Devour this

tap tap tap...there's no place like Bettina's...

 

This is Bettina’s front porch.  Bettina is my best friend’s mom.  She is one helluva woman.  And she owns a spectacular old stone house in Maryland, which is where I spent the better part of my adolescent years (both in the state and in this house).  Oh, the memories created along the topsy-turvy path from childhood to adulthood…many of mine are housed here.  When I visit, the rush of nostalgia quickly whooshes into a flood of emotions and reminiscences…

And the best part is that wonderful memories are still being created there. 

Like just two weekends back when I luxuriated in this blissfully deep tub, listening to a summer rainstorm mingle with sunshine against the windowpanes. 

 

Of course, the weekend also involved food.  Shopping for food, preparing food, taking pictures of food, and finally, sitting down in front of one of the loveliest lunches I’ve had to date (one of those 3pm lunches; those are the best).

 

Here’s beautiful Bettina in her gorgeous kitchen that she remodeled and put together with her very own hands.  Here, those capable hands were on their way to her mouth, popping in a salty, warm chicken gizzard she’d just battered and fried right there on the counter.

Yes, we eat fried chicken gizzards in the good ol’ south.  Get over it.

 

See, I told you.  We couldn’t stop popping those crunchy gizzards – don’t worry, I’ll post the super simple recipe below so you can fry up your own batch. 

 

Did we make a meal of chicken ventriculuses and call it a day?  Heck no!  Our original plan was to make a luscious salad and we were quite successful.  We spent a few hours shopping around in 3 unique regional markets:  1 – a Mennonite market where we bought fresh produce, spices, and flours/grains/pasta galore; 2 – a Pennsylvania Dutch market where I suddenly came upon the craving for fried gizzards; and 3 – a tiny, old old old-school store full of treasures like Crab House Crunch (peanut brittle with Old Bay seasoning, what!), an unexpected ridiculously good loaf of ciabatta bread, and even some eye candy for certain female patrons…

 

We went all out.  Peppadew peppers, blanched asaparagus, pickled sweet Brussels sprouts, ripe tomato, crisp red leaf lettuce, pistachio- and panko-crusted goat cheese – there was obviously no stopping us.

 

By the way, Bettina has all of the cute yet functional kitchen equipment that makes cooking that much more fun.

 

Those capable hands I mentioned earlier?  Here they nonchalantly slice a log of goat cheese with dental floss.  What did I tell ya?  She’s a truly talented lady.  That soft, heated goat cheese encased in its crispy coating was ethereal.

So…we cooked, chopped, and assembled and then moseyed into the summer kitchen to enjoy our lunch.

 

tap tap tap...

Fried Chicken Gizzards, MD style

1 lb. chicken gizzards (ask your butcher or grocery meat man)

Bowl half full of flour

Bowl half full of milk

Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

Oil for frying

FryDaddy (Only $19.87 on Amazon.com - so worth it)

Season the flour with salt and pepper.  Dip the gizzards, a few at a time, into the bowl of flour, then quickly dip in milk.  One last dip into the flour, lightly shake off excess and gently drop into your FryDaddy (don't crowd your pot, make sure they have room to move around a bit). Approximately five minutes in and scoop out when golden brown, tossing with more salt and pepper while still hot. 

Start popping and you won't stop.

Makes enough for 2 1/2 hungry women who shopped, chopped, cooked, and assembled and didn't eat until 3pm.

tiny tasty tidbit

'Just tossing a bone out there -- this won't be a lengthy piece.  I just have to record this wonderful week Jeff and I spent dog/house-sitting in Manhattan last month.  Our friends Vanessa and Dan are fortunate to live in a spectacular old apartment in Gramercy and we were lucky enough to answer the phone when they called to ask us to dogsit their pup Sputnik (who, by the way, is our 2nd favorite dog after Mia).

Here's the sweet, yogic boy (he does more downward dogs and updogs in a day than I do in a month!):

We woke up Saturday morning, suited up the pup, and headed to the Union Square farmers' market, conveniently located only a few blocks away (swoon).  We lolled about, smelling this, tasting that and much, much later meandered home, bags heavy with fresh food and an armful of beautiful yellow and white daffodils to boot.

Oh, and here's a better shot of the busty sourdough boule; I'd be remiss not to show her off:

So I went about chopping some little round onions and fresh plump garlic, and threw it in a sizzling pan with creamy white potatoes.  (Sidenote: Yes, those are sunchokes in the bag in front of the teapot.  I decided to start purchasing vegetables I've never tried before.   It took me a few days before I got up the nerve to do something with those, but I must say they're absolutely delicious sliced thinly and thrown into a salad.  Oh, and that square of milky cheese -- fresh mozzarella that was crumbly and holey and salty, unlike any I've ever had.  Amazing.)
Back to breakfast.  The potatoes.

As you can see, they were simple potatoes.  In a simple pan, in a simple kitchen.

The simpler, the better.  It was probably the best meal and best morning/afternoon and best overall week I've experienced so far this year.

Yup, that's beer with breakfast.  Just for fun and because we're silly like that.

Murray's what?

I'm not proud to admit that I'm 9 months late in reporting on Hoboken's The Cheese Store (720 Monroe St.).  Located at the very rear of the town (still no excuse since Hoboken's only a mile square), owner Chung Park and family (see adorable pics of his new baby on The Cheese Store's website) offer Hoboken residents a delicious array of gourmet cheeses, a small selection of fine imported (mostly Italian) products, and a variety of rotating daily special handmade sandwiches.  (Aside: Park used to be an assistant manager at Murray's in NYC! Must ask him for store gossip...I know people who currently work there and others who've moved on.)

It's hard to explain the vibes, or feeling, of a place using mere words, but I must mention this because the small square store exudes warmth and personality. I entered at 6:50 P.M., 10 minutes before closing time, and although the counters and cases were spotless, Mr. Park and his colleague (presumably his mother) were more than happy to prepare me a fresh sandwich and thoughtfully suggest a fine cheese for me to sample.  How often does this happen anymore?  Customer service has dwindled so much that it's something to celebrate when people are genuinely nice and act like they're happy to have you patronize their business.  Am I right or am I right.

After reviewing the chalkboard menu, I ordered the Sicilian Tuna, Kalamata Olives, Capers, and Extra Virgin on a Village Roll ($6.99).  They were out of rolls, but graciously cut fresh slices of a multigrain loaf.  The sandwich was impossibly fresh: the tuna with a pleasant briny saltiness, the kalamata olives thankfully less so, and the capers offering tartness to each bite.  When was the last time you tasted good olive oil on a sandwich?  The Cheese Store didn't skimp on quality products.


When prompted to name the type of cheese I was craving, I went for a "semi-soft, subtlely stinky" option and was rewarded with a Chimay cheese ($19.99/lb.), made by the same Trappist Monks who create the transcendent Chimay Belgian beer. Mr. Park informed me that the rind is washed with Chimay beer and I enjoyed rolling the creamy bits around my tongue in attempt to grasp a hoppy flavor.  I read that Chimay cheese "...is a good cheese to take your time tasting -- it will help you to cultivate your palate."  I like the sound of that.

Oh, and it's nice to write a review for myself, not for a website that's kinda sorta paying me to write good reviews (no offense, MG).  The truth is, I thoroughly enjoyed my first foray at The Cheese Store and look forward to more reporting...

My sweet potato (and egg and chocolate and peanut butter) nights

I love my food blog.  I promise, I really do.  It may not seem like it, what with the lengthy lapses between posts, but rest assured it stems not from lost love, but merely sheer laziness.  I believe I suffer from the worst combination of oxymoronic actions: dogged procrastination and uncertain guilt.  I am one of those perpetual, eternal, steno notebook-wielding List Makers constantly adding to a mile-long chart of duties "TO DO TODAY."  You can bet your bottom dollar there are plenty of highlighters, inked stars, underlines, and boxes involved.  I get a rush when I strike a line through a completed task.  But there are many items on the list that survive from week to week, those I put off until I either resign them to never be completed or try to pretend I never really wanted to do them in the first place. This all leads to much guilt.  I realize the lists may be the end of me, but I always return to them.  I still have love for them.

But back to the point.  My food blog.  Which I love. Here we are, it's a new day (night), a new post, and I have new (to me) food to write about.
In honor of the final NCAA game (whose acronym, to be completely forthright, I have honestly mistaken for the NAACP, who hasn't, right? Right?), I wanted to make some yummy snacks for my friends.  The whole thing started with onion rings.  I've been craving onion rings ever since I happened upon a recipe for these Buttermilk Onion Rings and knowing I had buttermilk just waiting in my fridge since I made this Blackberry Jam Cake with Toasted Pecans last weekend (Happy Birthday, Jeff!):

So to go with the onion rings, I thought I'd make some sweet potato biscuits since I bought some yams from Trader Joe's the other week and have been on the verge of forgetting about them (thank goodness they're on my grocery inventory list -- I'll go into that another time).
Orangette had a fantastic-sounding recipe for these biscuits and she turned them into amazing sandwiches to boot!  After I spotted her noted Honeycup mustard on my favorite neighborhood store's shelf, it was all over.  I put the Sierra Nevada Porter mustard back (another time!) and set about with some good ham and threw in good cheddar for good measure.  And since I wanted to use all of my sweet potatoes, I increased the recipe by half.  Here's a peek at my basic fraction calculations.  And yes, I'm well aware of my nerdiness.  Math is so not my strong suit.  I was all confused.

But I had great fun making the biscuits, especially patting out the dough.  It was quite soft and yielding and the most beautiful rich burned orange color.

The biscuits loaded up with ham, cheddar, and the "uniquely sharp" honey mustard were a sweet, tangy, buttery success.

I also wanted to make deviled eggs.  Going for the whole southern shebang.  I used elements from this recipe and this one (by the way, I've become lovingly dependent on Simply Recipes.  Elise is Awesome). 

And then, being the good Maryland girl that I am, I liberally sprinkled the tops with Old Bay seasoning.  Talk about kicking it up a notch.  Scrumptious.  These were a hit.

Ah,and dessert.  What snackfest would be complete without brownies?  I saw this recipe for Peanut Butter and Fudge Brownies with Salted Peanuts and that was that. I had the chocolate out and chopped in no time.

It was fun to make, no mixer involved this time (except for the incredibly! delicious! frosting) -- each element was whisked together one at a time by yours truly and it felt good to whip that glossy chocolate goodness around in the bowl, feeling each granule of sugar crunch underneath my wrist.

And the result?  Heavenly Peanut Butter and Fudge Brownies with (50% less salt--Trader Joe's, I love you) Salted Peanuts.

You might be wondering, Hey, where's the picture of the onion rings?  I thought she said that's how this whole thing started.  Well, they may have set the wheels in motion, but those rings didn't materialize.   They're on my list of things To Do tomorrow.

P.S. Oh, and K.U. won.  Yay, Kansas!  (I used to live there, too.)

My First Meringue

I've been telling everyone this recently, so I might as well tell you, too:  I feel as though in the past couple of months, my mind has grown a thick layer of mold.  It's a very visual thing to me.  My brain, all ropey and reddish-brownish-grayish, sprouting irregular-shaped patches of fuzzy moss-colored fungi.  It's kind of disturbing. However, I'm feeling like the mold has been disappearing, as though a mental spray of Tilex (poisonous stuff, but I tell you what: it gets out carpet stains like nobody's business!) stopped the growth in its tracks and forced it to recede.  Thank goodness.  It's because of this that I am even able to write about it now.  The clouds are parting and I'm starting to feel less foggy. I'm sure it's an amalgamation of events and thoughts that caused the mold to form; I'm just glad it's going away so I'm not going to spend any more time right now thinking about it.

Tonight, I am thinking about a pie contest.  Yes, another one. This one is a company pie contest, put on by a friend and co-worker, Ava. The rules are straightforward: make a pie, one with a from-scratch crust.  No cookie crumb crusts, so my first thought of banana cream pie went out the window (it's really best with graham cracker crusts, right?).  I thought about doing a filling with rhubarb, although I've never cooked with the stuff (although as a kid I used to munch on it raw when it grew behind my house - the thought of its tartness actually just sent a ripple down my spine). But at the farmers' market this weekend, there were no pinky-red stalks to be found. I still don't know what kind of pie to make, but I am practicing a little pie action tonight.  Of the lemon meringue sort.  Another first for me.  I'm using this Williams-Sonoma Baking book and what a beauty of a book it is.

I started with the Flaky Pie Crust, which uses both butter and shortening.  If you recall my other pie contest, I followed the advice of New York Times food columnist Melissa Clark to go with an all-butter crust (a butter/lard crust was recommended first and foremost, but I'm just not ready to go there). Clark said the shortening in the crust caused an "unpleasant greasy film left on the palate."  Not what I'm looking for, but the recipe called for about 1/3 shortening to butter so I remained optimistic.  I made the dough in my KitchenAid stand mixer (I love how the WS book has directions for mixing by hand, stand mixer or food processor) and it was a bit crumbly (most of my doughs are, I haven't figured out why yet), but I gathered into a disk, stuck it in the fridge, and hoped for the best. 

An hour later, I rolled it out.  Not an easy task.  I was a bit worried as the dough was coming apart and I kept pasting it back together and rolling over it with the pin to seal its many cracks.  But it was fairly successful and I really enjoyed rolling it around the pin to transfer it to the pie pan.  It was my first time using that trick and it worked so well!  I pressed and pinched and the dough ended up looking pretty decent.  Yeah, I couldn't stop grinning as I was cleaning up my workspace after putting the crust in the freezer.  It's the little things.

Pre-baking the crust went smoothly.  Although I did forget about the pie shell while I was making the filling (this always happens, I forget about it if it's not in front of my face), luckily my roommate Erin came in and made a sniffing noise, indicating that something smelled good.  I pulled out the golden crust just in time.

It was a wee bit difficult trying to stir the lemon filling while making the meringue at the same time (the recipe note said to put the meringue directly on top of the hot filling to avoid having the meringue "weep." I have no idea what a "weeping" meringue* is.)

*I just Googled "weeping meringue" and it's a good thing I did!  I had my LMP in the fridge and had to promptly remove it.  Apparently, meringues do not do well in refrigerators, and suffer under tight wrapping.  And here I was thinking the tighter, the better!  Whew, disaster averted. (Now it's in my beautiful cake stand, as you saw above.)

Luckily I had my friend Gil to stir the filling while I whipped those egg whites silly. It may have been my first meringue, but luckily, Williams-Sonoma had my back.  They had fantastic close-up shots to show me exactly what I was looking for. I was hoping these were stiff peaks.

The meringue turned out awesome.  I poured it atop the piping hot lovely yellow filling and it glopped on, all glossy and proud.  It was so much fun to gently nudge the billowy pile into shape and Gil showed me how to use the back of a spoon to create the swirls and peaks.  We wanted to swim around in the pie; it looked so marshmallowy fluffy and inviting!

Just as I slid the pie into the oven for a short bake, I realized I left out the two teaspoons of lemon zest in the filling.  There were my halved and emptied lemon shells on the counter, lying patiently next to my microplane.  Ah, well.  It was not to be a zesty pie.  But it was a beauty.

And, actually, it was quite zingy just the same.  The fresh zest may have given it more oomph, more za za zoo, but it was quite nice slightly muted, with some sprinkles of zest on top instead.

Will this be my winning pie for the upcoming contest?  I don't think so.  But it was good practice. And a sweet way to welcome spring. (Did you hear that, spring?..)

Books: food of life

I love books: always have, always will.  From grade school days of devouring Babysitter's Club and Sweet Valley Twins paperbacks to getting caught with a flashlight and book under my pillow to working in book publishing and being surrounded daily by bound words on pages, the love affair has lasted and there's no end in sight.
Tomorrow will mark my first book club meeting -- some friends and I have been toying with Virginia Woolf's  Mrs. Dalloway for the past month and tomorrow...we discuss! (We'll likely mostly eat and drink and chat.)
  A wonderful English professor and friend from Rutgers gave me this lovely copy of Mrs. Dalloway.  I had a hard time finding the cover image to show you all.  A more recent cover displays a modern-looking scene with a woman in floppy hat and flowy dress -- no doubt embodying Mrs. Dalloway herself, but this cover seems much more appropriate to me. The other looks too casual, lighthearted, and capricious, while this geometric, almost stark imagery seems to be better suited to the story.

Anyway, I'm sure you're more interested in what I've cooked for our little book club tomorrow.  I made a huge pot of Tomato-Lentil-Vegetable Soup adapted from At Home with Magnolia by Alyssa Torrey, once owner of Magnolia Bakery in NYC. (Full disclosure: the publishing company I work for published this book.)  I have thoroughly enjoyed this pretty little cookbook and have found more than a few recipes entirely satisfying.  This soup is no exception.  Chock full of fresh veggies and plenty of plump green lentils and brown rice, I don't think anyone will be leaving my apartment hungry tomorrow evening.

*I apologize for the unattractive photos -- camera phone in use.*
In my gigantor Calphalon stockpot (thank you, Jen and Joel!), we have onions, garlic, carrots, celery, spinach, corn, tomatoes, veg stock, lentils, brown rice, cumin, salt, and pepper -- as I said, loads of veggies and lots of flavor!
Here's my adored pot and you can also see my brand new, beloved mandolin.  A great purchase.  It was invaluable in making homemade potato chips and onion dip on Oscar night, but more on that another time.

For tomorrow's event, I'm also planning to make a Sicilian-style potato gratin from this month's Bon Appetit magazine and some chocolate-ricotta pudding from Moosewood's Simple Suppers (thank you, Jessie and Brandon!).  Photos and reviews to come...

Ode to local market

I have been a terrible blogger.  For this, I apologize.  I'm not sure I really have anyone to apologize to so I'm mostly apologizing to myself for not keeping up with this more.  I really enjoy it, but I've let it slip away the past few months.  I could bore you (or myself, rather) with excuses, but I'll forgo all of that.

Instead, I'll offer a montage of another thing I'm sorely missing these days.  My town's little farmers' market.  Yes, the mile-square, riverfront, city-outside-the-city plot of over-developed land known as Hoboken has its very own farmers' market.  It's tiny, but it's efficient, well-planned, and well-loved.  I adore Union Square, but this little market on Washington St. has a special place in my heart. 
I'm ready for this mild winter to be on its merry way so I can stop here on my home.  If we're not getting any snowfall, what's the point?

And happy birthday to my sweet Rori -- who's now lucky enough to live in California and take advantage of the spectacular Santa Monica farmers' market every month of the year!  Speaking of which, I sent her this wonderful book -- check it out.

And happy birthday to dear Gil!  For whom half of Jac and Gil is named -- we really need another farmers' market shop and bake!

Like the Olympics

Jeff took me out on a Valentine's Day date for the first time in the 3+ years we've been together.  Was it worth the wait?  Click and see.

Missing you

OK, OK -- it's been a while, I know.  A long while.  I've missed writing, I've missed cooking.  I'm in a nostalgic mood these days.  Over the holidays I went to Korea to visit my parents and other family members whom I haven't seen in 10 years!  It was a delightful trip and, of course, the food was outstanding.  I miss it a lot.  Here's my first dinner in Chinhae:

Lots of different types of kimchi, rice, and meat sizzling on the tabletop grill.  The raw shiitake mushrooms and garlic that were grilled alongside fatty pork were my favorites.  The tables were filled with fresh lettuces, bean sprouts, radishes, and all kinds of other foods that don't fill my fridge here at home.  And of course I miss my dad sitting at the table across from me.
Here's a lovely lunch in Busan:

I miss my mom eating beside me. You can just catch a glimpse here of her gold-toe socks.
It was nice to have these floor chairs to rest your back against something.  Sitting on the floor for every meal takes some getting used to.  My dad was always eyeing a table where there was a wall for him to lean against.  Want to see this meal up close?

And that's my sweet aunt (Emo) across the table, chopsticks ever at the ready.
This restaurant was known for their fresh fish.  We had sashimi aplenty, rolls, and fried fish, too.
See?

Here's a restaurant we went to in Seoul:

I even miss taking off my shoes before entering any restaurant or house.  It seemed so much cleaner and more home-y.  This place boasted a pretty good buffet.

OK, now I have to go Skype my parents to see when they'll fly me back there.  The Han Ah Rheum in NYC's Korea Town just doesn't cut it.  I did go there recently to buy some moo (giant Korean radish), bean sprouts, tenjang paste, Korean ramen, kimchi, banchan, Yakult yogurt drinks, and rice, but it's not the same.

Sunday morning delight

What's better than waking up by your natural alarm (sans beeps and buzzers), looking out the window to see the first snow of the year blanketing the streets, and making a scrumptious Sunday morning breakfast?  Not much.  Except maybe having your loved one make the scrumptious breakfast for you.

In a red apron, no less.  It might be difficult to discern from the picture above, but those are two wooden spoons you see hovering around the skillet of cubed potatoes, onions, and red and green peppers.  That's right.  Those are Jeff's "Two Spoon Hashbrowns."  (I just made that name up.)  He was maneuvering a spoon in each hand, scooping and tossing those spuds around to achieve the perfect golden brown crust before transferring the taters to the oven to finish their crisping action.

Meanwhile, he whipped up two perfect omelets, sliced cold oranges, double-toasted the toast, and warmed up my cup of coffee.  While he was creating our feast, I was able to unload the dishwasher and clean out both the refrigerator and freezer (I think I may be the only person on the planet who enjoys going through the fridge and freezer, dumping old things, and reorganizing.)  My point is, it's so much more satisfying to be productive on a Sunday morning while someone is making you a delicious breakfast.
   

It's exactly what one needs to tackle a cold day full of studying vocabulary and dreaded geometry problems (GRE, anyone?).  And to top off the whole shebang, he even gets into taking food pics.