soured bacon or aging Spam. Ironically, even with the melange of flavors, everything was exceptionally bland, and I wound up using far more salt and pepper than I prefer to get some flavor into the dish. Our waitress, while pleasant, was exceptionally slow: she had three tables with two patrons each in her section, and all were kept waiting.
Ultimately, it's unlikely that I'll return any time in the near future. I want to support my friends, but I prefer to support restaurants that know what good food is, how to prepare it, and both how and when to serve it. I do hope, however, that this particular restaurant continues the turnaround they've started: I want them to succeed, but they're going to have to do it without my patronage.
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