Food Carts and Recipe Duels

Some meals are best left to restaurants. Long, multi-course affairs with wine pairings and a different amuse bouche for each diner or conceptual, intricate dinners decked out with foam and exploding truffles are beyond pleasurable, but not something most of us would want to make ourselves or even enjoy on the fly. And, much of the time, these are not the meals I crave, dream about, or plot to put together on a long Saturday.

Usually I want simple, straightforward food that tastes great and looks like it was made by human hands.

I think most of you do too.

There are several cities in our country experimenting with new ways for getting just this kind of food into our bellies cheaper, quicker, and better. Chefs are doling out meals ranging from fried-whatever-you-can-imagine and khao man gai to handmade local sausages and artisanal pizza, to hungry office workers, elitist hipsters and vacationing families. They’re brining good food to fast food wastelands and transforming parking lots into foodie meccas. Those of you in Portland, Seattle, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and Washington DC surely have eaten lunches, dinners, and late night snacks at your roaming squadrons of food carts, not realizing how fantastic these mini-kitchens are. I know I grew complacent.

But I now know how empty an empty parking lot can feel, and I now know how satisfying that 1:30 am cone of fries can be.

Atlanta, unfortunately, is home to archaic zoning ordinances that make it close to impossible to own and operate a food cart. These days there are a few cart-like vendors but, until the rules change, there is no way for carts to populate Atlanta like in other cities .

Luckily, it looks as if things might be starting to change.

The Atlanta Street Food Coalition, mostly made up of Hayley Richardson and Christiane Lauterbach have begun mobilizing current and future food cart owners and lovers to petition the city for change (go ahead and sign the petition here). They organized a great event a couple weeks ago to raise awareness for the chefs already trying to bring their creations to the street.

I hung around for a bit and tried some pretty good food, made simply and delectably.

Good Luck Bowl: collards, black-eyed peas, cornbread waffle

Coppa Pizza

Ginger Creme Brulee

Speaking of good and simple food, did any of you hear that two of the best sources for creating these meals at home, food52 and Cook’s Illustrated, are having a duel? Apparently they’ve been, um, exchanging words since this fall, and they are, right as I write, culling and/or developing recipes for roast pork shoulder and sugar cookies. The recipes will be judged on Slate and the winner will get the title of Best Method for Creating Foolproof Recipes (or something like that). Will it be the power in numbers that comes from internet-saavy homecooks or will it be the tried-and-true science behind a trained kitchen of experts?

Personally, I like both. I use cookbooks like textbooks and I love resources like Cook’s that provide a wealth of information along with their reliable recipes. I also think that online food site like food52 bring an impressive level of creativity and ingenuity that can inspire cooks of all levels to develop their own recipes and palates.

I ran my own little test this Easter, just to verify my two-is-better-than-one thesis Granted, my test was, um, the opposite of scientific and was pieced together after the fact, but I think that the strength of both publications shone through anyway.

In addition to Martha’s fabulous mac and cheese and an Italian Easter Bread recipe from Gourmet, I baked up a daffodil cake from the most recent Cook’s Country and a pomegranate molasses-glazed ham from food52 (a winner and editor’s pick).

The cake was seriously beautiful, and crazy-simple to make (as long as you can whip egg whites to a medium peak, you can bake this cake). The perfect complement to our strawberries and cream, its crumb was both delicate and creamy, and the hint of orange mimicked the warm sunshine in our backyard that afternoon.

The ham? Holy crap, it was good. The reddish glaze baked up into a complex, spicy caramel crust, and its je ne sais quoi permeated to the depths of the meat. I stood in the kitchen, long past full, picking at the crispy bits long after lunch ended.

Who needs a winner?

Cooking for Others

I’ve been holding out on you.


It wasn’t intentional. I just didn’t want to tell you until I had survived the first event unscathed. Victorious, even.


A few weeks ago, I was hired to cater a dinner party for a great group of people. I dove in headfirst, scheming up a menu ready to satisfy the vegetarians, omnivores, kosher-keepers and hilal-observers who make up Kids4Peace, an exchange-ish program between Muslim, Jewish and Christian children in the US and in Jerusalem. Needless to say, the stakes were high. I mean, these are pretty awesome people, and I certainly couldn’t serve them less than the best.


I made a triple batch of French bread (learning important lessons about the freezer along the way), roasted free-range chickens, stuffed 10 pounds of kale into my stockpot, and pickled beautiful Woodland Gardens watermelon radishes. I baked cookie after cookie, stretched endless batches of cracker dough, assembled mushroom and rutabaga tarts, and sliced enough citrus to power an iPhone (um, almost).


In short, it was awesome, and I hope to do it again. And again.

Without further ado, then, I give to you my new pet project: Verdant Kitchen Sustainable Catering.

Tell your friends.

Curry Paste and Dried Fish

Andrew has an awesome Thai cookbook. He stole it from his mother’s house over summer, brought it back to Portland, and our house hasn’t been the same.

This particular cookbook makes the Slow Food movement look like MacDonald’s. The author–David Thompson–having found himself in Thailand by accident some years ago, decided that its cuisine was … maybe the best thing ever. He did some serious reconnaissance, found a bunch of ancient recipes, and went from there. Thai Food is as fat as a dictionary and contains a recipe and Julia-esque length explanations for everything from fermented fish paste to coconut ash pudding.

Andrew’s been experimenting with many of its curry recipes (and they have all been absolutely fantastic) since August, but it wasn’t until this weekend that he, Rosie and I put together a full-fledged (and painfully authentic) feast. Rather than sit here and describe each dish for you, here’s the meal in images:


The night before, Andrew fried up a shallot relish in left-over duck fat. Seriously, this was probably one of the best things I have ever eaten. We recommend using long beans as relish-consuming vehicles:



Rosie (along with a bit of pounding help from Stephen) painstakingly shredded a green papaya for a salad–funky, fishy, and totally addictive:



I cracked open a young coconut (hopefully there will be pictures of this to come–Andrew took them and we can’t find his camera cable) and cooked it up with freshly picked wild chanterelles, chicken, game hen stock, deep fried garlic and thai basil. Not the most photogenic, but still yummy:


I also made the requisite coconut rice:


The highlight of the meal was certainly the Andrew’s steamed fish curry. I’m not totally sure what all went into the curry paste, but it was green, lemon-limey, and super-tasty. The best part of the curry, though, was the way that the fish (we used cod because it had the green light from Monterey Bay) melted into the sauce. It wasn’t fish in curry sauce at all–it was curry-fish with an almost pudding-like consistency. So. Good:


You’ll notice the well-constructed banana-leaf bowl in which the curry steamed:


This was Stephen’s major contribution to the feast. He just wanted me to tell you that.


No feast is complete without dessert:


Okay, pulut hitam (black rice pudding) is not exactly Thai, but it’s one of my favorite desserts and has coconut and palm sugar in it just like everything else we ate.


So full. So satisfied. I should eat real Thai more often.

A Cake and a Confession (and also, some great news!)

Okay, okay, great news first: I got a job! A real, paying job in a real, live restaurant! As soon as I pass the necessary background screenings (note: drug testing – not as awkward as predicted), I will be working as a breakfast and lunch hostess at a hotel restaurant downtown. It’s right on the river, is run by a former Atlantan, and, hopefully, I’ll get to train as a server if things go well. I’m pumped! Take that second-highest-unemployment-rate-after-Detroit!

Anyway, on to the cake, by way of a confession: I have a bookmarking problem. I read a lot of food blogs, so I look at tons of photos and recipes every day. Most recipes, as long as they seem at least somewhat decent or beautiful in some way, get a big fat apple-D (oh, bookmark command, why did I ever memorize you?). On a good day, I’ll only bookmark a couple. On a bad day, it can reach 20 or 30. If you were to pull up my bookmarks menu, you would at first be confronted with a long list of to-be-sorted, poorly named links waiting for a day when I have a patient, boring, minute. If you were so lucky to reach the folders, you would see a highly organized folder-within-folder catalogue of hundreds upon hundreds of ideas.

Most of these ideas stay just that – ideas, fantasies, intangible wisps of information. They sit, gathering digital dust in my 21st century file book. Sometimes, I go through and delete a couple of stale ones, those that have gone so out of season or out of fashion that I would probably never touch them. On more ambitious days, I’ll actually click on the link, revisit the recipe, and prepare some version of it.

Saturday was one such day. A few of my friends just moved into a new house and were throwing a house warming party, asking guests to bring along some sort of edible or drinkable donation.

I made cake. Specifically, the yogurt cake that found Orangette’s Brandon. Bookmarked ages ago, it has always sat in the back of my dessert brain as an object of future experimentation. The cake is a snap to whip together, and the recipe is easy to manipulate. I added peaches, cornmeal, and a bit of olive oil to the original recipe, and left out the lemon zest and glaze, giving the cake a complex savory note to counter the sweetness of my overripe peaches.

Sophisticated enough to stand out in a crowd of homemade desserts, but rustic enough for a barbeque, this cake was a definite success. And, as I had found out about my job (!) only a few minutes before digging into my first piece, the cake was eaten in celebration as well.


Celebratory Peach Yogurt Cake
(adapted from Orangette)

½ cup plain yogurt
½ cup cane sugar
½ cup light brown sugar
3 eggs
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
½ cup medium-ground cornmeal
2 teaspoons baking powder
¼ cup canola oil
¼ cup olive oil
1-2 cups peeled, diced peaches

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and butter a nine-inch round cake pan. I used a springform pan here out of necessity (temporary house = temporary lack of baking supplies), which was too tall, but did help with the removal of the cake when it was done.

In a big mixing bowl, combine the yogurt, sugars, and eggs with a whisk (this makes it easier to combine the yogurt (I don’t pre-stir) with the other ingredients) until well combined. Add the flour, cornmeal, and baking powder, and mix (now you can switch to a spoon) until just combined. Add the oils and stir. Molly warns (and rightly so) that the batter will take quite a bit of stirring until the oil combines. But be patient, it will work.

Pour half the batter into the cake pan. Pour on the peaches, and try to distribute them as evenly as possible. Top with the rest of the batter and smooth with a spatula. Bake for about 30-35 minutes until the edges are golden (the top will still be a bit pale) and a toothpick comes out clean. Cool the cake on a rack for about 20 minutes in the pan, and then turn out of the pan until cooled completely.

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.

The Meat Project

It started with Nicky’s USA.

A couple weeks ago, Isaac suggested that we go check out this butcher near Burnside that supplies meat products to nearby restaurants. Of course I couldn’t pass up such an experience, and, assuming that he knew what he was talking about, I enthusiastically agreed. It wasn’t until last week, once our families left, that we actually began to plan the trip.

We decided to go last Wednesday, and the night before got together to look for ideas. Isaac left a post on my Facebook wall: let's look through my A16 cookbook tonight if you have time. A16 is Isaac’s favorite (perhaps the only book he uses?). It is beautiful, and holds many recipes for many types of meat. But I had just bought A Platter of Figs and was eager to look through it as well. In fact, I had been eying one particular spring recipe involving lamb that I wanted to try out. So I grabbed a pile of my books and headed over to his house. We sat down and thumbed through a few pages. Our conversation went something like this:

Let’s make lamb Isaac. It’s my favorite meat to eat once it gets warm. Tastes like summer.

I hate lamb.

Come on. It’s delicious.

I’ve been wanting to try this goat recipe [points at a recipe from A16]. What about that?

It’s braised. It’s too warm for braising.

I love braising.

I suggested a couple of other things, including the lamb from Platter of Figs, but Isaac kept coming back to the goat. Not really wanting to pick a fight, I conceded, and we moved to the Nicky’s website to check on prices.

Goat is too expensive. Don’t know why, but for the cut we wanted, it was going to come to something like 50 dollars. Neither of us wanted to pay that much. Isaac sighed.

Lamb was cheaper. And a good substitute for goat in the recipe. Yes! I thought. Just what I wanted! We agreed to go the next afternoon, leaving enough time for a proper salt of the meat before the party on Saturday. It seemed like a great plan.

Isaac and Matt picked me up the next afternoon and we drove into the bowels of the Southeast industrial district, passing warehouse after warehouse. When we finally located Nicky’s, we saw that there was no storefront, no real entrance save for the loading docks. We drove around the block and parked. Isaac pulled out his iPhone to call them, but first looked more carefully at the website: No walk-in orders. $125 minimum. Whoops. So much for Nicky’s USA.

Next resort: New Seasons. Their meat is still very good, usually local, and butchered in the store. After two checks in the back of the store and a conversation with the butcher, we finally got what we wanted – 5 and half pounds of on-the-bone lamb shoulder.

We lugged it back to my house, cut into the fat, and salted the hell out of it:

On Saturday I went to the Eastmoreland Market for San Marzanos (they are one of the few places that sell the good ones) and other goodies, and then we trekked up to the Portland Farmer’s Market for last minute vegetables – asparagus and chard:

I don’t know how I feel about the PFM – there are certainly lots of things to see and eat, but it’s a bit overwhelming. I tend to prefer the smaller markets, like Moreland or Milwaukie, where you can remember which stand had the freshest strawberries and the greenest greens. The food we bought was delicious, but I’m sure I could have gotten just as good produce from somewhere less stressful.

Anyway, we spent the next few hours cooking and cleaning – I got the lamb in the oven and worked on four different pizza appetizers:

Red Potato Pizza with Leeks, Manchego, and Arugula

Basil-Walnut Pesto Pizza with Sun-dried Tomatoes, Garlic, and Parmesan

Gorgonzola Pizza with Cremini Mushrooms and Cherry Tomatoes

Asparagus Pizza with Parmesan, Basil, and Garlic

Isaac went on a beer mission and then cooked the chard with a tomato-anchovy sofrito to serve with the lamb. Some of the guests generously brought other things to eat as well, like Robin’s killer cardamom caramel brownies:

Everything tasted awesome. The lamb especially. Cooked slowly for four hours in a mixture of its own rendered fat, tomatoes, garlic, rosemary, and cinnamon, we probably couldn’t have gone wrong. We couldn’t move it out of the pot without the roast completely falling apart. It even converted a few non-lamb eaters, Isaac included, and disappeared in a matter of minutes.

(chard dish in the foreground, lamb in the background)

Lamb Shoulder with Tomatoes, White Wine, and Rosemary
(adapted from A16)

5 ½ pounds on-the-bone lamb shoulder
about 2 tablespoons kosher salt
¼ cups olive oil
3 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed with a knife
2 sprigs rosemary
2 cups dry white wine (we forgot to buy this, so we used a left-over pino gris, which worked alright)
28-oz San Marzano tomatoes
½ teaspoon cinnamon

The night before cooking, make a series of cuts in the shoulder, especially in the top layer of fat, and rub the kosher salt all over the lamb. Wrap the lamb in a plastic bag and put it in the fridge.

The next day, take the lamb out to come to room temperature as you prepare the rest of the braise.

Preheat the oven to 275°. Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a 5-qt (or larger) Dutch oven. Add the garlic and cook for 5-10 minutes, until soft and browned. Add the rosemary and the wine. Bring to a simmer and reduce the wine almost completely (this can take quite a while – be patient). Walk by the stove several times and smell. It’s awesome.

Once the wine is reduced, add the tomatoes and cinnamon. Bring to a boil and then remove from heat. Squeeze the lamb into the pot and spoon some of the mixture over the top. Cover with the lid and stick in the oven. Let the meat braise for 3½ to 4 hours, or until the meat is super tender and falling off the bone. Again, I recommend checking on it every hour or so, just to pull off the lid and smell.

Once the meat is done cooking, move the pot to the stove. Take the lamb out the best you can and remove the meat from the bones and return it to the pot. Stir everything together and serve to a group of hungry post-college students.