Hambone and Spice

H&S 100, #7 Izzy's Ice Cream

2011-06-15T20:23:00.000-07:00

Perhaps it is stating the obvious, since the Twin Cities is centrally located in a dairy state, but I’m going to say it anyway: the Twin Cities has the best ice cream in the U.S. You pretty much can’t swing a cat without hitting an artisanal ice cream “parlor.” Grand Ole Creamery and Sebastian Joe’s are extremely good; the latter, particularly, has some exquisite flavors, such as Chocolate Coyote (cayenne and cinnamon lend an unusual contrast to cool, creamy, sweet) or spumoni (almond-lemon-orange ice cream with slivered almonds and apricots). And there are some newer contenders that we have yet to fully explore.

My hands-down favorite, though, is Izzy’s. The winning factors for me include the following

~proximity

Izzy’s is only a fifteen-minute bike ride from our house

~playful use of technology

a computer screen projected on the wall shows available flavors, but it also synchs to a facebook page so you can have updates all day long!

~creative flavors

Many flavors are created by customers by way of an annual contest. Some of these winning flavors, such as Hot Brown Sugar (caramel ice cream studded with cayenne pralines), have become standards. The boys love Dinosaur Egg (malted vanilla ice cream enlivened with blue food coloring and malted milk balls).

~commitment to sustainability

A majority of the power used to make ice cream and run the shop comes from roof-top solar panels.

~an Izzy

a complementary, melon-ball-sized scoop of ice cream that tops all singles and doubles

Izzy’s is located at 2034 Marshall Avenue (Cleveland Avenue) in St. Paul.

recipe: red lentil soup with lemon

2011-05-23T11:31:00.000-07:00

I just ladled seconds of this soup for myself. And I may very well have thirds. It is insanely delicious. The ingredients are simple. The steps are easy. The results are hearty. Served over rice, you’d have a complete protein. The recipe comes from Melissa Clark’s In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite, which we worked our way through this past winter. There really are no clunkers in this cookbook, just lots of healthy, soul-satisfying dishes. I’ve tweaked the recipe slightly. After my friend Caryl told me she doesn’t puree the soup. I’ve stopped pureeing as well, which suits me fine because I prefer soups with ~~chunks~~ substance, something that resembles a meal more than a meal starter. This time I swapped out the cayenne for 1 tsp. of harissa, the potent Moroccan red pepper paste, which gave a deeper, but not overpowering, heat. Don’t skimp on the lemon. Its acidity and brightness transform a basic lentil soup into something magic.

RED LENTIL SOUP WITH LEMON

adapted from In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite (Melissa Clark, 2010)

Serves 6

4 tablespoons olive oil, plus additional good oil for drizzling

2 large onions, chopped

4 garlic cloves, minced

2 tablespoons tomato paste

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon harissa (perhaps rooster sauce would also work)

1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus additional to taste

½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 quarts chicken or vegetable broth

2 cups red lentils

4 large carrots, peeled and diced

Juice of 1 lemon, or more to taste

1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro, mint, or parsley (I prefer cilantro)

1. In a large pot, heat the oil over high heat until hot and shimmering. Add the onions and garlic and sauté until golden, about 4 minutes.

2. Stir in the tomato paste, cumin, salt, pepper, and harissa, and sauté for 2 minutes longer.

3. Add the broth, 2 cups water, the lentils, and the carrots. Bring to a simmer, then partially cover the pot and turn the heat to medium-low. Simmer until the lentils are soft, about 30 minutes. Taste and add more salt if necessary.

4. Stir in the lemon juice and cilantro, mint, or parsley. Serve the soup drizzled with good olive oil and dusted very lightly with chili powder, if desired.

OPTIONAL: Using an immersion or regular blender or a food processor, puree half the soup (it should be somewhat chunky, not smooth).

Trade Joe's Lemon Heart Cookies

2011-05-11T21:21:00.000-07:00

I just ate (nearly) an entire bag of cookies by myself.

I’m not a huge fan of Trader Joe’s because the food is, by and large, processed. I especially dislike that Trader Joe’s, through the use of super-slick marketing, attempts to make their processed food appear natural or healthy. Nonetheless, from time to time, I like to see what’s new at TJ’s, and on a recent visit, Lemon Heart Cookies seduced me. The package promised “delicately texture cookies with a hint of almond flavor and a light lemon icing.” And dang, I have to admit that those hearts were delicious even if they weren’t necessarily delicate. The texture is actually somewhat hearty, not as twice-baked hard as biscotti nor as buttery as shortbread. But they were dense and nutty from ground almonds. The lemon icing was perfectly tangy and crispy.

Even if it becomes my life mission, I am determined to hack these cookies at home.

(Disclaimer: I would like to give credit where credit is due to the photos I borrowed. However, I can no longer find either on a google image search. Apologies.)

H&S 100, #6 new restaurants

2011-01-14T20:35:00.000-08:00

I get really excited at the prospect of new restaurants, especially when a favorite local chef is at the helm. Earlier today I made a "road trip" to the Linden Hills neighborhood of Minneapolis and was thrilled to hear the sound of power tools behind the brown paper-covered windows of Steve Brown's new restaurant. Tilia opens this winter, and I can't wait!

2011 is shaping up to be a good food year!

the year (2010) in food

2010-12-31T19:22:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! Hambone and Spice continued to eat well in 2010. We enjoyed many fantastic and memorable meals in restaurants, in our friends’ homes, and in our own home. I did far less cooking and entertaining this year, and I’m a little sad about that, but we always manage to do our best here. Hambone stepped into the breach this fall when I was encumbered with night classes twice a week.

Here are some highlights from our year in food and drink:

drink

Last summer, I invested in a bottle of St. Germain’s elderflower liqueur and drank just ½ an inch. Recently the liqueur found its place in a gimlet, though I’m still tweaking the proportions and hope to publish my findings soon. The Ale Jail opened on St. Clair this summer. We’ve enjoyed a stunning array of beer and look forward to a more systematic perusal in the coming year. We also welcome Scusi to our neighborhood and anticipate many small plate, pasta, and pizza meals.

best things eaten this year

~pasta and grain salads with grilled veggies and (sometimes) meat

~Alemar Cheese Company’s Bent River. Made in Mankato, Minnesota, this camembert-style cheese is fiercely buttery. I love it best on Lesley Stowe’s cranberry-hazelnut Raincoast Crisps.

~pho and the pork loin sandwich at Ngon (and sweet potato fries with sriracha aioli)—three years running

~crispy soft-cooked egg at Alma

~food in crusts: the chicken-liver pate-topped chicken pot pie at Haute Dish (above) and Cornish pasties in UK

~the spicy, savory, crispy, creamy migas at Bon Vie

~“dipped in butter, rolled in sugar”: ethereal doughnut muffins at Bars, St. Paul’s newest bakery

~dense and nutty pecan short stack at Uncle Bill's Pancake House in Cape May, NJ

2011 promises more good food!

happy merry to all!

2010-12-25T12:18:00.001-08:00

It’s Merry Chaos here in Princeton. Has a year gone by already? This fall has been very busy. I took four interior design classes, two of which were studio classes and another that had a lab. More on this later. For now, a comment on the day. As anticipated, there is no snow here in New Jersey, which is fine by me. It's a blessed relief from the two feet of snow that blankets my neighborhood. I don't need a white Christmas to be happy, just surrounded by family. Lots of squeals of delight over plastic crappies (Scarlett and Sophia, 4 and 5, respectively) as well as more subdued gratitude for much desired cell phones (Simon and Winston).

I feel like a kid myself after consuming half a pound of grapefruit gelees in lieu of breakfast. But, a 23-pound turkey with Southern cornbread stuffing--straight out of the Columbus, GA, Junior League Cookbook--and bourbon sweet potatoes are in my immediate future. So all is right in the world.

No matter where you are and what you believe, I hope that your day is filled with peace and glad tidings!

Haute (pronounced “hot” not “oat” or “hottie”) Dish

2010-07-31T18:38:00.000-07:00

My friend Kathleen is a committed foodie. In fact, she was a foodie before there was even a term for serious food lovers. She was pretty influential in my own embrace of cooking. I will always treasure the meal she cooked for Hambone and me when she was our houseguest—pasta with an olive oil, walnut, and anchovy sauce and a salad dressed with a vinaigrette at the heart of which was an orange juice reduction. All of which she seemed to just whip up. When I asked about the pasta, she mentioned casually that it was a favorite dish from a NYC restaurant. She and her friends were trying to re-create at home, and Kathleen, apparently, had nearly perfected her proportions and technique.

Kathleen was in town last week for a conference. We hadn’t seen each other in five years and needed to catch up in a way that is best done over a major cocktail and a delicious meal. I called 112 Eatery, which seemed like an obvious choice for food quality and ambience, but couldn’t get a reservation. Sitting at the bar after a long wait for seat didn’t seem right, plus, while the food is good, it does not trump the discomfort of a few hours on a barstool. And, I wasn’t up for the trek over to Alma, so then what? I am so out of the restaurant scene.

Then I remembered a friend’s recent interest in Haute Dish, which has a bad-boy chef known as Colonel Mustard. Awareness of Landon Schoenfeld’s antics coupled with his scarcity—Chef’s track record made him impossible to find—piqued my curiosity.

First impressions were strong. The restaurant’s design takes full advantage of the vast physical space, formerly Café Havana. High ceilings support oversized chandeliers. The textured tobacco-colored walls mimic dark wood paneling. Tables have generous space cushions around them. The vibe is great. Our server was attentive. No complaints, so far.

I appreciated the humor and playfulness of the menu. Among other things, the paper menu is affixed to a piece of plywood, which let’s you know attention has been paid to presentation. Food is divided into three sections: first (starters), middle (small plates), last (entrees). As I looked closely, the arrangement seemed a little unfocused and possibly even slightly confusing. It seems as if you’re meant to select a dish from each section, as you were at Alma, customizing your prix fixe. What is the middle section? The prices are too high to be sides. To some extent, the middle dishes feel like upscale pub grub—mac and cheese with crab, tallegio, and truffles; a gussied-up pork and beans; General Tso’s Sweetbreads. All a little over the top.

Kathleen and I split the House Salad—iceberg wedges with tomatoes and crumbled bacon, drizzled with blue cheese and French dressings, a much fancier version of what you would get in any South Dakota steakhouse. For my main, I chose the signature dish, Tater Tot Hautedish. A divine take on a Midwestern classic,* the Hautedish featured a succulent beef short rib perched atop baby green beans and adorned with potato croquettes the size and shape of an Ore-Ida tater tot.

Kathleen had the fried chicken, which had been marinated in buttermilk, then double fried in lard. Under the super-crispy exterior, the chicken was silky.

So here are my main complaints:

1. That perplexing, disjoined menu

2. The cocktails were totally watered down. Also, the Pimm’s Cups tasted more like gin than Pimm’s liqueur.

3. The entrees were utterly unseasonable. All were stewy, hearty, and rich—perfect for the darkest winter days. None were very appealing on a hot (87 degrees) and humid July evening. The only exception was the fried chicken, which was served with pickled watermelon rinds and a cooling pressed watermelon and felt like a summer picnic.

4. My “tater tots” smelled and tasted funky. I couldn’t figure out what was off, and that was a little disconcerting. But I had no problem eating all of these crispy/creamy morsels.

5. Everything is so clever, which is both the high and low point of Haute Dish.

I’m also feeling a little fussed over all the slathery reviews. I know Twin Cities foodies are desparate for exciting new places to eat. But, unless the restaurant has taken a precipitous downturn in quality since May, then a bunch of reviewers lost major credibility in my book.

That said, the short rib was impeccable. Velvety and unctuous, it was ideal in a way that I’ve never been able to achieve at home. I will return to Haute Dish because I'm curious about the duck in a can, which may be the most unique menu item in town. I'm looking forward to chef Schoenfeld and his all-star staff working out their kinks with food quality and service—I’d like to see him succeed here.

*The hot dish—typically meat, noodles, and veg bound by a canned cream-based soup— is a staple of many Midwestern family meals as well as church dinners and potlucks. It’s salty and tasty and, I’m sure, very simple to make. As best as I can figure, never having made it, you brown a pound of ground beef, thaw a bag of mixed vegetables (carrots, peas, green beans), mix with a can or two of cream of mushroom soup, and top with a bag of tater tots, then bake. Tater tot hot dish never graced my family’s dinner table. I always felt a little ripped off by that, though now I’m thankful for a mother who had the good sense not to pollute our bodies with processed foods.

#5 full English breakfast

2010-06-25T20:24:00.000-07:00

Hambone and Spice recently took Alpha and Beta to England. Who would have guessed that full English breakfasts would have been one of their favorite things from the trip?

It seemed really uncivilized to bring my camera to the table first thing in the morning, but now I regret that I don’t have a picture of a full English breakfast. Thank goodness for the internets where I borrowed a photo from www.spinneybedandbreakfast.co.uk.

Where to start with the full English breakfast? I have really fond memories, from 20 years ago, of getting a hot breakfast whenever I stayed in a bed and breakfast. As I made hotel reservations for this trip, I got a little excited by the promise of a cereal “starter” (cornflakes or “bits and pieces,” muesli with dates and nuts), followed by runny eggs, thick bacon rashers (recognizable to Americans as ham), fat English sausages, baked beans, and broiled tomatoes and mushrooms. Toast and preserves? Yes, please.

Even if taking Lipitor, people my age should not eat a full English breakfast every morning, for obvious reasons. But eggs and bacon are so delicious, and I only had five mornings to take advantage of consuming them. The boys loved their full English, especially since they were allowed to drink milk and sugar–laden “wake up” tea, which is what our family calls English breakfast tea. To their credit, a full breakfast tided us over well past the lunch hour, but sometimes they also made us feel like we needed a nap at 10 a.m.

#4: Ngon Bistro

2010-05-18T14:48:00.000-07:00

St. Paul has no shortage of Vietnamese restaurants lining University Avenue. Many of these have little to recommend themselves, aside from tasty, cheap food. Ngon Bistro stands out from the rest. By appearances, the space is charming and inviting, with work by local artists staged above sunny gold wainscoting. The menu is a clever (and fitting) French-Vietnamese fusion, such as sweet potato shrimp croquettes, sugar cane shrimp, croque madame (with pork belly). You’ll also find the best versions of traditional Vietnamese dishes. For instance, pho and hu tieu both feature housemade broths that are so rich and earthy and redolent of star anise. Whenever I feel run down or get the aches and pains that precede a cold or the flu, I want Ngon’s soup. They’re soul-warming, and, I believe, instantly healing.

My very favorite menu item is the pork loin sandwich. This is not your $3 bahn mi, either. Baguette-style rolls are slathered with liver pate then piled high with local duroc pork, which has been shellacked with Vietnamese “BBQ” sauce, and topped with vinegary jalapenos, carrots, and daikon. A tangle of skinny-cut sweet potato fries with sriracha-laced mayo are equally addictive. You’re given a generous portion of sweet potato fries, and I tend to eat every single one.

There’s a lot of good farm-to-table stuff going on at Ngon. Even the beers are from local brewers—Summit, Brau Brothers, Surly, Lake Superior, Flat Earth, and Lift Bridge, to name a few really good beer makers.

Ngon Bistro, 799 University Avenue, St. Paul, MN 651-222-3301

H&S 100: #3 Brach's Easter Candy

2010-03-16T20:33:00.000-07:00

Some of my favorite candy is available only at Easter, and I may even venture to say that Brach's Pastel Fiesta malted milk eggs is my favorite candy of all time. No other malted milk eggs compare. The ratio of crunchy shell to chocolate layer to malted milk interior is perfection. Surprisingly, this Brach's candy is difficult to find locally. Our primary grocery store, Lund's, carries it but has been known to run out of stock long before Easter. Also, I find that with every passing year, there are fewer and fewer candy pieces in each bag. Nonetheless, the speckled candy shells and pastel colors are emblematic of time and place. My boys love them, too.

Brach's Jelly Bird Eggs (read, jelly beans) run a close second. My mother always included these jelly beans in our Easter baskets as well as in the plastic eggs she hid around the yard. Plus, she often makes a white cake with lemon curd filling, frosted with seven-minute frosting, dusted with coconut, and crowned with a nest of jelly bird eggs. When jelly bird eggs are stale, the gel center is more stiff and tacky, and this is what I like best about these jelly beans. Recently I bought a bag of "fresh" beans, and the interior was so sticky and springy—all wrong. Thank goodness these jelly beans are available year round.

H&S 100: #2 Clancey's Meat and Fish

2010-03-04T21:03:00.000-08:00

Clancey's Meat and Fish

4307 Upton Avenue South

Minneapolis, MN 55410-1556

(612) 926-0222

I have proclaimed my Clancey's love on numerous occasions. If you live in the Twin Cities but haven't visited this Linden Hills meat and fish market, go. Go now. Go for the unique housemade sausages (lamb-pine nut-dried blueberry or beef-[Surly] Bender [beer]-cherries-blue [cheese]) and for the dry-aged steaks. But don't overlook all the other lovelies—the sunchoke tapenade or the duck rillettes or the duck jerky. These foodstuffs are great when you're entertaining or for Friday date-nights-at-home. Four petite filets cost the same as one served at any local steakhouse, which means you can splurge on an extra-nice Cab or rioja. You'll also find a freezer case laden with items such as stock, duck confit, and pork leaf lard.

(tiny merguez sausages and chickpeas)

We're Clancey's fans because the fare is of an impeccably high quality, made with love. The owners are passionate about what they do, and they're interested in how you're going to prepare your purchases. I always have an inspiring conversation about food while I'm in the cozy shop. Places like Clancey's are true measures of civility.

As I was looking up Clancey's address, I noticed a new web link...yay! The site is still under construction, but once it's functional, I have no doubt it will be entertaining.

H&S 100: #1 Bittman

2010-01-29T13:38:00.000-08:00

Taking the lead from our friend Apur, we refer to Mark Bittman’s behemoth How to Cook Everything as Bittman*. When we’re making the Saturday morning pancakes with the boys, we’ll say to one of them, “Get Bittman.” The cookbook has become indispensable for recipes and techniques. When I bought Bittman, we already had Lukin’s and Rosso’s The New Basics Cookbook, as well as Julia Child’s The Way to Cook, and thank goodness we did because I learned a lot from them. Ultimately I found The New Basics kind of overdone and, though I love Julia, The Way to Cook is kind of out of step with the way we eat.

Bittman’s great if you’ve got a gorgeous cut of meat, say a New York strip, or even a tough cut of meat, say a skirt steak, and you want to know how to broil or grill or pan-saute. You look up steak and find straightforward methods that are completely do-able, regardless of your kitchen skills. You may even find pan sauces, as well as references to recipes that go well with steak. Even if you don’t think you need a recipe for something as obvious as, say, deviled eggs, you can use Bittman as a guideline. Maybe you need a reminder of how long to boil an egg. He also give good recipe tweaks. How about adding herbs to your egg-mayo-mustard mixture?

I love Bittman's voice. Here's his note on Basic Pancakes:

Americans must have been sadly alienated from the kitchen for pancake mixes to ever have gained a foothold in the market, for these are ridiculously easy to make.

Our copy's binding is broken. It opens right to breakfast foods. You’d think we’d have that pancake recipe memorized by now.

*We also really like Bittman’s Minimalist column in the New York Times, as well as the themed 100 lists that occasionally run as larger features in the Wednesday food section.

Saveur 100

2010-01-23T19:38:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite food magazine issues is Saveur’s January issue, which features their annual 100. The 100 is a staff-generated list of favorite food-related items, typically including kitchen gadgets and equipment, recipes, prepared food items, cookbooks, personalities, websites, and restaurants. Basically, almost anything food related. From this list, I get an ego boost from things I’ve already discovered, but I also add to the lengthy list of must-eats. This year’s 100 was, for the first time, culled from reader recommendations, which I enjoyed for the wonderful personal stories. Here are some of my favorites items:

#3 Pacifikool Hawaiian Ginger Syrup

I think this ginger syrup would be a great stand-in for ginger ale in a Dark and Stormy. Fortunately friends are traveling to Hawaii in March…

#11 tastespotting.com

A community-driven visual potluck. I will lose productivity but gain inspiration from time spent on this website.

#35 eating at New Orleans Jazz Fest

I agree, best festival food anywhere. Some folks even strategize their eating ahead of the festival, based on which the stages where they’ll be listening to music. I’ve eaten the pheasant, quail and andouille gumbo, but next time I’ll also be sure to try the deep-fried boudin balls.

#36 Den Gyldene Freden, Stockholm

In 2001, Hambone’s brother, who lives in Stockholm, took us to this restaurant. We had a table in the cellar, where candlelight played off the creamy stucco walls. I don’t remember what we ate, but rest assured in was an exquisite dish of traditional Swedish food. The restaurant has been open since 1722.

#55 Rittenhouse Rye

Goes on my to-try list

#59 kruk

More elegant than a molcahete, this traditional Thai mortar and pestle goes on my kitchen tools to buy list

#71 Hot Doug’s Chicago

This haute hot dog joint has been on my radar for a long time. I stood in solidarity as they received the first citation of Chicago’s since-rescinded foie gras ban. Yes, a hot dog featuring foie…I live to try one.

#87 sumac

Hambone turned me on to this super-tangy Middle Eastern spice, which ate on rice—a super cheap meal at a long-gone Lebanese restaurant. We now use season house-made pita chips with sumac and sea salt with sea salt. I’m making a note to use the spice more often—on grilled meats, on roasted vegetables, in stews, and in meatballs.

#91 Wisconsin

Oh yes, Minnesota does great sausages and smoked fish, too. I love Death’s Door gin and appreciate the staunch German fare. But, I’m really interest in the “melty bars” and the wintergreen patties from Oaks Candy, Oshkosh. Wisconsin can keep the squeaky cheese curds, though.

#100 Sweetwater’s Donut Mill Doughnuts

I hope I have the occasion to travel to Kalamazoo, MI, one day…

In the spirit of list-making and of celebrating our favorite things, I am inaugurating the H&S 100. Throughout the year, I will be featuring beloved kitchen equipment, restaurants, food stuffs, recipes, cookbooks, ideas, websites, and more. Stay tuned…I think I already have some catching up to do!

Greek-Style Pasta

2010-01-16T20:44:00.000-08:00

One of my very most favorite dishes in the whole wide world is only available on a buffet. Usually I’m loathe to eat buffet-style lunches because they can be the greasiest, nastiest foodstuffs, plus there’s the whole Petri dish nature of it that I try not to think about. But the yuckiest thing about buffets is the manner in which one eats—heap a plate high, snarf it down, and reload. A few lunch buffets in St. Paul have changed my mind, though, and I feel the need to mention them.

If you’ve never eaten at Christo’s, the lunch buffet is a fantastic way to sample their Greek menu. The restaurant is located in Lowertown, in the magnificent Union Depot (soon to be a light rail hub). The buffet features a couple soups (an outstanding butternut squash soup makes frequent appearances), a few hot entrees, vegetables (buttered carrots are a favorite), piles of warm pita, spit-roasted lamb sliced for make-your-own gyros, lettuce and fixings for Greek salad, and more. One of the hot entrees—braised beef in tomato sauce—never fails to comfort. The beef is tender and rich, the tomato sauce is spiked with cinnamon, and it’s the most unexpectedly delicious thing.

On many occasions, I have tried to order this dish for take out, but am always told that it’s not on the menu. So sometimes I would order the buffet and request a take-out container and would be obliged with strange glances. Then I would march my take-out across the street to my office and eat at my desk. I’ve never tried to re-create the dish at home. It’s that special thing I hope is on the buffet when I go, and I always thought the thrill would be ruined if I cracked the code. Silly, I know.
Now that I no longer work across the street from Christo’s and now that 4^th Street is ripped up with light rail construction, I’d like to make the dish at home. Imagine my excitement when I ran across a pasta recipe in Bon Appetit that comes remarkably close. The recipe features ground lamb instead of braised beef, which is a welcomed time-saver, as well as a cinnamon-driven tomato sauce. A liberal sprinkle of salty feta cheese is a great foil to the sauce’s spiciness. But, the best element, in my opinion, is the addition of parsnips. I love the earthiness of this underrated root veg and feel like this pasta is a complete meal. We'll add this to our regular pasta rotation.

My apologies: no photo. We dove right into this meal, without setting up a shot. I don't even have "stock" photography of pasta with red sauce. Instead, I present saucy younger son, Winston, plugged in with his best Combat Rock.

Greek-Style Penne with Lamb, Parsnips, Tomatoes, and Cinnamon

adapted from Bon Appetit magazine (November 2009)

6 servings

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 onion, halved through root end, cut lengthwise into 1/2-inch-thick slices (about 2 cups)

12 ounces medium parsnips (about 4), peeled, cut on slight diagonal into 1/4-inch-thick slices

4 garlic cloves, minced

1 pound ground lamb

1-1/4 teaspoons ground cinnamon

2 14-1/2 ounce cans diced tomatoes in juice

1 cup tomato puree

12 ounces penne

1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley

Crumbled feta cheese

Heat oil in large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion and parsnips and sauté until slightly softened and deep golden brown around the edges, about 9 minutes. Add garlic; stir 1 minute. Add lamb and sauté until no longer pink, breaking up with back of spoon, about 2 minutes. Stir in cinnamon. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Add tomatoes with juice and tomato puree, bring to boil. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer until parsnips are tender, about 12 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, cook pasta in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bit, stirring occasionally. Drain, then return pasta to pot. Add lamb-tomato mixture and parsley. Transfer to plates and sprinkle with feta.

best eats of 2009

2010-01-03T12:16:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! Hambone and Spice continued to eat well in 2009. We enjoyed many fantastic and memorable meals in restaurants, in our friends’ homes, and in our own home. Food was an important balm during a transition year, in which I became a full-time student. Food also helped to cement friendships and fueled many delicious conversations.

Here are some highlights from our year in food and drink:

drink

Cocktails continue to quench our thirst. The side car kept its place at our table, as did Rick Bayless’ margarita. Perhaps it wasn’t much of a coincidence that fresh citrus features prominently in both cocktails. Cutting a lemon or lime in half and giving a squeeze takes no more time than opening a bottle of mixer, but makes a big difference to quality and flavor. We also added Pimm’s Cup to our repertoire, cutting the liquor with Gosling’s Dark ginger beer for a crisp, slightly herbal refreshment. This summer, I invested in a bottle of St. Germain’s elderflower liqueur but have yet to fully realize it’s potential, though I’m sure I’ll find some use in Artisanal Cocktail, a gift from Friend Tracy. One of my favorite cocktails in 2009 was the Mariposa Aviation, a recipe taken from Artisanal Cocktail. It’s simply gin, maraschino liqueur (we like Luxardo), and fresh-squeezed lemon juice. My other favorite cocktail was the apple martini—shaken by the brothers who run Phillips—that I sampled at the Mill City Farmers Market. I despise the name but have yet to come up an appropriate moniker for this concoction of apple cider, [Prairie Organic] vodka, simple syrup, and a cinnamon stick. A few local restaurants, particularly Lucia’s, are serving these “martinis” on rocks, which makes for a tasty fall/winter cocktail.

favorite cooking techniques: paillards and pan sauces

In the last quarter of 2009, Spice had a night class two nights a week so Hambone was required to do more of the cooking. He nailed paillards, primarily using chicken. By flattening the breasts, the meat cooks quickly and leaves some browned bits in the pan that can be loosened with an agent, such as wine or stock or (even) water. With the addition of minced shallots or onion, herbs, mustard, and cream, you’ve got an instant pan sauce that transforms chicken into something a little more luscious. Plus, chicken breasts and pan sauce are amazing kid pleasers.

another soup session with Caryl

In 2008 my friend Caryl and I made caldo verde, a Portuguese kale and sausage soup, from a recipe in The Soup Peddler’s Slow and Difficult Soups. The soup was hearty and nourishing and easy. The cooking session was a blast so we decided to pick another soup from that cookbook and have another cooking session. This time we made shorbat rumman, which seemed appropriate for many reasons: it’s delicious, easy, and slightly exotic. Here’s what the soup peddler, David Ansel, says about this soup:

Neither slow nor difficult, this delightful Iraqi yellow split pea soup is derived from a recipe on the world’s greatest soup website, soupsong.com Pomegranate and mint are the surprises that lie in store for your guests at this soup session. Dazzle even your most Republican friends with this soup, and when they ask, “What’s that taste?” just say casually, “Oh, that’s pomegranate syrup. We like to keep some around the house just in case we’re having Iraqi food for dinner, don’t you?”

The pomegranante and mint were love surprises, but my favorite part was the buckets of greens—one pound of spinach and two bunches each parsley and cilantro. The soup was bright and, undoubtedly, healthy. I’m looking forward to our next soup session!

favorite food stores

France 44’s cheese counter—St. Paul Cheese Shop—opened a St. Paul location. This news came with mixed blessings. It means there is no need for me to open the cheese store of my dreams, but it also means that awesome cheeses—stored at proper temperatures and cut to order—are available on my beat. In addition to cheese, the store offers some fancy foods, such as Theo Chocolates and Ames honey, and some of the best $8 sandwiches around. My favorite is the prosciutto and provolone with caramelized onions. I’m determined to hack their recipe for the dried fruit compote that they serve on chevre. Further down Grand Avenue, Golden Fig still rocks for their house-brand spice, herb, salt, and sugar concoctions, as well as such goodies jams from Heath’s Glen Kitchens (damson plum chutney and the heirloom tomato jam are two favorites) and Barsy’s Almonds (“naughties” with sugar, cinnamon, cocoa, and cayenne, and “smokies” with sugar, spice, and smoked salt).

Best things eaten this year, restaurant category

~pho and the pork loin sandwich at Ngon (and sweet potato fries with sriracha aioli)—two years running

~Khyber Pass’ lunch buffet, especially the hummus and korma e murgh—two years running

~charred ahi tuna and shishito pepper, lemon, coriander, lime salt at Porter and Frye

~seared foie gras with hazelnuts, frisee, vegetables a la grecque, and curry emulsion at Meritage

~chocolate cake with ginger-candied apricots and cream at Grand Café

~muhammara at Sanaa’s in Sioux Falls

~tri-fry tower: hand-cut russet fries, maple-bacon sweet potato fries and parmesan waffle fries with smoked tomato ketchup, béarnaise, and blue-cheese dip at Burger Jones

~“continental” breakfast (skinka and farmer’s cheese on rusk) at the Columbus Hotell in Stockholm

~red chile, chorizo, and fried egg enchilada at Barrio

Favorite things eaten at home/friends’ homes

~Will and Helena’s tossed green salad with tomato and mango

~Bill’s smoked ribs

~fig-olive tapenade from David Lebovitz's memoir, The Sweet Life in Paris

~Steve’s smoked brisket

~Colin’s pork loin with roasted shallots and fresh figs

Unforgettable drink

~2006 Sarah Powell pinot noir

~2001 Stag’s Leap

~chilled aquavit in Stockholm

~Visby medeltidsol from Gotlands Bryggeri

~salted caramel milkshake at Burger Jones

Restaurants

The economic downturn at the end of 2008 precipitated many restaurant closings, as well as chef turnovers. It goes somewhat without saying that not many new restaurants opened that we could put our radar, until recently, that is (more on those later). Not immune to the economic downturn, we took fewer meals in restaurants. When we did treat ourselves, we would head to favorites, such as Meritage, 112 Eatery, and Alma. Food at each of these joints remained consistent and exciting, rarely disappointing.

summer vacation '09: Sweden

2009-08-18T13:22:00.000-07:00

Hambone and Spice are just back from a ten-day trip to Sweden. With Alpha and Beta in tow, we flew to Stockholm to visit Hambone’s brother Will and his little family. For years, Will has been begging us to come to Sweden for Medeltidsveckan, Visby's Middle Ages week. Even though we’d decided to stay close to home this summer and explore our nation’s splendors, we caved to Will’s wishes. Besides, Alpha and Beta love our annual excursion to the Renaissance Festival. They could easily imagine how incredible it would be to fully immerse themselves in medieval Sweden.

Once we had decided upon our destination, it wasn't long before the vacation turned, happily, into a larger family affair. Hambone's brother Ben and his wife and their little family, as well as Grandma Dorothy and her husband, David, plus a family friend and his traveling companion descended upon Stockholm with us. We were 16 people! Remarkably, Will found a house in Visby that slept 18, which became our home base for the week we were there.

This the 13th century house, built over the street, where we stayed in Visby. Display windows on the street level made us think the house once served both residential and commercial interests. The best way to describe this home is a warren of rooms over multiple levels. Hambone and I had a couple rooms in the attic. We woke when the sun rose, at 4 a.m., to a scene not unlike this (though many mornings a cruise ship or ferry would sit in the middle of the frame):

We went to Sweden for family, for long daylight hours, to be on the water. We did not go for the food, which isn't to say that the food wasn't good. Gastronomy wasn't the priority. When we travel in a large group, where nearly half of the members constitute the Under 10 Set, the adults have found it easiest to take turns making meals in our rental house. That way, we can feed the children before they achieve meltdown. The food we eat is healthier so we feel better throughout our trip. And, by shopping in the local markets and grocery stores, we can still sample regional foodstuffs. Since John's brother lives in Sweden and has a Swedish wife, we had insider guidance to "must eat" traditional Swedish fare. As a result, endless varieties of sill (herring), dry sausages (boar, elk, and reindeer), and Gotland cheese (many of which were similar to gouda or havarti, and very, very good) were well represented on the dinner table.

Even if we aren't cooking for ourselves when we travel, I love to "sight-see" in grocery stores. I'm fascinated by how fresh food is displayed, especially in food halls (time didn't permit visiting Stockholm's famous food halls and indoor markets, pooh). But I also marvel at food packaging, especially for treats...sweets and chips. One of the things I noticed at the large grocery store in Visby was that little of the produce had been grown in Sweden. Most produce came from the Mediterranean—Spain, Cyprus, Italy. There was a wide variety of fruits and vegetables, including melons and nectarines. The produce section had a remarkably familiar. I'm certainly not complaining about having many options when it came to fixing a meal, but at this time of year—the peak of the growing season—I am accustomed to shopping at the farmers market or having local produce (corn, tomatoes, green beans, zucchini) at our grocery stores, and I would have loved to have tapped into the fruits and vegetables grown in Sweden.

Sheep is the major livestock on Gotland, and lamb is a must-eat when you're in Visby, especially when roasted over live coals at a medieval banquet. Truly, the best lamb I've eaten. If you flirted with the guy serving lamb, you got the choice bits—slices of leg, topped by an amazing sauce—otherwise, you got delicious bits that engulfed by connective parts. We also partook of roasted lamb, served with a rich dark gravy and a lovely potato casserole, at a restaurant on Visby's main square (stora torget).

All over Sweden, crayfish parties are a traditional August celebration, marking the end of summer. One evening, Will and Helena treated us to a mess of mudbugs, and, since one couldn't possibly eat enough crayfish to fill oneself, other food was served—an exceptional tomato and mango salad, crusty bread, and a few chunks of cheese, one of which was studded with cumin seeds. The crayfish are sold frozen in large boxes or bags, which you cook at home in a vessel of boiling water that has been infused with spices. Right next to the freezer in the grocery store, paper products, essential to a crayfish party, are displayed: lanterns, plates, napkins, and cups, each with a crayfish motif, but also songbooks. Drinking songs kick off icy aquavit shots and are an important part of the meal! Since crayfish parties traditionally take place outside, we headed out to the garden and pushed cafe tables together to form a long banquet table.

Breakfast of champions. This was the complimentary breakfast at the Columbus Hotell, where we stayed for a few nights in Stockholm. Witness a spread of cold cuts, including skinka (ham) and farmer's cheese slices, but also liver pate, anchovy paste, sweet pickles, cucumbers, and tomatoes, which are meant to be assembled on bread (wasa, knackerbrod, hearty wheat rolls, rusk crackers), for open-face sandwiches. The spread also included yogurt (more sour than sweet), granola, other dry cereals, sweet rolls, and fruit, as well as hard- and soft-boiled eggs. My preference, first thing in the morning, is for something sweet, but when in northern Europe.... I loved the open-face sandwiches for breakfast and have adopted this practice now that I'm home.

Scene from the market: These candied apples with a crisp, sweet shell were one of many treats the Alpha and Beta tried at the medieval market. The boy on the left was swirling apples on a stick through hot syrup. Some of the apples were then rolled in crushed almonds or rolled oats. When the boy on the right wasn't collecting money, he swatted wasps. By comparison to the Minnesota RenFest, the medieval market had fewer food stalls, which were more selective and higher in quality. Other foodstuffs at the market included toffied almonds (exceptional), burgers (chicken, beef, lamb), roasted lamb, smoked turkey legs, mead, and fudge (licorice was unique, vanilla was solid, but those made with smoky, peaty scotches were amazing!).

And now for dessert—Swedes love their ice cream. Thank goodness. You can find ice cream treats in many shops and stands in Visby, most of which are similar to Good Humor or Kemps. Then, there's Visby Glass. Near the East Port ferry station, Visby Glass has 100 flavors in the cooler at any one time. Overwhelming, yes. Some of these flavors are from Swedish ice cream giant, Sia, but others are made on site. You've got fruit, an array of chocolate flavors, nut, licorice (a category unto itself), and spices, as well as many combinations of the above. Given my devotion to ice cream, naturally we took many long walks to Visby Glass. I had an opportunity to try saffron (only so I could confirm that I don't like saffron as a primary ingredient in anything), mint chocolate chip (with the largest imaginable chocolate chunks), violet (beautiful color, perfumey taste), and salted licorice (pictured above, intensely tar-black). The latter was a taste sensation that I'm still thinking about...salty, cold, creamy...and licorice-y.

cold-weather cooking revival (in july)

2009-07-19T23:35:00.000-07:00

As I cast about the blogosphere, I can’t help but notice that, from coast to coast, 2009 weather has been unruly. It’s mid-July and still blazing hot in southern California and the desert Southwest. But the rest of the country is beginning to resemble Seattle, with overcast skies, midday drizzles, and lower than usual temperatures. The Upper Midwest is no exception. For a few days last week the high temps here in St. Paul hovered at 63 degrees, about twenty degrees below average. I’m not complaining. I like it cool, which is not to be confused with cold! I like to wear sleeves or long pants. I like to sleep under blankets. And, when it comes to cooking, I like to fire up the oven with impunity.

Since all those no-cook meals and whole-grain or pasta salad recipes that I had filed for hot-weather cooking are languishing, I thought I’d dip into the rib-sticking fare I associate firmly with winter. I preheated the oven to 375 degrees F and looked up a recipe for a favorite potato dish that we usually eat at Christmas, Jansson’s Temptation (Jansson’s frestelse).

I was first introduced to “the Jansson’s” in the late 90s. My brother-in-law, Will and his girlfriend, Helena, who is now his wife, would visit from their home in Sweden and prepare a Julbord with all the goodies they had smuggled in their suitcases. The smoked eel and smoked reindeer, the cornucopia of sill, and the countless varieties of aquavit were all treats, but the Jansson’s was the centerpiece of these sumptuous buffets. Rich with fragrant cream bubbling in the corners of a crusty top, Jansson’s can best be described as a potato casserole that gets a big boost from onions and anchovies (more on the anchovies, below), which are not immediately identifiable but give the dish an utterly unique and highly addictive quality.

Legend has it that the dish was created by the nineteenth-century opera singer, Pelle Janzon,
who, entertaining late one night, threw together everything he had in his pantry. According to wikipedia, the name was borrowed from a 1928 film, Jansson’s frestelse, and a dish created by the director's mother and her housekeeper, specially for the movie. Regardless, Jansson’s is one of the most iconic dishes in Swedish home cooking (husmanskost). It’s hearty, warming, and comforting, and tends to make an appearance at table as a main dish, rather than as a side, like potato gratin. Aside from the Julbord, Jansson’s is often serve at the end of many parties, especially wedding receptions. Judith Pierce Rosenberg writes in her wonderful book, A Swedish Kitchen, that Jansson’s is “traditionally meant to warm guests for the long sleigh ride back to their farms.”

Hambone and Spice ate Jansson’s recently for a number of reasons. We were cold. I had a tin of sprats fillets in the fridge and don’t know what else to do them. Also, we leave for Sweden next week, and I couldn’t wait until then for my fill of potatoes, onions, anchovies, and cream.

Jansson’s Temptation
A Swedish Kitchen (Judith Pierce Rosenberg)
serves 4

1 tablespoon butter
1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
4 medium Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch wide matchsticks (5–6 cups)
1 (3-1/2 ounce) can anchovy-style sprats fillets in brine*
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon white pepper
1-1/2 cups half-and-half
2 tablespoons dry bread crumbs

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Grease a 2-quart baking dish. In a medium-size pan, melt the butter and sauté onions on medium heat until soft and translucent, about 10 minutes.

Cover the bottom of the baking dish with half of the potatoes, then add the onions. Place the anchovies, along with a little brine, on top of the onions. Cover the remaining potatoes.

Stir the salt and pepper into the half-and-half and pour over the potatoes. Sprinkle the breadcrumbs on top.

Bake until the potatoes are tender and the top is beginning to brown, about 45 minutes. Serve immediately.

*Do not thinly slice the potatoes as you would for a gratin. The matchstick cut lends a particular aesthetic to the dish. And, of course, it’s traditional, and I've been told that if you mess with this tradition, then the dish doens't taste the same.

** I will tell you straight away that anchovy sprats fillets are different from the Italian and French anchovies you find easily at the grocery store. Anchovy sprats are cured in a brine made of salt, sugar, and spices, such as cinnamon, sandalwood, and ginger, lending a very specific taste to Jansson’s and creating a perfect counterpoint to the smoked and cured meats and fish with which it’s served. Since Will and Helena no longer smuggle Swedish anchovies into the country when they visit, they’re often at a loss for an acceptable substitute. I live in a city with population that celebrates their Scandinavian heritage, and Ingebretsen’s Scandinavian Gifts and Imports on Lake Street carries anchovy sprats—and you can order them online. You may find other online sources, and it's worth the effort to look, but in a pinch, you can use oil-packed anchovies, which should be rinsed well and soaked in milk before using.

cocktail skewers are the new black

2009-07-01T11:44:00.000-07:00

I ate the yummiest thing last night, and I cannot stop thinking about it.

My friend Michael, who was hosting our book group, served skewer appetizers (not pictured) that were so simple and so tasty. He pre-loaded double pronged toothpicks with a large basil leaf, a roasted red pepper slice, and a quartered artichoke heart, then added a one-inch chunk of sausage. All of which you were meant to eat in one bite. Michael used a variety of sausages, including chicken-apple and maple chicken, which gave a bit of sweetness to the other pickled or roasted or salty or green flavors.

The whole was brilliant and may have knocked meatballs off my list of favorite cocktail nibbles. Anya von Bremzen has a wonderful list of tapas skewers (banderillas) in The Spanish Table. I’ll go back to this book for inspiration but I’m also dreaming up my own palate-tickling combinations.

Photo credit: Dallas Morning News, which ran a feature on banderillas last summer

SeaSalt

2009-05-02T19:38:00.000-07:00

Around these parts, the surest sign of spring isn’t the appearance of tulips and daffodils or green leaves unfurling from buds or the return of songbirds or a day where the temperatures reach 60 degrees. Spring arrives in St. Paul when SeaSalt opens.

Located within Minnehaha Falls park, SeaSalt serves the highest-quality seafood from the teeniest kitchen. For the most part, seating is outside, where you’re serenaded by the roaring waterfall. Service is cafeteria-style, and, since the line typically snakes out the door, you’ve got an opportunity for good eavesdropping. The menu is posted on a blackboard behind the counter where you order. You can count on fish tacos with your choice of tilapia, fried fish, calamari, grilled marlin (my choice tonight), or shrimp. There are fat po’ boys with crawfish, fried oysters (Hambone’s favorite), or fried shrimp. Crab cake sandwiches and soft-shell crab sandwiches are divine, accompanied by exceptional coleslaw. Oil pans are loaded with pickled herring, shrimp cocktail, and raw oysters, then rounded out with a pitcher of beer or a bottle of wine to slake your thirst. Alpha and Beta can easily make a meal out of the calamari appetizer or the clam fries. Quite frankly, so could I.

SeaSalt is a leisurely fifteen-minute bike ride from our house, which means, if I have room, I can spring for a scoop of ice cream before the ride home.

salsa verde

2009-05-01T20:24:00.000-07:00

This past week has been an exceptional week for outstanding food. I had my first bratwurst of the season. And there was a red chile enchilada at Barrio, the Minneapolis tequila bar—a flour tortilla casually folded over a chorizo filling and topped with a fried egg—that I can’t stop thinking about it. But the show-stopper on our menu this week was a condiment.

I had a gap in the menu that was filled when I spotted a display of Niman Ranch organic pork chops at the grocery store. Now, we love pork chez H&S, but this is a cut we don’t often eat. Both Hambone and I remember the overly chewy, nearly indigestible pork chops of our respective childhoods and assiduously avoid cooking them as adults. Silly, I know. The Niman Ranch meat was irresistible, providing an opportunity to reconsider the pork chop. I consulted Alice Waters’ Art of Simple Cooking for a pan-frying technique, which seemed (and proved to be) pretty foolproof to execute. I briefly contemplated making a pan sauce with the fond, a little minced shallot, and white wine, which I can make in my sleep, but was a fixated on something green.

Salsa verde is, as the name suggests, a green sauce, such as Argentinean chimichurri or tomatillo salsa. An Italian-style salsa verde traditionally contains parsley, lemon, capers, and anchovies, chopped and blended with olive oil. This rustic sauce is precisely what I had in mind. Long ago I flagged a page for chopped herb sauces in Tyler Florence’s Eat This Book. Basically you dump all the ingredients on a cutting board and give it a rough chop, tip into a bowl, give a squeeze of lemon, and mix in some olive oil. The ingredients—parsley, golden raisins, anchovies, pine nuts, and capers—were an elegant blend of sweet, salty, sour, bright, and mysterious. And it really made something more out of those pork chops. I don't think I'd want them any other way.

The salsa verde gave a great flavor boost to the meaty pork chops, but also proved its flexibility by accompanying fresh Alaskan halibut later in the week. I see more chopped herb sauces in our future and look forward to experimenting with different combinations of fruits, nuts, acidity, and herbs.

burger of the week: bison chili cheeseburgers

2009-04-20T20:18:00.000-07:00

Hambone makes the best burgers I have ever eaten. Contrary to patty-making "best practices," which typically suggest barely handling the ground meat as it's shaped, Hambone works each portion well, passing it from hand to hand a number of times before patting it into a burger. This makes for a tender and juicy burger every time. Also, he seasons the patty well, on both sides, before frying in a hot cast-iron skillet.

Hambone has a signature burger, which is the one he treats us to 99 percent of the time, and I have no complaints. I do, however, have a file folder bursting with some fresh recipes for myriad burgers—pork, beef, lamb, chicken, fish, and more. Inspired by warm spring days and anxious to grill, our summer theme is set—burgers.

First up: bison chili cheeseburgers. Whole Foods has been running a special on ground bison so we picked up a 1.5 pounds, a somewhat experimental quantity. Alpha and Beta, who are growing like weeds, have recently demonstrated that they can eat a bit more than their usual quarter pounders. As Hambone was forming the patties, he worked in half a seeded, finely minced jalapeno. The patties were seasoned with salt, pepper, and curry powder, then browned in a cast-iron skillet on each side, and topped with a slice of American (I know, but it is the best for consistent melting) cheese and a generous dollop of handmade guacamole.

What are your favorite ways to prepare burgers?

eating this week

2009-04-19T20:00:00.000-07:00

Salty Dog Chocolate Bar

2009-03-24T20:29:00.000-07:00

The Twin Cities is home to a number of exceptional chocolatiers, chief among them B.T. McElrath. Ever since my friend Colin introduced me to McElrath's elegantly chocolate-dipped ginger-flecked toffee squares, I have had to fight impulse purchases whenever I go to the grocery store. On the rare occasion that I visit The Golden Fig, where McElrath's truffles are available individually, I treat myself to a morsel. I'll admit, it's hard to choose just one when they come in such incomparable flavors as passion fruit, chile-limon, zinfandel balsamic, and lavender-black peppercorn.

Recently, McElrath debuted chocolate bars, and that short time, I've devoured my fair share of Salty Dog Chocolate Bars—70% dark chocolate with butter toffee bits and sea salt. Chocolate and sea salt is one of my very favorite combinations. These bars are pretty sensational and very affordable ($5.50 per bar, where other luxury chocolates are edging up near $8).

From the packaging:

You have a choice. Eat our Salty Dog Bar salt-side up and you're invited into its rich, dark chocolate charms, only to discover the spiky crunch of toffee and sea salt. eat it salt-side down and feel how the sharp pop of salt ushers in notes of chocolate and caramel. So what's it gonna be: mellow or bold? Or both?

Definitely both.

If you can't find these bars where you live, The Chocolate Shoppe ships anywhere.

comfort food: steakhouse meets diner

2009-03-03T21:26:00.000-08:00

Last night, both Hambone and I were looking for a meal that would be homey and comforting, so I whipped up a batch of diner-worthy meatloaf. When I made the first meatloaf of my adult life, I reconstructed my mother’s method. She never used a recipe, having learned to make meatloaf at her mother's elbow, but it consisted basically of ground beef (or, when I was a kid, more likely elk or venison), salt and pepper, and a beaten egg to bind—pretty simple and tasty, if memory serves correctly. I’ve since tried many recipes, trying to find the easiest, most delicious concoction. What I’ve arrived at is quite flexible and very delicious.

In large bowl, I whisked together a couple eggs, 1/4 cup whole milk, 1 teaspoon ground mustard, 1 teaspoon dried thyme*, salt and pepper to taste, 1 teaspoon hot sauce, and 1/2 teaspoon worchestershire sauce. To this mixture, I crumbled in a 1/2 pound each ground veal, beef, and pork**, as well as 1-1/2 cups fresh breadcrumbs***. With my hands, I incorporated the ingredients, until the egg and breadcrumbs were well distributed within the meat. (Typically I also add an onion that has been diced fine, sautéed in olive oil, and cooled slightly, as well as a few minced garlic cloves, but omitted—just this one time—to accommodate the boys' onion phobia. BTW, they’ve asked for the onions to be reappointed.) Then I turned the mixture onto a foil-lined jellyroll pan and formed it into a loaf. A combination of 1/2 cup ketchup and 1 tablespoon each brown sugar and apple cider vinegar was painted on top the meatloaf. Placed in a 375 degree oven, it baked for an hour.

I firmly believe that meatloaf must be consumed with potatoes. Steak can be served with many other carbs—polenta, other root vegetables, or whole-grain pilafs, but meatloaf needs the mealy, starchy potato as a counterpoint to the, well, meatiness. Not to mention that it’s meatloaf’s equal in the comfort department. I had a hankering for
The Palm’s hashbrowns and turned to Julie Child and Jacques Pepin’s pommes de terre macaire.

While assembling the meatloaf, I had four medium-size russets baking in a 425 degree oven, which I then swapped for the meatloaf. I allowed the baked potatoes to cool just enough to be handled (fifteen minutes or so), then removed the skin and, using a round cookie cutter, scrumbled the potatoes into large chunks. During the last ten minutes of the meatloaf’s cooking time, I heated olive oil and butter in a heat-proof skillet, added the potatoes, seasoned generously with salt, pepper, and fresh-ground nutmeg. After a few minutes, I flipped the potatoes to incorporate the seasoning, then pressed down the top and stepped away for six or seven minutes. When the meatloaf came out of the oven, I cranked it back up to 425 degrees and put the potatoes in for 15 minutes.

And what, besides a chewy red wine, goes best with red meat and steakhouse potatoes? Why creamed spinach, of course. A peek into the crisper revealed a lack of spinach but possession of a fine head of lacinato kale. While the meatloaf rested and the potatoes browned, heated 1 tablespoon each butter and olive oil in a large skillet into which I tipped a minced shallot and sweated for a few minutes. Next I added the kale, cut into 1/4-inch strips. Before I lidded the pan, I added a 1/4-cup chicken stock. Five minutes later, I seasoned kale with salt and pepper, tossed the wilted leaves with a teaspoon of flour, and cooked another minute before adding approximately a 1/3 cup half-and-half, which was allowed to bubble and thickened. A grating of fresh nutmeg finished the vibrant green side.

And instead of being transported to every great steakhouse meal we’ve ever had, we set our own new standard.

*Almost any dried or fresh herb, such as savory, rosemary, or herbes de Provence can be used to good effect.
**Venison or bison, alone or in combination with beef or pork, makes a stunning meatloaf.
***Dried breadcrumbs or crumbled crackers also work.

Happy Fat Tuesday

2009-02-24T20:17:00.000-08:00

The little boys—who, if you'll remember, don't like chili—devoured the crawfish. Next year in New Orleans!

Back in the Saddle: Venison Chili

2009-02-23T22:42:00.000-08:00

I have, sadly, been neglectful of Hambone and Spice. And not because I haven’t been cooking blogworthy food, either. Most assuredly, we've been eating incredibly well at home and in restaurants, doing our best to keep the local economy alive! No, I just have not been able to find my writing voice lately. My dear friend Caryl gave me a nudge today. She didn’t know that I was planning a comeback, either, but without her quiet encouragement, I could have put off food blogging until…I don’t know when.

Caryl and I regularly have breakfast together, mostly, but not exclusively, to talk about books. Last week we met at the Longfellow Grill, an upscale diner just across the mighty (frozen) Mississippi from where we each live in St. Paul. We shared a cheesy/eggy/potatoey dish, as well as a stack of Jack cakes—hearty oatmeal pancakes adorned by granola, salted peanuts, fresh blueberries, bananas, and honey. Plus, we drizzled real maple syrup over the top and between the layers—all over. These cakes are the ultimate in sweet-salty tastes and are so comforting. Caryl took this photo and sent it to me for inspiration—thanks! See, this is what friends are for: support and indulging in over-the-top breakfasts!

Dinner is slowly simmering on the stove right now. We’re having venison chili. This past fall, my brother Nik shot a mule deer in South Dakota and very kindly shared some of his bounty with us. Before I crumbled in the ground meat, I had to make note of its color—a velvety, iron-rich purple. Also, the venison was incredibly lean with almost no obvious fat studding the pat.

My little boys aren’t big fans of chili. I know: a lot of kids don't like chili. But I think it's crazy. I loved chili when I was their age and even endured anemic strands of stewed tomatoes lurking throughout an egregiously underseasoned sauce. But I love my boys and want them to eventually embrace chili, and I ask that they eat no more than a half cup of not-very spicy brew, ladled over corn chips (“Frito pie,” a concession to Hambone’s Texan roots), with a chocolate pudding chaser for dessert.

This chili is by no means authentic Texas chili but I’m not going for authenticity on a Monday night in February. All I require is delicious and somewhat quick, though you can simmer the chili as long as you like, thereby intensifying the flavors. Because the venison is so lean, I used more oil than usual and really sweated the onion so as to provide as much extra moisture as needed. Also, I felt like the wild game might be, well, gamey, which isn't a bad thing, it just means that the meat can support stronger spices, in larger measure. So I amped up the spice mixture with more chili powder and cumin than usual and added a bit of ancho chile powder, which I would never use in ground beef chili (between you and me, I’m not wild about ancho’s smoky flavor). The browned meat is soft, lacking the gristly toothsomeness of ground beef, and has a rich flavor.

venison chili
2 T. olive oil
1 pound ground venison (or beef, bison, elk)
1 medium onion, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 jalapeno, minced
2 T. chili powder (I like Penzey’s medium hot)
1 tsp. ancho chili powder
1 T. cumin
1 T. salt
1 tsp. oregano
1 bottle beer (I used Left Hand porter because I had it on hand)
1 (15 oz.) can red beans (drained, rinsed)
1 (8 oz.) can tomato sauce
2 T. tomato paste

For serving: chopped onions, sour cream, Fritos, shredded cheddar cheese

In a Dutch oven, over medium-high, heat oil until it shimmers. Saute onions, garlic, and jalapenos in oil until vegetables are soft, about 5 minutes. Add ground meat and break into large pieces. Season with salt, chili powders, cumin, and oregano. When the meat is browned, add the remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, lid the pot, and simmer, stirring occasionally, for at least 30 minutes (for best results, simmer an hour to two hours). Serve on a bed of Fritos, garnished with chopped onions, sour cream, and shredded cheddar cheese.

a quick pasta for a Monday

2009-01-05T18:52:00.000-08:00

I don't thrive on throwing myself back into the fray of a work/school week. In no time at all, the effects of a relaxing weekend completely fade. The last thing I want to face after a long day at the office is a hot stove and an ambitious recipe. Mondays call for easy, tasty meals.

As a mother of school-age kids who have weeknight homework, not only does meal preparation need to be unfussy but it also needs to generate the fewest dirty dishes possible. This simple shrimp-tomato-feta pasta fits the bill—clean, bold Mediterranean flavors combined with ease and a modicum of speed.

It's also a flexible dish. You could substitute salmon for the shrimp. Any fresh herb—basil, thyme, oregano, dill—could easily take the place of dried herbs. As I was cutting the serviceable grape tomatoes that are available year round, I couldn't fight the memory of the brilliant, sweet yellow pear tomatoes that we buy at the Farmer's Market in July and the thought of how awesome they would be in this pasta.

You can even get your kids involved and chat about their day. Beta helped by measuring the olive oil, pouring it on the tomatoes, and seasoning with salt, pepper, and dried herbs.

Orzo with Shrimp, Tomatoes, and Feta
serves 4

1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined
4 T. olive oil, divided
3 garlic cloves, minced
pinch red pepper flakes
1 pint cherry tomatoes
1 T. dried green herbs, your choice (up to 1/4 cup if using fresh green herbs)
salt and pepper, to taste
1 cup orzo
4 oz. feta
1 T. fresh lemon juice

Bring a pot of water to boil. Meanwhile, cut cherry tomatoes in half and place in a large serving bowl. Toss with 3 T. olive oil, salt and pepper to taste, and herbs.

Once water reaches a boil, add salt (about a tablespoon) and orzo. Cook for 8-10 minutes.

While pasta is cooking, prepare shrimp. Heat 1 T. olive oil in saute pan on medium-high. Add shrimp. Season with a healthy pinch of salt, red pepper flakes, and minced garlic. Turn shrimp after 1-2 minutes. Cook another minute or two, until pink. Stir and turn off heat.

When pasta is done, reserve 1/2 cup liquid, then drain. Add pasta, along with cooked shrimp, lemon juice, and feta, to tomatoes. Toss to coat, adding pasta cooking water if pasta seems dry. Adjust seasoning and serve.

Best of 2008

2009-01-02T16:41:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! Hambone and Spice continued to eat well in 2008. We enjoyed many fantastic and memorable meals in restaurants, in our friends’ homes, and in our own home. Food was an important balm during a difficult year, but also helped to cement friendships and fueled many delicious conversations. We had a blast cooking with our kids—each took bold steps to become the very best sous chefs they could be.

We had no particular theme this year, though, during grilling season, we skewered just about every protein and vegetable imaginable to feature a kebab of the week. Many of our favorite items featured citrus, either as an assertive, bright flavor or as a subtle element that pulled a dish together.

Here are some highlights from our year in food and drink:

drink
Cocktails continue to quench our thirst. Gin and tonics, scotch and sodas, and vodka gimlets will always have a place at the table, but in 2008, these classic cocktails were joined by the sazerac (rye, Peychaud’s bitters, Pernod), the Americano (Campari, sweet vermouth, club soda), and the side car (brandy, lemon juice, Grand Marnier) at home, as well as Porter and Frye’s refreshing Siciliano (Campari and blood orange juice laced with gin). We were also introduced to Flat Earth Brewing, a local microbrew that makes a few crisp beers. Flat Earth beers went missing for much of the year, however, as the brewery pulled their beers off the market due to a problem with a second fermentation in the bottle. As a reliable source told me, bottles were exploding on liquor store shelves. By Thanksgiving, Flat Earth was back—and we’re certainly glad to see them and their Belgian-style pale ale, though my absolute favorite is the Element 115 lager.

favorite cooking techniques: grilling and broiling
In 2008 we grilled apace. Hambone even tackled fish on the grill—salmon, arctic char, walleye, and halibut. When grilling season ended, we pulled the broiler pan and cooked meat—flank steak, fish, pork tenderloin, and shrimp—under high heat in our oven. A glass jar of a very versatile, homemade spice rub (paprika, dry green herbs, cumin, coriander, salt, pepper, and brown sugar) stood by the grill and the stove and was replenished when emptied.

cooking highlight: making soup with Caryl
Handsome husband aside, I have only ever cooked with one other friend, but it’s something I’ve long wanted to do. I’m so glad that my friend Caryl suggested it. We had a wonderful time chatting as we sliced and diced our ingredients, comparing notes as we tended to the soup, and documenting the process. I anticipate future kitchen sessions and hope that one of these will culminate with a meal we can share with our families.

Caryl and I made caldo verde, a Portuguese kale and sausage soup, from The Soup Peddler's Slow and Difficult Soups. David Ansel is the Soup Peddler and he delivers soup—on his bike—to the eclectic folk who populate Bouldin Creek in Austin, Texas. Caryl sourced the sausage—linguiça—from Kramarczuk’s, the Nordeast Minneapolis restaurant that specializes in sausage. And, she brought lacinato kale, which, as opposed to the extremely curly kale, is like a thick spinach leaf. Basically, we browned the sausage links, in their casings, in olive oil, and removed them when they were cooked (about 10 minutes). Then we sweated onion (1) slices and sliced garlic (6 cloves) in the remaining olive oil, densely permeated with the linguiça’s salty, smoky juices. After 5 minutes we added the chicken stock I made that morning, as well as diced potatoes (enough small red potatoes to equal four normal-sized potatoes) and simmered for 20 minutes. The sausages, which had since been cut into coins, were returned to the soup with a bunch of finely chopped kale and simmered for another 5 minutes. That’s it. Easy, hearty, nourishing. I’m looking forward to our next soup session!

favorite food stores
France 44’s cheese counter (passionate cheesemonger Benjamin is blogging here), Golden Fig for local speciality items (Talmadge Farm’s horseradish jelly, B.T. McElrath’s unique chocolate truffles), Izzy’s for the very best ice cream (the nut versions—praline pecan, butter pecan, black walnut, hot brown sugar—are my favorites)

best things eaten this year, restaurant category
hazelnut torte at Meritage, sort of a grown-up Kit-Kat bar
sausage plate with roasted grapes at Porter and Frye
Sebastian Joe's spumoni, with honey, almonds, candied orange peel
pho and the pork loin sandwich at Ngon (and sweet potato fries with sriracha aioli)
Khyber Pass’ lunch buffet, especially the hummus and korma e murgh
smelt fries and elk stroganoff at Red Stag
fresh lobsters in Maine
house-made lamb sausage at the Harborview Café
lamb burger topped by hummus and feta at Shish
soft and crispy confit duck leg with sweet and juicy roasted grapes at Strip Club

(photo credit: Tracy Adams)

favorite things eaten at home/friends’ homes
John’s softshell crab sandwich
red beans and rice with pickled pork
lobster risotto with homemade lobster stock
Alice Waters’ Moroccan carrot salad with lemon, ginger, and cumin
bison meatballs with cilantro-yogurt sauce
smoked trout spread with apples and celery
pumpkin spice layer cake
Will and Helena’s house-cured salmon
Tracy’s shrimp stew on black rice

worst things I ate this year
~smoked chocolate ice-cream at Porter and Frye, which was just plain weird
~bone marrow at Red Stag—for those of you who compared bone marrow to eating foie gras, I beg to disagree. Not remotely similar. I really wanted to like bone marrow. I really did. But it was about the nastiest thing I’ve ever eaten (and I’ve eaten lamb brains and sweetbreads and tripe and oysters and shrimp heads). Too salty, too fatty, too not at all what I dreamed it would be.

favorite restaurants
Though we enjoyed many meals in local restaurants in 2008, only one meal stood out—Alma’s tasting menu, for four people, which allowed us to tell the server to “Bring us one of everything” on the menu. In addition to Alma, chef Alex Roberts has Brasa, a Southern-style barbecue joint in NE Minneapolis. I love all of the pulled meat (beef and heritage Berkshire pork), as well as his rotisserie chicken. We look forward to a St. Paul location later this year.

favorite new restaurants
~Porter and Frye, Steve Brown’s eagerly anticipated kitchen delighted us on a few occasions
~Meritage, Russell Klein put his own stamp on the brasserie, filling the former Au Rebours space in downtown St. Paul
~Heidi’s, Stewart Woodman’s jewel-box restaurant in south Minneapolis, highly innovative food
~Strip Club, the Town Talk Diner folks and J.D. Fratzke’s gastrotavern overlooking downtown St. Paul
~Red Stag, one of the first LEED-certified restaurant in the U.S., eclectic menu

happy merry to all!

2008-12-25T09:44:00.000-08:00

It’s Merry Chaos here in Princeton. Has a year gone by already? The weather is gorgeously warm, which is such a treat after the brutal winter storms and their aftermath that we've encountered at home and here on the East Coast. The sky is a beautiful blue color. The turkey is in the oven. The dough for the potato rolls is rising. We're about to break out the champagne. And, my kids have each declared this to be the Best. Christmas. Ever! Surrounded by family, I couldn't agree more.

No matter where you are and what you believe, I hope that your day is filled with peace and glad tidings!

holiday cookies

2008-12-19T13:24:00.000-08:00

My mother, a fantastic baker, always had a pan of bars or plate of cookies stashed in a special hiding spot—plain sight. But, during the run up to Christmas, she’d nestle her baked goods—cookies, candies, pastries—in deep, parchment paper-lined tins that, a decade earlier, had hosted fruitcakes. She would put the tins into cold storage—the deep freezer in our garage—until such time as when she went “visiting,” dropping in on friends and neighbors to deliver her holiday cheer.

Such is my mother’s generosity. And such was the small community and the civility in which I was raised. Friends would stop by our house, unannounced, to say “hello.” Perhaps this practice is alive and well somewhere, but it’s certainly not done where I live.

Maybe the holiday cookies—the frilly, the fussy, the fancy, the not-for-everyday numbers—were the draw. I loved my mother’s boozy bourbon balls, the date-walnut balls enlivened by rice krispies, spicy gingerbread cutouts, rich chocolate crinkles, chocolate-dipped overtly sweet coconut bonbons, iced sugar cutouts, the powder sugar explosion of Russian tea cakes, brownies with a mint-ganache layer.

My mother was also a cookie-exchange maven, so some of the treats were made by others, such as spritz cookies—extruded neon food-dyed dough, sprinkled with complementary-colored sugar. Or peanut butter blossoms, crusted with sugar and crowned by a fat Hershey’s Kiss. Or wreath cookies—cornflakes bound by a mixture of melted marshmallows, butter, and a bottle of green food coloring, shaped into a ring, and adorned with a cluster of red hots “berries”.

But my absolute favorite cookie is her whirlagig—a peanut-butter cookie base rolled, pinwheel-style, around a thin ribbon of chocolate filling. I don't know the recipe's origin and hadn't thought to ask until now—they’ve been my mother’s since the beginning of my time. I did an online search and saw nothing that approaches this particular recipe. The recipe could have come from any of the places where my mother finds baking gems—church cookbooks, special interest publications, the butter carton, the newspaper. Unfortunately, she was unavailable for comment when I began this post.

Alhough I’d eat them any day of the week, these cookies were only made for Christmas. By appearance, they lack all the impressiveness of jewel-toned jam thumbprints or the seasonality of springerle. Whirlagigs are almost ordinary, like chocolate chip or peanut butter cookies. They’re rugged—brown dough, darker brown filling. They’re not pretty—very few of mine show their potential pinwheel spiral. But, they do look interesting, and they taste amazing. Not too sweet, which I think is the biggest fault of most holiday cookies. I am a firm believer that if one is staring at a platter of assorted cookies, one should be able to try as many as appeal.

Years ago, when Hambone and I started baking Christmas cookies, I asked my mother for the recipe, which she gladly shared with us. I’d never read it before so I was somewhat surprised to learn that the chocolate filling was made a little more-ish with a secret ingredient. No, it’s not booze, though I’m sure the addition of a complementary liquor wouldn’t be bad. Rather, chocolate chips are melted with an equal amount of butterscotch chips.

I also learned that whirligigs are a little fussy to make, which catapults them into the realm of for-special-times-only. As I made this year’s batch, I struggled here and there—but don’t let that stop you. I’ll provide tips in the recipe. Eventually, I realized the logs didn’t have to be sliced perfectly. If you mash the dough together in the approximation of a cookie, it will do what it’s supposed to in the oven. In every bite, the baked whirlagig offers a golden mean of cookie to chocolate filling.

Since whirligigs are too good to make just once a year, I resolve to bake them more often in 2009. Afterall, I have a technique to perfect—and these cookies are beyond worth it.

Whirligig Cookies

1 cup butter
1 cup peanut butter (I like chunky)
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs, unbeaten
2 tsp. vanilla
2-1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1-11 oz. pkg chocolate chips
1-11 oz. pkg butterscotch pieces

In the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with the paddle attachment, cream together first four ingredients. Mix in eggs and vanilla, until well incorporated. In a medium bowl, sift flour, baking soda, and salt. Add dry ingredients to butter-sugar-egg mixture, and mix well.

Melt the chocolate and butterscotch pieces in a double boiler or in a small bowl over a pan of gently simmering water. Cool slightly.

Divide dough into four pieces, for manageability. Dough will be very soft and a bit sticky. Lightly flour a length of parchment paper and roll dough into an oblong, approximately 1/4-inch thick, though thicker works too. Spread melted chocolate/butterscotch on dough and roll as jelly roll, using parchment to form log. Wrap log in plastic and carefully (dough is still soft and now rather floppy) place in refrigerator to chill for at least 2 hours, though dough can be chilled overnight.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Slice cookie logs 1/4-inch thick and place on ungreased cookie sheet. You will need to use a light pressure to work knife through the solidified chocolate. Don't fret if the slice crumbles—you can reconstitute on cookie sheet. Bake 9-12 minutes.

best remedy for midweek crisis

2008-12-09T20:30:00.000-08:00

Recently, while suffering from a midweek cooking crisis, we fell back on an old reliable—simmer sauce. You know, ye olde vegetables and meat cooked in a jarred sauce. Trader Joe’s makes a decent Indian-style korma sauce that, I realize, would be a total heresy to anyone who reveres Indian food. What can I say? We were tired and uninspired, so I cubed some chicken, mandolined a fat carrot that I had been hording from my last farmers market haul, and threw in some tender tiny peas, then napped it with a jar of sauce. In the time it took to steam some basmati rice, dinner slowly bubbled to completion, practically cooking itself. I could only have been happier if I'd had some kheer.

But an overwhelming guilt cloud hung over the stove when I realized what a cheat I’d been. The only way to remedy the situation was to complicate the meal and cook a vegetable side. Completely from scratch. Enter Madhur Jaffrey's quick and easy recipes and a head of cabbage. In only fifteen or twenty minutes, I had a meltingly soulful, slightly more authentic, and utterly satisfying cabbage dish.

I love this preparation and ate nearly the entire bowl by myself. It’s soft and savory and tangy, reminding me of a beloved German staple, rot kohl. The following recipe is pretty flexible. Don’t sweat it if you don’t have all the seeds. You could certainly use a half teaspoon or so ground cumin. You could even skip the onion. But absolutely do not omit the lemon juice or the garam masala*, the Indian spice mixture that varies in composition from kitchen to kitchen. Both are crucial in making this a transcendent cabbage.

Also, as the next set of holidays approach, I think this Indian-spiced cabbage would wonderfully complement traditional roasted meats, such as beef or pork, as well as all manner of roasted bird—turkey, goose, game hens, duck.

Stir-Fried Green Cabbage (Bhuni bandh gobi)
inspired by Madhur Jaffrey’s Quick and Easy Indian Cooking

1-1/2 pounds green cabbage (half a large head)
1/4 cup grapeseed oil
3/4 tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp fennel seeds
1 medium red onion, cut lengthwise in thin slices
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
2 T fresh lemon juice
heaping 1/2 teaspoon garam masala*

Remove the cabbage's tough outer leaves. Cut head in half, then cut in half again. Remove core. Put the oil in a large saute pan and set over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, put in the seeds and heat for a few minutes. Add onion. Stir fry for 3 to 4 minutes or until the onion has browned a bit. Put in the cabbage. Stir until the cabbage too has softened and browned a bit, about 6 minutes. Add the salt and cayenne. Turn down the heat to medium-low and cook, stirring occasionally, for another 7 to 8 minutes or until the onions appear caramelized and soft. Mix in the lemon juice and garam masala, and serve.

*I use Penzey's garam masala, which is a blend of coriander, black peppercorns, cardamom, cinnamon, caraway, cloves, ginger, nutmeg, and kalonji (nigella).

odds and ends

2008-11-30T19:54:00.000-08:00

As is becoming the habit, rather than the exception, I have some photos that capture a few of the many wonderful meals eaten chez H&S. Wonderful meals that somehow went undocumented blogside. Above, a bright-eyed Beta realizes a dream come true: watching Saji-Ya's sushi chef make a plate of sushi (tekka maki, tobiko, ikura—no kidding, this kid is crazy about fish eggs) that he didn't have to share with anyone.

This was one of the moistest chickens I have ever roasted. I stuffed the free range, organic beast's cavity with lemon, a head of garlic, and whatever thyme, rosemary, and oregano could be salvaged from my garden pots (they'd survived a freeze, which I took as a sign). Next, the entire bird was given a thin veneer of melted butter, liberally salted and peppered, and roasted for an hour at 400 degrees, while surrounded by olive oil-slathered onions, fingerling potatoes, carrots, and turnips (my veggie discovery of the fall, btw). The sweet caramelized onions were my favorite.

Beef shanks, a fraction of veal shanks' price—and, with a big, beefy taste. These were browned in olive oil and removed from the Dutch oven. Veggies (carrots, onions, celery) were sauteed and browned bits were scraped up before the shanks were reintroduced. A combination of port, hearty red wine (a cab), and beef stock covered the meat and vegetables. Lid on pot, the whole thing braised in a low oven for three hours. We topped the shredded meat with a horseradish-spiked creme fraiche and served in a mashed potato nest.

Here is the best souvenir of a braised beef and mashed potatoes dinner—Shepherd's Pie, which we've led our boys to believe is our Official Family Dish. And, as Shepherd's Pie is notoriously difficult to photograph while plated—too many browns and whites, not enough oranges and greens—I thought I'd offer a cross-section. This Pyrex 9x13 baker is one of the most-used items in our kitchen.

Ending on a sweet note. On the right is a perfect pumpkin muffin specimen. It comes from Bread and Chocolate, a local St. Paul bakery, and is only available for a limited run in the fall. If memory serves correct, B&C stops offering them after Thanksgiving, which would be a shame as I have yet to reproduce a pumpkin muffin that even comes close. The anemic-colored muffin on the left was baked from the recipe on the Whole Food's 365 pumpkin puree can. Yes, I know. You get what you pay for, or something like that. I will refrain from describing how it tasted. It did not taste rich and pumpkiny and spicy. It did not taste like fall. Fortunately I never tire of B&C's pumpkin muffins. In fact, I'm planning to petition the bakery to offer them year round. Until such time, I have a recipe to perfect!

weekend update

2008-11-23T19:25:00.000-08:00

Friday dinner—olive-oil broiled Atlantic salmon on a bed of French lentils with Elliot's Northwoods bacon, carrots, fennel, celery, and a splash of red-wine vinegar. The salmon was perfectly cooked, flaky and moist. But the lentils were my favorite part of the meal. Thankfully I have leftovers that will be adorned with a runny-yolk fried egg.

Saturday dinner—Finally, an opportunity to satisfy a hankering for serious roasted pork. We entertained on Saturday night and, in a highly unusual move, ordered food in. Well, we ordered in part of our food—specifically, 12-hour roasted local heritage Berkshire pork from Brasa. I'm sure I have failed to sufficiently rave about Brasa, Alex Roberts' casual rotisserie, but the food—tender fall-apart pork, spicy tender fall-apart beef, or rotisserie chicken—is beyond superlatives. It's all local. Organic, when possible. If you go to Brasa, as you should, you'll be presented with a list of Southern-style sides that include fried yucca, garnet yams with andouille sausage, baking powder biscuits, a fancy coleslaw, and collard greens. We made our own sides: braised greens (enormous Swiss chard leaves) and my mother-in-law's grits souffle. Best part—we have extra pork for sandwiches. I'm thinking chipotle aioli and pickled red onions will go nicely with the salty, smoky meat, piled high on a sweet, soft bun.

Reason to live #111: Roberts is in far-from-final negotiations over a St. Paul, Grand Avenue location. If it happens, I may never eat anything else again.

Sunday breakfast—While I fried up the remaining Elliot's thick-cut bacon, Beta made the scrambled eggs. With only a little guidance, he cracked the eggs, beat them with a whisk, seasoned with salt and pepper, and added grated cheese. I turned on the burner for Beta, and he did the rest, slowly cooking the eggs over low heat. I am soooo lucky that my boys like to cook. They're good cooks, too. These eggs are creamier than I can manage. I put Salsa Lisa mild on mine. We also ate the banana bread that Beta and I baked yesterday. The recipe is a highly modified version of Mark Bittman's from How to Cook Everything. It's a super-moist loaf with nuts (we used walnuts) and coconut. Though they are completely unnecessary, we embellished with mini Tollhouse morsels.

Sunday dinner—Tomatoes, fennel, lemon slices, garlic, white wine, a healthy amount of olive oil, and a little water comprised a braising liquid for halibut. I'm fixating on how red the tomato skin appears in this photo, and what a contrast it provides to the crispy white flesh. I know this isn't what tomatoes are supposed to look like, and it's not surprising that they didn't contribute much. Note to self: as we wait for July to roll round again, use canned tomatoes or skip. The best part of the braising liquid was the olive oil, white wine, and lemon. Green olives would have made a nice addition.

Countdown to Thanksgiving

2008-11-20T12:23:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is a week away, and I have no idea what I’m making. It's okay—this isn't a panic since we’re having dinner with friends Steve and Lisa, at their house. No need to worry over brining, salting, smoking, deep-frying, or stuffing the turkey. Even though I'd like to, I don’t have to plan an entire meal this year. Even so, I'm fully armed with the current issues of Bon Appetit, Gourmet, Martha Stewart Living, Saveur, and Food and Wine, as well as an inch-thick folder, filled with clippings from previous years' issues of same.

I have too many choices, and it's a bit overwhelming. I don't know where to start. Fortunately, I only need to pick one side to pass and one dessert.

If you're eight days out and still need to formulate a menu, go straight to one of the online Thanksgiving meal guides:
epicurious
Star Tribune
Food and Wine
New York Times, especially Bittman's take on sweet potatoes and Melissa Clark's leftover ideas.

If you live in the vicinity of St. Paul and Minneapolis, hie thee to uber-butcher, Clancey’s for foodstuffs to make your menu special:

confit of duck hearts & gizzards, ginger spiced duck jerky, cherry wood smoked duck breasts.

silky squash soup, squid & shellfish soup, winter veal stew.

goat cheese truffles, poached gulf shrimp, rabbit liver pate.

alder smoked trout, apple wood smoked scallops, hickory smoked whole herring.

fresh turkeys, turkey gravy, turkey stock.

cranberry relish & sauce, potato gratin, traditional stuffing.

it's all roasting and rolling now...

and always good at clancey's.

Or, let my friends Amy and Heidi—the sass-tastic Chowgirls—make some or all of your meal. Their Brussels Sprouts Gratin ("smothered in melty blue cheese"), Sweet Potato Souffle, and 18-pound, maple syrup brined turkey, among others, will make a worthy addition to your feast.

Now back to planning that side dish and dessert...

(photo credit: Lisa Peardon/Getty Images)

Bet you can't eat just one

2008-11-01T18:11:00.000-07:00

Beta and I had a few hours to ourselves this afternoon. Hambone is in Houston visiting his father. Alpha was off meeting the Beastie Boys at an Obama rally (the video evidence is stunning!). Casting about for things to do that would keep us from lounging in front of the telly, gorging on Halloween candy, I walked into the den and tripped on two pumpkins that we'd purchased days ago but hadn't yet carved.

True confession: I've never carved a pumpkin. We're not going to go into the whys and wherefores of that travesty. And, by the looks of the finished products, I've got a lot to learn about finessing a knife through a thick-skinned pumpkin. But, we mostly bought the pumpkins because Beta requested roasted seeds. Carving faces just helped us kill time while the seeds were doing in the oven. Mind you, I've never roasted seeds either. Let's just say it was my genius move of the day.

I'm sure you could find countless techniques and recipes by doing an online search, but this is the method we employed. In a colander, rinse guts from seeds. Line a baking sheet (or as many as are necessary) with a double thickness of paper towels, then pour out the seeds, arranging them in a single layer. Blot as much moisture from the seeds as possible. Pour olive oil into a medium-size bowl (about 1 T. per cup of seeds). Add seeds and toss, sprinkling with salt. This is a good time to season with herbs or spices. Many combinations would be stunning: prepared or home-concocted curry or garam masala, za'atar, sumac berries, cayenne, cayenne and scant brown sugar, fresh-chopped thyme or rosemary. The possibilities really are endless. (N.B.: Roast in 350 degree F oven for 20-30 minutes.)

Beta and I made three batches of seeds. I found it easiest to toss seeds, oil, and seasonings in cake pans, and then do the roasting in them. This method proved to be a space saver in the oven, as well. We did plain kosher salt, curry and cayenne, and maple pepper from Golden Fig, a local fancy-food purveyor.

Quite frankly, I can't stop eating the maple-pepper version, which instantly achieved the status Ultimate Nibble up to This Point in 2008. It's salty and has a peppery sting, tempered by sweetness from the maple sugar. Stunning.

And as for Beta. He agreed the maple-pepper seeds were good. Then he singlehandedly inhaled the simply salted morsels.

October highlights

2008-10-31T18:01:00.000-07:00

My most significant food-related highlight of October has to be gorging on fun-size Midnight Milky Ways. Okay, I’m joking. I do adore the dark chocolate and the stiffer, less caramel-tasting fondant of this Milky Way version, but I only ate one, which absolutely does not count as gorging. Unless you’re on the Sonoma Diet.

Hambone and Spice, each feeling a little tubby of late, decided to stop casting fate to the wind and follow an eating plan with the goal of losing weight. A few years ago I bought the book, The Sonoma Diet (SD), a low-carb, high-protein diet. It was appealing to me on a few levels. One, it's not as austere as the South Beach Diet (though I get a kick out of SD’s precisely calculated snacks, e.g., 11 almonds). Two, I thought it had decent-looking recipes, with ingredients and preparations that seemed familiar and accessible that could easily find a way into our repertoire.

For a few weeks of October, we were sort of on the Sonoma Diet. I tried really hard to follow the plan, but it didn’t take long to realize the absurdity of dieting. Besides, we were eating so many eggs and the cuts of meat were expensive and I could go on (and on) about how despicable I find prescribed diets. But dear Hambone has better results following a diet and thought SD would be a good way to establish portion control and to focus on healthy, limited snacking. He wasn't wrong. I’m pleased to report that, chez H&S, we each shed a few much-needed pounds.

Consequently, though, blogging suffered. Not that we’re about decadence or restaurant-quality-only food for every meal, but I struggled a lot with how we were eating and didn’t feel like airing my frustrations here. I just don't find them that interesting. In retrospect, our meals were less interesting. We cut way back on the amount of wine we were drinking, and many bottles went to waste as we’re not accustomed to deoxygenating them for longer life. And, I didn’t take any photos of our meals—just didn’t feel like it.

Suffice it to say, we’ve put the diet into perspective, focusing on grains, tons of vegetables, and lean protein for our meals. Isn’t this the way we’re supposed to be eating anyhow? We certainly feel better for it. Maybe you’ll hear about some of the repeat-worthy recipes in future blog posts.

Nonetheless, I made two discoveries this month about which I’m pretty excited. The first discovery bears mentioning in this post: broiling. Many living situations ago (1891 Grand and 2010 Marshall, respectively), we had old gas ovens with broiler drawers. The broiling element was under the main cooking chamber, in the spot where many ovens have kickplates. And, instead of a heated coil, the broiler utilized a flame for cooking at high temperature. We broiled steaks a fair amount when we had ovens with broilers on the bottom. Our current oven has a broiler, comprised of heated coils, at the top of the oven, and I have never seen fit to figure out how best to use it. Just this year, I learned how to comfortably broil fish without setting it on fire.

When the SD asked us to grill various dinner entrees, I decided, since we’ve already stored the grill for the winter, that I would, once and for all, master the broiler. We made a fantastic spice-rubbed flank steak this way, as well as sirloin-cherry tomato-mushroom kebabs, and maple-soy–glazed salmon fillets. The key is to turn on the oven's light and watch. If the food starts smoking and has nice browning, move the rack down a notch and finish cooking there for a few more minutes. Your broilables will still get the full advantage of high heat without being so close to the heating element as to ignite. I think I’m about ready to tackle butterflied pork tenderloin, as well as other fish varieties.

The month wasn’t a total wash, after all.

and why not?

2008-10-15T17:42:00.000-07:00

For my birthday this year, I baked myself a cake. It just seemed the right thing to do since I have a little extra time on my hands. I also have a big, fat file folder of desserts, many of which are tempting layer cakes, but I’ve needed a good opportunity of bake one. And, what better opportunity than one’s birthday?

When faced with such an opportunity, how to begin narrowing down the choices? A few days before my birthday, I pulled out the dessert folder and looked at every single clipping, selecting those that most piqued my interest. Cheesecake-Marbled Brownies. Pumpkin-Spice Bundt Cake with Buttermilk Icing. Flourless Chocolate-Hazelnut Cake. Chocolate-Ginger Cake with Bourbon Sauce. Double Chocolate Layer Cake. Spiced-Pumpkin Cake. To name a few candidates.

Then I conducted an informal survey on my Facebook page, asking friends to cast a vote for chocolate, pumpkin spice, or red velvet. Many weighed in for red velvet; one friend suggested I make all three, which I would if I had the time or could afford the calories. In the end, the season dictated baking Spiced-Pumpkin Cake, promising warming flavors and a sweet cream-cheese frosting.

I found the recipe a year ago, in Bon Appetit, and it has waited patiently in a burgeoning file folder. Cake batters are easy to whip up, and this one was no exception. In addition to the typical cake ingredients—flour, sugar, eggs—this recipe has abundant spices, including ground ginger, allspice, nutmeg, and a full tablespoon of cinnamon. In addition to pumpkin puree, the cake gets a flavor boost from raisins and coconut. I’m sure they contributed additional moistness and a little toothsomeness, but I omitted the raisins—too sweet.

Learning: I used two cake pans, as the recipe suggested. However, there was enough batter for three pans, and I would do that next time to avoid the fat layers I had with two. Also, three layers would help to use every last bit of the delectable, bourbon-laced frosting.

It should go without saying that the house smelled amazing as the cake baked. And, I think the next time the house is feeling stuffy and smelling a little musty, I’m going to bake a cake for instant air freshening.

Happy birthday to me, indeed.

September Highlights

2008-09-30T12:40:00.000-07:00

A few Hambone and Spice good eats from the month that straddles grill season and braising season:

lunch at Jay's Cafe: beef-carrot-potato-parsnip pasty; butter-braised cabbage; house greens

Dinner with Tracy and the Jills at 112 Eatery: My iPhone, sans flash, didn't quite capture the beauty of this grilled salmon fillet, served on Isaac Becker's pillow-soft pan-fried gnocchi, which had been tossed in an almond pesto. Stunning dish. My friends and I shared (not pictured) more pan-fried gnocchi, prawns with rooster mayo, Chinese-fried eggs, and tres leche cake, all of which are house specialties.

My first stab at a rustic tart. The sweet dough recipe I used was quite forgiving. The nectarines and Michigan blueberries were at their peak sweetness so I used very little sugar (there's a dusting of sugar/nutmeg/pulverized pecans under the fruit). Easy and fun. I look forward to making more tarts—plums beckon, as do apples and pears.

Hambone and Spice reprised all the delectable lobster feasts we savored midsummer in Maine. We invited friends Colin and Helena, and Dave and Sarah, to BYOL(obster), which we had been talking about doing for ages. In addition to fine company and delicious side dishes (coleslaw, an Alice Waters' tomato-green bean salad, corn on the cob), steaming lobsters gave me an opportunity to use Hambone's Christmas gift—a gleaming and h-u-g-e AllClad stockpot.

After company left our BYOL party, I scavenged the shells for meat, while Hambone kindly dismantled the extra lobster we had purchased. Around midnight, I heated olive oil in a stockpot, then sweated onions in the oil until translucent. Bay leaves, peppercorns, and fresh thyme sprigs went into the pot, followed by the shells from four or five lobsters. I added water to cover and brought to a boil, then placed lid on the pot, lowered the heat, and simmered for two hours. I hesistate to suggest that the movie we watched (Sunshine, with original script by Alex Garland) was part of the formula, but it did take our minds off the wait. The next night, lobster stock formed the base of a stellar lobster risotto. Would that I always had an extra lobster lying about...

I have had intentions to eat at the Harbor View Cafe, in Pepin, Wisconsin, since hearing friends and strangers, alike, rave about this restaurant. Pepin is only 90 minutes from the Twin Cities, yet, because it's achingly scenic and blissfully quiet, it seems a world away. Opportunity knocks: My mother and sister visited me last weekend and requested a day trip. We spent the better part of Sunday driving down the Mississippi on Route 35, then had a memorable dinner at the Harbor View. Pictured above is the summer cassoulet. Even though this version had no duck confit. Sacrebleu, I know! How can you have cassoulet without duck confit? Also, the cassoulet was deconstructed and looked messy. My best memories of cassoulet pivot on the way the ingredients—the beans, the garlic sausage, the duck—melt together. This is the definition of unctuous. Really! I looked the word up at m-w.com. All was forgiven the minute I ate a chunk of that lamb sausage, stuffed right in the Harbor View's kitchen by Adam. Seriously, this sausage, a near embodiment of perfection, was juicy and steamy and adroitly seasoned. New standards have been set for cassoulets consumed outside of only the most French restaurants—a bed of beans, napped in their liquor and topped by the best sausage and slow-cooked vegetables (tomatoes, onions, bell peppers). Sublime.

menu planning

2008-09-15T20:16:00.000-07:00

I am a consummate list-maker, so it should come as no surprise that the ultimate list for me is the weekly menu. For years, I have plotted our meals in a notebook, which allows me to stay organized and ensure that groceries are completely consumed. My notebook of choice is a standard 8-1/2x11, narrow rule (I’m a Rhodia junkie). The full-size pages are ideal for a month of menus, which are entered on the right-hand side. On the left, I can make a reference list of recipes from magazines and cookbooks, as well as a record of the raw materials (farmers market haul, grains taking up space in the pantry, and so on) at my disposal.

Going through old notebooks has given me a great glimpse into our eating trends and favorite foods.

Recently, we painted a column in our kitchen with blackboard paint. I thought this would be a good place for the family to leave messages and reminders, but, as you can see, we posted lists. Comically, Hambone's last item on the "Weekend To Do" is "develop [cycling] training diet," which abuts the first item on Spice's dinner menu.

The list below the dinner menu is Alpha and Beta's "LEGO wish list." Sigh.

weekend review, september 13-14

2008-09-14T20:24:00.000-07:00

Hambone and Spice had a spectacularly foodie weekend.

Saturday, 9/13
One of the ultimate gestures of friendship is when someone cooks a meal for you. Having your belly filled with food that was prepared with care and love is so satisfying. And, being presented with a meal allows you to see a more personal side to your friend than what you might witness if you were eating together in a restaurant.

So, on Saturday night, it was with pleasure that we let our friends Tracy and Bill cook for us. Tracy, who has a knack for assembling a great cheese plate, kicked off the pre-dinner nibbles with a few cow’s milk cheeses from Iowa (one alpine style, one cheddar), as well as a pungent blue cheese (origins unknown). Bill had recently embarked upon a canning bender, putting by the beautiful fruits from his yard and vegetables from his garden, and we enjoyed his pickled wax beans. Bill also fired up one of his many grills, a put on some olive oil, garlic, and red pepper flake–marinated shrimp on skewers. Dinner was a seemingly simple “stew” of shrimp and mussels that was powerfully delicious. The seafood and a flavorful tomato-based broth were ladled over nutty Indonesian black rice. Tracy also makes a mean vinaigrette, which dressed an elegant mixed-greens. Port and more blue cheese followed as a meal-ender.

Sunday, 9/14
On our way to Alpha’s soccer match in Woodbury, we stopped at the St. Paul Farmers Market, where, well into September, the produce continues to dazzle. Tomatoes, potatoes, zucchini, corn, melons, and greens are still around, but cauliflower, broccoli, winter squashes, and apples are making an appearance, as well. Peppers have never been a great love of mine, but the market’s green bell peppers on this morning were so vibrant, plump, and unblemished that I couldn’t refuse them.

Almost every ingredient in our evening meal—except the rice and the cheese (and the ketchup)—was local. The ground bison came from Big Woods Bison; the tomatoes, garlic, onion, green peppers, and the herbs from my patio garden—all came from the farmers market. Also, in a bit of handy kitchen recycling, I was able to use rice that was leftover from a meal earlier in the week.

Bison-Stuffed Peppers
serves four

4 medium bell peppers, top, seeds, and ribs removed
1 T. olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
1 pound ground bison
1 tsp. fresh thyme, minced
1 tsp. fresh sage, minced
1 tsp. fresh oregano, minced
2 garlic cloves, minced
salt and pepper
3 medium tomatoes, chopped and drained (reserve liquid)
1 cup rice, cooked
1/2 cup manchego cheese, grated, plus extra for tops
1/4 cup ketchup (or tomato paste)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Bring large pot of salted water to a boil.

In a large skillet, gently heat olive oil. Over medium-high heat, sauté onion until transparent, five to eight minutes. Crumble ground bison into onion, and season with thyme, sage, oregano, garlic, a tsp. salt, and 1/2 tsp. pepper. When no pink remains in the meat, approximately eight to ten minutes, add tomatoes and cook another few minutes.

Meanwhile, carefully place bell peppers in boiling salted water and submerge. Parboil peppers for three to four minutes, then remove. Drain, cut-side down, on a paper towel–lined baking sheet. When cool enough to handle, arrange peppers in a baking dish. They should fit snuggly so as not to tip and spill during baking.

Add rice to bison-onion-tomato mixture and heat through, about five minutes. Stir in cheese. Taste and adjust seasoning. Take pan off heat. Gently spoon filling into peppers. Stir ketchup into reserved tomato juice; ladle this sauce over peppers. Top with shredded cheese. Bake in oven for 30 minutes.

favorite late-summer pasta

2008-09-11T18:54:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite ways to celebrate summer’s bounty is with this pasta. It’s about the only one-dish meal we make in the summer, opting to do most of our cooking on the grill. But now that the weather is starting to take a turn for the cooler, damper days of fall, I’m trying to eke out the best summer ingredients, especially those that we’re still able to find at the weekend farmers' market.

I first made this pasta a few years ago. My in-laws were visiting, and, much to my chagrin, I hadn’t planned our meals before their arrival. It’s not often that I am able to whip up a meal based on ingredients that are kicking around the fridge. Heck, I’m not even ashamed to admit to the foodies that I seek almost all my inspiration from the recipes I find in magazines, cookbooks, and the blogsphere. But, in this instant I didn’t have time to plug “tomatoes” and “corn” into my favorite recipe search engine to see what it would reveal.

We had been to the farmers' market earlier in the day so I had at hand fresh-picked corn on the cob, vibrantly green zucchini, and plump-ripe tomatoes. I made quick work of dicing a few of each with the intention of sautéing in olive oil and butter. As I trimmed the vegetables, I mulled how best to feature my "ragout." As a bed for quick oven-roasted fish? As a topping for slabs of grilled bread? Gently stirred into risotto? Each had so much potential, but were a bit labor-intensive for the moment. And then it came to me like so many brilliant discoveries (wink!): pasta. Fortunately I had orecchiette—a cupped shape up to the task of cradling this chunky sauce—in the pasta cabinet.

It’s a simple recipe with room for a lot of flexibility. For example, you could add or replace vegetables with comparable cooking times, such as eggplant. Bacon fat lends a rich, complexity to this pasta. Cut thick-cut smoked bacon or pancetta into lardons. After slow cooking, reserve a tablespoon or so of fat for cooking vegetables, but save the meat for finishing the pasta. Any fresh herb brightens this dish nicely.

Favorite Late-Summer Pasta
serves 4

1 lb orecchiette (or similar shape, such as conchiglie)
1 T olive oil
1 T butter
1 shallot, minced
3 ears corn on the cob, kernels removed
3 sprigs fresh thyme,
1/4 cup white wine or stock
2 medium zucchini, diced
2 large ripe tomatoes, diced
generous pinch red pepper flakes
salt and pepper
parmesan cheese

Bring a large pot of well-salted water to boil while cutting and dicing vegetables.

In a large skillet over medium-high heat, warm olive oil and butter until incorporated. Sauté shallots until translucent, about 8 minutes. Stir in corn, and season with thyme, salt, and pepper. Cook for a few minutes. Add wine or stock and cover, reducing heat, for 5 minutes. Uncover and add zucchini and a generous pinch of red pepper flakes, stirring to combine. Cook another 5 minutes. Add diced tomato and cook until they start to release their juices and break down, approximately 5 minutes.

In the meantime, pour pasta into the boiling water and cook per package directions, about 10 minutes. Reserve 1/2 cup cooking liquid. Drain.

Combine pasta and sauce, tossing to coat and thinning with pasta cooking liquid, if necessary. Serve in shallow bowls with a healthy dose of grated parmesan.

menu: august 17-23

2008-08-17T23:51:00.000-07:00

sunday: restaurant (Spice to Grand Cafe, Hambone and boys to Sea Salt)
monday: mystic-thunder burgers, corn on the cob, green beans w/shallot-hazelnut vinaigrette
tuesday: favorite summer pasta w/bacon, corn, tomatoes, zucchini
wednesday: beer can chicken, roasted pebble-size red potatoes, tossed green salad
thursday: chicken-stuffed chili peppers (Rick Bayless, Mexico: One Plate at a Time)
friday: Sharon Jones at the Great Minnesota Get-together (possibly fair food)
saturday: camping (tbd)

Omnivore's Hundred

2008-08-14T20:59:00.000-07:00

I found this fun diversion at Last Night's Dinner, and I couldn't resist participating. You can play, too:

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results.

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison (growing up, my parents had a freezer full)
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses (at the source, Burgundy)
17. Black truffle
18. ~~Fruit wine made from something other than grapes~~
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. ~~Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper~~ (no gall bladder, no dice)
27. Dulce de leche (at the source, Argentina)
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar (no cigar)
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. ~~Whole insects~~
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. ~~Roadkill~~
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. ~~Spam~~
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

July eats

2008-07-31T23:09:00.000-07:00

Hambone and Spice are back from an incredible, restful, and fun vacation in Maine. On either side of that trip, we've grilled a ridiculous amount of delicious food—so much so that I haven't been able to keep up on the blog front. Better luck next month, heh? Here are some of the highlights from a fruitful July, including treats eaten on our trip.

Fusilli with Alaskan salmon, peas, and pesto cream (made from the basil growing in pots on our terrace).

House-cured gravlax that Will (brother-in-law visiting from Stockholm) and Helena (his wife) whipped up while in Maine. The leftover smoked salmon was tranformed stunningly into a pasta with peas and a cilantro-lime cream sauce.

Lobster roll with the perfect ratio of sweet meat to mayonnaise and a clam roll, at Lunts. Yes, that's a bottle of blueberry ale. When in Maine...

Four squares (clockwise from top left): roasted pebble-sized potatoes*; grilled lamb rib chops rubbed with cumin, coriander, cinnamon, allspice, s & p; Moroccan carrot salad with lemon, ginger, and spices (from Alice Waters' Art of Simple Food, which has been a staple chez H&S since it was published); grilled zucchini.

*all vegetables, courtesy of the St. Paul Farmers Market

And for dessert, cherry sorbet (from David Lebovitz's Perfect Scoop, another staple). True confession: a pit found its way, accidentally, sadly, into this batch of sorbet. My super-duper Waring blender made quick work of the stone, resulting in a minefield of a dessert. I highly recommend making a batch of this exquisite sorbet, and taking great care when the cherries are processed.

on vacation

2008-07-10T21:49:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow morning, Hambone and Spice—and their brood—are flying to Maine for a week. We hope to have quality family time that includes seeing siblings/in-laws and cousins, as well as eating our fair share of lobsters and blueberries. As I will be without a computer while away—horrors, I know—details about my trip will have to wait until my return.

Ciao!

puttanesca penne with salmon

2008-07-06T16:04:00.000-07:00

I’m terrible with leftovers. Generally speaking, I don’t like reheating food in a microwave. I find it always takes longer than I plan to warm food in the oven or on the stovetop so what comes to table is often cold in the middle. Granted, there are more than a few hearty one-pot wonders that make a nice lunch days after you’ve had the initial meal. Soups, stews, and thick-sauced pastas come to mind. I would never reject leftover Indian curries or Chinese take-out. These are the easy leftovers.

I hate wasting food and am loathe to throw out any that remains from a meal, which begs the questions: what, besides sandwiches, do you do with extra meat?

As I was planning the menu for the week, I took a peek into the fridge to see what raw materials I might have at my disposal. We entertained quite a bit over the previous weekend and had to creatively reorganize the fridge to accommodate extra groceries so I felt like I might have a lot of options.

The vegetable crisper was playing host to a zippered plastic bag with roughly half a pound of cooked penne. My first thought was to recreate the Bolognese sauce Anne Burrell made on her pilot Food Network show, but I haven’t actually watched the episode. Besides, when the temperature is hovering above 80 degrees, a heavy meaty pasta sauce is not what I want to eat. Grilled vegetables and pesto were briefly considered, then rejected because I couldn’t find a way to make them appealing to the junior set.

Then, I stumbled upon the container boasting nearly half a pound of grilled spice-rubbed Copper River salmon, leftover from earlier in the week. A quick internet search gave me the inspiration I needed to transform the penne and salmon leftovers into a wholly new—and delicious—dish. Inspired by a puttanesca sauce, I substituted salmon for anchovies, allowing the salmon to be warmed gently in a simmering olive-caper-garlic-laden tomato sauce.

I look forward to the occasion on which I am, again, blessed with extra salmon.

puttanesca penne with salmon
2 T. olive oil, plus a measure for finishing
3 cloves garlic, sliced
1 (15 oz.) can whole tomatoes, chopped, liquid reserved
1/3 cup kalamata olives, chopped
3 T. capers
a generous pinch of red pepper flakes
1 T. tomato paste
salt and pepper
1/2 pound cooked pasta, room temperature
1/2 pound cooked salmon, crumbled
a few fresh basil leaves, chiffonade

Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Sauté sliced garlic in the olive oil briefly, until just turning golden. Add tomatoes, olives, capers, and red pepper flakes. Turn heat down to medium and allow to simmer for five minutes, occasionally breaking up tomato pieces. Stir in the reserved tomato juice and tomato paste. Taste sauce and season with salt, if necessary. Incorporate cooked salmon into sauce, then add cooked pasta and toss to coat. Heat gently until salmon is warmed through. Plate and drizzle with good-quality olive oil. Garnish with basil ribbons.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! M.F.K. Fisher

2008-07-03T13:33:00.000-07:00

Few would argue against the wide-held belief that M.F.K. Fisher was the greatest food writer or that she effectively established the culinary essay as a genre.

I first encountered M.F.K. Fisher in 1989, while working as a professional bookseller. The bookstore where I was employed gave me a section to maintain: cookbooks. My first thought was that the assignment was a serious mistake—I didn't cook. Why should I be expected to become an expert on cookbooks if I didn't use them?

I'm here to tell you that, in any self-respecting independent bookstore, there's more to the cooking section than cookbooks. So I didn't cook, but I did love to eat, and the culinary essay subsection whetted my appetite for any author with the sort of descriptive powers to make me feel like I was eating a fine meal. Enter M.F.K. Fisher.

Shortly after a trip to Burgundy in 1998, I lost myself in Long Ago in France, her memoir of living in Dijon, which took me right back to the France I had just visited. Still I had not read her food writing, despite owning most of it. For years, The Art of Eating, the massive multiwork volume of M.F.K. Fisher's early food writing, has been taunting from the foodie shelves of my personal library. This morning, in honor of Fisher's birthday, I pulled down AoE and dipped into Consider the Oyster (1941):

There are three kinds of oyster-eaters: those loose-minded sports who will eat anything, hot, cold, thin, thick, dead or alive, as long as it is oyster; those who will eat them raw and only raw; and those who with equal severity will eat them cooked and no way other.

and

There are several things to do with oysters beside eat them, although many people believe firmly in that as the most sensible course.

I'm hooked on her lavish descriptions of food, her presentation of the social, historical, cultural, and political aspects of food, as well as her personal experiences and observations.

Here is Garrison Keillor's very brief tribute from "The Writers Almanac":

It's the birthday of food writer M.F.K. Fisher, (books by this author) born Mary Frances Kennedy in Albion, Michigan (1908). She's the author of many books about food and eating, and best known for The Gastronomical Me (1943). During World War II, she published How to Cook a Wolf (1942), which suggested all kinds of ways people could eat well on food rations. She wrote, "When the wolf is at the door one should invite him in and have him for dinner.

You can read more about M.F.K. Fisher here and here, as well as at the Chicago Tribune, which offers a fitting tribute on her 100th birthday.

Kebab of the Week: Refrigerator Raid

2008-06-25T21:39:00.000-07:00

This week’s kebabs were born, basically and simply, out of a lesson in frugality. It’s only midweek but it has been a busy week, and I didn’t feel like thinking about the optimal meat/vegetable combination for our skewers, nor did I want to put much effort into researching the most delicious imaginable marinade.

Clearing out our full-to-bursting refrigerator is always a priority so I raided the veggie bin, hoping it would turn up some serviceable goods. What good luck to find yellow summer squash, a yellow bell pepper, and a red onion. Roughly one-inch chunks of these vegetables were threaded loosely on skewers with same-size pieces of chicken breast that had been marinated briefly in white wine (the last three fingers from the previous night’s dinner), olive oil, fresh thyme, and salt and pepper.

While Hambone manned the grill I made some rice and a batch of chimichurri, rescuing a head of parsley and dregs of cilantro.

reading: Shark's Fin and Sichuan Pepper

2008-06-13T13:42:00.000-07:00

Recently I finished reading Shark’s Fin and Sichuan Pepper, British food writer Fuchsia Dunlop’s delectable memoir of eating in China. The Guardian called this book a “cultural immersion,” which is apt, as the memoir entails much more than food.

Beginning in the early 1990s, Dunlop lived in China, off and on, for over a decade. As a student—and as a professional writer—she has traveled to remote corners of the country, engaging every person she could in conversation. That rich experience certainly imbues her writing with great depth. Between descriptions of food and meals, Dunlop dazzles with history, geography, modernization, growth, and more.

In the early 1990s, Dunlop lands in Chengdu in Sichuan province—the area recently devastated by earthquakes—where she researched Chinese policy on ethnic minorities. She falls for street food, as well as the incendiary food of Sichuan province and the snout to tail eating of China. When her visa expires, she enrolls in a professional training school for chefs, as the only Western student and one of three women.

As a student of Sichuan cookery, Dunlop learned about mastering the arts of flavor, starting with fu he wei, the complex flavors. Sichuan cuisine boasts twenty-three official complex flavors, one of which is “home-style”—salty, savory, and a little hot. In her travels, she had an opportunity to challenge her culinary comfort zone by eating a lot of truly exotic foods, including civet cats, goose intestines, and more. The chapter on food textures and mouth-feel—an integral part of Chinese cooking—is eye opening.

All is not delicious. Dunlop explores the SARS health crises, which temporarily put a damper on eating in restaurants, where the risk of disease transmittal was high, especially with such practices as “public” chopsticks. She also looks at other issues, such as food safety (use of toxic food additives is rampant) and the controversial consumption of endangered species (shark’s fin and bear paws, to name a few).
In addition to Shark's Fin, Dunlop has written two authoritative cookbooks, one of which—Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook—was nominated for a James Beard Award (Asian Cooking) this year.

If you’re interested in China, food, or travel—or if you simply appreciate sparkling prose—this book is for you.

nibbles

2008-06-11T08:39:00.000-07:00

~ The redesigned website for City Pages, the Twin Cities alternative weekly, is live. Best part—the food blog, Twin Cities Eater, is more prominent and more attractive. I encourage you to check it out. Also, Rachel Hutton reviews Obento-Ya this week. Must. Eat. There. Soon.

~ Fueling my summer passion, the Pioneer Press (by way of syndication) offers kebab recipes.

~ At the Star Tribune, Rick Nelson interviews Catherine Friend, the Zumbrota (MN) author of The Compassionate Carnivore, a meat-lover’s handbook to eating local (no matter where you live).
~ 2008 James Beard Award winners have been announced. None of our outstanding Minneapolis chefs (Isaac Becker of 112 Eatery, Tim McKee of La Belle Vie, and Alex Roberts of Alma and Brasa) won in the Best Chef Midwest category. Still I’ve thoroughly enjoyed re-reading the list of nominees, adding restaurants and cookbooks to my lengthy to-do lists. Dara weighs in on the awards with an insider's perspective.

Kebab of the Week: Barefoot Contessa's lamb kebabs

2008-06-04T20:21:00.000-07:00

Kebabs are summer’s perfect one-dish meal. There’s nothing easier than skewering succulent chunks of meat and jewel-toned vegetables (or just vegetables, if you’re so inclined) on a stick. Few foods are quicker to prepare and cook. Typically, about five minutes of cooking time on the first side, then a flip of the skewer for five more minutes; less time if you’re using fish or seafood. Plus, there are infinite combinations of skewerables, which keeps the summer menu lively.

We’ve had best results when meat can be marinated overnight, though any amount of time will do. A quick brushing of a high-quality oil and a liberal sprinkling of salt and pepper can coax great flavor out of meat and vegetables, too.

This year for Mother's Day, oldest son Alpha thoughtfully gave me a copy of Ina Garten’s Barefoot Contessa at Home because he knows I enjoy watching her show. As we were flipping through the gorgeously illustrated cookbook, the lamb kebabs caught our eye. Two nights ago we seized the opportunity to make the red wine vinaigrette in order to marinate the lamb, and last night we grilled. The meat was tender and flavorful, enhanced by bathing in marinade. I cannot wait until lamb comes into the kebab rotation again. Garten's recipe includes a side sauce—stock, lemon juice, olive oil, and a pinch of rosemary, quickly brought to a boil and reduced—which we ran out of time to make. We may try it in the future, but we didn’t miss it this time round.

Lamb Kebabs
adapted from Barefoot Contessa at Home

1-1/2 pounds top round lamb
2-3 garlic cloves, minced
1 T fresh rosemary, minced
1 T fresh oregano, minced
olive oil
1/4 cup dry red wine
2 T red wine vinegar
salt and pepper
red onion, cut into 1 to 2-inch pieces
cherry tomatoes

Cut the lamb into 1-1/2-inch cubes. Place cubes in a large zippered plastic bag. Make marinade by combing garlic, rosemary, oregano, 1/4 cup olive oil, red wine, vinegar, and salt (to taste). Cover lamb with marinade, and refrigerate overnight.

Heat and prepare grill, per your custom.

Loosely thread lamb on skewer, alternating every few cubes with onion pieces. Thread the cherry tomatoes on skewers. Brush with olive oil. Season both sets of skewers with salt and pepper. Place the lamb skewers on the hot grill. After 5 minutes, turn the lamb. Add the tomato skewers to the grill for five minutes.

Serve the skewers on a bed of couscous or rice.

love clancey's

2008-05-30T14:50:00.000-07:00

The last time I visited Clancey's, the Linden Hills meat and fish market, I signed up for their e-mail list. Now, I love Clancey's for many reasons, chief among them: it's a small, independent business; the owners are friendly and interested in how you're going to use the goods they've just sold to you; the meat is of the highest quality, as local as possible; the store is dog-friendly (I don't have a dog, but I get a kick out of watching the owners sneak ground beef to visiting dogs). The house-made sausages are to die for!

But who needs more e-mail clogging up the ether? I guess I do if it arrives each week with flair.

it’s in the air, and

it’s almost a summer wind;

warm enough to garden in the rain,

ideal for added heat from the grill…

so come to clancey’s:

we’ve got lamb (all cuts) and a killer garlic & yogurt marinade

we’ve got all cuts of beef (try our kebabs), chicken (try it on the grill, halved & under a brick), pork (smoke some), halibut cheeks (yum),

all kinds of sausages (that beef, blue cheese & cherry

w/ surly bender is pretty special);

invite some warmth into the weekend, some friends & neighbors into your backyard and welcome some significant change:

in the weather, in the wind, in the overall climate of

everything that matters

buy good food

from good farmers

every tiny bit

makes a difference!

love clancey’s

I think even the coldest, cruelest Grinch heart would have to love Clancey's.

The New Luxury

2008-05-20T20:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes luxurious meals aren’t measured by the exclusivity or the expense of the ingredients. Truffles, Kobe beef, foie gras, caviar, Barolos immediately come to mind. Rather, some meals are luxurious because you’ve been granted the space and time to spread out and cook in as unhurried a manner as possible.

Saturdays are great for throwing multi-course dinner parties. Sundays are ideal for tinkering over a slow-cooked meal. Both allow an opportunity to crank the tunes and spend the afternoon carefully peeling and chopping, sautéing and braising ingredients.

Weeknights, however, call for quicker fare. Dinner cannot take longer than an hour to prepare: We’ve got school-age children who need to do homework and take showers, plus decompress, before bed. And, twice a week, we have to factor in Alpha’s soccer games and practices, as well as drive time, all of which cut into the dinner hour.

Imagine then, when one doesn’t have a game to work around, that the hour or so one has to make dinner suddenly seems like all the time in the world.

Tonight, Hambone fired up the grill while I whipped up a lime juice-soy sauce-ginger bath and set a nearly two-pound flank steak to marinate. We poured ourselves the last two glasses of Albarino and had an actual adult conversation. The boys did their parkour maneuvers, jumping off the terraces in our “backyard” patio. Then we all tucked into grilled steak (still trying to find the sweet spot between rare and medium rare, as shown above), new potatoes, asparagus from the farmers market, and a 2005 Desert Wind Ruah from the Columbia Valley (WA), and we talked about our day.

Luxurious—like rich, creamy foie gras and crisp vintage champagne.

Viva Las Vegas

2008-05-08T21:03:00.000-07:00

The Amateur Gourmet isn’t the only food blogger whooping it up in Sin City this weekend. I’m also off to Vegas, to help a girlfriend celebrate a milestone birthday. It’s my first visit, and aside from neon and casinos, I don’t really know what to expect. I’m not a gambler but I am a keen observer. My flight lands at McCarran at 10:30 a.m., which gives me just enough time to get to the hotel and be poolside with a cocktail and a book by noon. The group has plans to see a show and dinner reservations at the Bellagio's FIX (not linking as Flash crapped up my laptop) on Saturday night, otherwise I’m keeping an open mind and stomach for culinary experiences.

Back Monday...

RIP: Irvine Robbins

2008-05-08T09:04:00.000-07:00

I owe a debt of gratitude to Irvine Robbins, who gave me almost unfettered access to ice cream during my foodie formative years. The perfect scoop, in myriad flavors, never failed to give me ten minutes of pleasure in a sea of mediocrity. Coconut, black licorice, lemon drop, and Daiquiri ice were a few favorites.

The only bright spot in my hometown's crappy mall was a Baskin-Robbins. From the time purchasing power was bestowed upon me I always had just enough change in my pocket for a single scoop of something. Much to the chagrin of my friends, who always chose a sugar cone, my preferernce then (as it is now) was to eat ice cream with a spoon from a paper cup.

If the chain nature of Baskin-Robbins gets you on your artisanal high horse, just remember that a Baskin-Robbins ice-cream cone, perched in a cone holder, inspired Thomas Keller's signature salmon tartare "ice cream" cone.

Photo, as it appeared in the NYT, from Tony Korody/Sygma

H&S Restaurant Week: 112 Eatery

2008-04-28T09:19:00.000-07:00

On the Monday night of H&S 3rd Annual Restaurant Week, we visited an old favorite: 112 Eatery. It had been awhile—over six months—since we’d last eaten here. The food had begun to seem predictable and a little heavy. But I was craving the ambience—exposed brick walls, warm lighting, shotgun-style layout. Another reason 112 was an inspired choice: executive chef/owner Isaac Becker had recently been nominated for the James Beard Foundations’ Best Chef: Midwest award. The strength of Becker’s menu lies in upscale but unpretentious food, such as blue prawns with rooster mayo, grilled lamb scottodito with goat’s milk yogurt, steak tartare, a Vietnamese-style duck pate banh mi, and more.

This snowy, windy, cold April evening invited the comfort of my all-time favorites.

To start, I ordered the radicchio and duck salad—crispy, bitter radicchio and supple, dreamy duck confit are each shredded and dressed with a miso vinaigrette and garnished with slices of hardboiled quail eggs and buttery breadcrumbs. The kitchen used to send this salad out in a cup, but the portion has recently grown to fill a bowl. I shouldn’t complain about getting more of a good thing, but the cup was more elegant and better suited to being a starter—i.e., piquing the appetite rather than serving as a small meal.

Hambone took the white anchovy crostini with avocado, as beautiful and delicious as always.

My main was the stringozzi with lamb sugo—handcrafted, shoelace-thick pasta tangled in a rich, long-cooked sauce.

Also enamored by the pasta offerings, Hambone ordered the tagliatelle with foie gras meatballs. You heard correctly: Foie. Gras. Meatballs. The meatballs were so meltingly rich, the noodles seemed like a silly addition.

We shared the tres leche cake, to fortify ourselves for the treacherous drive back to Saint Paul. Wink, wink.

Chef Becker and 112 Eatery still deserve the accolades. Occasionally I feel as if we’ve eaten everything that interests us on the seldom-changing menu. Then I’ll take a closer look to see that there is an entire section I’m missing—the tweaked bar food, which includes the 112 cheeseburger with Brie, the bacon egg harissa sandwich, the gougère and fried mortadella sandwich, Chinese eggs, and, well, that should keep us busy for awhile.

H&S Third Annual Restaurant Week: An Amuse Bouche

2008-04-25T07:51:00.000-07:00

In early April, Alpha and Beta spent their spring break at Grandpa and Grandma’s house in South Dakota. While they were away, Hambone and Spice imposed a restaurant week upon ourselves—an extraordinary treat with no need to pay a sitter ($10/hour is the going rate in these parts) or mind the sitter’s curfew. We dined out each night, in as leisurely a fashion as possible, and were able to snag a table wherever we chose, making the Cities’ hottest reservations more attainable.

Since Hambone and Spice have been on a tear lately, ticking off line items on our list of the newest and/or most popular Twin Cities’ restaurants, we decided to address our cravings and revisit our favorite restaurants. Herewith, a teaser (sorry, no photos):

La Cucaracha
After handing over the boys to Gpa and Gma, Hambone and Spice made a beeline to the Mexican restaurant nearest our house. As we pulled into La Cucaracha’s “parking lot,” we tried to recall when we ate here last. It had been a long time—late August 2006—and we had such a disappointing meal, convincing me that the end had finally come to decent Mexican food in St. Paul.

Serving solid Mexican fare—enchiladas, burritos, tacos, margaritas, and cervezas—La Cucaracha is a St. Paul institution. Hambone and I have been eating here for a long time. We'd started dating when we were each just out of college, biding time at trivial jobs during the first Bush recession, which left us plenty of time to have existential conversations at the coffeehouse. Spending $10 on an entree and $1.50 for a cervesa at La Cucaracha would have signaled a splurge.

The menu, which hasn’t changed much in twenty years (though, yes, inflation has driven up the prices slightly), still holds a few go-to items for me. Dishes such as Gina’s Yucatan tostadas—corn tortillas layered with savory black beans, sprinkled with tangy feta cheese and crisp onion slices, then garnished with creamy avocado slices—are pure heaven to me. That said, there is only one way to start a meal at La Cuc—warm, salty queso dip, slathered on homemade tortilla chips and chased by large, sweet margaritas. On this visit, I tried an item I've never before ordered: the pork guisado burrito with tomatillo sauce. Perfect in its porkiness, brightened by the salsa verde, this burrito has quickly catapulted up my list of favorites at La Cucaracha.

The decision to eat at La Cucaracha was spontaneous. I didn't have my camera with me. I didn't pull out my notebook to capture the subtleties of the meal, the ambience, or the service. And what I took away from the experience was a reminder that La Cucaracha remains a lively, comfortable restaurant, serving delicious, uncomplicated food. My faith has been restored, and I look forward to returning with Alpha and Beta.

local food writing roundup

2008-04-10T13:35:00.000-07:00

Dear Dara reports that, like D'Amico & Son's family-friendly Sunday dinners, the Parasole Group has rolled out an $8.95-a-person, kids-eat-free Sunday supper at three of their restaurants: Salut Bar Américain in Edina, Pittsburgh Blue in Maple Grove, and Figlio. Works for me, as the Grand Avenue location of Salut opens in June!

Also, check out Dara's eloquent review of The Strip Club. She's spot-on about the duck, and I couldn't have said it better myself.

At City Pages, Rachel Hutton has a delightful look at Lynne Rossetto Kasper's new book, How to Eat Supper.

At the Star Tribune, fourteen local restaurants join the tap water brigade and Rick Nelson profiles local CSAs.

Saga Hill Cooking School

2008-04-07T09:39:00.000-07:00

Marianne Miller, the former executive chef at Bobino and Red whom I recently learned about on Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl's blog, sent me an e-mail, with encouragement to check out the April schedule for Saga Hill Cooking School, which she runs in Wayzata.

Now you have to go check it out, too, because what Miller is doing is very interesting and smart. This is not your mother's cooking school. One of the coolest things SHCS offers is corporate team building through cooking. Sessions include a wine and cheese tasting and a timed, Iron Chef-style competition, which sure beats a relay race of coworkers waddling down a beach with an inflatable between their legs. The April schedule includes a mother-daughter high tea, a kitchen basics class targeted to girlfriends (clever and timely), a class featuring French wine and cheese pairings, and a class celebrating the eight hottest ingredients for 2008.

I've taken a few cooking classes around town, and while they've generally been good, a certain element of fun is missing. Participants are quiet. Instructors often seem like they just want to get through the long list of things they're hoping to teach you. Miller's innovative cooking school clearly puts fun and camaraderie at the heart of learning.

Alpha and Beta, if you're looking to give something to someone who has everything—your mother, for instance—consider the gift of a cooking class. Let me be less subtle: I'd love to take a cooking class from Marianne Miller in that beautiful space overlooking Lake Minnetonka.

~
Saga Hill Cooking School
307 East Lake Street
Wayzata, Minnesota 55391

back in the saddle

2008-04-06T22:01:00.000-07:00

It’s 10 p.m., and our house still smells really amazing. Rich, meaty, warm. Here in St. Paul, we had our first rainy day of spring, and I took an opportunity to braise some meat. I had two very pink veal shanks, each weighing in around a pound. They were dredged in flour that had been seasoned with s & p, and then browned on all sides in a few glugs of olive oil and butter. When the shanks had reached a golden caramel color, I removed them from the Dutch oven and added the aromatics—chopped onion, carrot, and celery, parsley, bay leaves, and thick strips of lemon peel.

After the vegetables had softened, I made little nests for the shanks and added them back to the pot, covering the mixture with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and setting to simmer for half an hour. Beef broth, hand-crushed whole tomatoes, and salt and pepper went into the pot before it was covered with a lid and placed in the oven at 375 degrees for an hour and a half. The lid was removed and the shanks remained in the oven for another thirty minutes, during which time I made a gremolata* (toasted pine nuts, garlic, an anchovy filet, orange zest, and parsley) and Alpha made perfectly creamy mashed potatoes.

While the veal shanks were doing in the oven, Hambone and I watched the Tour of Flanders, a one-day cycling race set against a backdrop of falling snow and slick cobbled hills. But mostly we participated in aromatherapy, breathing deeply the scents wafting from the kitchen. It felt so good to be cooking again after more than a week of eating in restaurants.**

As for the osso buco, I shredded the meat from the bone to make serving four people easier and to appease two children who were a little uncertain about the large bones and the rustic sauce. The mashed potatoes were a great vehicle for the silky meat and the delicious gravy, which positively glistened. And, we drank an outstanding 2003 St. Emilion from Chateau Gaillard. Still, Hambone and I concurred that for the expense and the reputation of veal shanks, they should be better, less scary. Even after nearly three hours of cooking, the veal shanks still exhibited a fair amount of connective tissue, which I did my best to remove. But fat is fat—and it wasn’t great.

I’d like to eat osso buco in a restaurant, where I imagine the dish would be a little more refined, but I’m not likely to make them at home again. Pork shanks and lamb shanks, however, may get a nod.

*I loved the gremolata. The little bit leftover will garnish another meal this coming week.

**The kids were at my parents’ for spring break and while they were away, Hambone and I partook in our third annual restaurant week. More to come.

local food writing roundup

2008-04-02T12:24:00.000-07:00

Rachel Hutton reports on Pan-Asian Otho in City Pages: The first fine-dining restaurant in a gentrifying neighborhood has its share of hits and misses.

Dear Dara has the best news I've heard this week. She says that spring starts this Friday—because that’s when Sea Salt, the wonderful seafood restaurant in the Minnehaha Falls Park Pavilion, will open. Hambone and Spice and their offspring had some of their best meals of 2007 at Sea Salt. And, some of their best memories as it's where Alpha fell in love with calamari, tentacles and all. Forget about all the fancy and hip restaurants where we've dined this week, just give me Sea Salt. Oh, happy day!

Eating out: Heidi's

2008-03-26T21:33:00.000-07:00

Hambone and I recently ate at Heidi’s, Stewart Woodman’s new south Minneapolis restaurant. A few years ago, we had a really memorable meal at Woodman’s last restaurant, Five—housed in the former Fifth Precinct building in Minneapolis. I still dream of the “Bhopal style” lamb loin in yogurt-cilantro sauce, essentially a deconstructed but refined Indian “curry,” as well as the lemon crème brulee with candied pink peppercorns, one of the most unusual and refreshing desserts I have eaten in a Twin Cities restaurant. With our coffee, the chef sent out house-made mini donuts, an homage to the building’s origins as a police station.

No sooner had Hambone and I vowed to return than Woodman was bought out by his partners and shown the door. The restaurant closed soon after as part of the Great Restaurant Massacre of 2007, which has been detailed by others, so no need to dwell. Good news: Stewart Woodman is back with Heidi’s.

The restaurant, named after Woodman’s wife (who is also the pastry chef), occupies a tiny space in south Minneapolis (next to the [also] very hot Blackbird). To say it’s a jewel box would seem a little clichéd, and nothing about Heidi’s is clichéd.

The concise seasonal menu offered approximately eight appetizers, eight entrees, and a handful of sides, including such items as stewed mustard greens and buttered papparadelle. The wine list boasted intriguing bottles in a range of prices, some under $30, as well as a handful available by the glass. The dessert list featured the gamut from creamy (“dreamsicle” crème brulée) to chocolate (cake), with fruit in between. There’s even a cheese trolly [sic] ($17 for a "selection") for those who don’t require a sweet to end the meal.

For the sake of not making a circus out of our meal, I left my camera at home, so you’ll have to trust that every dish was gorgeously presented.

We shared this wonderful meal with friends, Tracy and Bill.

To start, I took the warm fingerling potato and raclette salad with leeks, mustard sauce, cornichons, while Hambone ordered crepe with foie gras, curried Beluga black lentils, hibiscus syrup, which I didn’t try but trust was delicious from Hambone’s discrete groans. I wish I had brought my camera if for no other reason than to document the exquisite presentation of Tracy’s butter lettuce salad. The leaves of which were removed and arranged to resemble a flower. Bill’s crab spring rolls were garnished with jalapeno “jelly beans,” a nod to molecular gastronomy. We drank a Gruner Veltliner (Anton Bauer Gmork ’06), which paired nicely with all entrees, but especially well with my potato "salad."

Each main course was stunning. My off-menu lobster in a parsnip puree and ginger emulsion, offered unique flavors and textures that were at once innovative and comforting. Hambone’s sautéed Australian sea bass was perfectly prepared, the flesh fluffy and soft between a nice pan-seared crust. Tracy’s homemade ravioli stuffed with beets, goat cheese and chives were singular though. The wrapper was whisper thin and held a beet slice, which was surprising as we all imagined the ravioli filling would be a puree. The truffle foam surrounding the ravioli felt essential, not gimmicky in the least. Bill’s anise-scented lamb shank on a wild rice salad was priced cheekily at $17.76. With our mains, we drank a well-balanced and flexible French pinot noir (Domaine Joseph Drouhin “Laforet”, ’05).

I’m looking forward to returning so I may order my own portion of lamb shank or the grilled lemon fish on stewed mustard greens in a bacon fumet. Bacon fumet, say no more.

The table shared an outstanding chocolate dessert—in fact, the best chocolate dessert I’ve had in an MSP restaurant, in a long time. This flourless chocolate cake had a dreamy, boozey finish. A quenelle of luscious espresso ice cream on the side was unnecessary but much appreciated.

The only misstep in the evening was the thirty minute wait for our reservation. Even though we were twenty minutes late, our table wasn’t ready for us. The front of house was backed up, packed with a couple four-tops waiting to be seated. You can do the math. I know that Heidi’s has been booked solid practically since the restaurant opened last fall—because the food is amazing. Kudos! But there is no bar and no comfortable sitting—or standing—area in which to wait for your table. The Woodmans absolutely have to figure out how to handle reservations or the effect of small, charming, and exclusive is totally ruined, and the food may not be worth the inconvenience.

That said, I will be back as soon as I can secure another reservation!

delivered

2008-03-26T19:24:00.000-07:00

My Rancho Gordo order arrived today. I can't wait to curl up with my cookbooks and research recipes for the giant limas, marrow beans, and eye of the goat.

local food writing round-up

2008-03-20T13:31:00.000-07:00

Dear Dara blogs about Marianne Miller—a hot local chef whom no one knows by name—and her new Wayzata cooking school, as well as a tip on a cheap, tasty, secretly located Indian buffet.

More Dara: a cool round-up of six no-guilt meals from some of MSP's hottest chefs. Fugaise has been under my radar, with absolutely no word of mouth from my foodie friends, but I've vowed to remedy the situation by checking it out for myself.

OMG—a local Easter candy survey at City Pages.

If you're in town this Easter weekend, looking for a special brunch, try one of these recommendations from the Strib's Rick Nelson. I'd put my money on the Red Stag or Grand Cafe.

reading: Service Included

2008-03-17T21:17:00.000-07:00

One Sunday morning, when the boys woke me up early to watch cartoons with them, I took an opportunity to sample a few pages from each of the books piled on my coffee table. It didn’t take long to get totally hooked by Phoebe Damrosch's Service Included, an account of the author’s time spent as a captain at Thomas Keller's New York restaurant, Per Se.

I had the great fortune to celebrate my most recent birthday at Thomas Keller’s Napa restaurant, The French Laundry. In addition to the outstanding meal, I noticed that the service was different from that which we are accustomed to receiving at higher-end restaurants. Unlike the excellent NYC restaurant, Jean-Georges, where a squadron of servers descends upon your table for every single course, administering sauces, cracking pepper, and applying other touches to your plate that, quite frankly, should have been done in the kitchen, the French Laundry’s service is designed so as not to be noticed. Servers are out of your way, but are also attentive to your needs, trying to anticipate what you might want before you have to ask.

In Service Included, Damrosch writes about taking a position as backserver—serving bread, replacing silverware, refilling water glasses—at Per Se, before the restaurant opens to the public. She details the lengthy training she and the staff receive. Her aptitude earns her a quick promotion to captain, presenting the menu and managing the multitude of servers assigned to a number of tables.

The training is intense. Keller is exacting—always described as a perfectionist—and the stakes are high for his new restaurant’s success. In addition to knowing which silver or crystal to set with particular food, the servers can tell any inquiring diner where the tiles covering the floor came from or who sculpted the statue in Central Park marking their view. And Keller has many rules, such as “No cologne, scented lotions, scented soaps, aftershave, or perfume are to be worn during service,” and “If you’re going to be more than five minutes late for your shift, you must call—even if it means getting off the subway to do so.”

Damrosch is smart and has a great sense of humor, and both qualities clearly come through in her writing. She leaves tips for diners at the end of most chapters, such as “Please do not ask us what else we do. This implies that (a) we shouldn’t aspire to work in the restaurant business even if it makes us happy and financially stable, (b) that we have loads of time on our hand because ours is such an easy job, and (c) that we are not succeeding in another field.”

And, I would be remiss if I failed to mention that there’s a lovely little romance. Damrosch finds herself drawn to a wine captain who has come from The French Laundry to help with the training. The attraction is mutual, even though he’s come to New York with his girlfriend, who also happens to work for Keller. A messy, forbidden affair ensues, and I found myself rooting for Damrosch, who gets the guy in the end.

Service Included is a great read for anyone who dines in restaurants as well as for anyone who enjoys culinary essays, such as Bill Buford’s Heat or Tony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential.

Dining out: The Strip Club

2008-03-09T21:38:00.000-07:00

Hambone and I eat out a lot, but I do a pretty lousy job of blogging about our restaurant meals. Each time I sit down to write about that great meal we had the previous night, I always remember the three or four restaurant meals that I haven’t written about yet. Would it be fair to them if they were never mentioned before I pressed on?

Well, no more.
Last night Hambone and Spice ate at The Strip Club, a sizzling new St. Paul restaurant. For the record, I love this restaurant’s name, which definitely has sass, but mostly refers to the house special, a NY strip steak. The owners are Tim Nivers and Aaron Johnson, the dynamic duo behind the Town Talk Diner, the hip, no-reservations Minneapolis joint. J.D. Fratzke, whose menu we enjoyed last August at Muffuletta, is in the kitchen. At The Strip Club, as at Muffuletta, Fratzke offers as much local fare as he can, including grass-raised beef from Thousand Hills and beer from the Summit Brewing Co., which is the vehicle for steaming mussels.

The Strip Club is in a highly unlikely location—the Dayton’s Bluff neighborhood of St. Paul. But this location grants an unexpected, well-framed view of downtown St. Paul—certainly one of the restaurant’s best assets. Inside, exposed brick walls have been painted a cream color, the ceiling and most trim is black. A brass-trimmed railing lining the upper-level balcony nods to the building’s Victorian (1885) roots. It’s a fun, if not a little dark, revamp of a mom-and-pop restaurant, located in a working-class neighborhood that is gaining popularity for the affordable housing it offers young families.

In addition to the NY strip steak, the dinner menu features a few salads, a long list of small plates, a handful of upscale burgers, and six or seven entrees. In our opinion, the small plates are the stars of the menu. We enjoyed the mussels, which were steamed in Summit pilsner and studded with crumbles of spicy, fennel-spiked sausage. Hambone and Spice make mussels from time to time and found this treatment to be a neat alternative to the Albarino and chorizo that we typically use. I’d love to try these at home.

The other small plate we tried, I’m not likely in this lifetime—the lifetime with small children—to make at home: duck confit. This meltingly soft duck was served no-frills—a whole leg for the diner to pick over, adorned with a simple, bitter frisee salad (that we ignored) and sweet roasted grapes, which served a near-perfect counterpoint to the salty duck. Hambone and Spice had a Proustian moment over that duck confit. We were transported to Bordeaux, France, December 1995 and a post-holiday, restorative meal of sautéed goose liver and grapes.

But I digress.

As for the entrees, they need some work. While tempting, to be sure, we passed on the romantic pork loin for two with mashed potatoes and Brussels sprouts. Hambone took the strip steak with which you’re encouraged to order a topper, at an additional charge. He selected a compound butter studded with chopped escargot and garlic, an amazing way to enhance an entirely lackluster steak. The side-order fries could make a best in the Cities list, and if there was a best ketchup category, the Strip Club’s bacon version would win, no contest. Yup. Bacon. Ketchup.

I had the ahi tuna, which was cooked rare as I asked. Points awarded for execution, sure, but I didn’t love it with its accompanying barley risotto. The risotto was soupy, which is a desirable quality when Arborio rice is the main grain, but didn’t work with the barley. I would have preferred brighter flavors, such as citrus, with my ahi, rather than the earthy version, rich with mushrooms, on the menu.

There were a few low points. The wine list had many unfamiliar selections, which isn’t bad, since we enjoy an introduction to new bottles, but the markup was steep, killing our adventurous spirit. The desserts don’t merit further mention. Service was slow, which was fine since we didn’t mind lingering over dinner and each other’s company, but it would be an issue for the less forgiving. I forgot to request my negroni up, so it came in a lowball over ice.

The restaurant has only been open since mid-January, still it was packed and many walk-ins were chancing a table. The reviews have been fairly glowing, so who knows if the shortcomings will be addressed.

We will return, with friends in tow. We’ll request the table(s) in front, with the picture window and the great downtown view. We’ll order a bunch of small plates, including the deviled eggs and the foie gras and the fries with bacon ketchup, and we’ll drink local beer. My office is just a few minutes away in Lowertown, and Hambone’s office just a few minutes away from mine. And, I look forward to trying the burgers on the lunch menu.

reading: Trail of Crumbs

2008-03-04T19:47:00.000-08:00

For the past couple of weeks, I have been dipping into Kim Sunée's Trail of Crumbs. The New York Times called this a "compelling, confessional memoir," to which I take no exception. Part of the confessional is a coming-of-age, much of which centers around an intense affair with Olivier Baussan, the founder of L'Occitane, but also details a young person's universal search for a place in the world. Sunée was abandoned by her mother in a South Korean market at the age of three, giving her search additional meaning.

Nearly every page of Sunée's story is made compelling by her confident and luscious writing. Descriptions of landscape, of meals prepared and eaten, of friends, of pain, and of love are ripe, full to bursting.

Most chapters end with recipes. I've never liked the use of this device in prose, even in culinary mysteries. I think it can make things a little precious, but something about Sunee's recipes caught my eye. Perhaps it was the spirit in which they were presented, as well as a nicely conversational tone. I flagged Wild Peaches Poaches in Lillet Blanc and Lemon Verbena, Quick-Fix Kimchi, Croque Madame, Jansson's Frestelse (Jansson's temptation—potatoes, cream, garlic, and anchovies—my favorite Swedish food), Almond-Saffron Cake (inspired by Santa Lucia buns)—among others. But, Uncle Kerry's Monday Red Beans and Rice forced me to run out and buy dried beans and a ham hock.

Midwestern born and raised, I'm about as far from the South, geographically and metaphysically, as you can get. But last April, I got a healthy dose of Creole food on the Mothership—for my money, and yours, New Orleans Jazz Fest has best festival food in the U.S.—and I haven't been able to get the meaty white beans off my mind since then. Now I know that meaty white beans are a different thing from red beans and rice, but when I found this recipe in a section nostalgic for food from Sunee's, I was inspired to make and eat something similar.

If you follow the recipe, which I did since I have no experience cooking vats of beans, it takes about two hours to cook. While I was cooking, Hambone spoke to his Southern-born father, who, in addition to being thrilled that I would endeavor to make red beans and rice, advised that I let them cook a good long time so all the marrow would melt out of the ham hocks. So, although it hadn't been my plan, I let the beans cook for closer to four hours, occasionally adding water to keep the beans from getting too thick.

I thought the beans were heavenly—creamy and smoky and soul-satisfying. In her notes, Sunée says you don't need to soak the beans, but I will next time as some were tough and undercooked—even after four hours. And next time, I'm going find some nice heirloom beans, for the sake of experimentation. (I'm sorry that my photography skills are sorely lacking so that these beans don't appear as appetizing as they could—you'll just have to trust me!)

Uncle Kerry's Monday Red Beans and Rice
Kim Sunée (Trail of Crumbs, Grand Central, 2008)

1-1/2 tablespoons butter
1 medium yellow onion, chopped (about 2 cups)
1 green bell pepper, chopped (about 1-1/2 cups)
4 celery ribs, chopped (about 1-1/2 cups)
3 garlic cloves, smashed
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh-ground black pepper
1 smoked ham hock (about 3/4 pound) or pickled pork
1 (1-pound) bag dried kidney beans (soaked, if desired)
1 teaspoon liquid crab boil
1 teaspoon Creole seasoning
2 to 3 sprigs fresh thyme
1 pound smoked sausage (such as andouille or kielbasa)
2 tablespoons cornstarch (optional)
Hot sauce, to taste
Garnishes: green onions, shallots in vinegar, parsley

Heat butter on medium high in a large pot or Dutch oven. Add onion, bell pepper, and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, about 7 minutes or until soft. Add garlic, salt, and pepper and cook 3 more minutes. Add smoked ham hock, beans, liquid crab boil, Creole seasoning, and thyme and stir. Add enough water (about 2 quarts) to cover beans. Stir, bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium, and let simmer stirring occasionally, about 1-1/2 hours.

If beans get too thick, add more water, about 1/2 cup at a time. Add sausage to pot and let beans cook another 30 minutes or until tender. (For creamy beans, Sunée like to smash some of them on the side of the pot with a wooden spoon. Her uncle Kerry mixes 2 tablespoons cornstarch with cold water and adds to sauce.) Season to taste with more salt, pepper, or hot sauce. Garnish, if desired. Serve with hot boiled rice and shallots in vinegar (combine 3 to 4 tablespoons rice or white wine vinegar, 2 thinly sliced shallots, and herbes de Provence or fresh thyme leaves in a bowl and stir to combine.)

local food writing round-up

2008-02-28T09:20:00.000-08:00

I haven’t rounded up restaurant reviews in a while, largely because there has been a slight lull in local food writing as well as a changing of the guard. Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl, who left the City Pages a month ago is now at Minnesota Monthly. She has been replaced at CP by Rachel Hutton, who was at MM previously. Twin Cities magazine publishing proves to be as soap-operatic as what I have experienced in book publishing.

Check out Dara’s blog. She is also editing Real Food, a Greenspring (MM’s parent company) publication that is available nationally (grocery store freebie), and at Lunds and Byerly’s locally. Did I ever mention that I wanted that job?

Over at City Pages, Rachel Hutton is reviewing the “restaurants of the moment,” including Nick and Eddie and Meritage. Nick and Eddie’s is the new restaurant from the folks who ran Au Rebours, the brasserie-style restaurant that, last year, vacated the Hamm Building in St. Paul. Meritage continues the brasserie spirit of Au Rebours in the same physical space. The local restaurant scene proves to be no less soap-operatic than publishing.

At the Strib, Rick Nelson reviewed Meritage a few weeks ago, and this week tackles Red Stag, another well-buzzed restaurant.

My restaurant list grows exponentially!

Friday Night Light

2008-02-23T14:52:00.000-08:00

Somewhere along the line, I’ve had to admit that Friday nights are all about not cooking. Or, for cooking the least amount possible and taking a breather after a long workweek and the obligations to school-age children.

Recently I surveyed some of our foodie friends who are also working parents. When asked what they serve for dinner on Friday nights, each said delivery pizza or take-out. Not bad choices, except that we’re typically already feeling a little gross from having exercised that option at least once, earlier in the week.
Our summer solution is cocktails and nibbles, such as handmade guacamole and chips with a margarita, or our favorite saucisson sec and a wedge of cheese with gin and tonics or chilled rosé. For some reason, in the dark of winter, these options don’t seem very substantial.

A few weeks ago, Hambone suggested working our way through Bittman’s 10 minute meals. We clipped the article way back in July, when it promised to get us out of the funk of summer heat. We tucked the clipping away for future reference, and, quite frankly, there's little difference between the rut one falls into during the dog days of summer and trying to keep hearty cold-weather cooking lively and quick.

We’ve cooked #5 (steam mussels in white wine with garlic, basil, chopped tomatoes until the mussels open, then serve with crusty bread) and #11 (sauté shrimp in olive oil that has been warmed with sliced garlic, cumin, and pimenton, then garnished with parsley and a squeeze of lemon and served with crusty bread). Not quite a full meal but more substantial than cheese and bread. Both items packed fresh flavors into their small packages and proved warming on cold winter Friday nights. I sourced my seafood at a local fish market, Coastal Seafoods—went in for the mussels (PEI) and was seduced by the wild brown Mexican shrimp (in the 16/20 neighborhood and very sweet).

I’ve marked a few more to try in the near future: #8 (littlenecks, olive oil, and garlic with angel-hair pasta or bread), #14 (prosciutto, olive oil, bread crumbs, garlic, red pepper flakes on pasta), #15 (grilled cheese sandwich with prosciutto, tomato, basil), #31 (quick chile relleno, using canned whole green chilies), #70 (sauted squid rings with a garlic/pimenton/mayo sauce), #80 ("not-quite merguez": seasoned ground lamb burgers served on couscous with a side of bottle harissa), and #86 (smoked trout fillets with toasted almonds, shredded fennel, and olive oil/lemon juice dressing).

nibbles

2008-02-05T20:59:00.001-08:00

Last week I hosted my book group, which is comprised of some really good cooks. Each member works in the publishing industry. Those who work for publishers regularly wine and dine their accounts, while the booksellers are, well, wined and dined. Everyone has access to great cookbooks. And, everyone likes to eat and talk about eating. I wouldn’t want to join any other book group, but they do make for a tough audience when it comes time to host them. No pressure.

From the moment I volunteered my house for the next discussion—way back in November—I started planning the menu. Typically, the host serves appetizers, usually casual but rarely simple. In the past year alone we’ve been offered chicken satay, Vietnamese-influenced spring rolls, a mountain of tuna tartare, a luscious lemon-glazed pound cake, and, always, countless cheeses.

Initially I intended to make a Southern-themed spread of hors d’oeuvres—pimento cheese with crackers and celery, spiced pecans, and a spicy shrimp cocktail. But when the week of our discussion rolled around, I had a complete change of heart—and palate. Perhaps the shift had something to do with the impossibly cold weather or with the malaise I’ve been feeling lately.

At any rate, I was in need of shaking things up so pulled out some recipes I’ve been meaning to try for some time, starting with Judy Rodgers’ herb jam (spinach, cilantro, parsley, garlic, and olives, cooked slowly and mashed with smoked paprika and cumin, then given a blast of lemon juice before serving), served with pita chips.

I can’t get enough of one of the top 2007 food crazes: meatballs. The February 08 issue of Bon Appetit featured a recipe for bison meatballs and a cilantro-yogurt sauce, which sounded very appealing to me. At the grocery store, however, I chickened out and purchased lamb rather than bison. Few people I know share my love for bison, so I swapped it out for the authentically Middle Eastern—and still assertive—flavor of lamb.

The herb jam was really good, but it went largely untouched. The smoked paprika and oil-cured black olives lurking amid the dark green spread were a little intense even for the foodies in our group. The meatballs, however, were devoured handily. You’ll want to make these as soon as you can. Don’t wait to share them with anyone. The cilantro-yogurt sauce makes these meatballs extra delicious and would be great on pan-seared lamb chops or grilled fish. I’m linking to the recipe because it’s long—really, it’s two recipes—but don’t let that discourage you because the directions aren’t difficult and you are in for a treat.

In addition to the food I made, Chowgirl Amy, who traded in her publishing job to become a caterer, arrived bearing killer goodies from her professional kitchen: duck pate with shallot and golden raisin marmalade, roasted vegetables (carrots, green beans, baby bok choy) with a ginger-soy-sesame dressing, and an artichoke heart tapenade.

(ETA photo)

local food writing round-up

2008-01-31T12:33:00.000-08:00

A memoir—and farewell—from Dara. Can't wait to follow her next chapter.

The Star Tribune has a short piece on the Egyptian spice blend, dukkah. My sis recently sent me a package of dukkah that she picked up at the Oakland farmers market but I’ve been thinking about making my own and the recipe for the dukkah with pistachios and cocoa nibs especially appealing.

GFCO and KITK

2008-01-30T20:25:00.000-08:00

Consider this a joint venture between The Great Freezer Clean Out and Kids in the Kitchen: bangers and mash.

The package of lamb sausage from Clancey's was the first candidate from the freezer for consumption. These aren't just any ol' lamb sausages either. Rich and meaty, they get a little earthiness from pine nuts and a complementary sweet bite of blueberry to cut the lamb's richness. While the sausages were roasting in the oven, Alpha treated us all to mashed potatoes.

Following the directions in his Williams-Sonoma Kids's Cookbook, he selected enough small Yukon Gold potatoes to fill the bottom of a large saucepan. We covered the potatoes with water, threw in some salt, and set them the boil. About fifteen minutes later, Alpha stuck a knife tip into the largest potato and claimed them done. I drained the potatoes (heavy, hot pan), then turned Apha loose to mash and add half a stick of butter and Cedar Summit Dairy organic half-and-half—to his preference. Which is to say, I turned a blind eye. The potatoes were some of the best I've had in a long time—really rich and creamy. You can make these any time you want!

The Great Freezer Clean-Out of 2008

2008-01-27T19:12:00.001-08:00

When I was a kid, my family had a deep freeze in the garage. During the fall and winter hunting seasons, my father did his part to keep the freezer filled with pheasant, duck, grouse, goose, deer, and elk. In the summer, walleye from the lake we lived on found its way into the freezer. A family friend would often keep us fed with half a cow. My mother maintained an incredible garden, and the freezer held the green beans, corn, and peas she’d bag. She'd also keep tins of cookies and other goodies around the holidays, and frozen treats (popsicles, ice cream bars, and the like) during the summer. I can see the virtue of a deep freeze, especially if you have a large family or if you "put things away," but I really don’t have need for one.

Except for the summer when the farmers market is in full swing, my shopping style is to stop at the grocery store frequently, daily if necessary, and pick up the freshest ingredients I can for dinner in an effort not to horde or stockpile food. I'm also not big on thawing meat or fish. In my limited experience, when I follow the safe thawing method in the fridge, I tend to underestimate the length of time it takes so I'm often left with still-frozen items when I'm ready to cook. Yes, I know there are ways to overcome this deficiency, but I prefer to cook my meat and fish the day I bring it home from the store.

Our side-by-side refrigerator and freezer, which came with the house, is less than optimal for a family with two growing boys. Both components are just too narrow, cramped, and claustrophobic, but the freezer especially so. It's impossible to store much in here, and unless the item comes in a box, most packages end up being a little awkward to fit. Inevitably, something frozen, solid, and toe-crushing falls off a shelf each time the door is opened. Plus, the water dispenser sucks up a bit of room that could be given over to a stash of nuts or more pints of ice cream.

But, it looks jam-packed, you say? In the past six months, the freezer has filled itself with food—and I'm not quite sure how it happened. Perhaps our sausage love from the summer of 2007 had something to do with it. We started hording packages. Friends who knew of our passion would bring us sausages from their travels to far-flung Minnesota towns that still boast meat lockers. I cannot complain about that measure of generosity.

Perhaps the full freezer has something to do with access to locally raised meat. I have a coworker whose brothers are raising grass-fed, organic beef and veal, and I have a hard time resisting the regular e-mail notifying me of his inventory. A friend's sister raises free-range, organic chicken, and we like to order one whenever she has birds ready. My father and brothers hunt and provide us with pheasant and deer.

My freezer holds some gems. To whit:

~ one smoked pheasant
~ a few packages of venison cuts
~ one pound Buescher Brothers' ground veal
~ one pound Buescher Brothers' ground beef (one pound)
~ two Buescher Brothers' T-bone steaks (one pound each)
~ three packages of sausage from Schmidt’s (Nicollet, MN)—jalapeno brats, Cajun brats, wieners
~ two packages of sausage from Clancey’s Meat and Fish (Mpls)—~~lamb-dried blueberries-pinenut~~, pork with jerk spices
~ two packages of meat from St. Joseph Meat Market (St. Joseph, MN)—(hot) fresh andouille brats, Swedish-style meat balls
~ one free-range chicken from a friend’s sister who raises them (6 pounds)
~ one pound lamb chops
~ two pounds shrimp
~ packages of frozen strawberries and blueberries for smoothies
~ assorted white boxes of frozen Indian food

I know there may be a few more things kicking around that I’ll unearth and salvage as I can. And, I'd like to find a new home for or a way to organize the nonedibles—the ice packs and the drum to the ice-cream maker, ready to be pressed into action whenever the urge for homemade ice cream strikes—seemingly necessary, but taking up prime real estate.

So, yes, perhaps I could use a deep freeze. However, I will resist and, instead, set a challenge. My immediate goal for the beginning of this new year is to clean out the freezer. No new items until the list above is dwindled. Okay, true confession, I just purchased a pint of vanilla ice cream and a pint of mango sorbet, but don't worry, neither will last long.

Up first: Clancey's lamb-dried blueberries-pine nut sausage

local food writing round-up

2008-01-24T14:10:00.000-08:00

Ever since November, when Russell Klein's new French brasserie-style restaurant, Meritage, opened in downtown St. Paul, I have been looking forward to eating there. Patiently I wait to hear something favorable about it. Kathie Jenkins at the Pioneer Press reports mixed results (but—I'm scratching my head over this—still gives the restaurant 3 of 4 stars). Has anyone eaten a good meal at Meritage?

One more column from Dara. What a treat! This week she gives a predictably gushing review to Stewart Woodman's new restaurant, Heidi's: It has only 40 seats, but Heidi's is interesting enough for a lifetime.

And at the Strib, Rick Nelson urges readers to break out the bundt pan—a Minnesota invention—and bake. Nelson also reviews a trio of new Asian restaurants. Obento-Ya Japanese Bistro makes my list of restaurants for '08.

local food writing round-up

2008-01-17T09:16:00.000-08:00

In what must be one of her final columns at City Pages, Dara Moskowitz looks at a Mpls restaurant that offers Mexican street food: I'm never going to be able to cross the threshold of Los Ocampo without ordering some antojito or other, and my advice is that if you only learn one new word in 2008, let this be it.

The Pioneer Press offers has the list of forthcoming Twin Cities restaurant openings that any foodie with a pulse should covet. It should come as no surprise that I'm looking forward to Steve Brown's new place, Porter and Frye. Red Stag Supper Club, where we've already had a reservation that we had to cancel, is finally starting to get some mention. St. Paul locations of Pop! (picadillo empanadas) and Salut (I love a good brasserie for mussels or steak frites and bearnaise and oyster towers) will be convenient for H&S's family outings.

But, I think the opening I'm most excited about is Senor Wong's, a neighborhood Vietnamese restaurant/Polynesian cocktail place by the Truong family. Opening February 4. In downtown St. Paul. Two blocks from my office. Described in the Press article as a place where people can go everyday. And, I will if it's even half as good as today's lunch at Ngon.

kids in the kitchen: breakfast

2008-01-12T13:28:00.000-08:00

My kids love to help in the kitchen. They like to scoop flour into measuring cups or baking powder into measuring spoons and dump the ingredients into a bowl. They can crack eggs pretty neatly on the counter or the edge of a mixing bowl. Alpha, who is eight, can even separate egg yolks from the whites. They know that, typically, when we bake, you mix the dry ingredients in one bowl and you mix the wet ingredients in another bowl, and then add the wet to the dry and incorporate.

Together we have made countless batches of cookies, cakes, and brownies. But breakfast foods motivate both boys to pull themselves away from cartoons on weekend mornings. They grab their stools, belly up to the kitchen counter, and help with pancakes, waffles, muffins, French toast. And, Alpha makes perfectly soft scrambled eggs. Julia Child would be so proud.

This morning, Beta rolled up his sleeves to help me with the French toast. I measured the milk; he poured it into a bowl. Together we added eggs, a pinch of salt, a splash of vanilla, a hint of cinnamon. I sliced the day-old baguette; he placed the slices into the custard. I turned on the burner, heated the cast-iron skillet, and melted butter; he carefully plopped the custardy baguette slices into the pan and counted aloud while we waited for the first side to brown. Then he added more bread slices to the custard to soak while the previous batch finished. We piled all the slices on a plate and kept them warm in the oven.

After I cleaned the custard bowl, Alpha cracked eggs into it. He beat the eggs with a whisk, then seasoned with salt and pepper and grated in manchego cheese. Another quick stir. I turned on the stove for him, setting the flame low-ish. Alpha did the rest. I should watch and learn as his scrambled eggs are made with the patience and love I have never been able to give them. I’m thrilled.

Cooking is an activity I enjoy, clearly, and I am pleased that we can share it. The boys are learning to be a little self-sufficient. Cooking for one’s self or for others is a great life skill. There are great teachable moments too—measuring and math, chemistry, and vocabulary. But, the best part is the pride they have in the end product, as well as the pleasure they take in enjoying a delicious meal.

I look forward to doing more cooking with the boys in 2008. There are many recipes to try in the Williams-Sonoma kids’ cookbook that my friend Krista sent the boys. I’d like to try baking bread and making gnocchi and pasta. Alpha has a goal to make every known cookie and has “invented” [his word] a recipe for mac-and-cheese that I’d like to help him execute. Beta has a thing for tapioca pudding so I’d like to find a good recipe to make with him. And, there will be ample opportunities for them to help with our theme—to be revealed shortly—for 2008.

local food writing round-up

2008-01-11T08:40:00.000-08:00

In the City Pages, Dara Moskowitz reviews her favorite 2007 cookbooks: If you buy only two this year, let it be these.

On a more gossipy note, the City Pages is running an article about a St. Paul resident who also happens to have a popular Travel Channel program and happens to be involved in a food fight.

At the [St. Paul] Pioneer Press, Kathie Jenkins’ cover article proclaims, We think you'll flip over the tasty variety of ethnic pancakes available morning, noon and night. I have had a jones to make bahn xeo, crispy Vietnamese crepes, for a few years now. Three or four recipes torn from the NYT and Food and Wine wait in my clippings folder, and I always have mung dal on hand for kitchari. One of these days...

2007 in review

2008-01-08T22:01:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year! Hambone and Spice ate so well in 2007. We enjoyed many fantastic and memorable meals in restaurants, in our friends’ homes, and in our own home. We had a blast cooking with our kids—both love to help measure ingredients, dump them into a bowl, and stir.

Here are some highlights from our year in food and drink:

~drinks
Hambone and Spice have been fans of the cocktail since before we were of legal drinking age. So it was pretty exciting to watch a resurgence in the cocktail’s popularity. Gin and tonic, vodka gimlets, scotch and soda—all had ample play in our home. In New Orleans, Spice developed an unquenchable thirst for Sazeracs and French 75s.

~sourcing
Sunday morning visits to the St. Paul Farmers Market continue to be a balm. The boys really look forward to visiting their friends the Bison Guy (at Big Woods Bison) and Ly Vang at Hmong Handicrafts. We don’t have favorite vendors as we shop for whichever produce looks best, and it can vary from week to week. In addition to locally grown produce, we’re buying locally raised meat. Our chicken comes from friend Lisa M’s sister, who raises free-range birds, and Spice’s coworker, Lee, has hooked her up with some outstanding beef and veal (ground, steaks, summer sausage, beef sticks, and more) that his brothers raise. And, Spice’s father and brothers continue to provide game birds and fish from South Dakota.

~sausage
Unwittingly, 2007 was the Year of the Sausage. The obsession started with a trip to Clancey’s Meat and Fish in Linden Hills, where we discovered a freezer full of exquisite house-made sausage. Links of traditional garlic pork, turkey-dried apricot, stunning duck-five spice, and an incomparable lamb-dried blueberry-pine nut. A few trip to St. Joseph, Minnesota, which still has a meat locker where townsfolk can drop off their deer for processing, unearthed a deep freeze with a bounty of brats—cherry bombs (dried cherries and jalapeno), steak and cheese, and funeral hotdish (noodles and cream of mushroom soup). We enjoyed many sausage fests with friends, which involves grilling sausage and brats, roasting small red potatoes, and pulling out of the refrigerator as many mustard jars as we can carry to the table.

~regional foods
South Dakota: pheasant, wild turkey
New Orleans: pheasant-andouille gumbo, beignets, softshell crab, crayfish boil, and more

~tinkering
For nine months of the year, Sundays afternoons are all about trying new, involved meals, usually something that allows a meditation over peeling, chopping, sweating, browning, braising. You know, recipes that allow for hours of preparation and cooking, provide a warm and nourishing meal, as well as tasty leftovers for mid-workweek lunches. In this way, we’ve made chili, goulash, Bolognese sauce, and coq au vin, to name a few.

~wine
Spice and friend Tracy A. took a fantastic four-part wine class at France 44, which featured an overview, a session on whites and one on reds, and a culminating session on pairing food and wine, where Spice learned to appreciate Riesling, especially with a fatty, spicy chorizo. Chuck at Solo Vino turned us on to Iberian wines—a few spectacular crianzas, including one that is very inexpensive, as well as a Portuguese tinto, Quinta de San Francisco, which we buy by the case. We also treated ourselves to a ’99 Karl Lawrence—and shared with friends—after drinking a more recent rendition in No Cal.

~favorite things made at home
Judy Rodgers’ spicy cauliflower pasta from the Zuni Café Cookbook, Martha Stewart’s easy jambalaya, arctic char with pistachios, polpetti, coq au vin, Mediterranean fish stew

~best things eaten this year
Hot Brown Sugar ice cream at Izzy’s (St. Paul), Vosges Chocolate’s Barcelona bar, France 44’s fruit compote, tres leche cake at 112 Eatery (Minneapolis), Grayson’s taleggio-style cheese (procured from Surdyk’s), cornbread panzanella at Red Cat (NYC), cornmeal poundcake at Lucia’s (Minneapolis), lamb shoulder with stewed chickpeas with lamb bacon and tomatoes at Saffron (Minneapolis), salmon-tartare “ice cream cone” at The French Laundry (Yountville, CA), pimento cheese, rosemary cashews, Juicy Lucys at the Groveland Tap, South Dakota rumaki (pheasant hearts and water chestnuts wrapped with bacon, pan-fried, and set in a pool of maple syrup)

~best restaurant meal
French Laundry

~restaurant honorable mentions
Chez Panisse, Cochon (New Orleans), Alma and 112 Eatery (Minneapolis), Red Cat and Raoul’s (NYC)

~restaurant discovery of the year: Sea Salt
We had a fun time eating at Sea Salt, the fish and seafood restaurant located in Minnehaha Falls park. Sea Salt is open only for six months of the year (April through October) as most of the seating is outside. But, what a treat it is to eat oysters from oil pans and softshell crab sandwiches and calamari and more, en plein air, while listening to the falls gently roar. I remain optimistic that April will arrive soon.

so long

2008-01-02T11:51:00.000-08:00

Pretty much everyone has reported that Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl is leaving the City Pages, taking her food column to Minnesota Monthly. I first read the news here and found it a little devastating. I'm pretty sure there's no longer any good reason to read CP. And, even though MM is glossy, I, for one, don’t really see this move as bigger and better. The magazine is very ad-directory-driven publication, and it’s very regional, but it’s bound to improve with Dara at the helm.

Check out Dara’s round-up of the best restaurant dishes from 2007. In a highly predictable move, she's slathered praise on Mission, with Doug Flicker in the kitchen, and on La Belle Vie and Heidi's, which is Stewart Woodman's new place. I was happy to see Brasa's roast pork on the list, as it should be. Meltingly soft and perfectly smoky, it was one of the best things I ate, anywhere, in 2007. And, the entries for Tea House 2 and Ngon Bistro have made an impression upon me. Both restaurants are on my radar.

cheers to the last day of the year

2007-12-31T14:19:00.000-08:00

Another holiday season has come and, nearly, gone. It was a busy season, and I didn’t do as much baking as I would have liked. However, I had a memorable day in the kitchen where I made a fantastic batch of gingerbread dough, replete with blackstrap molasses, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and fresh-ground black pepper. Alpha and Beta then helped me roll out the dough and stamp out traditional holiday shapes—bells, trees, stockings—as well as gingerbread boys and girls (with skirts!), football helmets, and the boys’ initials (S and W, btw).

Later, I tried my hand at making candy—fleur de sel caramels, which skipped right past the soft stage on the candy thermometer, catapulting all the way to hard-crack. The result was one of the largest, and loveliest, batches of toffee I could ever have hoped for.

As you know, Hambone, Spice, and little boys were in Princeton, NJ, with Hambone’s family for a few days on either side of Christmas. On Sunday night (a week ago, yikes how time flies) we made dinner for eight adults and six children. First, I made “Thomas Jefferson-style” macaroni and cheese, which is what Alpha and Beta call the homemade version of this dish (as opposed to Annie’s brand mac-and-cheese-in-a-box). I can pretty much knock out this recipe— Marion Cunningham’s from the Fannie Farmer Cookbook—in my sleep. While the mac-and-cheese was doing in the oven, I made an easy paella, with chicken sausage, shrimp, rice, tomatoes, and peas, followed by romaine lettuce tossed with Fuji apple chunks, dates, caramelized walnuts, and a balsamic vinaigrette.

On Christmas Eve, the Stockholm (Sweden) Shepards—Hambone’s brother Will and his wife Helena—carried out their tradition of preparing a Julbord. In addition to the Jansson’s Temptation (julienned potato, sliced onions, and anchovies baked in cream), this year’s spread included sil (herring) in various sauces (wine, cream, mustard), matjes herring, smoked salmon, meatballs in gravy, boiled potatoes, spiral-cut ham, and little wieners that had been pan-fried. With the meal, we drank a 1997 Chateau Chasse-Spleen Bordeaux.

Hambone and I worked in the night kitchen making the potato roll dough, ending around 1:30 a.m. so we weren’t much help to the crew cooking the Christmas dinner. Fortunately, we were able to devour the “snacks” that had been laid out to fuel the preparations: caviar with accoutrements (scallions, chopped hard-boiled eggs, cream cheese), cheese (taleggio and some sort of blue), and a fois gras de canard from Gascony, as well as champagne. Traditionally, we’ve had the caviar, fois gras, and champagne as we open presents. Yes, it’s a truly decadent way to start the day, but it’s also very festive and special. Champagne glasses on end tables don’t mix well with babies or toddlers or older kids testing RC Air Hogs so we enjoy our treat at lunchtime. Beta decided he loves caviar, though we couldn't get him to try the Champagne.

Christmas dinner was beautiful: a golden-roasted kosher turkey accompanied by gravy, cornbread stuffing, bourbon yams from the New Orleans Cookbook, buttery steamed haricot verts, cranberry sauce, and fluffy potato rolls. Each item was delicious, but I could have been happy with nothing other than the cornbread stuffing, which was perfectly savory and moist. With the meal, we drank a complex 1990 Chateau Palmer.

On Boxing Day, after an invigorating, appetite-inducing walk on campus, we made short work of leftover turkey, which was a fine stand-in for chicken in an old-school curry. The boys didn’t even ask what we were eating, opting to load up on condiments—coconut, bacon, peanuts, bananas, tomatoes, diced hard-boiled eggs, and mango chutney. Sure, turkey sandwiches are fine, but this mildly spicy curry is my favorite way to eat leftover turkey.

I’m working on a short year-in-review, which I hope to have posted before long. Please check back, but in the mean time, have a safe and happy New Year’s celebration!