Smarty Pants

My whipper-smart little sister is the science nerd of the family. My brother and I have managed to emerge from my parents' protective graces firmly entrenched on my mother's artistic side, but she's got her eyes set on pre-med and chemistry and neuroscience and all sorts of other mysterious things. She's also a cook, and for her senior (high school) project, Sally's been taking a cue from meticulous blogger extraordinaire, Carol Blymire, who has taken on some of the country's most challenging cookbooks (and meatballs), by exploring the craft and science of molecular gastronomy.

Basically, she's playing in the kitchen.

I got to help out with one of her experiments over Christmas vacation—we made our version of Alinea's Pheasant, Shallot, Cider, Burning Oak Leaves and served it as a haphazard amuse bouche on Christmas Day.

It was a hit, even with five-year-old Robert (for him, a more apt name for the dish was Fancy Chicken Nugget on a Burning Stick).

Road Trip Day 0 / Filling up on Penang

As you may have noticed, I like to plan – make lists, gather maps, color-code, and cost-calculate just about everything. So when it came to my road trip cross-country, I needed to know just when we would leave and go, where we would stay, what we would eat, for an entire 10 days. I printed out maps and directions a couple of times (my reliance on Google maps was probably a bit too trustworthy, in the end), and made countless contacts with friends and family dotted along interstates 70 and 80. In the end, my sister and I did a pretty good job staying on track – getting lost only once, and only staying slightly behind schedule most of the way.

Part of my plan was to stuff ourselves with good eats before getting on the road, because you never know what you’re going to find on the road. And I had to get in one meal at my favorite Malaysian restaurant before taking off. So my family and I ventured out Buford Highway to Penang.

One thing you have to understand about my family and Penang is that we have certain set dishes. We go there so infrequently, that by the time we sit down, we all know exactly what it is we crave. Much of the time, we invite friends just for this reason – more people equals more dishes equals more chances to squeeze in an extra new dish amongst the roti canai and char kway teow. This time, there were only six of us (my immediate family and grandmother), so we only tried one new dish – a fried fish with “Thai sauce.”

But I’m getting ahead of myself. We always start with the same three appetizers:

Roti Canai, a griddle-fried pancake, made with lots of butter and served with chicken curry. This dish is always a crowd pleaser. The bread is airy and only slightly sweet, with alternating pockets of air and chewy, buttery bits. It can be enjoyed on its own, but is awesome in the curry. Because we usually share these between two or three people, my siblings and I used to fight over who got to eat the potato and who got to eat the bite of chicken (always a random, unidentified piece of dark meat, usually with skin and bone attached – my parents used to describe watching the chicken butchers in Singapore hack away at the birds until no more than small cubes – nothing like supermarket chicken in America). We always save the leftover sauce to pour over white rice with the rest of our meal.

Satay (one chicken and one beef), Malaysia’s version of meat-on-a-stick, served with peanut sauce (except for me), cucumbers, and red onions. My dad has come up with his own version of satay, which we have served at a couple of dinner parties over the years. It’s surprisingly tricky to recreate the marinade, and many restaurant versions, in my opinion, just aren’t up to par.

Achat, pickled, jullienned veggies, covered in peanut sauce and sesame seeds. I’ve never eaten this (warning, don’t give me peanuts unless you are skilled with an Epi Pen and know the fastest way to a hospital), but it’s one of my brother’s favorite dishes.

Following the appetizers, we pretend like we don’t know what else to order for a few minutes, close our menus, and recite our standards:

Pork Fried Rice, for my increasingly less picky sister, which, in Penang’s Malay version, has little seasoning other than oil, and a smattering of carrots, peas, and red onions to go with the char sui pork. About 5 or 6 years ago, Penang added a menu insert of “daily specials” that actually never changed, including the memorably misspelled Pineapple Friad Rice. Entertained by the comedy of it all, we would order this instead, until finally growing tired of the overwhelming sweetness of the pineapple added in.

Char Kway Teow, a fried rice noodle dish, with seafood, egg, and a few vegetables. Traditionally, the dish is very spicy, but at Penang it varies from visit to visit. This particular night, it was one of the hottest things that we ordered. Regardless of the varying intensity, char kway teow is one of the few dishes we have ordered every single visit. It is one of my favorites, and I crave it regularly. My mom tells me this is because she ate it constantly while she was pregnant with me, and so I’ve had it in my blood since before I was born. Maybe this is true, or maybe it is just delicious.

Kari Sayu, a vegetable curry, served in a coconut broth. We first ordered this dish a couple of years ago on a whim, and it is now in regular rotation, partially due to the abundance of green in the bowl, and partially due to my mother’s obsession with lady fingers (or okra, in the south). This curry manages to walk the line between creamy and crunchy, and it only slightly spicy – a nice contrast to our other dishes, like –

Crispy Golden Fried Squid, a spicy calamari, covered in some kind of chili powder and served with beautiful slices of bell peppers and onions. This was the first squid that I ever enjoyed – it is never chewy, always crisp – and it’s painfully addictive.

As I mentioned earlier, our guest dish of the evening was a deep-fried whole fish (we were thinking red snapper, but the menu just calls it fish) with what they called “Thai sauce” a mysteriously red lemongrass sauce that makes an appearance on many of Penang’s seafood. The fish was flaky and moist, just as it should be, but the sauce stole the show. I found myself scraping it on to rice too many times to count. More Thai sauce, please!

After stuffing ourselves with spice, we always end our meal with Ice Kacang. As my parents explained to me at a very young age, successful, stomachache-less Malaysian meals need both heating and cooling elements. As our entrees are almost always hot and greasy, our desserts must always be cooling. An ice kacang does just that. Extremely sweet and strange the first few times you eat it, the snow-cone like bowl of awesome gradually grows powerfully enticing. At this point in my eating career, I can’t imagine anything better to end a meal, and I find myself wanting them every time I eat spicy food. What makes it so strange, though? At first glance, it seems innocent enough – a towering pinnacle of shaved ice with syrup on top. But this syrup is not your average artificially colored high-fructose corn syrup mess. Instead it is a combination of rose syrup, palm sugar, and sweetened condensed milk. And hiding underneath the tower is a collection of agar agar jellies, atap seeds, corn, and beans:

Sound weirder? It took me several years to get up the courage to try the treats hiding underneath, but it is now my job to eat up the bottom. I don’t know why it tastes so good, really, but it is. Awesome.

Stuffed and happy, we left the restaurant and headed home to finish packing, organizing, planning. I was still full the next morning when Sally and I jumped in the car at 8 am and headed to St. Louis.

Tomorrow: The long leg of the trip, across the Midwest, though the desert, and into the west coast. Stay tuned!

To-Do Lists / Fruit, Spice, Party

I am a fan of lists. I make them for just about every slightly-larger-than-small task; sometimes they are even color-coded. This I learned from my mother, and I’d like to think that my list-making skills have a lot to do with how well I did in college. This said, here is my to-do list for you, reader, now that it is July and hot outside.

First, use up that extra fruit and make dessert. There’s something about hot weather that begs for fruity desserts. Don’t get me wrong, I love chocolate, but it’s not quite as satisfying on a 90°-plus evening.

This cherry-peach-almond clafoutis (adapted from, you guessed it, A Platter of Figs) was pretty killer. Almost custard-like in its filling, this confection really highlights the sweetness and texture of the fruit. And you can experiment with different fruit selections – I like to combine like fruits (stone fruit with stone fruit, or berry with berry, but I’m sure anything fresh would work beautifully).

Second, eat spicy food. It may seem counter-intuitive on a hot day to fill your body with capsaicin, but it really is satisfying. I’m not quite sure what it is – there’s got to be a reason why so much spicy food comes from hot parts of the world (Southeast Asia, anyone?). Maybe it’s because if your insides are burning up, the outside temperature doesn’t seem quite so hot.

Or maybe it just tastes good, like this dinner from Woodlands in Charlotte, NC. I went there with my parents, one of my mom’s friends from college, and her husband. Unfortunately there is no picture of the beautiful appetizer plate, but this is what we shared for dinner:

(Starting at the top, going clockwise) Kadai Bhindi (Okra), Palak Paneer (Spinach and Paneer, a yummy Indian cheese), Aloo Gobi (Potatoes and Cauliflower), Baigan Bharta (Eggplant), and Dal Tadka (Yellow lentils). We ate this with the requisite rice, onion naan, and raita. All of it was awesome, all vegetarian, and all spicy. If you’re ever in Charlotte, you should definitely visit (don’t be discouraged by its location in a less-than-picturesque strip-mall neighborhood or its extremely bizarre service).

Third, have a party. And cook a lot of food. It helps to have graduated from college, or to have someone else graduate, or accomplish a similar feat, but having a party just to have a party is great fun too. For my party, I invited 50 or so friends, family, and family friends over to celebrate, drink, and eat what I like to call Italian tapas. I had some help from my family, especially with the set-up (thanks!!), but this was definitely the largest cooking endeavor I had planned and executed largely on my own. It was definitely a rush, and I would definitely do it again (especially since everyone seemed to love the food).

Arugula and Fava Bean Crostini

Tomato and Garlic Crostini (from A Platter of Figs)

Charcuterie: Prosciutto di Parma, Coppa, and Salami from the Dekalb Farmer’s Market

(No photo: Olives, Artichoke Hearts I marinated myself, and Roasted Red Peppers)

Leeks Vinaigrette and Balsamic Marinated Radicchio with Ricotta Cheese

Asparagus Salad with Basil and assorted fresh Summer Peas

Orzo Salad with Tomatoes and Herbs

Pork Meatballs with a Tomato and White Wine Sauce

Abbracci Cookies

I took most of my recipes and ideas from Bon Appetit/Gourmet/epicurious.com, and, since I was cooking so much, I didn’t modify them as much as I usually do. Instead of re-printing recipes, I’ve provided the links for your reference. I did, however, put my own spin on the meatballs. Here’s my version:

Pork Meatballs with Tomato and White Wine Sauce
(Adapted from the A16 Cookbook)

I’ve scaled this back down to the original recipe size. If you are really dying to make about 175 meatballs, feel free to multiply the numbers by three and you’ll end up with about what I made.

For Braising Liquid:
Olive Oil
salt
½ onion, diced
1 garlic clove, finely minced
fresh oregano, chopped
fresh thyme, chopped
dry white wine
28 oz. diced San Marzano tomatoes
chicken stock

For Meatballs:
2½ lb ground pork
kosher salt
about ½ teaspoon dried chile flakes
about ½ tablespoon fresh oregano, chopped
4 oz. freshly grated Parmesan (at this point in my day, I was in a hurry, so I gave the cheese a pretty rough grate, but it would probably be better to grate as finely as possible)
1 lb. stale bread, cubed
1 onion, diced
1½ cloves garlic, chopped
½ bunch parsley, chopped
½ lb. ricotta cheese
a few tablespoons milk
4 eggs

I made the braising sauce first, so it could have time to cook and meld flavors. To prepare it, heat a tablespoon or so olive oil over medium heat in a Dutch oven (you’re going to stick all of your meatballs in here after they’ve browned, so make sure it’s big enough–5-7 qt. should be about the right size). Sweat the onion with a bit of salt. Once it has softened, add the garlic, oregano, and thyme. Sauté for about 30 seconds, or until the herbs are very fragrant. Add about ½ cup of wine and rapidly simmer until it no longer smells like alcohol, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the tomatoes with their juices and bring back up to a simmer. Cover, lower the heat, and cook for at least 30 minutes, or until all of your meatballs are ready.

To make the meatballs, preheat the oven to 400°. Mix the pork with a generous amount of salt, the chile flakes, oregano, onions, garlic, parsley, and Parmesan. Mix by hand gently, just until uniform. Put the bread cubes in a food processor and chop until you’ve got fine bread crumbs (You can also do this in a plastic bag, with a hammer-like object, but it’s a lot more work). Add the bread crumbs and the ricotta to the meat mixture and mix, adding milk as needed until everything is moist and blended. Add the eggs and mix just until the eggs are incorporated.

Form the mixture into balls, a little smaller than golf balls, and place onto an oiled rack on a roasting pan. You can place them very close together, but make sure that they don’t touch. Roast for about 10-15 minutes, or until browned. I had to do this in about 7 or 8 batches, and I placed the browned meatballs in a bowl until all of them had been browned.

Once the meatballs are browned, add them to the braising liquid in the Dutch oven, stacking gently if needed. If the liquid seems too low, add some chicken stock until the liquid reaches, but doesn’t cover the top layer of meatballs. Bring back to a simmer, cover, and cook over low heat or in a 300° oven for 2-3 hours, or until cooked through and very flavorful.

Allow the meatballs to cool as much as possible in the liquid and remove them to a serving platter. Turn the heat up to high, and bring the braising liquid back to a boil. Cook until the liquid has reduced by half, skimming off fat and residue as you go. Once the liquid is reduced, strain through a fine mesh sieve (Chinois, if you have it), and return the strained liquid to the saucepan. Reheat right before drizzling over the meatballs.

Family Style

I’ve always been of the belief that summertime meals are the greatest of all seasons. Some may argue for the soul-warming benefits of the hearty stews and braised meats of winter, the sweetly inviting aroma of roasted vegetables in the fall, or the refreshing first salads of spring. I would grant these meals as thoroughly enjoyable, but the best? I think not.

Summer meals have the benefit of vast arrays of colorful fresh produce, and encourage eating in varied abundance. As you already know, in my family, we support colorful eating, and there is no time better than now to have a colorful meal, no place better to eat such a meal than outdoors, and no way better to prepare and eat it than with a bunch of people – family style.

A couple of weeks ago, my parents, brother, sister, and I fixed a taco spread with flank steak, a pepita chimichurri, black and white beans, and grilled local veggies. Another night my parents and I feasted on chilled cucumber soup (the cucumbers picked fresh from the garden), caprese salad, fresh avocado, and bread and cheese. The meal lay somewhere between snacking and dining, an embrace of all things casual and fresh.

Later that week, my aunt, uncle, and cousin roared through, bringing my grandmother into town for a trial stay at an assisted living home. Earlier that day, my mom had stopped at a fruit stand and picked up fresh okra, limas, and lady peas (of all summer vegetables, fresh peas are one of the greatest gifts, especially when they’ve been pre-shucked). I had been itching to try another one of David Tanis’s recipes,* a variation of succotash, using jalapeño butter instead of plain. His recipe called for green beans and zucchini, but I subbed in the limas and okra, and used extremely fresh (and cheap!) local white corn.

My dad threw pork ribs (marinated in Mojo sauce instead of BBQ, for a more subtle and less sticky flavor - you can actually taste the pork!) on the grill, my mom made another caprese salad, and we sliced up some crusty bread. American summer food all the way, baby.

For dessert I baked a raspberry-blueberry galette. I used cornmeal in my crust again – I’m coming to think that even a small addition of cornmeal adds a wonderful crumble to the crust, with just a slightly nuttier taste that helps to balance the sweetness of the berries. My cousin was a huge fan, and fought (and won, mind you) with my dad for the last piece.

For your next summer meal, here is my version of the succotash – use as fresh ingredients as possible! It's the difference between good food and great eats.

Okra Succotash
(loosely adapted from A Platter of Figs … again)

about 3 cups fresh lima beans
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 Vidalia onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
6 ears of corn, shucked, and kernels cut off
about 3 cups okra, washed and then sliced into bite-sized pieces
salt and pepper
½ stick butter, at room temperature
1 jalapeño, minced (use the seeds if you want it spicier, or leave them out)
zest and juice of 1 lime

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil, add the lima beans, and gently simmer for about 20 minutes, or until just under al dente (you’ll finish cooking them with the rest of the veggies, so stop when they’re almost-but-not-quite done). Drain and set aside.

Heat the oil in a large, somewhat deep skillet or pot over medium. Add the onion and cook until soft. Add the garlic, corn, okra, and limas. Season with salt and pepper. Turn the heat up to high and cook for a minute or so. Add about a cup of water and cover the pan. Steam the vegetables for about 5-7 minutes, or until they’ve reached your ideal consistency.

Meanwhile mix together the butter, jalapeño, lime juice, and lime zest in a small bowl. When the vegetables are done, mix in the butter and serve right away, or let sit and serve at room temperature, with other summer treats.

*I promise I source my ideas from other places as well. I promise my next post will have something different!!

Three Colors

Sometime when I was in middle school, my mother grew tried of cooking for the family every day of the week. I can imagine that it would get boring after awhile, cooking the same meals over and over, catering to our still undeveloped picky tastes. On top of this, she had decided to go back to work, and it seemed only fair to share the kitchen burden. So one night after dinner, she pulled out the calendar and had each of us (my father, brother, sister, and me) pick one day a week in which we would each cook dinner. Five of us meant that all of the school nights would be covered, and with teenagers in the house, these would be the only realistic nights for a family meal anyway. I can’t remember what my original day was; I’m pretty sure it changed every once in awhile, after quitting gymnastics, beginning dance class, or joining the cross-country team. In any case, I think we were all pretty nervous about the change in meal quality in the beginning. My sister, Sally, was something like eight years old at the time – frozen chicken nuggets and Kraft were her favorite foods. I’m not sure if my brother, Sam, hadn’t cooked much more than nachos. I was enamored of baking and not much else. Not exactly nutritious.

Instead of starving, we started to read cookbooks. My sister learned properly cook pasta. My brother learned to grill. I learned how to chop an onion. In a matter of months, we all had a few recipes under our belt – Sally had taco night, Sam had his own version of gyros, and I had roasted chicken and black beans and rice. As it turns out, we were all naturals in the kitchen, and while not every night was an exciting culinary adventure, we were eating well and getting excited about food.

From the beginning my mother had set some ground rules.

Well, actually, it was one rule: every meal must have three colors. Shades of brown did not count, and neither did artificial colors, like Skittles or M&Ms. For the longest time, I could not understand why she didn’t specify three food groups – I always made my colors match up this way, because the food pyramid seemed to be the epitome of healthy, balanced eating. And I still generally eat at least three food groups at every meal, but not always. The colors are what have really stuck with me.

When I left for college and was forced to eat cafeteria food I learned that there is something about a multicolored meal that is always fulfilling. I believe that our eyes sense a balance in the composition of our meals when they are varied in this way. Multiple food groups are not always so visually stimulating. If you eat a plate of brown vegetable, chicken, and rice mush, you might get your protein, veggie, and starch, but you’re not getting any pleasure out of your food. It’s all the same texture, it’s all the same consistency, it’s all the same color. It’s gross, and it’s boring.

As soon as I moved off-campus and off-board, I started eating three colors again, and was happier and healthier for it. Thanks to my mother’s rules growing up, I knew how to cook, and I knew how to cook well.

In celebration of colorful food, here’s my rendition of David Tanis’s spinach cake, which is actually more like a mousse or a quiche without the crust. It’s a bright green, fluffy, surprise of a dish, filling enough for a light lunch or as an assistant to roasted chicken and strawberries for dinner. The mousse is also the best at room temperature, so make it early in the day and let it sit out until you’re ready to eat.

Spinach Mousse
(adapted from A Platter of Figs)

2 medium leeks, cleaned, and chopped into a small dice
2 tablespoons, or a little less, unsalted butter
salt and pepper
about ¼ teaspoon nutmeg
2 pounds spinach, cleaned and chopped into 1-inch (or so, it’ll be processed) pieces (if you’re using pre-washed spinach, drizzle a little bit of water over it once it’s been cut to help the steaming process)
2 cups milk (the recipe calls for whole, but I used 2% lactose free, and it was great)
6 eggs
about ¼ teaspoon cayenne
Parmigiano (I forgot this, so I ended up eating it cold on the side, and that works too)

Melt the butter in a large pot (use the biggest stock pot you can find, 2 pounds of spinach is a lot!) over medium heat. Add the leeks and season with salt and pepper. Sauté until soft but still green, and definitely not crispy. Turn up the heat, add the nutmeg. Layer the spinach in the pot, alternating with a bit of salt. Push it down and cram it all in there (trust me here; the spinach cooks down fast). Cover tightly and let steam for a minute. Stir the spinach around so the raw pieces on top can get closer to the bottom. Cover again and let steam for about another minute. You don’t want to cook the spinach completely; instead it needs to be just wilted, and still very very green. Turn the entire contents of the pot, including the juices, onto a shallow platter to let cool.

Heat the oven to 400°. Once the spinach is cool, taste and adjust seasonings (this is your last chance to do so, unless you like to eat raw eggs). Mix the eggs and milk together. In a blender or food processor, puree the milk mixture with the spinach mixture in batches. (If you use a food processor, be careful to not overfill. You’ll make a huge mess. Trust me.) Include some of the juices from the pot as well. Add the cayenne.

Pour into a buttered baking dish or a well-seasoned cast iron pan. Grate a bit of cheese on top if you’re using it, and bake for about 45 minutes, uncovered, until a toothpick comes out clean. Let cool completely and serve with at least two other colors.

Epic Eating

I did it. Graduated. An overwhelming experience in itself, the ceremony ended up taking a backseat to all of the other parties and planning and family interacting over the weekend. Of course, we also ate. A lot. It was epic.

I’m still pretty full from all of it, in fact, and have retreated to light salad territory probably for the rest of the week (good thing the Moreland farmer’s market is today!). For the next couple days, I’ll recount the ups and downs of the weekend – you won’t want to read it all in one post anyway.