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Posts from the ‘Cooking up a Storm’ Category

Sunday Night Special: General Tso’s Chicken

Ok, this isn’t technically a Sunday Night Special, but I didn’t cook on the day of rest because I had a huge late lunch at Pio Pio. Tonight I made what I would’ve wanted to cook on Sunday night if I'd been hungrier.

I’m sure I’m not the first to discover what a deal Amazon’s free super saver shipping is. You’re entitled if you spend over $25 and they warn that it will take 5-9 days just to scare you off but it never takes that long. Just Sunday I ordered Fuchsia Dunlop’s brand new Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook: Recipes from Hunan Province (as well as Memories of Philippine Kitchens and Nueva York: The Complete Guide to Latino Life in the Five Boroughs [I'm trying to learn more about the Bronx]). I was inspired after killing time in the airport the day before, reading her recent General Tso’s chicken article off a handheld device from a copyright violating website. I couldn't believe that an Amazon box was sitting in the hall when I left for work this morning. Very impressive.

I must not get out much because I’d never heard of this popular chicken dish referred to anything other than Tso’s or possibly Tsao’s, and I grew up in a city completely lacking in authentic Chinese food. This Gau’s and George’s business is nuts (but then, I’ve also heard that you can get white bread with Chinese take out in Boston)

General_tsos_chickenI’m all about the dark meat, despite always having a stash of listless Costco chicken breasts in the freezer. Thighs are so much tastier, so I followed this suggestion in the recipe. Unfortunately, we didn’t scrutinize the cooking instructions before shopping on Sunday afternoon and only picked up a pack of three thighs. To make up the difference, I tossed in a sliced chicken breast. There was no contest between the two cuts. Funny that General Tso has recently prompted a light vs. dark discussion elsewhere.

The only thing we had to pick up was potato flour and some gai lan as a side (I realize American broccoli would’ve been truer to take out form). Loosely based on a water spinach recipe in the Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook, I stir-fried garlic, black beans and sliced red chile, then added the broccoli and covered for a few minutes to steam. I finished the dish with a splash of rice vinegar and a drizzle of sesame oil.

Gai_lanThis Hunan by way of Taiwan recipe isn’t sweet as typical General Tso’s is, and that’s fine by me. (I just noticed that the recipe floating around on the internet is a copy of what was in The Times and has been edited differently than what's in the book. ) There is a Changsha version on the following page of the cookbook that looks nearly the same yet uses white sugar, more ginger and no garlic. I stuck with the more savory approach even though I will admit to enjoying the crispy, candied, hyper-battered, American-Chinese meat chunks. Lightly sauced, velvety slices of moderately spiced chicken aren’t so bad either.

General Tso’s Chicken (Taiwan Version)
Zuo Zong Tang Ji

4 boned chicken thighs with skin (about 12 oz. total)
6-10 dried red chiles
2 tsp. finely chopped fresh ginger
2 tsp. sesame oil
Peanut oil for deep-frying
For the marinade:
2 tsp. light soy sauce
½ tsp. dark soy sauce
1 egg yolk
2 tbsp. potato flour
2 tsp. peanut oil

For the sauce:
1 tbsp. double-concentrate tomato paste mixed with 1 tbsp. water
½ tsp. potato flour
½ tsp. dark soy sauce
1 ½ tsp. light soy sauce
1 tbsp. clear rice vinegar
3 tbsp. stock or water

Thinly sliced scallion greens to garnish

1. Make the sauce by combining all the ingredients in a small bowl. Set aside.

2. To prepare the chicken, unfold the chicken thighs and lay them on a cutting board. Remove as much of the sinew as possible. (If some parts are very thick, cut them in half horizontally.) Slice a few shallow crosshatches into the meat. Cut each thigh into roughly 1/4 -inch slices and place in a large bowl. Add the soy sauces and egg yolk and mix well. Stir in the potato flour and 2 teaspoons peanut oil and set aside. Using scissors, snip the chilies into 3/4 -inch pieces, discarding the seeds. Set aside.

3. Pour 3 1/2 cups peanut oil into a large wok, or enough oil to rise 1 1/2 inches from the bottom. Set over high heat until the oil reaches 350 to 400 degrees. Add half the chicken and fry until crisp and deep gold, 3 to 4 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the chicken to a plate. Repeat with the second batch. Pour the oil into a heatproof container and wipe the wok clean.

4. Place the wok over high heat. Add 2 tablespoons peanut oil. When hot, add the chilies and stir-fry for a few seconds, until they just start to change color. Add the ginger and garlic and stir-fry for a few seconds longer, until fragrant. Add the sauce, stirring as it thickens. Return the chicken to the wok and stir vigorously to coat. Remove from the heat, stir in the sesame oil and top with scallions.

Serves 2 to 3

Adapted from “The Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook” by Fuchsia Dunlop. W.W. Norton & Company, 2007.

Sunday Night Special: Black Bean Shrimp & Braised Eggplant

I take back what I said not too long ago about Sundays not counting calorically. After last weekend’s Super Bowl (I just realized that Superbowl isn’t one smooshed word, and I’m not about to go back and fix it) Sunday bounty, I had to cool my jets this weekend with healthy Chinese inspired recipes from A Spoonful of Ginger, a practical cookbook that tweaks Asian classics while retaining the spirit of the original. I should really use it more often.

Black_bean_scallopsI tweaked Nina Simonds adaptation of steamed shrimp with black bean sauce and substituted scallops. I didn’t have plain black beans but a prepared sauce that already contained garlic so I added slightly less of that ingredient. You briefly bake the seafood in a foil-covered dish, then allow it to steam for about ten minutes. Of course, I could’ve just used a steamer, but it’s one less thing to worry about on stovetop in a cramped kitchen. Supposedly, fermented black beans are good for depression, stress and ridding toxins. It couldn’t hurt to eat them every now and then.

Spicy_braised_eggplantA curried pumpkin dish was suggested as a side but I thought a stewy eggplant braise would be better. I spruced up the recipe by adding a small handful of chopped cilantro and a drizzle of chile oil at the end. The two layers of chile heat really popped and the eggplant was way more unctuous than you’d expect with the tiny amount of fat that was used. Hmm, the side note accompanying this recipe is a little less appetizing than the relieving depression bit from the former. It says that eggplant is used to ease bowl movements with hemorrhoids in Chinese medicine. Good to know, huh?

Baked Black Bean Shrimp

2 pounds large shrimp (16 to 20 per pound), shelled and deveined
Shrimp Marinade:
3 ½ tablespoons rice wine or sake
2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger

1 tablespoon canola or corn oil

Seasonings:
2 tablespoons fermented black beans, rinsed and drained
2 tablespoons minced scallions, white part only
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 teaspoon dried chile flakes

Sauce:
¾ cup chicken broth
2 ½ tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons rice wine or sake
1 tablespoon sugar
1 ½ teaspoons cornstarch

2 tablespoons minced scallion greens

Rinse the shrimp, drain, and pat dry. Using a sharp knife, carefully cut along the back and open each shrimp to butterfly it. Put the shrimp in a bowl and add the marinade. Toss lightly to coat, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 20 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Arrange the butterflied shrimp shell side down, with the flaps open, in 1 or 2 heatproof quiche or pie pans.

Heat a wok or heavy skillet over high heat, add the oil, and heat until very hot. Add the seasonings and stir-fry for about 10 seconds with a slotted spoon or spatula until fragrant. Add the premixed sauce and cook, stirring, to prevent lumps, until it has thickened. Then spoon the sauce over the butterflied shrimp and cover with aluminum foil. (Alternatively, you may place the fish pan in a steamer over boiling water.)

Bake the shrimp on the middle rack for about 8 to 9 minutes, or until they have become opaque. (Steam for 10 to 12 minutes.) Uncover the pan and sprinkle the minced scallion greens over the shrimp. Serve immediately with steamed rice and a vegetable.

Serves 6

Saucy Braised Eggplant

1 1/2 pounds eggplant, ends trimmed, and cut lengthwise into 1/2-inch thick slices
1 teaspoon salt

Seasonings:
1 1/2 teaspoons hot chile paste
1 1/2 tablespoons minced garlic
1 1/2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger

Braising Liquid:
1 1/2 cups chicken broth (vegetable broth can be substituted)
2 1/2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 1/2 tablespoons rice wine or sake
1 tablespoon Chinese black vinegar or Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon cornstarch

1 tablespoon canola oil
2 cups red onion cut into 1/2-inch dice
1 medium red pepper, cored, seeded and cut into 1/2-inch dice
2 tablespoons minced scallion greens

Arrange eggplant slices on a cookie sheet lined with paper towels and sprinkle both sides with salt. Let them sit 1 hour, then pat them dry and cut into 1 1/2-inch-long pieces.

Prepare the Seasonings and mix the Braising Liquid ingredients in a bowl. Set by the stove.

Heat a large flame-proof casserole or Dutch oven. Add the oil and heat until hot. Add the chile paste and stir-fry for 5 seconds over high heat, then add the other seasonings and stir-fry until fragrant. Add the red onions and sauté about 1 1/2 minutes, then add the red pepper and sauté another minute. Add the eggplant cubes and stir-fry for 2 to 3 minutes.

Add the braising liquid, cover, and heat until boiling. Reduce the heat to medium, cover, and cook about 12 to 14 minutes, or until the eggplant is tender. Uncover, increase the heat to high, and cook until the sauce is reduced to a glaze. Transfer to a serving platter and sprinkle with the scallion greens.

Serves 6

Recipes from A Spoonful of Ginger by Nina Simonds. Knopf, 1999

Sunday Night Special: Superbowl Snacks

Cinci_chili Though sometimes I’m tempted to go a little overboard with ingredients and preparations, I decided that highbrow was no way to go on Superbowl Sunday. It’s just wrong, and with thirty or so guests (of varying acquaintance levels) crammed into a not large living room (and Rich who annually takes over our tiny kitchen with his big production Cincinnati chili), it’s also impractical. Crowd pleasing is wiser than challenging or exquisite. Originally, I wanted to only make Kraft recipes but I couldn’t bring myself to put Miracle Whip in a pecan-crusted cheesy football.

Buffalo_wingsJames manned the deep-fryer and made classic buffalo wings followed by a few batches of fried chicken as the evening wound down. We were thankful for the chocolate mousse cake brought from Bay Ridge’s Aunt Butchies. But I cracked it out a bit late, after people started leaving, and now I have nearly half the cake in the refrigerator (I thought my 2007 plan to slowly lose half a pound a week would be ridiculously easy, yet last week I gained weight. Why can some people peacefully coexist with baked goods and fried food while others lose their shit?).

Bacon_datesI’ve wanted to make some version of bacon-wrapped dates for a while (ruamki too, but no one will eat chicken livers) but it’s not the type of thing you whip up for yourself. There appears to be an east west debate over this snack: A.O.C.’s version with parmesan or Red Cat’s take with a goat cheese and almond stuffing. The goat cheese sounded messier to prep so I went the hard cheese route but substituted manchego and used fresh jumbo dates from Sahadi’s that you could eat like candy (I totally don’t understand date haters—they’re definitely my favorite dried fruit). I also picked up a half pint of hummus and baba ganouj. Sure, I've made both from scratch before and considered doing so this Sunday along with some salsa, but really, during tv watching events involving lots of alcohol it's not worth the effort. Plus, Sahadi's versions are better than my homemade style, and tomatoes aren't in season, anyway.

QuesadillasAt least one meatless dish seemed in order since I was expecting around five vegetarians. Keeping with the simple, non-fancy theme, I went with monterey jack and corn quesadillas. A little boring and inoffensive, though I spruced them up with a quick side dip using sour cream, lime juice and a chopped chipotle. Easy.

Sunday Night Special: Green Fish Curry & Spiced Carrots

It’s strange that there were two Costco stories in the New York Times on Sunday. Technically, only one, “Spending: 24 Rolls of Toilet Paper, a Tub of Salsa and a Plasma TV,” was specifically about Costco. But they did choose to illustrate the article about Islam in the suburbs with an imam, his wife and a giant bag of Tostitos. And also printed one of my favorite quotes ever:

“The Prophet said, ‘Whoever is frugal will never suffer financially,’ ” said the imam, who shops weekly at the local store and admits to praying for its owners. He smiled. “These are the people who will go to heaven.”

So telling that he speaks fervently of a New Jersey location. I don’t know if anyone affiliated with the Brooklyn branch (that he apparently had the good sense to stay away from during his many years in Bay Ridge, just one neighborhood away from the borough’s only Costco) will be seeing pearly gates in their future.

James got up early and ventured to the soul-sucking Sunset Park location for Superbowl wings. I stayed in bed because I don’t do NYC Costcos (while still crowded, the one in Edison, NJ is a dream. They have a huge wine department and you can actually get samples because in the suburbs customers aren’t deranged and mobbing for slices of Uncrustables, thimble-sized paper cups of squash soup, organic apple wedges and kielbasa slivers).

Later in the afternoon, I did naively try to run in and out of the Red Hook Fairway for a few items. Big mistake. I ended up sweaty and angry and minus dashi and pita bread (though I had an epiphany in the organic baking aisle where I accidentally ended up after being shoved around a bit. I’d been looking for frozen grated or shredded unsweetened coconut, which you sometimes find in Asian shops and frequently find in Latin American stores. Neither exists in Carroll Gardens and the bag I had stashed in the freezer had gone bad and tasted like earwax. I’m glad I tested a pinch before using it. But you can find non-frozen shredded coconut with no added sugar near things like Newman-O’s and spelt pasta, if you happen to have those types of groceries where you shop. I try to stay away from such things).

I haven’t posted one of these look at what I made missives in a while because I haven’t done any heavy-duty weekend cooking lately. I decided to take to the kitchen this Sunday, primarily as procrastination tactic. I’m supposed to turn in some writing by end of month but would rather tackle Indian recipes than come up with punchy ways to describe non-descript dining rooms.

I bought Mangoes & Curry Leaves some time ago, and while it’s pretty to look at I haven’t cooked a single thing from the book (there might be a correlation between glossiness and perceived usefulness. Years ago I received a paperback review copy of Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweetand cooked from it a ton. Maybe if I had the whopping, coffee table version I would’ve been hesitant to use it).

I’ve been trying to eat more fish and use up forgotten freezer items so green curry tilapia was perfect. I had everything I needed except the above-described shredded coconut. The curry leaves I’d frozen ages ago seemed to have held up ok. When I was in Kuala Lumpur I visited a family that had fragrant things like curry leaves and pandan just growing in their backyard. While no fan of farming or gardening, it would be pretty cool to just step outside and snip or pluck what you need for any given recipe. I swapped flounder for tilapia because that’s what I happened to have.

The recipe ended up being more labor intensive than I’d anticipated but that’s often a hallmark of a chosen Sunday meal. I took the suggested side dish literally and made spiced grated carrots, which furthered my thrifty use things up theme. I’m scared to death of mold and passed pull by dates but I had a full fat Fage yogurt in the refrigerator that had expired four days earlier that I couldn’t bear to toss out because it was $1.79 (20 cents cheaper at the weirdo desolate Italian store on Court St. than at the Korean deli next store). I didn’t realize it wasn’t the 2% version until after I bought it and couldn’t fit it into my recent strict-ish eating regimen without like not eating breakfast, lunch and snacks for a day. So, it smelled and tasted fine (I’ve gotten a bad Greek yogurt, it’s pretty unmistakable) and I was thrilled to save it from the trash. In case you were wondering, I don’t worry about fat grams and calories on Sundays (honestly, I don’t worry about them half as much as I should during the week either. I’m not a Cathy about what I consume and you couldn’t pay me to eat Tasti D Lite. I’m not buying that Pinkberry bullshit either—frozen yogurt is not food). Sheesh, it’s the day of rest.

The two dishes were a smart pairing. The fish was hotter than I’d expected (I didn’t seed the chiles), sharp flavors slightly mitigated by the 4 tablespoons of butter/ghee you use for “tempering” the dish. The carrots were sweet and tangy. Both had earthy qualities from the black mustard seed and curry leaves. Unfortunately, I forgot that in a moment of hippiness I bought brown basmati rice at Trader Joe’s. It actually has a nice chewy quality and psychologically counterbalanced the butter and yogurt that laced everything else on my plate.

Green_fish_curry
I took quite a few photos of this meal, but no matter what they came out mildly unappetizing. I'm not sure if that's due to a lack of plating or photography skills.

Tilapia Green Curry

Ingredients
About 1 1/2 pounds tilapia or other fish fillets
1/4 cup coconut oil or vegetable oil
2 teaspoons black mustard seeds
1/2 cup fresh or frozen curry leaves
2 cups water (1 cup if using tomato)
4 to 6 pieces fish tamarind, or substitute 1 cup chopped (preferably green) tomatoes
1 1/4 teaspoon salt

Masala Paste:
3 tablespoons chopped ginger
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
1/2 cup chopped shallots
6 green cayenne chiles, seeded and coarsely chopped
1/2 cup packed coriander leaves and stems
1/2 cup fresh or frozen grated coconut, or substitute dried shredded coconut mixed with 1 tablespoon water
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon turmeric

Tempering:
About 4 tablespoons ghee or butter
4 to 6 fresh or frozen curry leaves
1/2 cup sliced shallots
2 tablespoons minced garlic or garlic mashed to a paste
3 green cayenne chiles, stemmed and cut in half

Rinse the fish fillets, cut into 2-inch pieces, and set aside.

To prepare the masala paste, place the ginger, garlic, shallots, chiles, and fresh coriander in a food processor, mini-chopper, or stone mortar and process or grind to a coarse paste. Add the coconut and process or grind to a paste (if the mixture seems dry, add a little water as necessary to make a paste). Transfer to a bowl and stir in the ground coriander and turmeric; set aside.

To prepare the tempering, heat the ghee or butter in a medium heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Toss in the curry leaves, wait a moment, then add the shallots and garlic. Lower the heat to medium and cook until starting to soften, for about 4 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the chiles and cook until the shallots are very soft and touched with brown, about 5 minutes more. Set aside.

Heat the oil in a wok or karhai or a heavy pot over medium-high heat. Add the mustard seeds, and when they have popped, add the curry leaves and masala paste. Lower the heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until the oil rises to the surface, about 5 minutes. Add the water and fish tamarind or tomatoes and bring to a boil. Add the salt and the fish and simmer, turning the fish once, for 3 to 5 minutes, until just barely cooked through.

Add the tempering mixture and simmer for a minute, then serve hot.

Serves 4-5

Spiced Grated Carrots, Kerala Style

Ingredients
2 tablespoons raw sesame oil or vegetable oil
1 teaspoon black mustard seeds
Abuot ½ cup minced onion
¼ teaspoon tumeric
1 tablespoon minced ginger or giner mashed to a  paste
2 green cayenne chiles, slit lengthwise and seeded
About 10 fresh or frozen curry leaves
3 to 4 medium carrots, coarsely grated (About 1 ½ cups)
½ teaspoon salt, or more to taste
Coarsely ground black pepper (optional)
About ½ cup plain yogurt, preferably full-fat

Heat the oil in a medium heavy skillet or a wok or karhai over medium-high heat. Add the mustard seeds and partially cover until they pop, then add the onion and turmeric and stir-fry for 2 minutes. Add the ginger, chiles, and curry leaves and stir-fry until the onion is very soft, about another 5 minutes. Toss in the carrots, salt, and pepper, if using. Stir-fry for about 5 minutes, or until the carrots are very soft.

Turn the heat to very low. Add the yogurt and stir for a minute or so to warm the yogurt through and blend flavors; do not allow it to boil.

Serve in a shallow bowl.

Serves 4

Recipes from Mangoes & Curry Leaves by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid. Artisan, 2005.

Sunday Night Special: Rabbit Etouffée & Cheese Grits

RabbitIt’s a two-fer. Man cannot live on pie alone so there had to be prequel to the baked apple dessert. Around Thanksgiving I was surprised to see rabbit prominently displayed on an end shelf in the walk-in meat locker at Western Beef. I don’t recall seeing it there before, but really, I’ve never looked. Rabbit’s a weirdo meat (though hardly in the realm of pony flesh) that I’d order in a restaurant but don’t consider cooking at home. But I think that’s just because it’s not typically in stores (I thought I was remembering incorrectly, but I could’ve sworn being mesmerized by a tidy box labeled Pel-Freez Rabbit in the lean-over not stand-and-face freezer case when I was a kid. I used to wonder if it was really rabbit or a misnomer like Welsh rabbit. I’m thrilled to see that this product is real) that I patronize.

Presented with the opportunity, we had to snatch a plastic-wrapped hare up to freeze for later. Later came last night when we decided to give it the etouffée treatment. Many rabbit recipes could be interchangeable with chicken. Matched with the recommended cheese grits, this was a rich, Cajun-ish (I won’t say Creole since that’s become hotly debated in the past month) stew that seemed just right for rabbit. Of course, practically any protein would taste good smothered in buttery bacon laced gravy. I didn’t notice until after starting the recipe that it was from Jacques-Imo’s (their website hasn’t been updated in eons and was as such pre-Katrina) a New Orleans restaurant that cooks incredibly creamy, sauced and decadent dishes like alligator cheesecake. I knew the rabbit etoufeée would be good based on its roots alone.

EtouffeeNot only have I never made rabbit, I’ve never had a grit set foot in my house either. This recipe combines a pot of quick cooked grains with two types of cheese (I broke down and bought some six-year-aged Quebec white cheddar [there was also a 3 ½ year version and I was torn] instead of going for the cheapo Tropical brand like I might normally do because I don’t eat cheddar with any frequency. That makes no sense, right? My new thing is that if I buy something rarely I can justify spending more on it. Like I don’t eat eggs often so I bought the pricier brown organic ones. I’m still not clear on why brown equals healthier to consumers, though) milk and eggs and gets baked until semi-firm and browned. Grits purists might object, but it was a nice treatment of ground corn.

This very second I’m working the night shift and eating a dreaded grapefruit (yes, I brought other things to snack on—I’m not a total citrus martyr). All I can think about is getting home for a post-midnight snack of grits and rabbit.

Sunday Night Special: Apple Pie

I hate (well, don’t love) fruit in general, but I hate waste even more so I’ve been trying to come up with uses for the unwelcome 15-pound bag of grapefruit and 10-pound sack of red apples that were recently brought into my house. I ate a grapefruit for breakfast last week and brought apples to work a couple of times but that’s enough. An apple pie seemed like the perfect solution to this un-tasty dilemma. The grapefruit, I’m still thinking on.

I don’t think I’ve ever made an apple pie. Baking has never done much for me, somehow it feels more like drudgery than cooking. Usually, I turn to the web for inspiration but with something so straightforward as an apple pie, I thought I’d paw through my cookbook standards that rarely get used because I’ve outgrown them.

The New Basics Cookbook seemed like a good pie recipe candidate. It was one of the first non-used cookbooks I bought for myself, probably when I was nineteen or so. At the time, I didn’t want traditional like Joy of Cooking (though the new release is on my Christmas wish list) or pathetic like but I was looking for standards and explanations. The soft cover, 849-paged, The New Basics fit my criteria, plus I thought it was terribly sophisticated. Now it reads kind of like a time capsule.

Published in ’89 and purchased in ’91, I probably haven’t cracked it open in a decade (except for the instructions on how to poach a chicken breast). It was written by New York caterers (I just saw Silver Palate jarred sauce at Fairway on Friday so I guess they’re still cashing in) so there is a bent towards entertaining and presentation. The recipes include lots of fruity vinaigrettes, pestos, high-end pizzas (very Wolfgang Puck) and twists like using Asian pears in a waldorf salad and. I wasn’t even familiar with things like kohlrabi, celeriac or sorrel (and I’ve still never cooked with any of those items).

Something that stands out was an hors d'oeuvre called beggars purses, which was essentially a crepe filled with caviar and crème fraiche and bundled up like a mini bag and tied with a chive. I hadn’t given this finger food any thought until the early ‘00s when an old college friend of James’s mentioned that she’d just attended the wedding of a mutual friend who’d married some old rich restaurateur and that they served beggars purses at the reception. This was relayed kind of mockingly like “how ‘80s.” The critical detail that I’m fuzzy on was whether or not the groom was the inventor of beggars purses, which I swear was what this woman said. If so, that’s amusing to me because the recipe in The New Basics was titled Barry Wine’s Beggar’s Purses and the headnote reads, “Barry and Susan Wine have one of the most stunning restaurants in the country, New York’s Quilted Giraffe.” This was a big deal place two decades ago, not that I would know first hand, I was just reading about it in The United States of Arugula. Did this girl marry Barry Wine? Ha, I think she did. I don’t know her name, but Johns Hopkins was the common denominator among this group of people and the Catskills is ringing a bell.

Wow, enough unnecessary asides. (Is not being able to focus on one topic for any length of time and constantly being distracted by unimportant bits an affliction that can be cured with pharmaceuticals? I would be a much more productive person if I could stay on track. And I don’t mean A.D.D., which I definitely don’t have despite hating to wait and take turns and feeling restless—who doesn’t?) I just wanted to make a pie, not a boring pie, and be done with it so I could eat the damn thing. With the addition of grated cheddar and a touch of dry mustard in the crust, the Apple of Her Eye Pie sounded interesting (the name is mildly retarded but many of the recipes in this book are kind of cutesy) without being over the top.

Apple_pie

I ultimately had trouble with the crust. It fell apart a little and I had to do some dough spackling on the top so it’s not picture perfect. I must’ve done something wrong because it wouldn’t hold together when I cut it either. Of course none of these cosmetic traumas affected the taste. The overall flavor was sweet and more vanilla-y and candied than I would’ve expected. I suspect sharper green apples (which I do like) would’ve been more fitting but it was lame red delicious that needed using up.

I was excited to be able to get rid of eight apples but it turned out that my pie plates were 9” rather than the 10” called for in the recipe so I had filling overload. I only managed to squeeze in about five apples and now am faced with a plastic container jammed with leftover sweet-spiced fruit.

Apple of Her Eye Pie

PASTRY:
3 cups unbleached all purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon dry mustard
Pinch of salt
8 tablespoon unsalted butter, cold (1 stick)
1/3 cup shortening, cold
3/4 cup sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
6-8 tablespoons ice water

FILLING:
8 tart apples
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
1 teaspoon vanilla

TOPPING:
1 teaspoons sugar
Pinch of cinnamon

DIRECTIONS:
1. Prepare the pastry dough: Combine the flour, sugar, mustard & salt in a mixing bowl & toss well to blend. Using a pastry blender, 2 knives or your fingertips, cut in the butter & shortening until the mixture forms small clumps. Then add the cheese & work it in until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

2. Sprinkle the water, 2 tablespoons at a time, over the mixture & toss with a fork until the mixture can be gathered into a ball. Knead it once or twice in the bowl and divide it into slightly unequal halves. Wrap both halves & chill in the fridge for 45 min.

3. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

4. Prepare the filling: Peel, core and halve the apples; cut them into 1" chunks. Combine the apples & melted butter in a large bowl. Add the remaining filling ingredients and toss until the apples are evenly coated.

5. Roll the smaller portion of the chilled dough out on a lightly floured surface to form a 12" circle. Transfer it to a 10" pie plate & press it into the bottom and sides of the plate. Trim the dough, leaving a 1" overhang. Reserve any excess dough.

6. Roll the larger portion of dough out to form a slightly larger circle.

7. Fill the pie plate with the apple mixture, mounding it slightly. Brush the edge of the bottom crust with water, then transfer the top crust over the apples, tucking it slightly inside the rim. Trim off any excess, allowing a 1" overhang again. Seal the edges of the crusts together with a fork & crimp decoratively. Trim away any remaining excess pastry.

8. Prepare the Topping: Mix together the sugar & cinnamon. Prick the top crust with a fork in several places & cut a small vent in the center. Brush the top lightly with water & sprinkle it with the cinnamon sugar. If you like, cut out shapes, such as leaves or apples, from the dough trimmings & decorate the top crust with them.

9. Bake until the filling is bubbling and the top is golden, about 1-1/4 hours.

Borrowed from The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso & Sheila Lukins. Workman Publishing, 1989.

Cut_pie

This was an opportunity to crack out the good china, ok, it was just the $16.99 Tord Boontje for Target dessert plates. I think that was a brilliant choice of designer for Christmas, considering how his style is so naturally wintery. I almost broke down and bought some of his “real” dishes last year. Do you think Target could commission a budget version of this $33,500 chandelier?

The only danger of baking is that if I make a pie, I will eat a pie. I was horrified a few episodes ago on Heroes when The Cheerleader and her mom threw away a batch of cupcakes because they were “too good.” What the fuck? There’s no such thing. And I’m assuming that’s why I don’t have a cheerleader figure. Is that how people (women) live? I’m going ten steps the other direction and plan on using the extra apple filling to make fritters later in the week. I’ve pretty much given up any attempts at health for December. With three weeks left in the year, I’m going to be carefree (or careless, depending on your temperament).

Thankfully Yours

For no reason at all, this year I couldn’t bear making a turkey, stuffing, potatoes, pie type of Thanksgiving meal. I did want to cook, though. My alternative criteria included strong flavors, vegetarian-friendly and not Asian (my usual inclination). The M’s: Middle Eastern, Moroccan and Mediterranean seemed wise (and had nothing to do with Turkey bird/country puns). I was finally able to use the restaurant cookbook, Moro, a 2004 Christmas present from my sister. Ultimately, I settled on the following:

Squash Fatayer
Turkey Bisteeya
Green Beans with Cinnamon Yogurt
Golden Rice with Cranberries
Pumpkin Flan with Spiced Pumpkin Seeds

I’ve never understood the guilt, family obligation, whatever that comes with celebrating the holidays. I just had a few other orphans over for mini slumber party, low-key Thanksgiving dinner. Where I get this apathy from became apparent when my mom called Thursday and mentioned that she was shirking a family celebration, herself. Those relatives all practically live in Portland so it’s not a long haul travel issue for anyone. It’s very much a case of why bother with things that are unpleasant or difficult (fine for family gatherings but it inevitably extends to concepts like going to the doctor, fostering relationships, exercising and eating well, career advancement and the like).

The best part of the conversation was when I asked what she was doing at that moment. “Oh, I’m baking cupcakes from a spice cake mix.” No harm in that though it only reinforces how cooking from scratch was, and apparently still is, exotic (the last time I went home for Christmas, maybe in 2004, my cousins had done a bit of home baking. Unfortunately, everyone was on an Atkin’s bender and in my mind Splenda and artificial lemon extract cancels out the whole scratch thing).

I was originally going to work Thanksgiving and then said fuck it. I didn’t want to be a martyr but losing a day’s pay also sucks. While I would prefer it to be metaphoric gravy, the last article I wrote could cover two day’s lost wages with a little left over so I took the initiative to be lazy. I probably should’ve worked yesterday (Friday) now that I think about it but I couldn’t get out of bed until 1pm. (Besides, I’m being positive and counting on some good news next week. It would be very strange to start 2007 with another new job especially since I already did the exact same thing this January. I think 2007 will have to be an entire do over of 2006.) So, I had more time to prepare food than I’d anticipated but it still took way longer than expected and there were a few flubs. But there always is.

ThanksfatayerFor the fatayer, which is a pastry typically filled with spinach, I used a combination of butternut, carnival and acorn squash and ultimately hand mashed rather than pureed. Next time I would use all butternut because the other two were a real trauma to peel and I wasted over half an hour messing with them. The end result was probably a little chunkier than called for but that was no biggie. I doubled the recipe and played a little loose with the measurements due to the grams/ounces conversion and made round pastries rather than triangular ones. The strange thing was that I had more than half of the filling left over after crafting eight doughy orbs. Maybe I understuffed, though based on the illustrative photos in the book I was right on.

With the exception of peeling the squash (which thankfully, I did the night before) these were pretty easy to make. I whipped them up while guests were watching Iron Chef America. Don’t be scared off by the yeast, rolling and rising (I usually am), it goes quickly.

Pumpkin Fatayer

Dough
220g all purpose flour, plus extra for dusting
½ teaspoon sea salt
½ teaspoon dried yeast
100ml warm water
2 tablespoons olive oil

Filling
800g pumpkin or squash, peeled, seeded and chopped into small chunks
½ garlic clove, crushed to a paste with salt
1 tablespoon olive oil
80g feta cheese, crumbled and mixed with ½ small bunch fresh oregano, chopped
1 tablespoon, pinenuts, lightly toasted
sea salt and black pepper

To make the fatayer dough, place the flour and salt in a large mixing bowl. Dissolve the yeast in the water and pour the oil into the water. Now pour the water into the flour a bit at a time while mixing. When all the water is added, transfer to a floured surface and knead well. If the dough is still sticky add a little more flour; if it is still crumbly add a little more water. Continue kneading for about 5 minutes until the dough is no longer tacky, but soft, elastic and smooth. Set aside to rest on the floured surface covered by a cloth.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 450 degrees. To start the filling, toss the pumpkin with garlic and olive oil, and season. Place on a baking sheet in the preheated oven for about 25 minutes or until soft. Remove and cool. Puree and taste for seasoning.

To make the fatayer, divide the dough in four and roll into balls. On a generously floured surface, using a rolling pin, gently roll each ball to approximately ¼” thick, making sure the shape is a rough circle about 6.5” in diameter. Put 1 tablespoon of the pumpkin and put a quarter of the feta (with oregano) and pinenuts on top. Moisten the edge of the circle with a little water, then lift the dough into the center around the triangle of pumpkin. With your fingers, gently squeeze the adjoining edges together until sealed. Trim the edges of the triangle of any excess dough and pinch together again.

Place the four fatayer on an oiled baking tray and bake for about 10-15 minutes in the preheated oven, or until the dough begins to color, but not totally crisp.

Serves 4

Recipe from Moro by Sam and Sam Clark. Ebury Press. 2001.

I’ve always wanted to make a bisteeya (b’stilla, b’steeya, whatever) because I’m nuts for sweet savory combos. I can’t understand people who are grossed out by fruit and meat cohabitating. This Moroccan pie would kill them because it’s not even subtle like sweet and sour pork; this monster is strewn with powdered sugar, cinnamon and almonds. It’s a total dark meat danish. I was also drawn to it because traditionally the entrée would be made with pigeon or alternatively, squab. Two birds I’ve never tasted, but clearly it’s about richness, which seemed like a perfect match for dark turkey meat.

I’m all for banishing dry poultry so I ended up poaching three turkey drumsticks as my base. This did prove tricky because all the recipes I found used chicken parts (the only turkey version I saw called for ground meat and that’s just wrong) which would require shorter cooking times. I was thinking I could simmer the drumsticks in an aromatic broth for maybe two hours but it dragged on all afternoon.

BisteeyainsideI adapted a recipe from The Traveler’s Lunchbox, who had already adapted it from various sources. Mine was definitely a mishmash. In a nutshell, you simmer dark bone-in meat in broth steeped with saffron, ginger, cayenne and cinnamon and onions. After the meat is cooked and removed, you boil the liquid down and add beaten eggs mixed with parley and cilantro until the egg is firm. Almonds are toasted, chopped and tossed with cinnamon and powdered sugar. To assemble the bisteeya, you layer lots of phyllo dough (warka for purists, but I wasn’t trying to prove anything) and butter and create layers of sweet almonds, shredded turkey and herbed egg and fold the phyllo sheets around the filling to create a big blobby pie. Then you bake until the pastry turns golden. That’s it. If it wasn’t for the turkey taking an eternity to cook, this would’ve been a fairly streamlined operation.

Admittedly, mine looks naked. I didn’t go the extra step and sprinkle sugar and cinnamon on top. By this point, I’d already had enough to drink that presentation had lost importance and only two people were eating it anyway.

I also needed something green and crunchy to balance the starchiness of the menu. These super easy vegetables did the trick. They look kind of grotesque in the photo, though.

ThanksbeansGreen Beans with Cinnamon and Yogurt

1 garlic clove, crushed to a paste with salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
14 ounces Greek yogurt, thinned with 1 tablespoon milk
1 ½ pounds green beans
sea salt and black pepper

Mix yogurt, garlic and cinnamon. Add salt and pepper to taste. Boil beans for 1-2 minutes, drain and toss with yogurt.

Serves 4

Adapted from Moro by Sam and Sam Clark. Ebury Press. 2001.

Thanksrice At the last minute (ok, the night before but that’s cutting it close) I decided we needed a side starch so I made do with things on hand and bastardized this Golden Basmati with Apricots. I used jasmine rice rather than the recommended grain (I only had half a cup) and dried cranberries instead of apricots since that was what was in the cupboard. It came off without a hitch and seemed more seasonal with the berries anyway.

I didn’t want to fuss with a crust so pies were out of the question, but this seemingly straightforward Pumpkin Flan with Spiced Pumpkin Seeds turned out to be a real pain in the ass. You’re essentially making a flan and combining a custard with a can of pureed pumpkin. Easy right?

Er, no. You’re supposed to push the mix through a metal sieve, but there was no way all of my goop was squeezing through the holes. Nowhere did the recipe say to discard solids either, so I spent at least 45 minutes fussing, forcing, trying different mesh strainers to no avail. I eventually gave up, and threw the remaining cup of too-thick batter into the dish as is. At the rate I was going the six-hour set time wasn’t going to be until after midnight (which ended up being fine since we weren’t ready for dessert until after 12am anyway). Not only did the flan not gel completely, it wouldn’t come out of the dish. I ran hot water over the back of the pan until it finally plopped out in an oozy block. I didn’t take a picture because it looked like shit.

Food aside, I’m always baffled how these types of evenings progress. Originally, there was a loose plan to play board games and watch hot gay teen hustler flick, Mysterious Skin (a perfect double feature would’ve been Brokeback Mountain, but that doesn’t air on cable until this Sunday. Though we did get a little unexpected man-kissing when we randomly clicked on original Cronenberg Crash, [I love how the decade-old website still exists] not cheesey Oscar Crash. I still think it’s weird how Elias Koteas ended up in all these arty flicks because I can only think of him as skinhead Duncan in Some Kind of Wonderful, which happened to be on TV today) but none of that happened. Five bottles of wine and a pack of Kools (I’m still not clear on the whys of how a friend started carrying menthols. For the record, I’ve only been smoking one-to-two cigarettes a week rather than a day so I figured a holiday binge wouldn’t kill me) will cloud good judgment.

Somehow we got sucked into the truly amazing, Kirikou and the Sorceress on the Black Family Channel (this French animated film is bizarre and charming in its utter un-American style. Without spoiling the story, it’s kind of about a precocious brave baby that’s born walking and talking and saves his village. That doesn’t sound terribly enticing, but one of my friends ended up having Kirikou show up in her dream the next night. It sticks with you). Next thing you know, I was watching the kind of crap that I’d normally chide James for putting on like Control, and marveling at Willem Defoe’s weird beauty. Then it was 6am and I was unable to turn off VH1 Classics, showcasing the hideous slightly before my time Rush, as well as the hideous firmly within my era Soundgarden. Somehow the night always ends with VH1 Classic (I have photographic reminders of how I practically cleared a room with my dancing to George Michael’s “Monkey”).

Thanksfriends
I’m not one for people photos but I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I was a true Thanksgiving orphan (no, I’m not pictured).

Sunday Night Special: All the Pretty Horses

From scratch used to be a mystery to me. When grade-school-aged, I overheard my mom incredulously telling a neighbor, “Marva makes cakes from scratch. That’s what Ron expects.” It sounded like a dirty secret and I wanted to know what scratch meant. “Not from a box” was the short answer. I had no idea you could even make a cake any other way so this was a startling concept. Looking back, I think my mom was stymied by the idea of going through the extra effort to please your husband.

Time-consuming baking or not, Ron and Marva already stood out on our street. For one, they were the only black people for blocks (possibly miles). Two, Marva had multiple sclerosis and when she wasn’t shaking and stumbling down the cul-de-sac, holding onto signposts for balance, she was riding around in an Amigo. And possibly oddest of all, Ron was a nurse. If scratch was strange, a male nurse was practically inconceivable to me.

Fonduemeat I like scratch now, but sometimes I like novelty even more. Hence, Sunday evening’s instant French-Canadian supper. While in Montreal over Labor Day weekend, we went nuts at run of the mill supermarkets and became fixated with fondue section. There was a freezer case with paper thin cuts of meat, cans of ready to heat bouillon and bottled dipping sauces. No prep to speak of. We even happened to have a packet of powered béarnaise sauce in the pantry to add to the readymade meal. Shabu shabu-style fondue (or steamboat, as they’d say in Singapore and Malaysia) is strangely popular in Montreal. Outside of the suburban Melting Pot chain, I’m not sure that cook-it-yourself meat is a huge American dining concept.

Cooking horses most definitely isn’t an American dining concept. Never having been much of a pony-loving girl, I guess I’m less sentimental about treating equines as a food source (I think pigs are much cuter and yet a plate of bacon doesn’t bother me).  In addition to picking up a tray of pre-sliced beef, there was no way we could pass up the exotica like bison and yes, cheval, a.k.a. old gray mare. And apparently horses are having the best week ever. Later last night I stumbled on this horsemeat taboo article on Chow and then saw a bit on The F Word about horse milk being the new thing. Yes, horse milk.

Fondue_1Honestly, it was difficult to ascertain exactly what horsemeat tasted like. The broth was distinctly flavored and permeated everything dunked in it. Béarnaise isn’t exactly light either (Arby’s Horsey Sauce as appropriate accompaniment?) so any natural essence was doubly masked. It didn’t taste like beef, though if someone fed it to me blindly I would likely peg it as such. The raw flesh is much redder and deeper in color (in photo: note pale beef on the left and burgundy horse on the right). The texture is chewier, maybe slightly tangy (there was a chalky aftertaste that I noticed while trying to fall asleep a good four hours after eating. I doubt it had anything to do with horse and more to do with our poor meat handling skills. Our packs started defrosting while in the hotel mini fridge, and not only were we nearly charged for every item removed to fit in the frozen flesh but blood had leaked all over the remaining tiny bottles and snacks). I forgot to take cooked photos. I’m so not a dedicated documentarian when it’s time to eat.

Eating horsemeat freshly prepared by an experienced chef would probably be a fairer assessment of its charms (or lack thereof). But I don’t see that happening any time soon in NYC. Leave it to those freewheeling Canadians. I swear, if Americans knew what carnivorous horrors were going on up there, they’d build a 700-mile wall along our northern border too.

$38.10 Worth of Thanks

Being the last Wednesday before Thanksgiving where you can do actually something about what you’re being told by food sections, it’s been a turkey barrage. I’m not turkey crazy in the least but I’m starting to feel the bland, meaty tug, especially since last year I went out for dinner and ended up missing picking at leftovers over the three-day weekend.

Turkey1At work we were trying to find historic turkey prices and I was moderately surprised by the statistics coming from the American Farm Bureau. They’ve pegged the cost of this year’s Thanksgiving dinner for ten at $38.10. That is totally doable if you have simple tastes but otherwise it’s kind of a sad meal. They’ve broken it down by individual items so you can see how they’ve arrived at the figure. I’m thrifty as hell and yes, New Yorkers tend to be out of touch spending-wise (I don’t need to re-remind you about New York magazine’s cheap $500 holiday party for eight do I? Ok, I do.) but come on, a 59-cent relish tray of carrots and celery?  That’s dietetic and depressing.

$1.86 for a 30-oz. pumpkin pie mix and $1.89 for two pie shells…eh. While there’s no way in hell I’m coughing up $28, you can still make a quality dessert from scratch for under $5, ten dollars if you live it up. And no, most people including myself, don’t use fresh pumpkins for pies but a home made crust likely uses ingredients already in your house: flour, eggs, shortening, butter, salt, sugar, water or some variation of these. Extras like nuts or whipped cream add to the price, but only marginally. Even if you’re tempted to buy a ReadyCrust (I used to totally covet the chocolate crusts in the store when I was a kid. I could so imagine a green misty grasshopper pie in the preformed shell) read what the New York Times has to say about crust perfection.

So this year I plan on cooking some basics but probably not until Saturday and likely only for myself (Thanksgiving proper I’ll be working so no prep time and that evening I’ll have a few holiday orphans over for a turkey-free slumber party). I envision a small poultry item, stuffing of some sort, a green vegetable and possibly a potato-based dish and that’s it. I might even forgo dessert because there’s already enough sugariness in the house. But I suspect I’ll still overspend the $38.10 average.

I was just looking at heritage turkeys you can order through Fairway and even a small one, at $5.99/lb is around $70. People have been heritage gaga for the past few years. I’d like to give in to history and wild birds but this isn’t the year for financial risk. Maybe I’ll get my taste of Bourbon Red or Standard Bronze in 2007. It’ll be an antibiotic-free free-range vegetarian fed turkey for around $25 and I’m guessing I can put the whole meal together for less than the price of one heritage turkey, tasty as it may be. I’ll add it up next week and see.

Sweet Smell of Excess

I told myself that if I ever get to take a substantial vacation any time soon (which doesn’t seem likely in my current state) that I’ll only go to one city (ok, possibly two) and explore the hell out of it. I always try to cram in as many places as possible in my allotted amount of time off and never feel settled in any of them (Spain and Wales in ten days wasn’t enough and even two and a half weeks for Hong Kong, Singapore, Penang and Kuala Lumpur was too brief).

KitchenThat’s also how I feel about throwing parties, even low-key ones. I want to make a million things, and I often succeed despite space constraints (I can’t complain about the size of our apartment—it’s vast by local standards, but the kitchen is as tiny as NYC stereotypes would have you believe. Witness dirty aftermath in photo to the right. There’s a mere 18” of workable counter space, which is better than the zero inches I’ve had in the past). The trouble arises when I have my hands full literally, prepping snacks and sipping drinks. The last thing I’m capable of is taking pictures. Photoblogging and I are natural enemies. My antisocial nature becomes apparent when over the course of six hours I only manage a few food shots and not a single image contains humans. For all anyone knows, my Saturday night soiree was a party of one (does anyone else think it’s weird that two former Party of Five actors with animal surnames both play doctors in back-to-back ABC dramas?) when I’d estimate that thirty odd guests came and went over the course of the evening.

Deep-fried candy was intended as the main event, though judging from the heaving bag of leftover bars in the downstairs fridge, we didn’t make much progress. More attention was paid to battering and cooking oddball items like Sara Lee Cheesecake, Entenmann’s Blackout Cake, caramel apples and Hostess Sno Balls. Anyone interested in recreating the greasy decadence in the privacy of their own home can follow the recipe I posted from a previous venture a few years ago.

Candyapple
Raw caramel apple

Snoball
Cooked Sno Ball

On the non-sugary front, I whipped up two easy drinking snacks to go with the Jalapeño Margaritas. Supposedly, I squeezed enough limes for 18 drinks (it’s a good idea to not save the task of juicing 30 limes until the last minute) but the pitcher was gone in a flash. Cocktails are like that. I thought I’d counter the Three-Pepper Spiced Pepitas, which was part of a Food & Wine feature “Bar Snacks for Food Snobs” with a common people Rachael Ray Spicy Chickpea Snack Mix. I don’t want to be a hater, but the garbanzos were kind of eh. It’s hard to compete with smoked Spanish paprika though.

Wings_1 I made a Fatty Crab recipe, Malaysian Glazed Chicken Wings, against my better judgment (ok, that’s a weird thing to say. I apologize for my completely irrational aversion to Zak Pelaccio, who apparently is opening a new restaurant in London). I’m crazy for fish sauce, chiles and sugar, so no complaints. In fact, I ate extra chicken last night for dinner and I’ll probably eat a few wings this evening. James was disappointed that I baked the poultry when we had a tub of hot oil at the ready. One can only fry so much.

Said oil was put to use for Perkedel Jagung (Indonesian corn fritters). I doubled the irresistible recipe given on 'Ono Kine Grindz and should’ve quadrupled it. I don’t even have photos of the fritters because they were devoured as soon as the hit the plate. They were served with Maggi Sweet Chili Sauce that we got at a Carrefour in Singapore. We brought a few bottles back last year because I’m obsessed with the sweet-spicy stuff but you can get versions in Chinatown. It’s even on Amazon, though the bottle is different and the label looks more old fashioned.

Satay_1 I borrowed liberally from James Oseland’s new Cradle of Flavor (which never struck me as absurdly titled until friends saw it on my desk and started mocking it/me with made up names like Bassinet of Taste. I thought my own invention, Snugli of Seasoning was a hoot—too much tequila has been known to influence humor perception) but am unable to reproduce the recipes in full here. No, I didn’t just gain respect for copyright, his recipes are just really freaking long and I don’t have the wherewithal to type them out. I made a shrimp satay that completely fumed up the apartment with its requisite toasted shrimp paste for the marinade. I’m highly tolerant of extremely pungent smells (seriously, I think I have a permanent sinus infection. For better or worse, I can’t smell anything) but James was having a freak out trying to ventilate the place before company arrived. Fans, candles and incense are no match for belacan. Thank god for global warming or else we wouldn’t have been able to keep the windows open all night in November. The dipping sauce was a simple concoction of kejap manis, sliced chiles and lime juice.

GadogadoGado Gado is kind of whatever you want it to be. I briefly blanched sliced carrots, green beans, bean sprouts and also included fresh cucumber and fried tofu. I forgot about the cabbage I intended to add. You can also make it heartier with sliced potatoes and/or hardboiled eggs. Vegans threatened to attend the event so I eschewed the animal byproduct. And just because a good percentage of plain vegetarians did show that didn’t stop me from putting shrimp chips on the side. The deep-fryer had to be put to use as much as possible.

The Javanese peanut sauce that gets mixed with the salad is actually a recipe worth typing out (unfortunately, Cradle of Flavor isn’t on the desk I’m currently occupying—I’ll add it in later). You start by toasting and grinding peanuts from scratch, which is so much better than using peanut butter and I’m not just saying that to be a purist. Shallots, chiles, coconut milk and vinegar eventually are incorporated.

So, next time it’s fried candy and say, one or two Southeast Asian treats. Hypothetically, I mean. It’s not like I’m going to fry candy and grill satay again any time soon–that would be repetitive. I hate paring down, though. Excess makes me happy.

I was also happy to be brought a pair of shoes that were too big for the original purchaser and the size 9 friend she passed them on to initially. I had just been lamenting (in my mind) how much it sucks to be a 9 ½ since inexplicably no one seems to make them (seriously—why the whole jump from 9 to 10?). It’s too bad that I hobble in even near-practical thick 2” heels. I have no idea how I’ll pull off spindly 3 ½ inch heels (note the use of “teetering” in the ad copy), not to mention the skinny jeans that should accompany them. I’d better lay off the peanut sauce and fried food stat.