April 21, 2012
On Salad.
To make a good salad, chop greens into sizeable pieces, for elegant eating. Get a large bowl, place greens in, drizzle vinaigrette down the sides of the bowl and quickly add freshly grated black pepper and salt. Toss to coat evenly; select a leaf and nibble to taste the vinaigrette, salt and pepper along with the tender green. Portion onto plates, and arrange accoutrements on top. Some suggestions: a poached egg with smoked salmon, capers, green onions and a lemon wedge; curried chicken salad with sliced almonds and granny smith apples; thinly sliced chilled tri-tip steak, roasted peppers and olives. Best when all ingredients are at room temperature, served immediately and enjoyed in peace.
April 3, 2012
Notes.
The last time I sat down to write about food, cooking and all things related was during the height of the summer harvest last year. During the epic canning weekend, all I could see was the red of tomato skins, tomato pulp, tomato juice, slipping between my fingers and into Mason jars. Between then and now, I've been tasting.
I traveled to Los Angeles and had, on the recommendation of my host and dear old friend, one of the best Manhattans of my life, an orange wedge rubbed around the rim of the glass and the whiskey hinting of vanilla. We dined at The Gorbals, which wasn't nearly as good as the lengua tacos I ate later, dripping with hot chili sauce, and washed down with cold, sweet horchata on the street in Downtown L.A. On Christmas Eve, we made the pilgrimage to Daikokuya Ramen. The following March, I heroically set forth to make Momofuku ramen, standing for eight hours over a simmering pot of chicken, bacon and pork bones derived from parts I have never had the pleasure of eating before. In Las Vegas, I bit into one stale pistachio macaron and one fresh, rich chocolate macaron from Bouchon Bakery, and drank blue champagne at a faux Japanese wedding party.
When I got back to Baltimore, I set about on a c-l-e-a-n-s-e (seems like a dirty word - and it was at the time), and ate kale for three meals a day. I have to say that I came to love, love that leafy green, a cross between swiss chard and collard greens. I made Mr. C an Irish-themed birthday meal: Guinness lamb shanks, Irish soda bread, and homemade chocolate cake with chocolate frosting (note to self: must develop a master cake recipe). We went to dinner with my parents at a Chinese restaurant (on the eve of their 2-month sojourn in South Korea), and ordered a whole duck and the aptly named Happy Family. I poured tea and wine for everyone, and looked at my parents after reading my fortune: "Happiness is in right in front of you." Someone came by our table later with several bags, offering the carcasses of the not-yet-spent ducks (politely declined, but another note to self: must return, take the offerings). I experimented with pizza (artichoke-pesto-anchovy sauce, topped with shrimp and spinach, anyone?) and fell in love with lemon curd. Lemon curd on ice cream, cookies, toast, wonderful.
I feel incredibly lucky to have tasted all of these things, been to all of these places. Spoiled, in fact. I had to write these things down; I have a terrible memory.
I traveled to Los Angeles and had, on the recommendation of my host and dear old friend, one of the best Manhattans of my life, an orange wedge rubbed around the rim of the glass and the whiskey hinting of vanilla. We dined at The Gorbals, which wasn't nearly as good as the lengua tacos I ate later, dripping with hot chili sauce, and washed down with cold, sweet horchata on the street in Downtown L.A. On Christmas Eve, we made the pilgrimage to Daikokuya Ramen. The following March, I heroically set forth to make Momofuku ramen, standing for eight hours over a simmering pot of chicken, bacon and pork bones derived from parts I have never had the pleasure of eating before. In Las Vegas, I bit into one stale pistachio macaron and one fresh, rich chocolate macaron from Bouchon Bakery, and drank blue champagne at a faux Japanese wedding party.
When I got back to Baltimore, I set about on a c-l-e-a-n-s-e (seems like a dirty word - and it was at the time), and ate kale for three meals a day. I have to say that I came to love, love that leafy green, a cross between swiss chard and collard greens. I made Mr. C an Irish-themed birthday meal: Guinness lamb shanks, Irish soda bread, and homemade chocolate cake with chocolate frosting (note to self: must develop a master cake recipe). We went to dinner with my parents at a Chinese restaurant (on the eve of their 2-month sojourn in South Korea), and ordered a whole duck and the aptly named Happy Family. I poured tea and wine for everyone, and looked at my parents after reading my fortune: "Happiness is in right in front of you." Someone came by our table later with several bags, offering the carcasses of the not-yet-spent ducks (politely declined, but another note to self: must return, take the offerings). I experimented with pizza (artichoke-pesto-anchovy sauce, topped with shrimp and spinach, anyone?) and fell in love with lemon curd. Lemon curd on ice cream, cookies, toast, wonderful.
I feel incredibly lucky to have tasted all of these things, been to all of these places. Spoiled, in fact. I had to write these things down; I have a terrible memory.
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