now. cook.

I saw this while doing some research on my other entries – interesting. I can do 28 of them from memory, but I might question the Ratatouille and beef bourguignon being on the list of essentials. Listen kids, instead of this many recipes, what you need to know are more basic ideas that will get you to most of these. (For those who aren’t my wife, if you are a guy and you can cook even the most basic stuff…well, you know what that means with the ladies.) Soups/Stews: know mirepoix. Love mirepoix. Once you learn to go carrots, celery, onions (I add garlic), and have some stock, you are gold. If you want it creamy, roux it up after the mirepoix base cooks, and you are in then in open soup. Know the basics and you can do about a dozen soups with little help. Oh, buy a nice loaf to go with dinner; don’t be cheap – find a real bakery and get some solid bread. Don’t by crap at Food Lion or Safeway. Breakfast: know how to cook basic egg stuff (over easy, scrambled, omelette). If you add in learning to make a romesco sauce then you are gold. Waffles, pancakes, and French toast are all variants on the same theme. Keeping French toast in your hip pocket is the best option (milk, eggs, vanilla, bit of salt, nice sugar, flour, Challah!). Roasting: primarily vegetables. Don’t underdo them. 400 degrees for 40-ish minutes: olive oil, rosemary, ginger, salt and pepper. Don’t get fancy. Squash: easy money. Half, scrape, face down in bout 1/4 in of water. Oven. 400 degress, 40-ish minutes. Then you can stuff them with any combo of sautéed goodness and rice (hey, buy a rice maker…don’t kill yourself.) Chicken: full roasted bird with lemon and sage. Chicken tenders. X’s big platter of French-y chicken lusciousness. Yard bird. Mashed potatoes: Boil. Rice. Mash. Milk. Butter. Salt. If you can’t, or won’t do this, you aren’t worthy. Greek food: as a last item, focus on a basic area. Learn some basics from the cuisine and pull it out when you need to – spanakopita, tzatziki, gigantes, bread. Some day I’ll be 55 and teaching home-ec somewhere. Everyone will be able to cook and survive.

it's really nothing

X flew out to the great Northwest over the weekend to visit a dear friend and family. From what I gathered at the pick-up this morning (and our hookey playing for a long breakfast), everything went swimmingly.

I manned the fort for four days and no one seemed worse for wear. I did finally finish painting the living room ceiling - though I'd prefer a platfrom to lie down upon, like Michalangelo - but you can't have everything. The finished ceiling is also courtesy of Green Day, who kept me going through three full rounds of Uno!. You wouldn't imagine Billie Joe painting ceilings, but he's not a bad sidekick.

I decided on Saturday morning to make a big pot of Brunswick Stew for dinner - who doesn't want to shop for smoked ham hocks? If you don't know of The Stew, here's the background:

1. Came from Virginia
2. Or, came from South Carolina
3. Has a bunch of southern ingredents in it

You're welcome, I saved you this step.

Ham hocks, whole chicken, onions, corn, tomato sauce, tomatoes, okra, potatoes, chicken stock, Worchestshire, hot sauce, seasonings, and cooking.

What I really needed was a huge cast iron kettle/pot that I could hang from some sort of tripod over a fire in the front yard. As it was, I managed with soup pots on the stove. I should have done some cornbread, but we made due with fresh dinner rolls from Wegman's. The kids ate. They are ate-n again tonight as the adults (one very tired one) expose themselves to the (normal) failure of Quiz Night.

On Saturday I visited a therapeutic massage school near the house. They have a four-month, full-time program that my vet benefits will pay for (much like my culinary training). I think I might give it a go in September. I don't want to do it as a career, but X can get unlimited massages. What a deal, right?

I have nothing more to give...

t

express line

A new conglomo-market area opened down the road from our house: a somewhat urban version of the outdoor malls you've seen pop up about America in the last decade. This one, The Mosaic, is anchored by an elevated Target, but surrounded by more high-end stores, restaurants, boutiques, a killer independent movie palace, and a MOM market. I'm here to talk about MOM.

There's a MOM down in Alexandria that we used to hit every few weeks for the really good stash of quality foods and whatnot. Unfortunately, after moving to The Hilltop the drive became too long and MOM became nothing but a distant memory, until now. The new store is bigger, with wider aisles, and (for now) far fewer customers. Word of mouth will eventually bring the hordes to the better store with its great parking. And, since you're wondering about my list of greatest grocery stores/markets of all time, I feel I'd be delinquent in not at least giving you a passing glance at my list. You can thank me later.

MOM - the new store is fantastic. I shop there, I'm happy....while shopping.

Central Market - I've only been once to a single location somewhere in Dallas (University Dr.?), and it's stunning. I remember walking in and thinking I'd found paradise.

Waitrose - All about England. For some reason this fairly benign English endeavor always felt comfortable and holds great memories, for a few reasons. This is where I shopped when I first started to actually cook - real life cooking. I also used to always stop by X's house for a coffee on the way home.

Trader Joe's - Yeah, pretty obvious, but I hold them in high esteem for this specific list of quality items: nuts, cheese, wine, and some frozen stuff. It can be a tough shop, but they are worth inclusion.

Wegman's - Right, I used to laugh at the Wegman's prosetlytizers, even after I'd done half the store on my first visit. (They are really only located outside the Beltway here so it's a special trip - and a special $400+.)  This place is spectacular - from their own brands to high-end product. Loads of ready-to-eat stuff, great deli, great bakery...great around.

Byerly's - The upper Mid-west doppelganger to Wegmen's. Well, not quite, but close. Once again, a great selection and a place where you won't have to leave and stop at some other store for that last ingredient.

Wild Oats - I was pretty sweet on them before they were sucked up by the Whole Foods empire. In particular, the store in Reno served as my base while I continued to learn how to cook during my three-year cooking internship out West. I really love hitting the Wild Oats, TJs, and the International Market on South Virginia St.

I'll skip my specialty shops for now. For now.

The 51 drove up to Baltimore (Towson) today to visit Goucher College. I was hugely impressed; Laurel was stoic. Go figure. We decided at 9p last night to not do NYC this weekend - too much stress for the residents, and a Nor'easter to boot. We'll give it another shot in December.

hitler

I don't know what to say. I glanced at my cutting board and there sat morels, garlic, and shallots. What to do? In the voice of an Englishman, "that's a nice risotto." Damn if it ain't. Add some butter around, a dash of argen oil (handcarried back from Morocco by my killer barber!), salt, black pepper, a dash of Saint Angel cheese, and we will be lovers. Actually, I haven't tasted it yet; holding while X whips up a sorrel soup. She's so lovely. We obviously hit the farmers market this morning and the damn greens are exploding, as we like this time of year: sorrel, rainbow chard, spinach, ramps (ramps! they will go on pizza tomorrow night), chives, garlic greens...stunning. The best bit of the stroll was my stop at the mushroom guy; I walked into the midst of a discussion of morels, "a bit early for morels in this area, isn't it?" asked the sly man at the table. "Not really, I might question that," the seller replied. To which the buyer queried, "Well, where did you find them?" (Everyone steps back.) You don't ask a man that...ever. It was quite a parry because one of two things was in play: an innocent question which intended no theft, or a valiant attempt to discover the cache of morels in northern Virginia - a pirate move. No quarter. My mushroom man laughed at the Captain Black attempt and merely continued regaling us with his find of "maybe a pound, a bit more. Nothing like the 30 or 40 pounds a good find in the Midwest might provide." I snatched my basket like that weird little fuck in Lord of the Rings grabs the ring, and headed off for the fresh eggs and yoghurt.

There's a kid's homework assignment sitting at this computer desk as I type: "Collage of Adolf Hitler, Chancellor of Germany." I have a few questions before we continue. First, a collage? I don't think anyone puts Hitler and collage together, ever. "Dear Adolf, I'm sorry I couldn't make it there for the Holidays. But, I've created this lovely collage for you..." Is that off-base? Also, most people don't use the phrase "Chancellor of Germany" when discussing Adolf Hitler. Let's do a mental game; I say Adolf Hitler and you say what? I'll bet it's not, "Oh wait, the Chancellor of Germany?"

The weather is fine. A massive home-buying-spring-cleaning is ongoing. Two kids return tomorrow morning: I don't know which two.

Justin Earle has bypassed his father's talent. I think I might have pointed this out before, but if not, I do so now. The new album, clocking in at ten songs and thirty minutes, is fantastic.

Happy Easter to all. I hid some eggs in your backyard...go find them.

let it sit a bit

I spent about 2 ½ hours last evening at a talk on food fermentation with Sandor Katz. You might wonder how a person finds himself in that position, but it was by choice. Katz has been a leading light in the fermentation revival as a response to what he calls the clearly failed experiment of the factory food industry. He’s one of those people you rarely (unfortunately) come across who gives you the feeling that a type of life or society is better than others. X once pointed out while we were driving through Vermont with its open spaces, friendly people, and good ideas that it's all “total bullshit. Who’d want to live like this…” She’s funny. After spending the evening with Katz that joke ran through my mind: living like that would be so horrible, wouldn’t it?

The auction for L.’s school last weekend went well. I think the Parents’ Association made about $25k from the event, so that’s a lot of activities to promote. We managed to get all the food done over 10 hours spread across Thursday night, Friday night, and Saturday morning/afternoon. From what I could tell by the number of trips made for new platters of food everyone ate and drank well. By the time I got home Saturday night I was beat; X kept everyone away as I partook of a four hour Sunday nap. I’m just about back to normal.

The kids are vacating the area over the next few days for spring breaks across North America. The Eleven is once again heading down to the Jefferson Pools in Warm Springs for a long weekend; we’re actually stealing Monday off in order to make it a two-night deal.

I was trying to relay this morning how I find this lottery craze being a bit mispresented by the mathletes. I understand the 1-in-175,000,000 data that is based on tickets sold, etc. What I find strange is that there is no caveat to the number, something along the lines of how every person has an equal chance. A long shot chance, but equal nonetheless. Normally we are bombarded by percentages, probabilities, and statistics that are relative to some other input: 1-in-123,000 high school basketball players make it to the NBA; only 1.5% of children from single-parent families on the south side of Chicago will earn a 4-year college degree. These are numbers that are referential to some other variable. They sort of make sense because we can manipulate them in our minds and build a picture. The lottery? Even Steven. Same odds for everyone. My point is, if you want to drop $5 on the lottery have at it because the odds aren’t for or against you in relation to anyone else. There isn’t much in life where that applies. If you’re kid plays high school basketball you don’t tell him, “Listen, Preach, you has just as good a chance as Jimmy of making it to the NBA. The odds are 1-in-123,000 – every kid is equal and has the same chance. In fact, no need to practice or work hard from here on in. Equal is equal.” That would be insane. The lottery? It’s a flyer, have fun.

I have nothing else to say.

thor's hammer avoided

There’s a new play on at Theater J here in D.C.: Photograph 51. It’s the story of Rosalind Franklin and her place in the discovery of DNA. Well, her place, her life (I think), and probably the lack of fame she received during her lifetime. Of course, I immediately knew that I need to see it. Don’t judge me.

For those that know me, and eat waffles (could be one-in-the-same, or different people), I’ve become obsessed with the maker of my waffle irons. Vitantonio Manufacturing is/was based in the Cleveland area as early as the in the early 1900s (probably before that…), and made loads of awesome stuff: waffle irons, pizzelle makers, cheese graters, pasta machines, food strainers, etc. All the older stuff, from pre-1960, is fantastic for collecting and cooking (I think I just bought my sixth or seventh waffle iron). At some point, they either sold the company name, or someone else took over, and the products post-my birth don’t seem nearly as high quality, or interesting. Based on the limited research I’ve done, apparently the family split at some point, one side bought out the other, who then started some crap company called Villaware. It failed. I think Vitantonio ended up going under during that same period. Is this too much information?

We took the golden wagon in for a safety inspection ($16) and dropped about $800; living the life of the rich-and-famous.

I have a story that revolved around FedEx and me discussing addresses and delivery options out in British Columbia. It was lovely. I don’t have the heart to recreate right now because I just had an e-mail exchange with the Dean at my school, who irritates me to no end. Fortunately, my co-worker put the kibosh on my body slam e-mail before I hit send. Sometimes, cooler minds prevail.

I’ve had one week off before starting the next quarter. I’ll be working in the kitchen and dining room at the school’s restaurant for the next eleven weeks. I’ll try to bring my smiley face for those nights when I’m on wait staff duty.

honk honk

Traffic flow and jams came up the other week while I was listening to a podcast and it reminded me of a traffic TV special on BBC or ITV while I was living in England. They were working on the M25 orbital and talking about two main issues: traffic waves and lane jumping. The nuts-and-bolts were that the less space between cars the worst the ‘jam’ and, you don’t get anywhere faster in a jam by lane chasing/jumping. Over the years I’ve sort of followed what I learned on the show – and this area certainly allows for it – but I ran down a video of a guy describing the theories while driving. It’s pretty good stuff and might lead to some discussion amongst the crowd. (His Web site is here if you want to read anything else or watch traffic waves.)

Breaking Up a Traffic Jam! - Watch the best video clips here

I managed to ‘install’ the new board in the kitchen on Sunday. I had to move a few things this way and that in order to make enough room; needless to say, working on such a massive surfaces is quite nice. We had the entire clan over for an early birthday dinner: figs with crème fraiche and salmon to open, homemade tortellini with lemon and sage, stuffed red bell peppers, and homemade pie. There wasn’t much left behind after the onslaught.

It’s my final week of class with just one final and a buffet plating/service for the other; Nothing too much to worry about. I’ve taken a tour of a smaller, and older, culinary school nearby that I might transfer to after the Holidays. My current place, enjoyable for the most part, is getting way too overcrowded for the space they have. They’ve got 11 skills classes and 7 Intro to Baking and Pastry classes (both make-up the first step of new students) beginning next month. As a measure, when I started, and granted it was autumn, there were two skills classes and two B & P classes going on. I honestly don’t know where they’ll find the room since there are only four kitchens (or 3 ½ if you consider that one kitchen is only set-up for baking). Not only that, I think having 20-25 students per class is too many by half. The other school only has three kitchens but they run essentially the same courses with classes along the lines of 8-11 students. If I transfer it won’t be anything significant as far as upheaval, just a new place for my evenings.

We’re thinking of a trip to Warm Springs in about 10 days. That’s good thinking.

cut up to size

It was bout 75° on Sunday, and only a tad warmer yesterday, so all is good in the World.

As previously discussed, the cutting board (seen above with life-sized reference person) has been completed and delivered to the house. Corey brought it over last night after knocking it out over the weekend. I believe that unless someone can prove me wrong (with evidence), I have the largest privately-held cutting board in the civilized World. It is about 50 lbs, made purely from mahogany, and there’s an inlay pattern that’s hard to see in the picture. Very, very nice. I gave him pizza. Fair deal. (I’m actually going to pay for the wood.)

Our refrigerator has gone into a death spiral. It’s not dead yet but it’s only running at about 50° and the freezer is too hot by about the same ratio. Our landlord stopped by to take a look at it yesterday and immediately pointed out that he really had no idea how to fix or diagnose it: he did bring along a hammer and some pliers. A call is in today for a service visit but I suspect we won’t see anyone until later in the week. We’ve gone with the big cooler and ice blocks to keep the essentials cold. Funny, his refrigerator at home also died over the weekend so we’re investing the strangeness of it all.

My moral dilemma of the weekend is as follows. I swung by REI to buy a new Nalgene® water bottle since my six year-old version is about worn out and busted. While there I wandered over to the men’s section to peruse the clearance items and see if they had any shorts I could stock up on for next year – I’m pretty picky in the shorts department, if you’re inclined to ask. I ended up with the water bottle, a pair of shorts, a pair of pants, and a shirt. At the register I’m rung up (there was a slight sigh of frustration from the clerk whilst scanning the stuff). The total comes to something less than what I expected – each bit of clothing was about $30 and the bottle $10) – so I look at my receipt on the way out the door assuming something was marked down lower than the tag price. The first item is 2x the water bottle for $20, at which point I put together the sigh and second scanning of the bottle. I continue reading as I’m heading back to the counter when I’m struck: She was clearly looking for four lines of product on her screen and when there were only three she’d assumed a miss on the bottle. Of course, she’d missed one of the clothing items instead and now I have some massive ethicist issue on my hand. The line isn’t too long and I’ve basically gotten a pair of pants for the price of a water bottle, so, what to do? The quick math in my head says this: her register will be fine, the inventory will show a pair of pants missing and probably be written off as stolen, and one extra water bottle will be living on the rack o’ bottles. Do we go with the two-of-three aren’t bad outcomes so it’s okay, or not? One wonders. I won’t give you my answer.

Too rah.

spinning angel

Something that I’m not well versed in is cake decorating. I should probably bring that down to a more basic level and say cake frosting – I’m not sure that decorating and frosting are the same things. We’re into cake week at school and I’ve done more buttercream icing prep than I already care to do: Italian buttercream, Swiss buttercream, buttercream buttercream. We’ve done three cakes to go with the buttercreams (and tonight’s ganache): high-yield yellow, orange chiffon, and carrot. Last night was the turn of the yellow with the Swiss buttercream: third-ing the cake and icing it back together in two rounds of mess – it visits the freezer in between sets. We got the full demo on the cake wheel from our instructor who can knock out a perfectly iced cake in about two minutes; we each had our previously baked stumps of cake and buttercream for experimentation. What an unholy mess we created at our team table (of four). You’ve goy spinning of cake plates, eyeballing measurements, dropping of icing, angles of the spatula, more angles of the spatula, keeping your elbow up, spinning of cake plates, scraping, edging, freezing, and repeating. Oddly enough, even with the mess the four of us did alright for a first go-round. Believe me, this was no Duncan Hines yellow cake with tub frosting slapped together for Little Jimmy’s 4th birthday party. Tonight we do the carrot cake and orange chiffon. I promise pictures.

I’ve been pining for a bigger cutting board at home and came across a couple at Eastern Market that craft beautiful handmade boards from Virginia trees. I mentioned this in passing at pizza night a few weeks ago and Corey immediately decided he’d just make me one – being a carpenter-type and all. After some interrogation about patterns, sizes, styles, etc. it appears he’s ready fashion a monster that goes about 55 (!) lbs., just in case anyone is thinking of stealing it. Along with that, or a weekend before, he’s transporting down their dining room table from the great North and installing it in our house whilst taking our 6-person miniature and using it at N. Park Dr. Apparently, and I’m not yet a witness to The Beast, it might seat 10-12 and weigh nigh on a quarter ton. I’ve been put on alert to have neighbors ready to carry this thing because there “ain’t no way two humans can do it.” This should be quite interesting.

I’ve just been called on a mission to stop by home with food for our guest to cook for he and G. tonight. I’ll be in class and X alerts me to her endless work evening. She tells me to get some ‘chops’ and potatoes and Peter will cook them right up for the two bachelors. “What kind of chops? Bone in?” I reply. To which her riposte was a subtle and to the point, “Fuck if I know.” Love that gal.

Adieu.

half baked

I’d say that one-in-four or one-in-five of pizza nights don’t quite work out. Considering that this number translates to a once-a-month, and easily forgotten, failure it hasn’t caused too much misery on The Hilltop. The kids’ pizza is always fine because their bits are a standard set of meat and olives (and mushrooms, of late). The problem is with the weekly veggie offering that can end up as a mismatched mess, or more likely, too dry. What I’d been doing over the last month or so is to take things like stuffed peppers and enchiladas (separate weeks) and constructing them in pizza form. What I realized last night, while eating, was that I should have taken the idea a bit further and into this week. I went with baked eggplant (rosemary, s & p, smoked paprika) over pesto, mozzarella, mushrooms, and garlic. I topped it with a Jarlsberg-like cheese (I actually wanted a Gruyere but failed…) and olive oil: in the end it was way too dry. That kind of cheese with the breaded/baked eggplant didn’t work well – I should have gone the route of turning it into an eggplant parmesan pizza and doused it all with a nice red sauce. Lesson learned.

About a year ago we had the big protest on the Mall. I was working at the LOC on that Saturday and was humbled by the roar of stupidity. I know that sounds harsh but it should be. Riding in on the Metro that morning with that shopping bag of whackjobs may have been the most telling review of American in 2009 (and now 2010). Until now: I was wrong. Enjoy this from DCist.com.

t

sizzle

Right. I'm a cooking show addict

I've watched two episodes of the new Top Chef (D.C.) after missing the first five or six seasons. That's no big deal, in the end, because it's not Gordo or Jamie. Anyway, on to Padma. I've known of her for years but this is the first real 'interaction' I've had with her and let me say this - boring as a doorknob. Is that harsh? Maybe. She's an unbelievably attractive woman but if I had to spend more then ten minutes talking to her I might just walk away. Then again, I'm in the midst of the Angelina Jolie piece in Vanity Fair and there's a difference. Now I sound sexist. Great. I'll move along… Wait, not yet. I also think Tom Colicchio is a bit of a blowhard. Sorry. He appears to have some skills and coming from a Ramsey guy I guess I might sound ironic…or moronic. The problem with him is that he doesn't actually seem to be trying to make x or y better, he's just a asshole. Ramsey is an asshole but you can see his angle on anger. Just putting that out there

"They didn't have time to cook a bag of beans?" - Colicchio.

Yeah, they didn't…in 45 minutes. What a guy

One of the guest judges was the chef at Zaytinaya here in D.C. He was the only dude up there that wasn't posing and tatted up. Why? Because if you've been to Zat then you know he has nothing to worry about. Great chef

Man, I sound (and probably am) like a whiny little thing

What I've learned thus far in this third career of mine is this: you are what's on the plate. How you walked in, what you think of yourself, your ego…gone. Your plate. Your choice. Your life

p.s. If you're fan of Tom Colicchio, or Tom Colicchio, I don't want to hear it. Write your Congressman

peace.

eh, pay

As I was driving home yesterday I ended up at a light behind a car with this personalized plate:

ISITART

For some reason I felt the need to break it up and interpret it multiple ways:

IS IT ART
I SIT ART
IS I TART

That last one being an homage to Ali G.’s “Is you the fox?” (You either know your Ali G. or you don’t.)

Later on, in the same series of events, while driving home after picking up the kids at the Metro I asked them how school went, to which H. replied, “I did good today.” I, of course, said that it should really be “did well,” and he parried with, “no, did good.” It was pretty funny up to that point but got better when L. piped up, in the flow, with, “Did good? Like Superman?” Funny stuff, that.

I read Kitchen Confidential about ten years ago (?) when it first came out we were living in England. That was also about the same time I started to get more serious about cooking. I haven’t watched more than 20 or 30 minutes of Bourdain on TV in all these years but I’ve followed along a bit with his celebrity and career. Confidential was a really cool book that I feel should have been (and still should be, based on the lack of ‘go’ I see in some of my classmates) required reading for anyone considering the career. I bring this up because there’s a great interview with him at Slate.com today; an interview that covers a lot of ground and should also be required reading for everyone – maybe for some life guidance and cooking doctrine. Along with that, it’s an interview that reads very well in text format and that’s pretty rare. (The intro to the interview is also timely since I just baked a strawberry-rhubarb pie last weekend. For the record, I like it.)

I have little idea what’s on tap for the weekend.

rock market

The 51 headed down the walk to the Metro and on to the Eastern Market this morning. X and kids were off to save a river in the wilds of Virginia. Apparently, the farmers show up to see just what these Buddists were up to - the farmers trotted off thinking the Buddists with pickaxes and saws were badass. I'll let her pass that along.

A few things to pass along. First, the Slobberbone Web site has suddenly been redesigned which bodes well for the greatest bar band of all time getting back in the studio and on the road. I've brought it up before, and I'll do it again, nobody but nobody in this generation is a better songwriter - and no band is better in a bar - than Brent Best and Slobberbone. Great stuff. Even if it's for only one more turn, that turn will be gold. It's hard to lockdown any really good video of the guys rocking but I can give you some Brent doing one of the greatest songs ever, Robert Cole. The song is loosely based on a piece by the great author, Larry Brown. Kills.



I picked up a few more 1970s cookbooks at Capital Hill Books today. These were a hat trick of the Time Life International series: Middle Eastern, Italy, and Spain and Portugal. What's interesting is that they were $6, $7, and $8; they were all in the same condition so I'm trying to sort out the pricing. What's interesting about a lot of these series' is that we've dumbed down ethnic cuisine over the last 30 years and these books give some solid skills and deep recipes from the old days. You get history, biography, and cooking all in one.

My second push is for Sarah's graduation from her Vet Tech program on the 20th. A much smarter 21-year-old than I ever was. She did her first year at ASU before deciding that it wasn't for her - the college thing. She turned to her first love and then ran through it like nothing. She wants to go on to Vet school after this and she's laid a nice path in that direction; quite admirable. I imagine she'll work for a few years or so and then apply to move along her career path. As with most of my lot, I've not been as close as I should have been over the years but that doesn't dull my pride.

We're doing a belated dinner for Amy tomorrow that will have langistinos, a huge organic leg of lamb, and pie tips. You do what you can do...

t

smoking? pot? what?

“Again, understand that walking away is a kind of communication, too. Sometimes "better communication" is "less communication." You can't argue everything. And you can't argue the things you pick ad infinitum.”

This is an input in a conversation thread at Ta-Nehisi Coates' blog after a long comment thread blew up last week on one of his entries. Within the confines of the discussion it's pretty hard to process and when pulled out of the context it makes lots of confused sense to me. I don’t even know if that makes sense, check that. I think the heart of the sentence is that we, as political and social creatures, tend to think we have the back story of an issue when we really don’t; that story comes from the experiences of our lives and no one else’s. We don’t understand the position of another person whose life is so varied from ours and sometimes positing, and then forcefully debating that issue, isn’t going to necessarily come to something positive. As much as I want to believe in my opinion on gay rights, women’s rights, civil rights, being black, or growing up poor, the facts are the facts and I’ll never know regardless of my good intentions; sometimes that’s hard to accept. Sometimes you do your level best and then walk away.

We managed our way through L.’s birthday dinner, and a bit of an ode to the mothers at the table, last night. She requested salmon (I smoked it), magic potatoes, and tzatziki. She also picked out a chocolate cake from the Great Baking Book and we made that together in the afternoon. Nothing says lots of dirty pots and dishes like a made-from-scratch cake – I actually ran out of stuff to use.

Our trip to Eastern Market yesterday was a smash. The crepe guy was there and with our early arrival we were able to beat most of the line and at least keep warm with crepes for The 61. I went savory and the two girls went sweet. We gathered up the King of Chairs that we purchased last week (see below), X picked up some pearls, and I pulled some cheese from the Market’s cheese seller, some S.C. strawberries, and a pound of fresh S. Virginia asparagus. We also stumbled upon a gentleman who runs a great stand that stocks used cookbooks and used cast iron and enameled cast iron cookware. He gathers high quality used Le Crueset, Capco, and other marks and then sells them for a fraction of what you’d pay at Williams or elsewhere. The Copco stuff he had was about $35-$40 per piece and quite nice but couldn’t match the three pieces that X scored at Goodwill for $10, total, a few months back. He was happy we had some at home and didn’t rue the fact that we’d managed product for so little. (Copco is now making the Batali stuff so if you’ve seen that newer line then you have a general idea of the classic line.) He also had five or six volumes of the late 1970s set of Time Life cookbooks that are popular among all chefs – most of my instructors have a least a portion of the nearly 30-volume set. I grabbed four of those and disappeared into the morning sun.

I’m registered for classes next quarter (begins after the 4th of July holiday) and have Garde Manger, Intro to Baking , and Intro to Pastry. I sense loads of sweets and breads early in the week.

t

dreams

I can't believe it's been 14 years since Big Night came out; it was my favorite movie then, it's my favorite movie now. Only a handful of times has a film been this good, at least in my book. I stumbled across the feast scene earlier today and decided it would be best for everyone to see exactly what I'd like cooking and a restaurant to be - I'm still trying to get these reactions in my house. I also added in the final scene: the morning after the big fight between the brothers. A simple egg dish for breakfast and life goes on. As for the Feast scene, you can skip the volume until the credit bit is over - the scene is great, the guy's additions aren't so great.





You fucking guys!

holy crepe

We were doing breakfast stuff this week in class and Saturday night was tasked with crepes and fruit tarts from each team in class. On Friday night, as we were wrapping up other egg dishes (eggs benedict on my watch), our instructor pointed at the 'crepe' pans that we had available for the following night - about 6" and deep, teflon-coated pans. Based on what I've found during some intertube work today, I think they may qualify as crepe pans but I'd say it's a pretty loose interpretation in my house. Anyway, I brought in my four pans (2 x 6" and 2 x 8") that are of the style shown above and our associated crepe spatula; I was well positioned for success. Our team was up for about 40 crepes, savory and sweet, and do we decided on one set of shrimp newberg and I followed up with a smoked salmon, caramelized onion, and goat cheese with a havarti and green-onion sauce - but that's not so important here.

After all the teams' crepe batter was set - as if you really need to let it sit for 60 minutes - the fun began. Four six tops of teams trying to work 40 crepes each. With a simple spray and two 8"-ers, I was able to knock out all 40 shells in about 15 minutes. The deep, coated 'pans' were an absolute nightmare for the others teams so I doled out the 6" pans and passed along the eights when we'd finished. The crepe pans, along with a good immersion blender, a quality food mill, and a mortar-and-pestle are the simplest and most specialized pieces that most people really need. (Well, a three-cup food chopper ain't too bad, either.) Considering there are crepes in the house at least once a month - on a weekend morning - there's no way I'd be banging around with middling pans. You've been educated.

I'm in the middle of watching an early Sunday game that's seen the Caps come back from 3-0 down to start the 3rd - with no Ovechkin (ejected in the first) - to tie it at 3-3 with about 10 minutes to go. Another national TV come-from-behind win?

dinner and a storm

Well, I had some beef that was going wanting after the last storm (not 'bad' wanting, just wanting) so I whipped up some burgers and homemade fries for the legion. L. wanted to know why I made the burgers so big - broiled on the cast iron behemoth - to which I replied, "I had that much beef mixed up and three burgers to make. Call it algebra...or geometry...or maths." I think it's always a fun challenge to see if the crew can get their mouths around the food.

The snow has finally started, after appearing to not really care for itself as a storm so much today, and is now trying to whip up its fury. The snow would be enough but the wind is allegedly going to wreak havoc on the area.

I'd thought of turnip soup for the adults but it's quickly turned into an idea closer to a big mushroom omelet; or, essentially, something easier. We'll see, won't we?

let them eat cake

As the game was winding down after dinner last night, the brace of girls set-to on a cake from the greatest baking book in the World. L. had picked a chiffon cake - we had to borrow a bundt pan from down the street - and so off they went at about 7:45pm. By the time it was finished, cooled, and frosted we had a massive mess of cake and lemon frosting for the kids to snack on at about 10:15pm. Is that normal? I had a bite of L.'s and even though is was lovely it was way too sweet for me to even contemplate without a huge cup of coffee. Needless to say, a sugar rush drowned in coffee wouldn't be the best idea of the weekend.

All the kids are home from school, the Feds are shutdown so X is home, and I'm home because it's just pretty crappy driving out there. My company decided last week that if folks wanted to swap next week's Presidents' Day holiday to today - in just this event - that it wouldn't be a problem. I'll consider this my holiday weekend.

Here are some visions...

a peep from a kitchen

I’m settling into my second week of culinary classes but still have a few fixes to implement: getting up earlier on Thursday and Friday mornings, using my Saturday afternoon dead-time (I have an 8-11:30am class and a 6-10:30pm class) to get a bit of work done, and sorting out travel. In case you’re wondering, I have class Thursday night (6-8:30pm) and Friday night (6-10:30pm) along with my Saturday courses. Last week we were working on knife cuts (yikes) and stocks, with mother sauces and soups on tap this weekend.

L. is settled into the house with her room in shape. We’ll probably try to paint the walls over the next few weeks in order to brighten it up. Honestly, the walls could have used a coat when we moved in a few years back. She has some sample card on the shelf and she and X will come up with a choice at some point.

We had a little scare on the school as they caught me out on paying for the semester up front. After some discussion between the headmaster, the finance person, and I, we managed to sort out a four-month plan that’ll be very tight for us but will work in the end. The third quarter starts on Wednesday so L.’s long(er) winter break will finally be over. She’s heading into D.C. this morning on the Metro to hit the museums again while the crowds are sparse this time of year.

Here’s my political input for the week: piss off, Ben Nelson. The senate election in Massachusetts has changed the landscape a bit – nothing I’m overly worried about in the long run – but at least with the Democrats having only 59 senators (or if they’d have had 61 before), ol’ ‘Dumbass’, Ben Nelson, can’t hold everyone in the country hostage to his whims. I cannot believe anyone would vote to re-elect him after his performance.

There was rumor of some snow today – and through the weekend – but it end up just spitting a bit this morning.

Maybe by Sunday you’ll get another update.

t

chop chop

Here’s a timely piece on culinary school (I start tomorrow night). What’s difficult to gauge, using my own hopes, is how hard it must be to pay for an education of any sort knowing that your job opportunities are limited, financially. As pointed out, there are loads of careers where you can just as easily work your way up through skill and practice but oftentimes that might entail starting even lower on the pay scale and spending years trying to get in the door. Of course, the paper doesn’t necessarily get you in any door, either, and that was made pretty clear at my orientation last week.

The massive difference for me is that I’m taking this on as a combination of my interests and a good dose of hope for down the road. I’m not paying anything for the time I’ll be spending learning the basic skills (which I don’t actually have right now) and my living expenses are covered as I continue to work in my career field. If I decide to give the food world a go in three years' time I won’t owe anyone anything, I’ll have my retirement pay and health insurance, and I can probably take a few steps without being overwhelmed. Those that are attending the full-time day program (I’ll be full-time nights) are going to be those who aren’t working and taking loans in order to pay for school and living expenses over the next three years. Coming out of a degree program with $60K in debt and falling into a world that pays you $25K per year is demented. When you break it down, what should be the norm – something like 12-15 months and <$10K in cost – would make much more sense. My friend, Todd, went to accelerated nursing school for 15 months and it ran about $25K – to be a nurse and to save lives. And here we’re talking about food and cooking? Hmm.

Regardless, my voyage begins and I’ve got a much more relaxed road ahead of me than most students – aside from not being home to cook three nights a week. If it goes pear shaped? The world will keep turning and I’ll still have money sitting around for other education, if I choose.

That's that. L. arrive tomorrow evening.