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Making Berries Last

Who doesn't love berries? Now that spring is in the air (in my mind, at least), I look forward to berries that don't have more travel experience than I do.

Berries don't last long and my usual weekly shopping routine means that I have no berries for half the week. One of the biggest problems is mold. Sometimes the berries go moldy in just a day! So I was very interested to read of a mold-prevention method by the great food-science writer, Harold McGee (author of The Curious Cook and On Food and Cooking). 

Heat kills mold. It also kills the spores that spawn mold. No surprise there. But heat also wrecks delicate berries. The discovery is that berries are far more heatproof than one might imagine. There's a range of temperatures that place a serious hurt on mold without hurting the fruit. McGee wrote about it in his column, The Curious Cook, in the New York Times. He soaked berries in water heated to exact temperatures. He dried them with paper towels before repackaging and refrigerating them. 

It sounds like a lot of trouble. But wait a minute. The berries arrive in a handy plastic container full of holes. Equally handy is that hot tap water is pretty close to the temperature McGee recommends. He used 125°F (52°C) water for 30 seconds and darned if my hot water isn't 125°F! Maybe there is an easy way...

 
I did some experiments and came up with a procedure to very easily treat the berries when I bring them home. I haven't done any rigorous tests yet but it seems to work! Here's how:

1. Run the hot water so it's as hot as it gets. You can measure it if you like, but don't worry if yours is higher or lower than 125, I think the method will be pretty effective unless your temperatures are considerably different.
2. Open the berry container and put the whole container in a bowl a little deeper than the berry container. Run the hot water into the bowl and keep it running. If the bowl is the right size, the berries will mostly stay in their container. The berries need to be in hot water for at least 30 seconds. I left them for a minute or more.
3. Lift the basket out of the water and drain.Turn it on one side, then the other, then upside down, draining it as well as you can.
4. Refrigerate.

And that's it! No fussing, no need to dry them with paper towels. The berries are washed and ready. 

Now, I know that the usual recommendation is to not wash fruit until you're about to use them but this doesn't seem to matter. McGee does warn that 140 degrees F, the berries lose their "bloom," the natural waxy coating, so if your hot water is that hot, you may want to not use fully hot water.

Try it -- let me know about your experience in the comments.

 

The Thursday of Thanksgiving...

A little hectic around here. Made the roux for the gravy and herbed the bird by smearing a mixture of herbs, butter, and oil under the skin and all over the outside. Then off to some friends' where I'll roast it up!! 425 degrees breast down for 50 minutes, then breast up at 325 for probably another hour and 45 minutes, to get to the magic temperatures on my turkey page: 

Basic rule:

Remove from the oven when an instant-read thermometer reads 150 degrees in the thickest part of the breast. The thickest portion of the thigh should be 10-15 degrees higher.

After the 30-60 minute rest, the temperature coasts up by ten degrees.

Hope yours is brined and ready. And I hope you and yours find much to be thankful for. Happy Thanksgiving, all!

 

The Tuesday Before Thanksgiving...

Hey, turkey lovers! If you're just getting started, it's too late for the dry brine. Wet brine yours (see the turkey page for instructions) today or tomorrow. It takes 8-12 hours. Then you can rinse, dry, and refrigerate uncovered to dry the skin. But I am getting ahead of the story...

"Free at last!" cried the turkey, shaking loose from the filmy prison. "I need a shower!" 

Happy to oblige. The first time I brined, I made the mistake of not rinsing. Eww, too salty! Some of the salt did its job, seeping deep into the meat along with with a payload of water. The salt molecules that remain on the skin are slackers and must be rinsed away. 

Next, to the roasting rack for a well-earned towel dry. Then a bamboo skewer to secure the neck skin over the neck cavity. 

Isn't she pretty? I will not be trussing her. Untrussed, the legs are more exposed to oven heat. That's good, since dark meat has to reach an internal temperature 10 degrees higher than the breast.  

Into the refrigerator, now, uncovered, to dry! A 24-hour (or in this case, about 36 hour) drying cycle helps with the crisp skin we all crave.

Rest well, sweetie. Tomorrow, you meet: The herbs!

The Monday Before Thanksgiving...

Not much to do for the turkey, except for a daily massage to make sure salt is evenly distributed. If you're newly arriving, I'm dry-brining an 18-pound turkey, per the instructions on my turkey page. 

Gravy Boat

I started my gravy today. One reason for doing it now is that I want to use the parts I removed from the turkey before they go bad. The other reason is that it makes things easier on turkey day if the gravy's early steps are complete. 

The procedure is in the gravy section of the turkey page (and I rewrote the instructions to provide more detail). I started by browning the turkey parts along with an onion, which is chopped with the skin intact.

I deglazed the pan with wine and sherry and added two cans of low-salt chicken stock. It simmered for an hour.

I removed the meat from the turkey parts and strained the gravy. I added the meat back to the pan, which I processed using a hand blender before refrigerating. This will be the base for the gravy, which I'll finish on turkey day.

The Sunday Before Thanksgiving...

This is kind of nerdy but I spent much of the day doing research. Turkey research.

A Matter of Degrees

I was interested today in internal temperature. It's the biggest factor that delivers a moist and delicious turkey. I pull chicken and pork from the oven at 140-145 degrees F internal temperature (measured in the thickest portion, away from bone), but for turkey, it's 150. Why is that?

After surveying many resources, I am sticking with the current recommendation on my turkey page: 

Basic rule:

Remove from the oven when an instant-read thermometer reads 150 degrees in the thickest part of the breast. The thickest portion of the thigh should be 10-15 degrees higher.

After the 30-60 minute rest, the temperature coasts up by ten degrees.

With chicken and pork, I remove roasts at a lower temperature for maximum juiciness. You can do that with turkey but you run the risk that the very center of some pieces, especially near the bones of the thigh, will be pink and a little bloody. Safe, but not appetizing. Brining is good insurance against overcooking so I think 150 is still good advice.

FAQs

One of the fun parts of managing the turkey page is that people ask questions. Today, I had:

• A few reports of typos (deeply appreciated!). 
• Someone with a 24-pound turkey. He may need a derrick to get it into the brine! While most recipes suggest you stay below 14 or 16 pounds (only because roasting precision is more difficult), Cook's Illustrated developed a big-bird recipe (please don't tell Elmo what's for dinner). I used that in 2009 for a 22-pounder and it worked fine. I recommended a lower concentration, long-time brine and likewise for the roast. Interesting thought: Heat and brine enter the depths of a large fowl similarly, using a process called diffusion. To to achieve even salt concentration or even doneness, you make the same adjustment: lower intensity {lower heat or brine concentration) for a longer time. 
• Someone whose bird arrives Tuesday. Wet brine for you! If you're starting today, maybe even tomorrow, you can still do a dry brine but after that. an overnight wet brine is recommended (or buy a pre-brined bird). Wet and dry both seem to work as well; dry is just easier because you're not dealing with a great big pot of water and keeping it cool overnight.
• Someone asking how much herb goes into the brine. I used herbs last year but this year, I'll use them after the brine is complete. 

My answer to the last one was:

...Other briners and I have argued about the value of flavorings in the brine. and I did one experiment. I found no effect from citrus, apple juice, herbs and other flavorings. Though no one knows for sure how brining works, we do know that salt (sodium ions), not just water, is the transport mechanism. We know salt penetrates the meat; we know water is retained; but I don't think any of the larger molecules (thyme acetate, basil chloride, or potassium garlicate) penetrates. (Kidding about the chemical names). 

Meanwhile, my turkey looks just like it did yesterday. I massaged it through the bag (the Pope would approve) to help distribute the sodium brigade.

The Saturday Before Thanksgiving...

The most important food holiday in America is around the corner. Here's my day by day chronicle.

I started the day by reviewing my turkey page at http://www.rubenzahl.com/turkey. I've been refining my method for about 20 years now.

On the agenda for today: Prepare the turkey for a 3-4 day "dry brine." First step is to prepare the operating field:

I want everything ready so I don't have to rewash my hands more times than necessary. Knife and shears, bowl for neck and giblets, pre-measured salt, and a large pot to hold the plastic bag that will receive the turkey. Not in the picture is: A turkey. This year, it's an 18-pounder from Costco. 

I remove the neck and wing tips, save them in the bowl as gravy ingredients. This year, one of my targeted eaters has a giblet aversion so I dice those for one very, very lucky dog. Normally, they would be gravy savers. 

Following the procedure on the turkey page, I rinse and dry the bird. I sprinkle 4 tablespoons of kosher salt on the bird. Half inside, using more on thicker regions. Then it goes into the bag, which I seal and put in the refrigerator.

Wow, that was easy. I am done for today. 

The Making of Caramel: Behind the Scenes

Someone asked me how recipes and articles evolve, here at FeedMe headquarters. I thought I would show the process I used to come up with the caramel candies.

I usually start with a "recipe survey." I poke around on recipe sites and find the ingredients and quantities recommended there. I draw a table so I can see them all, side by side. Here's the one I did for the caramel article:

A couple of interesting things happen at this stage. First is that the range of measurements is usually very wide. It's amazing that such wildly varying recipes all work. (Sometimes, I later discover that they don't!) The second surprise is that there are always a few whacky ideas. In this case, it's Alton Brown (the AB column). He, alone, includes cream of tartar and soy sauce (!). He's also one of two to include salt. They all should, because candy makers know that a pinch of salt amplifies flavor in sweet products. But I decided to skip the soy sauce after reading the comments from readers. Some liked it, some thought it weird. I wasn't going for weird today.

Next, I note the major differences and guess at their effect. In this case, we have brown sugar. I like that idea. We have one major disagreement between the condensed milk group and the ones that don't use it. I think I'd like to avoid that but I also know condensed milk is very common in caramel and caramel-like recipes (notably, dulce de leche), so I decide to try that first.

I pick one key ingredient and scale the recipes so all use the same amount of that ingredient. Usually, it's easy but in this case, the key ingredient, sugar appears in different forms. Sugar and brown sugar have similar sweetening power and corn syrup is 75% as sweet so I tweaked the numbers so sugar plus brown sugar plus 75% corn syrup added up to the same amount. I counted the condensed milk's sweetness at about half that of sugar. It's all pretty approximate.

Next, I eyeball the recipes and come up with a single consensus recipe. I favor recipes that have good reviews or come from sources I trust (like Cook's Illustrated, most Food Network sources, and a few magazines).

All this sounds challenging but it's easier and faster than the explanation. Since I am not a baker, approximations are ok!

Next step is to make my consensus recipe. In this case, my reference recipe had a step that sounded questionable to me: It had me add the dairy at the start. That sounded like it would curdle the milk products and make a grainy caramel.

It did. It was obvious even before the boil:

and the candy looked grainy:

but didn't hurt the finished product, which was delicious.

You might notice the foil-lined pan in the picture above. After ten minutes of careful work with a kitchen torch to peel away foil, I learned foil sticks. The final recipe calls for parchment.

I decided I didn't want the condensed milk and switched the recipe around, adding dairy after the sugar was caramelized. I made a second batch which was just about right but I let the temperature rise to 150 degrees. It was delicious but harder than caramels usually are. I had discovered how to make a Sugar Daddy! So I added that as an option for the third recipe, which is the one I published. I also experimented with the cream and noted in the final that you can exchange milk for some of the cream.

Also see: Cooking Without Recipes: Carrot Soup Case Study, which describes the recipe development for carrot soup.

There Must Be Caramel in Heaven

Why would anyone make their own caramel when they are so easy to buy?

Hint: Read the ingredients. Wow. Caramel candy is basically just sugar, cooked until it browns plus milk or cream. There's a shot of corn syrup to prevent sugar crystals (which would make the candy grainy) and a dash of salt to amp up the flavor. And — that's all. But the ones they have in the store contain some unpronouncables and they taste like nothing much. I'm not opposed to food chemistry, but when it leaves flavor behind, I'm off to the kitchen!

The recipe (below) is pretty easy. But one warning: Cooked sugar gets much hotter than boiling water, so be careful.

Line a pan with parchment paper. Here's the easy way: Place the pan on top of the paper and snip the corners, aiming the cut toward the center:

Then tuck the paper into the pan, overlapping at the corners, where you cut:

Meanwhile, boil sugar, corn syrup,  and a little water:

Do not stir once the boil begins. Instead, gently swirl every few minutes. The reason for this is that sugar crystals stuck to the sides of the pan can trigger larger crystals if the fall into the mixture. So for now, just gentle swirls.

While it's boiling, warm some cream, salt, and butter, until the butter melts, and set aside.

When the sugar is a light golden caramel in color:

 

Stir in the cream mixture — carefully, because it will boil up pretty wildly for a few seconds.

Boil some more until the mixture reaches 248 degrees F. You can add flavors like chocolate, cinnamon, vanilla, or cardamon if you like. Pour the hot mixture into the parchment-lined pan.

Then, the hard part: Wait two hours. Then you can cut into pieces and wrap in waxed paper (more neatly than I did, I hope:

 

You'll never buy caramels again!

Here's the recipe:

Caramel Candy

Warnings:

• Be careful when melting sugar. It is much hotter than boiling water and will cause a very serious burn.
• Watch the pot carefully. Once it begins to brown, sugar burns very quickly.

Notes:

Consider this a technique rather than a recipe and have fun! Reduce butter as much as you like. Change the heavy cream to half-n-half or reduce amount. Less dairy will deliver a harder caramel. You can also raise the temperature to move from soft caramel to more of a hard candy. At about 255 degrees, it will be like a Sugar Daddy.

You can add flavors such such

• Vanilla
• Cinnamon, cardamom
• Top with chocolate and a sprinkle of sea salt
• Nuts
• Make turtles by placing pecans on parchment paper and topping with a quarter-sized spoonful of caramel and another of chocolate.
• Caramel popcorn: Pour still-hot caramel over popped corn, stirring.
• Coffee: Add 2 tablespoons of espresso powder or a few ounces of espresso or 3/4 cup of strong coffee, instead of some of the cream.

Ingredients:

1 cup heavy cream
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1 teaspoon kosher salt or 1/2 teaspoon table salt
1 ½ cups sugar
¼ cup light corn syrup
¼ cup water

Line bottom and sides of a baking pan with parchment paper. A larger pan (e.g. 9 x 13-inch) will make thinner candies; 8 x 8 will produce thicker candies).

Put cream, butter, and fleur de sel to a boil in a microwave-safe container and heat to melt the butter. Set aside.

Boil sugar, corn syrup, and water in a 3- to 4-quart heavy saucepan, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Boil, without stirring but gently swirling pan, until mixture is a light golden caramel in color.

Carefully stir in cream mixture (mixture will bubble up pretty wildly) and simmer, stirring frequently, until caramel registers 248°F on thermometer, 10 to 15 minutes. Add flavor components at the end, if you like.

Pour into parchment-lined pan and cool 2 hours. Cut into 1-inch pieces, then wrap each piece in a 4-inch square of wax paper, twisting the two ends to close.

Pack half into a box and send them to me.

Here's why Carl Sagan never got to write a cookbook

"If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe."  - Carl Sagan

Should You Eat It?

Julia Child famously reminded us that no one knows what goes on in the kitchen, after dropping a turkey on the floor and placing in in the pan.

Except that she didn't. It's a myth. 

And I know none of you would try to save anything that hit the floor. 

A Tale of Two Marmalades

The first aftermath of the Lemony Day was the Meyer Lemon and Vanilla Bean Marmalade. Which spontaneously begat two jars of orange marmalade, one with vanilla, one not. I had better explain. 

Therese at work saw my posting and told me she had just made marmalade. A trade was arranged. Agents speaking into their lapels made the exchange under the cover of the thick San Francisco fog. 

 

Therese's orange marmalade (on the left, above) was full of long, chunky arcs of candied rind. My lemon marmalade (right) had the rinds in much thinner bits. (Oh, and I need to post the recipe for the cornbread that's showcasing the marmalades.)

 
Therese's orange marmalade

Curiously, they don't taste as different as I expected. I expected mine to be more lemony. Even the color is close.

 Lemon marmalade? Hard to tell! 

As for the vanilla, it's pretty hard to detect in my lemon marmalade, and I doubled the vanilla by adding some vanilla extract. In Therese's, it brings a depth of flavor without revealing itself as vanilla. If she didn't tell me it was there, I would not have identified it as vanilla. 

Bottom line? I liked both but the thicker rind in Therese's makes it a winner. After a second tasting, I was loving the flavor, too. Hers tastes like exploding fruit! My next batch will mimic that by cutting the slices thicker and cooking less. I have to get her recipe.

Ikea's New Baking Book

Ikea's new cookbook,“Hembakat är Bäst” (Homemade is Best) deserves a mention is only for the novel photos that show the ingredients.

 

Classy, clever. 

More...
 

All the Ducky Goodness

On the Food Network's Best Thing I Ever Ate, Ted Allen showed the pressed duck at Daniel in New York. This is pinnacle food achievement.

It's basically a duck — a whole duck — as one plate. 

They marinate it for two days, then roast. They make a reduction sauce with port and duck fat and some herbs, some other good things. They remove and slice the breasts and the legs. 

Then they wheel a cart to the table and serve the breast with the sauce. While you chow down, they take the rest of the bird, minus the breasts and legs, and place it in a pan that fits inside a big gleaming steel press, that has a huge wheel on the top and a screw mechanism. They turn the wheel, which squeezes the ducky bits and ducky duck juice flows out the bottom. When every duck molecule has been squeezed out, the juices go into a pan with wine, foie gras, and I don't remember what else and is reduced at table side to a sauce, which they serve on the leg portion.

Who's hungry?

Lemony Day

Our Meyer lemon tree was full of fruit, bringing my mind to lemony treats. We had lemon martinis and my ultra-delicious lemon sorbet. That left me with a still large load of lemons. 

I drew two ideas from my Friend Foodgal: Limoncello and Lemon Vanilla Bean Marmalade.

Act I: Limoncello

 
Lemon zest floating in a sea of booze!

Limoncello is an Italian lemon liquor made by simply soaking lemon zest — the yellow part of the rind — in vodka or grain acohol (which can be 150 proof or more). I started by surveying the limoncello recipes on the web. They called for soaking the zest of 10 lemons in vodka or grain alcohol for anywhere from four days to two months! Then add sugar and water and leave it for a few hours to a week. 

Here is what we have so far:

 

Curls of lemon rind, from a Microplane grater in potent Everclear, slowly turning yellow. We'll be back with an update in a couple of weeks. 

Act II: Lemony Marmalade

Next up, we have several cups of thinly sliced lemon and their juice:

   

When I slice something juicy, I use a thin plastic cutting board in a rimmed sheet pan. (Works especially well for your holiday turkey.) 

 

The lemon slices were boiled and are now cooling. I'll add sugar and vanilla later. 

More to come...

 
 

Tomato Amplifier

My friend Butch showed me how to oven dry tomatoes but more important than "how," is why. Drying concentrates the flavors. As you might expect, it takes good tomatoes and makes them amazing. But what I didn't expect was that it makes bland tomatoes flavorful, too! 

What you see above are some giant Roma tomatoes I found at the market yesterday. I've never seen anything like these. Instead of the usual 2-inch or so diameter, these monsters were 3-1/2 inches and full of juice and flavor. Since Romas have a dense flesh, I thought they would dry well and indeed they did!

I had a few mediocre tomatoes from the megamart and added them to the batch. I wanted to see what would happen. Interesting — after drying, they had real tomato flavor despite having no real flavor before. Meanwhile the Romas went from flavorful to amazing. 

So let's call oven-drying our tomato amplifier. I need to remember this when winter comes.

Oven-Dried Tomatoes

Place a sheet of parchment on a rimmed sheet pan. Slice tomatoes 1/8 to 1/4-inch thick. Salt lightly. Brush both sides with olive oil. Add herbs if you like — basil is a tomato's best friend but oregano and thyme are solid choices.

Place in a 300 degree oven for about an hour. You can vary the time considerably. The longer you bake, the more leathery the slices become. 

Browner Sugar

Something has been bugging me about brown sugar.

When I was a kid, I could swear it was browner. Much browner. And it had lumps which would grow with time as humidity entered the wrapping, forming little candy-like bursts of sweetness. Was it my imagination? Or maybe the manufacturers have changed formulation. Maybe tastes have changed. Maybe it's a difference between the east cost brand, Domino's, that was common where I grew up, compared to the west coast brands. I even tried different brands (one "organic" brand at Whole Foods was a little browner but not what I remember.)

The difference between white sugar and brown sugar is molasses. Sugar cane syrup is deep brown until it is refined to extract molasses from the white sugar. Brown sugar used to be partially refined sugar cane syrup but now, the manufacturers mix some molasses back into the white sugar to make brown sugar. This method gives better process control and flexible inventory. 

Last week, I saw something new at Cosentino's (a local grocery store). "Dark Muscavado." Also known as Barbados sugar, it looked a lot like the brown sugar I remembered. I had to know, so it came home with me. 

 
I compared it to the "Golden Brown" and so-called "Dark Brown" sugar I had. I was surprised to see how close the two products are:

At the top is the dark muscavado. Below it are C&H dark brown on the left, and C&H golden brown on the right. 

But the proof is, as always, in the tasting.

The muscavado was just what I remembered! Deep in color and flavor, very moist, prone to lumps from moisture. I used it in oatmeal and it was perfect, adding a depth of flavor that made the others pale by comparison (literally).

Locally, I have since seen at Lucky markets. 

You can do it yourself: 1.5 teaspoons of unsulphured molasses per cup of white sugar for light, 1 tablespoon (that's 3 teaspoons) per cup for dark. Adjust to suit your preference.

The mystery of the brown sugar of my youth remains. Maybe East Coast readers will look at their sugar and report. Perhaps we will never know. 

Perhaps I was secretly raised in Barbados. 

Grilled Corn

Summer corn. Need I say more?

Well, yes, I need to say: Grilled corn. Done right, it brings smoke and char, the perfect counterpoint to corn's sweet earthiness.

The usual methods are to grill with the husks on or to remove the husks before grilling. Some wrap it in foil. But with the husks on or protected by foil, smoke and charring are not going to happen and you get a result no different from boiling or steaming. Naked grilling, on the other hand, is prone to burning or drying.

The perfect compromise is a method suggested by Cook's Illustrated magazine. Strip the husk down to just a single layer of husk. You will be able to see the kernels through the husk. A few gaps are fine. In fact, I prefer it with gaps, as this allows a few spots that are heavily charred.

A single layer of husk, some unprotected gaps, most of the silk removed

Once the husking is complete, tear away as much silk as you can but don't worry about any that remains as it is easily removed by the diners, at the table.

Place corn on a hot grill for about five minutes, give it 1/4 turn, fine minutes more, until 20 minutes have passed and all four sides of each cob has seen the heat.

Serve on the cob or cut the kernels off. Hint: To remove the kernels without mess, stand the husked cob in a tall bowl and use a sharp knife to cut the kernels away. The bowl will catch most of the flying kernels.

One of my favorite dishes is corn with cherry tomatoes and this roast corn makes it even better.

Corn with Cherry Tomatoes

This is one of my favorite go-to recipes: Simple, fast, nutritious, and delicious. I first saw it in the San Jose Mercury News in a feature by Carolyn Jung, now known as Foodgal, one of my favorite food writers. She found it in Gourmet magazine. I especially like this dish with roasted summer corn — the smoke and the char make the dish bigger and more savory.

It doesn't get simpler than this.

Corn with Cherry Tomatoes

• Corn: You can use corn on the cob that's raw or cooked. It also works well with frozen corn. Roasted corn is the best.
• 1 pint basket cherry tomatoes, washed
• 2 green onions, chopped
• grated parmesan cheese
• butter
• olive oil
• salt and pepper

If you have corn that has already been cooked, let it cool and cut the kernels from the cob. Cut as close as you can without getting any woody bits. Hint: To remove the kernels without mess, stand the husked cob in a tall bowl and use a sharp knife to cut the kernels away. The bowl will catch most of the flying kernels.

If your corn is uncooked, cut the kernels off first.

Saute corn with green onions in butter and olive oil (about a tablespoon of each) over medium heat. If the corn is raw, cook until the color brightens and the corn is tender, about 10 minutes; if you started with cooked corn, saute long enough to warn it throughout.

Add the rest of the ingredients, toss, salt and pepper to taste, warm a minute more. Transfer to a serving bowl and let it rest for a couple of minutes.

One Camera, Two Remarkable Stories

The story begins with a photographer, Jamie Livingston, who began a project in 1979, to take a photo every day. He continued until the day he died, in 1997. The photos tell a very human story.

http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/15131 

 
Photo: Jamie Livingston's Photo of the Day 

There's a side story, equally compelling, about the camera he used: The Polaroid SX-70. An instant camera that delivered color photos with quality that rivalled traditional film, it became an art tool that inspired many projects, including Livingston's.

 
 Photo from Wikipedia

This camera's technology story has always interested me because it is not just about a camera. The SX-70 was a system that embodied dozens of remarkable technologies. Inspired by the genius Edwin Land, the Polaroid team reinvented every aspect of the SX-70 -- the way it works, the film, the mechanics and the electronics, the lenses for both viewing and picture-taking, the flash, the form factor and remarkable folding mechanism, the manufacturing and design processes, the amazing chemistry, the motors, the battery. Few inventions have such a broad range of innovations. 

It is a human story, too, as Land and his team spared no effort and no expense to develop what any sane person would have called impossible at the time.

http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/15231

View the film that is included in the article. "Charles and Ray Eames produced an eleven-minute advertisement/explainer film for it in 1972. The film starts with a discussion of Polaroid’s history and goes into a surprisingly technical description of the camera’s operation and even its manufacturing process." It talks about how the SX-70 broke down creative barriers to bring photographers closer to the images and to the stories they wanted to tell.

Bacon Roll of Doom

It was over a year ago that I ran across the most jaw-dropping bacon creation ever. Sitting here now, I am wondering why I never made one. I wanted to. I certainly wanted to see one, to taste one. I don't know, maybe I was afraid it wouldn't live up to the expectations. Maybe my cardiac angel was stopping me.

This is why men hang in packs. As fast as you can say, "Hey Bubba, hold my beer and watch this," surely one of our comrades will step in. So I will start by thanking John Bodeau, the man of the hour.

The Bacon Roll of Doom, as John calls it, was born as The Bacon Explosion at bbqaddicts.com. A meat-on-meat peak protein experience, it stands out even on a meat lover's enclave.

You start with bacon. Add bacon. But bacon alone does not a roll make. We need something for structure. How about sausage?!

Sausage and bacon. Bacon and sausage.

But we are not done. This is where brilliance become genius: They wrap it in a bed of bacon made by (this is so beautiful) weaving bacon strips to make a manly placemat. Layer sausage on the bacon mat, roll, brush with barbecue sauce, roast and watch men gather as if someone just fired up a gasoline-powered wheelbarrow.

And yes, it was everything any of us could ever have hoped. Meaty and porky, with a crisped bacon jacket and just enough sweet tang from the barbecue sauce. 

John contemplates his bacony masterpiece

And when all that was left was the oink, John's comment was, "It was more fun putting it together than I can say."

Independence Day Quiz

Independence Day commemorates an event that happened on July 4, 1776. Which of the following happened on July 4, 1776 (choose as many as apply)?

1 - The colonies declared themselves independent of Great Britain.

2 - The Constitution of the United States was adopted.

3 - The Declaration of Independence was adopted.

4 -John Adams, in a letter to his wife, declared that July 4 "will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival ... with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more."

5 - Congress signed the Declaration of Independence.

6 - The hot dog was invented.

Answer below...



Only answer 3 is correct. The Second Continental Congress declared the colonies independent on July 2 by approving a "resolution of independence" that had been proposed in June. The Declaration of Independence, written by a committee of five, was debated and revised for two days and was adopted by vote on July 4.

The document was not actually signed by everyone at that point. Most delegates signed it on August 2.

In his letter to his wife, John Adams predicted that July 2 would be the day of the "great anniversary" forever more.

The Constitution was adopted on September 17, 1787.

Happy Independence Day.

And no one knows when the hot dog was invented but its current form came to be in the late 1800s.

Eggs Benedict Arnold

In Los Angeles for a wedding, we stumbled on Cora's Coffee Shoppe (in Santa Monica). A smallish place, it was quite busy, with a waiting list on a clipboard on the newspaper stand outside. The wait was not long and soon we were seated on the small patio. Hmm, nice menu, reasonable prices. 

 
I asked about the eggs benedict special. I like eggs benedict but sometimes they are plain and ordinary. I needn't have been concerned.

"Are you familiar with eggs benedict?" the server asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "well, ours are a little different."

A little different?

"Instead of an English muffin, we use a toasted rustic white bread. Instead of canadian bacon, we use smoked salmon. Instead of poaching the eggs, they are soft boiled. We use a creamy spinach in place of hollandaise sauce and finish with lemon pepper."

But other than that, it's exactly the same!

I had to order it and I am so glad.

This was eggs benedict, born again. Along with everything else, this was very fresh and well prepared. The bread was a thick slab of hearty white bread, torn rather than cut to make a jagged surface, akin to the nooks and crannies of the more traditional muffin. It was well toasted, with a slight char and was seasoned lightly with garlic. The garlic sounds out of place but it wasn't at all.

Atop that was the creamy spinach, smoked salmon, and the eggs. The eggs were perfectly soft boiled, with tender whites barely containing a yolk that was thickened but not set. The eggs sopped the bread perfectly.

The only unfortunate thing is that I live 400 miles away.

P.S. There are numerous theories as to where eggs benedict got their name but they were not named after Benedict Arnold. Thought you would want to know.

Eggsact Eggs

Noting my current egg-centric obsession, a reader, Steve, mentioned getting perfectly done hard boiled eggs at a diner. They use an egg cooker.

A good way to make hard boiled eggs at home is to bring the water to a boil, cover, and let sit for 15 minutes. Guaranteed soft yolks with no green edges! It's very repeatable and if you want the yolks more done, you can adjust the doneness by giving them a minute or so at boiling before you kill the heat.

Start with eggs that are a week or two old and they are more likely to be easy to peel.

Not precise enough for you? Martin Lersch's blog goes into detail. By comparison, I'm not  obsessed at all.

Cherries are in!

Happy day, my cherry tree has its 2010 crop!

Good news is that they are beautiful and delicious! Bad news is that this picture shows 33% of the crop. Yes, the tree delivered nine cherries.

Weird. It was full of cherries than one week, they all fell, while they were still green. Or maybe the tree was attacked by a wave of evil, cherry-munching birds.

Anyone know why a cherry tree would toss its fruit like that?

Not a Lot of Lettuce

Who says lettuce has to be the star of the salad? Start with all the other stuff and it's a vegetable medley.

Like the 10-minute Lunch Salad, the key to Not A Lot of Lettuce Salad is to leave the lettuce until last. Build flavors as you go. Cheese and salami are salty, so let's balance with tomatoes. Crunchy carrots and pitted olives. Pistachio nuts and sweet peppers. Taste as you go to make sure it's harmonious. Use your eyes, too — a salad can be a visual explosion.

Eggs Over Easy

Do you think of foodies as obsessed with high-end dishes, with French names and a harmony of flavors, brought about by exotic ingredients and elaborate preparations? Well, sometimes, what makes a foodie's heart go a-flutter is the simplest thing, done perfectly.

I ordered breakfast at the Hyatt in Monterey last week. Eggs, over easy, rye toast, bacon extra crispy. It's my eat-out, go-to breakfast. A little pricey, but it was a nice place, with a view of the golf course. I always wonder why a view of the golf course is such a big draw. It was pretty enough, even in Monterey's seemingly perpetual overcast. Maybe I'd have a treat and see some golfer turn red, and toss his clubs into the water hazard. Water hazard. People really pay money to play a game where they construct "hazards"?

 

I noticed the eggs. It's not the kind of thing one usually notices. I mean, it's just eggs. You eat them, you like them, but who notices them? I noticed these because they were perfect. Yolks thickened and golden, whites just set, buttered enough to taste buttery but not at all greasy. Mouth wateringly tender. Bursting with the flavors of butter, egg, sparks of pepper and nothing else.

The Hyatt made me perfect eggs.

And of course, as a foodie, I wanted to run home immediately and figure out how to do this! But it would have to wait.

A few days later, I was at home, rummaging about, looking for inspiration on what to do for dinner. Those perfect eggs over easy came to mind.

As a foodie will tell you, "something simple, perfected" takes a lot of experiments. Pretty good, really good, even excellent you can do in a couple of tries but perfect takes some obsessive experimentation. Not this time. I got it just about right * the first time. The elements for this success were:

• Low heat. Fried eggs require some heat to deliver a crisped edge, but over-easy is all about tenderness. Eggs like to be coddled. Firm them slowly so they squeeze out very little water and the proteins denature just enough to set. Just as the whites set, the yolks are warmed enough to brighten and thicken.
• Butter: The trick is to use more than you need but to leave much of it in the pan. The egg kind of poaches in the butter, absorbing enough for flavor, shedding the excess as it leaves the pan. About half the butter remains behind.
• Salt and pepper, and that's all.

* I say "just about" right because I got busted by my friend Barry, who commented (privately, because Barry is a gentleman, and kinder than most of my other friends) that the eggs should not be browned and in the picture, they are. Actually, the butter browned, not the eggs. Which is still a defect, caused, in this case, by an overly hot pan when I started. I preheated on medium for a bit too long. The eggs were still very good but I confess, not perfect. I'll redo this and be more gentle with the heat.

Over easy!

Eggs Over Easy

2 eggs
1 T butter
Salt
Freshly ground pepper

Heat a non-stick pan over medium heat for a couple of minutes, then lower to low and let it sit while you assemble the ingredients. Take your time, you want an even temperature, which takes 5 minutes or more.

Put butter in pan and swirl around as it melts. If the butter browns or smokes even in the slightest, even after some time, it's too warm. Lower the temperature, discard the butter and wipe the pan clean. Start over at a lower temperature.

Crack two eggs into the pan. Salt lightly and give it a couple of grinds of pepper. Then leave it alone. Wait. Don't touch anything. It will take several minutes. When the whites are set underneath, you can jiggle the pan a bit to make sure there is no sticking. (With this quantity of butter in a non-stick pan, that should not be a problem.) Some chefs spoon the melted butter over the egg but I found that unnecessary.

Wait until the whites are set underneath but still clear for a good 3/4" around the yolk. The eggs should be undercooked at this point with what looks like just a minute to go. Turn the eggs gently, but decisively, with a thin, silicone spatula. If you break one, no matter, just practice on the other one, then discard them and start over. Eggs are cheap and it will be just another five minutes to try again. 

After you have successfully achieved flippage, wait ten seconds, then glide them onto the plate.

A New Password Rant

You know what makes me crazy? Idiotic restrictions and stupid practices for logins and passwords. I ranted about this before. And before that. And this one, too.

Here's a practice I see often. Some vendor sets up access and they choose a user name for you. So, to these folks, I am MRubenzahl428. That is not what my mother meant to name me. Please let users choose their own user name. 

Then they give you a password. Which is 4vu6$tr2. To be fair, they require me to change the password. But the login is forever. You may call me Mr. 428. "I worked so hard to get that title, so I’d appreciate it, thank you.”

So: Of all the logins I have, guess which ones are on a Post-It on my monitor? Nice security, guys.

Not done yet, one more kvetch. They send an e-mail message:

Welcome to Dolts.com. Here is your Dolts login and password:
Login ID: MRubenzahl428
Password: 4vu6$tr2

What? They sent my login and password in a single e-mail. They even labeled them. Don't they know e-mail is transmitted as unencrypted text?

Eggs Over (Theoretically) Easy

For many people, the scariest aspect of cooking is getting the right degree of doneness. What beginning cook doesn't worry about having to serve overdone vegetables or meat that's a bit too red? Experienced cooks worry about it, too.

Sous vide (French for "under vacuum") cooking is popular in professional kitchens. Food (usually meat, fish, poultry) is vacuum sealed in a bag, which is placed in a constant-temperature water bath for hours. The food gradually warms to the water temperature and can't possibly overcook.

Meat can then seared for flavor and color (and to eliminate any remaining surface bacteria).

With conventional cooking, only the center of the piece is the perfect doneness. With sous vide, it's perfect through and through, with only the outermost few millimeters exposed to the heat of the searing step.

Sous vide, à la maison?

Sous vide is not practical for most home cooks because the equipment is bulky and expensive. Even the new "SousVide Supreme Water Oven," designed for the home, is suitable only for committed cooks (or, as we are called, "food nuts"). It costs $450, without the vacuum sealer.

When food blog Serious Eats came up with the idea of using a cooler chest to do sous vide, I was intrigued. Well, first I was envious (why didn't I think of that?), but then I was intrigued. The idea is simple: A large bulk of hot water in an insulated container will hold the temperature for the hours it takes for the food to reach the right temperature throughout.

 

Enter the eggs

Eggs are a good way to begin sous vide experiments because they come in their own waterproof package, eliminating the need for a vacuum sealer.

Today, I tried it, with pretty good results. (Thanks to the Good Eats e-mail discussion group and member Jeremy Sullivan for triggering the urge to geek out. Jeremy was experimenting today with a slow cooker full of water and eggs.)

My goal was a very soft egg, 63° C, which is 145° F. (Subsequent temperatures in this article are given in degrees F).

I placed three eggs in a wide-mouth thermos and added hot water. My tap water is only about 125 degrees, but this step would pre-heat the eggs and thermos's interior, to reduce the amount of temperature drift. I calculated that I would need 1/2 cup of boiling water for each cup of tap water to reach the target temperature of 147 degrees. But because the eggs are large compared to the bulk of the water, experimentation showed that I needed more like a 50:50 mix of boiling and tap water.

With the water at 149 degrees (an extra couple of degrees compensate for expected heat loss), I sealed the thermos for 30 minutes. When it was done, the temperature of the water had fallen more than I expected, to 132. I sampled the eggs and they were underdone. The whites were very runny and the yolks were close to raw. I had underestimated how much the eggs would cool the water. Given that the thermos didn't hold much more water than the volume of the eggs, I should have known.

The last egg went back into the thermos with water at 149 and sealed for — well, not sure how long, but probably 20 minutes.

It was almost right. The yolk was thick and the whites still quite runny.

Conclusions

I think this method has merit. Is it easier than the traditional three- or four-minute eggs, done in boiling water? Probably not. But the method has promise and I will try, try again.  

I probably can't achieve exactly what I really want, which is a set white with runny yolk, as that would probably require the yolk be a few degrees cooler than the white. A sous vide blog confirms this. But I came pretty close, and I can make a "63 degree egg" as many fine restaurants serve. I would like to experiment with herb-infused cream and the like, served atop toast or a salad. Stay tuned...

Oh, and I should mention another problem I had, which is that three extra large eggs are a tiny bit too large for my thermos, which cracked the top egg when I screwed the lid down.

Next time, I'll preheat the setup in tap water for at least an hour, start the water at 152, and leave it for a longer time. I'll also limit myself to two eggs in this particular container. I'll also try a six-pack sized cooler which should work a lot better.

Food Blog vs. God's Food Mag

This is going to be good. Super Bowl? Meh. Olympics? Whatever. Those guys who kick balls that look like panda heads? Yawn.

On May 5, Food52 takes on Cook's Illustrated!

It's an interesting match. Cook's Illustrated is my favorite food magazine. Here's what I said about it in 2003:

If I could only have one, this would be it. It's for food geeks.

Their primary strength is that they take a dish -- meat loaf, lasagna, pound cake, whatever -- and develop the perfect recipe and methods. They study dozens or hundreds of recipes, test countless variations, and tweak absolutely everything. They might cook something dozens of times as they home is on perfection. They also test shortcuts (do you really have to cream the butter and the sugar? How long do you really have to marinate? Can inexpensive olive oil work in this dish?), so they are not just optimizing the dish, they also have efficiency in mind.

Food blog Food52 has a different idea: a consensus of cooks will produce a superior recipe. They invite readers to submit recipes, which they test and reveal a winner.

The challenge: A sugar cookie and roast pork shoulder recipe from each publication, developed using their pet methods, will be put up for a vote. Slate.com will host the contest starting on May 5.

The whole story is on Salon.com. 

Spell Czech

If you see a typo here on FeedMe — or if I am just wrong about something (could happen!), please do e-mail me. I appreciate being corrected. When I was young, I remember my Mom telling me that people for whom English is not their first language always appreciate a correction. I do, too. Otherwise, how can we learn?

I am reminded of a favorite poem:

I have a spelling checker.
It came with my PC.
It plainly marks four my revue
Mistakes I cannot sea.
I've run this poem threw it,
I'm sure your please too no,
Its letter perfect, in it's weigh,
My checker tolled me sew.

-- Pennye Harper

Another Visit to Bluefin

Full-time restaurant reviewers make many visits to the places they review. I can't generally do that but I do like to revisit places, especially when the first visit was by invitation, and especially when my review uses words like "best." Was it really the best or was I in a good mood?

I visited Bluefin in San Jose last month and was very impressed, calling it the best sushi I had ever had. At the time, I said, "I will definitely be visiting Bluefin again," and today I did, this time with a friend, Francis, and on my own dime.

So, was it really the best sushi I ever had? And did Francis agree?

We arrived at 11:30 on a weekday. The owner, Jun, wasn't there, which perhaps was a good thing I could get a sense of the service. The host was very cordial, offering me water while I waited for Francis, and the waitress, Bree, was very gracious. We decided to sit at the sushi bar and the sushi chef delivered some gyoza which were, as last time, terrific. They make them from scratch and they're full of flavor. Here's the picture from last time:

We ordered an appetizer Jun had mentioned to me, the monkfish liver paté. Oh, my. It had a texture just like paté but with a seafood taste that reminded me of sea urchin roe (uni). This is a wonderful delicacy.

We also ordered some uni, which I find an excellent test of a sushi bar, because it must be perfectly fresh. Uni reveals even the smallest defect in handling. This uni was perfect.

About this time, Jun appeared and as last time, we shared in his encyclopedic knowledge of sushi. (He promises to let us know when some planned articles on sushi are available on his website).

His uni comes from Santa Barbara. He explained that American uni is often held to be the best. It is farmed locally and that product mostly goes to Japan, while the Santa Barbara product is what Jun buys.

Jun's charming wife, Yeon, who you will remember from the last article, gifted us with some beef teriyaki. I am glad, because I might not have tried this non-sushi choice. Their terikaki is grilled over a hot fire, creating crisped edges and a deeper, grilled flavor.

Next, we had chirashi, which is sashimi served in a bowl, atop sushi rice. There were many of the selections I enjoyed last time. Francis remarked — several times — how fresh it all was. And that's the primary hallmark of great sushi. Everything, without exception, tasted like it was caught a minute ago. 

There was tamago (egg), flounder, tuna, yellowtail, some amazingly sweet scallops, and the mackerel that changed my opinion last time.

Sorry for the picture, all I had was my cell phone.

I almost forgot the toro tartare, a slight spicy mix of tuna sashimi, finely minced and molded into a cylinder.

We finished with something one does not normally see at a sushi bar: dessert, of sorts. Jun is experimenting with some classic desserts like creme brulée, but in the meantime, we had an inventive dessert-like sushi roll Jun calls "japango," or Japanese mango. It's actually a maki, or rolled sushi. Instead of the traditional seaweed, it was rolled in a tinted soy wrapper that looked like lettuce. Inside was an unlikely combination of sushi rice, crab, scallop, salmon, avocado, and mango. Light, refreshing, and vaguely sweet, this strange mix harmonized wonderfully. I have to say that when Jun departs from tradition, he does it artfully.

I brought some home for better photography. It's been jostled a bit so if it's not perfect, that's my fault, not Bluefin's. 

 

So, is Bluefin really as great as I thought? Yes. Unprompted by me, Francis also proclaimed it the best he'd had.

We'll be back.

Ove'Glove

Easily the tackiest, ugliest thing that I love in my kitchen is the Ove'Glove. It's actually uglier than its name. I have to wonder what made me buy this "As Seen on TV" item but guess what — I use it. All. The. Time.

Oven  mitts, in flower patterns, are a standard item but they make them out of old-school fabrics. Then there are the silicone mitts that are space-age and work great, except that holding anything is like working in a space suit. Yes, nothing better than having a hot roast chicken sliding across the floor. But hey, my hands aren't burned!

The Ove'Glove is a glove made of heat-resistant Nomex and Kevlar, space age fabrics used in firefighting gear. The outside is printed with slip-resistant silicone lines. It fits either hand and is reasonably comfortable. It does what you would hope: lets you handle hot pots with better dexterity and grip appeal than the oven mitts Grandma gave you.

I found mine at the local pharmacy (remember when drug stores only sold drugs?) and they're all over the web, including at Amazon.

There are some other brands now but sadly, they are not as homely.

KFC Doubles Down

You can find a healthy meal almost anywhere, if you do a little research, even in fast food restaurants. One very difficult fast food place was KFC. (You may know KFC as "Kentucky Fried Chicken," but they officially changed their name years ago to escape the unseemly F word in their name.) Finally, a couple of years ago, they added grilled chicken to their menu and finally, they had some resonably tasty, reasonably choices.

But with one hand the Colonel giveth, with the other he taketh away. On Monday, look for their new "Double Down," reported in a NY Times blog:

"The sandwich contains no bread. Instead, two deep-fried boneless white-meat chicken filets act in bread's place. They contain a sandwich of bacon and melted cheese between them, with a splat of a mayonnaise product called Colonel's Sauce to moisten the whole."

I had to read that twice. Then I read the date. Surely this was April 1 news.

No, it's real. A sandwich between two pieces of fried chicken instead of bread. Surely Homer Simpson will be at KFC on Monday. Hey, I might be in line behind him, I'm no angel.

But probably not. This one is really over the top. In case you're wondering, it's 540 calories, the same as a Big Mac. These are nowhere near as bad as things can be. Burger King's Double Whopper is 920.

Fries with that?

Pine Nut Brittle (Crocante), Bacon, Garlic

 

Pine - what - garlic - huh?

There's a story. It starts with nut brittle, which is a big favorite of mine. Peanut brittle is really easy to make. Sugar, corn syrup, nuts, cooked to emergency-room-hot, add a bit of baking soda to lighten up the hard candy and spread to cool. It's great and with mixed nuts, even better.

Through a couple of errors, I ended up with two bags of pine nuts (that is to say, I forgot I had a new bag when I bought the second one). What do you do with three pounds of pine nuts? I thought, "pine nut brittle!" As I began to congratulate myself on how brilliant I was, the search engine revealed that not only had someone done it before, it is a standard in Italy (of course — they invented everything, including most of what the French pretend they invented), where they call it crocante.

I also found two interesting variants, from blog foodgasms.net: bacon and garlic. Y'all know how I feel about bacon. Pretty much likewise about garlic. But in nut brittle?

I made a split batch. They're both really good. So good, in fact that I will admit that to get the photo below, I had to put a small prep bowl upside down into the serving bowl, underneath the candy, so it would not look nearly empty.

The garlic is the weirder of the two but curiously addictive (in fact, Kathy seems to like it as I note that right now, the garlic one is gone and a few nibbles of bacon remain). Recipe follows.

Bacon or Garlic Pine Nut Brittle

Original: foodgasms.net

Notes:

• A great place to get pine nuts is Costco. Keep them in the freezer (they come in a ziptop resealable bag) and they will last forever.
• Microwave times vary. Adjust accordingly.
• I missed the butter that is used in my normal nut brittle so I have added it to the recipe but I haven't actually tested it this way. If you crave the safety of a tested recipe, omit the butter. If you crave the butter, you're my kind of people.
• You can make Bacon or Garlic Pine Nut Brittle. I made a split batch, half of each.
• You can also make plain old, good old crocante by omitting both the bacon and the garlic.

2 cups raw pinenuts
1 cup sugar
1 pinch kosher salt
½ cup light corn syrup
1 teaspoon baking soda
1-2 tbsp butter, see note

USE one of the following:

6 thin slices bacon, chopped
or 2-3 cloves garlic, minced or pressed through garlic press

1. If making the bacon version: Start with a cool frying pan, render the bacon pieces over low heat until almost (but not quite) crispy. Place on paper towels and allow to cool. Reserve ½ teaspoon of the rendered bacon fat.

If making garlic: Mince garlic or pass through a garlic press. Set aside.

2. For both versions:

In a 2 qt. microwave-safe bowl (preferably glass, with a handle, no lid needed), stir together nuts, sugar, salt, and corn syrup. Microwave at high setting, uncovered, for three minutes, stir. Microwave again until mixture is light brown (about three minutes more).

3. Meanwhile, prepare cookie sheet to receive the hot brittle by either greasing it with butter, or lining it with parchment, non-stick foil, or a silicone baking mat (such as the Silpat). You must have this ready to go when the mixture is ready.

4. Using oven mitts, remove mixture and add the butter with the garlic, or the bacon pieces and the ½ teaspoon of reserved fat. Stir well to combine. Microwave again for 1 minute, until the mixture is caramel colored (see the picture — that is as dark as you want to go and a little lighter is ok).

Work quickly, the mixture hardens rapidly. Remove from microwave, add baking soda. Stir quickly until light and foamy and the foam is evenly mixed in. Pour mixture onto cookie sheet and use the back of a spoon or a silicone spatula to spread out as quickly as possible. (Brittle will be fairly thick.)

5. Let stand for 30 minutes (yeah, right). Break into pieces and serve. Store in an airtight container up to 2 weeks (yeah, right).

The Secret Easter Bunny

My mother reminded me today about how we used to deliver Easter baskets. I had all but forgotten.

A few weeks before Easter, my mother would call the school nurse, Mrs. Robinson, and ask for names of local families who were especially needy ("You couldn't do that today," she sighed). Over the next few weeks, she would corral my brothers and me and we would make Easter baskets from milk cartons she had saved. We'd decorate eggs. We'd make Jell-O eggs from hollowed-out egg shells, by filling them halfway with one color of Jell-O, chilling, then topping them off with a second color. We made cupcakes, each decorated with the children's names. A little paper hat, ruffled collar, and glued on nose made a "clown egg." She made sure each basket was identical so children in the family would all get the same thing.

Very early on Easter morning, we would drive to their homes and drop off the Easter baskets.

Over the years, we would hear stories about these mysterious baskets. People would ask neighbors and relatives but no one knew who the secret bunny was. One time, my brother Arthur was confronted by a class mate who said she knew he was the Easter Bunny. She was up very early, saw a car drive up, and saw Arthur drop off the basket. Arthur reported back to Mom that he had to "lie" to keep our secret.

We also heard about a family who woke up to find colored eggs and parts of cupcakes all over their yard. It seems their dog had a wonderful Easter that year.

As I've grown up, I have discovered a lot examples of how unusual my parents were. She did this kind of thing naturally. She was teaching her sons to be giving and to honor other people's holidays and traditions, and giving us a way to participate in Easter.

At the time, it all seemed unremarkable. As kids, we have nothing to compare to. But now I know, I was raised by Marion Rubenzahl, the Secret Jewish Easter Bunny.

Sushi, Well Done

When I was invited to review Bluefin, a new Japanese restaurant, I was thrilled. I love Japanese food in general, sushi in particular. But as I drove toward its address on the Alameda, not far from the HP Pavilion, I was wondering what to expect. I remembered this neighborhood for Schurra's, an old time candy maker, and other small stores that had been there for decades.

I wouldn't have expected to find sushi there.

And I didn't expect to have some of the best sushi of my life.

I found Bluefin in a new, brick-faced building.

Inside, I was first taken by the decor. Modern and spacious, with thick etched glass panels separating a busy bar — nearly full at 5 PM on a weekday when there was no game at the arena.

Hefty dark wood tables, with simple settings and neatly folded linen napkins were ready. Bluefin is elegant enough to take someone you want to impress but not snooty or intimidating. 

The kitchen, behind the small sushi bar, was visible from the dining room, and already busy with prep work.

I was greeted by owner Jun Chon, pictured here on the right behind the sushi bar. Originally trained as a mechanical engineer, Jun went into restaurant work, for a friend in Sacramento. After several restaurant positions, he decided to open his own, Tomo Sushi, in San Jose in 1995. It was a major success and is now run by his brother.

Jun characterizes Bluefin as "upscale contemporary." He selected the location because it is adjacent to residential neighborhoods and to the downtown hotels, as well as to the arena. Placing it here took nine years. Shortly after the San Jose Redevelopment Agency approved his initial proposal, the economy took a dive and the deal was off. Last year, Jun came up with his own financing and in October, Bluefin was born. He runs Bluefin with his lovely (but camera-shy) wife, Yeon.

Many people would consider this a risky time to start a new restaurant. Jun sees it as opportune. "When everyone is scared, there is opportunity," he says.

But I was here, as I always am, for the food.

We started by talking about it. Turns out, Jun has a lot to say. The specialty here is sushi, and Jun is a sushi master. I have never met anyone who knows as much about sushi and he loves to share. (He promises some articles on the Bluefin website. I'll be watching for that!)

Mastery means being fussy about ingredients. Bluefin prepares ingredients that other places buy. They buy whole fish or, for larger fish like tuna, quarter or half sections.

"When I interview a sushi chef," Jun said, "I ask three things. How do you prepare your rice, how do you prepare tamago (the cooked egg used in sushi preparations), and how do you prepare the mackerel?" Few candidates have answers to those questions because most restaurants buy these ingredients. Jun talked about just the rice for five minutes.

I was especially interested in the mackerel. I confessed that I often say the only thing at a sushi bar I won't eat is mackerel. He immediately knew: "You find it too fishy, right?"

Jun said that marination controls the fishiness. You can't marinate using a standard recipe. The procedure and ingredients vary with the season, the cut of the fish, and its flavor. I was curious about how Jun's mackerel would taste.

I asked what he especially likes to make and he replied, "omakase." Omakase means, "it's up to you" and at a sushi restaurant, it's an invitation to the chef to work his magic. You are placing yourself in the hands of the chef. The chef will select what he knows is especially good today, and a good chef will include a few surprises.

In the plates Jun prepared for me were as tasty as they were beautiful. He included the favorites: tuna, yellowtail, mackerel. There was amaebi (sweet shrimp). Some squid was artfully carved to include a bright orange bit of carrot. There was a quail egg and tobiko (bright orange flying fish roe that pop with fresh sea flavor). Today, he had a flounder and a scallop wrapped with salmon. A piece of cucumber inside added a refreshing crunch.

 

Everything was perfectly fresh, tasting of the sea air, artfully arranged, and full of flavor. I've had a lot of sushi and this is probably the best I have ever had.

The mackerel was a revelation to me. Not fishy at all, it was salty and sweet, with a huge, meaty umami flavor. Jun was right. The marination had pretty much eliminated the oily, fishy flavor and brought out a symphony of interesting notes. I will definitely be having Bluefin's mackerel again.

Sushi, the original fast food, originated in its modern form some 200 years ago as street food, served from carts. Today's sushi has evolved, especially here in the United States, but still has the same elements. Many places have developed elaborate rolls with local names and a multitude of ingredients. Jun's menu is straightforward and changes with the available ingredients. He has some popular favorites for sushi newbies but you won't find many wild and crazy, trendy rolls named after local streets, as Jun focuses on quality and favors the classics. He also has a number of specialties. In the summer, he likes to include monkfish liver paté. He's also done a beef tartare.

Before I could go, Jun wanted me to try his gyoza. Gyoza are similar to potstickers but aren't browned in a skillet. Housemade from scratch, the gyoza are stuffed with a mix of meats and vegetables and they exploded with flavor. These were the best gyoza I have ever had!

I will definitely be visiting Bluefin again.

Update: I did visit again, and posted an additional review.

Lincoln, on Coffee

"If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee."
— Abraham Lincoln

Julia Child Says...

“I make it a rule, no matter what happens, never to say one word, though it kills me. Maybe the cat has fallen in the stew, or I have put the lettuce out the window and it has frozen, or the meat is not quite done ... grit one’s teeth and smile.” — Julia Child, via Debbie Koenig

Who Wants Better Internet?

Who wants better Internet?

I know, everyone. Especially those paying $50 a month for residential Internet connection that's not dependably fast. Want to feel worse? Look at how we fare against other nations. 

But help may be on the way. The FCC will announce a national broadband strategy tomorrow. Google is among the voices who support a nationwide Internet connectivity initiative. They draw an apt comparison to "Power. Clean water. The Interstate highway system."

I am guessing the barrier to this is not technology or even funding; it's the cable and phone companies who won't want to let go of their low-competition regional markets. This is politics, not technology. So sadly, the more apt comparison may be to health care, with entrenched companies in restricted markets use every means to maintain the status quo, even as other countries pass us.

Unless we, the citizens, speak up and demand our interests be out first.

I Found My Cheesesteak

Last week, I reported on a discovery: a new (to me, decades old to others) cheesesteak shop that seemed to offer the real thing: a Philadelphia-style cheesesteak. I gave it a B+, rating it against East Coast cheesesteak.

I had to go back. I suppose I didn't really have to go back twice — but I did. I am thrilled to report that I am upgrading my rating to a solid A.

This is the real deal, as genuine as you'll find. Take it to go and it comes wrapped as they do in Philly: Foil to keep it hot, white paper around that, with the ends twisted.

Moving inside, you find a roll quite unlike anything you normally find on the west coast. Very fresh, it's soft and pillowy on the inside but sturdy enough to stand up to juicy contents. The crust is slightly chewy but not thick and durable, like sourdough. 

Thinly sliced beef, is grilled with onions (optional) and mixed with cheese (Cheez Wiz -- yes, really -- gives just the right gooeyness and tang) and nestled, hot and wet, on the roll along with peppers, both sweet and spicy. Some on Yelp whined that there isn't enough meat. I disagree but if you want more, order it that way.

In fact, order it any way you like. A hallmark of the cheesesteak is that there is no one way. The way I order mine is: "Classic, 7-inch, beef, grilled onions, sweet peppers, no hot peppers." 

As I said previously, my only complaint is that they inexplicably spell it "cheese steak." After 25 years, they won't be changing that but it's just so wrong. Still, if they keep making cheesesteaks (no space) like this, They can misspell it and I'll still be back. I'm thrilled to have a very genuine cheesesteak right here, in my town.

The Cheese Steak Shop has about 25 locations, all over the Bay Area. The one I went to is at 832 W El Camino Real, Sunnyvale, CA.

Cheesesteak, not in Philadelphia

See the updated review (this time with pictures) and an upgrade in rating!

Regular readers (hi, Mom) know that there are just a few foods I miss from the East. One of those is the cheesesteak hoagie (sub sandwich). I liked Calvin's in San Jose, but only because Calvin himself is so Phillie. I really was disappointed in the acclaimed Amato's in San Jose. In my Yelp review, I said:

On the plus side: Good, fresh ingredients. But assembled, it was a so-so cheesesteak.

Worst was that it was pretty dry. I want my cheesesteak moist, somewhat gooey, with juices that soak into the bread.

The bread was more of a bun. It was fresh and delicious but the wrong type. A cheesesteak should have a chewy Italian-style loaf with good crust. Amato's is too light and puffy.

Flavor was OK. Value was good.

If you have never had an authentic Phillie cheesesteak, then this rates a "B" grade. If you have, then this is a "C-minus."

I noticed a new hole in the wall cheesesteak place in Sunnyvale a couple of months ago. No rush — I've been disappointed so many times. No high hopes. I didn't even have my camera so this will be a blind review. 

It turns out the plainly-named Cheese Steak Shop (and mis-named, since cheesesteak ought to be one word — yes, that's sloppy and run together but so is a good cheesesteak) is a small chain, with a couple of dozen locations in Northern California. But they know how to make a good cheesesteak. Now, when I say, "good," let's be clear — cheesesteak quality is subjective. Even Philadelphians are divided, between Pat's and Geno's, both of whom claim to be king. And both spell it cheesesteak, one word, no space.

But I liked what I saw. The place looks Phillie. The menu is simple and steers away from the affectations that Californize so many contenders. I kept it honest and went for the "Classic Philly Cheese Steak" (that extra space still bothers me). Hot, fresh, and moist, with a very nice melding of beef and cheese. They use Cheese Wiz (don't say nothin', that's how it's done, and it's right) but will use provolone if you like (which is also right, just not right-right). The peppers and onions were perfectly cooked and gave just the right amount of kick (enough to make me say "whoa" after the first bites, but not enough to stop me). The bun is soft and fresh but not as Wonder-Bread soft as Amato. I would like a bit more chew but maybe that's because most of my hoagie time was in Jersey. The main thing was that this was a juicy sandwich, but not drippy, just the way I like it. Some reviewers on Yelp whine that they want more meat but I thought this was just right. You can order more meat if you like.

So, how'd we do? Well, I need to go back (with camera) and report again but right now, I'll give it a B+, rating it against East Coast cheesesteak. An A- if they get rid of the extra space. If  you have never had an authentic Phillie cheesesteak, then this rates a solid "A".

One heart breaker: This place has been around for 25 years. How could I have been so in the dark?!

One Pot Salmon and Brown-Rice Risotto

One-pot dishes have a reputation as a bachelor shortcut. They're certainly not bad practice. They work well when you're only having one dish, such as stew or chili. Here's a way to do a multi-dish meal in one pot.

It came about by accident. I had a slow-cooked rice side dish underway and asparagus and salmon, ready to cook. I realized they could steam together.

 
The general idea (which is more important than the specific recipe) is to make rice, then layer the green vegetable and the salmon on top. Everything steams as the rice finishes and the rice is the steaming rack. Here is how it worked out.

I started by making a shortcut risotto — basically, risotto minus the care and gradual additions. Purists will cringe at my calling it risotto. In a large pot (e.g. a 6-quart Dutch oven or large saucepan), saute a small onion, chopped, and 1/2-1 cup of sliced mushrooms in a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. When the onion softens and is transparent, add a cup of brown rice. Stir and saute until the rice browns just a little, and add a few cloves of minced garlic. Cook another minute or so and add two cups of liquid — water or chicken broth, maybe with a splash of wine. If using water, add a teaspoon of salt; if you're using broth, skip the salt.

Cover and simmer for 40 minutes. Check it after about 25 minutes and then every ten minutes. If the liquid is gone, add 1/4 cup more water.

While the rice cooks, prepare a salmon fillet. Remove any pin bones (feel them with your fingers and remove with needle nosed pliers), rinse, dry with paper towels, and sprinkle with herbs (dill, thyme, basil, for instance). Salt it lightly.

Prepare some asparagus by removing the woody ends and washing.

Chop up something green — green onion, parsley, cilantro — and grate 1/4-1/2 cup of Parmesan cheese to mix into the rice at the end.

When the rice softens but is still just a little firm, check the bottom of the pot. If there is no liquid (that is, the rice has absorbed it all), add 1/4 cup water. Layer the asparagus atop the rice and lay the salmon atop the spears. Cover and let steam gently for about ten minutes. Check the salmon and remove from the heat when the salmon is still just slightly raw in the middle — about 95 degrees internally, if you have an instant-read thermometer. The asparagus should be done — just past bright green.

All three should be done about the same time: The fish should be just slightly undercooked (it will finish cooking on the plate); the asparagus spears should be tender and just past the brightest green; and the rice should be tender. If anything is underdone, remove what's ready and cover with foil, and give the undercooked portion another few minutes.

Mix your green garnish and grated Parmesan into the rice and serve on a big platter. Place the salmon on top, the asparagus on the side.

The Best Kitchen Towel

Is there anything more basic that a kitchen towel? Yet, for some reason, good towels are hard to find. It made me crazy that some of our kitchen towels just didn't work very well. Last year, we bought a whole cupboard full of new towels of several different brands and several of them, including one from Martha Stewart, were not very absorbent.

Stop and consider that: Not absorbent? Isn't that the whole point of a towel? How can anyone design, manufacturer, and sell a towel that doesn't absorb water well?

With time and repeated washings, some improved but many didn't.

Then my friend Don Beck gave me a simple white cotton towel. It soon came to be my favorite. It's the simplest towel in the world. No colors, loops, embroidery, just cotton. They're thin and single ply.

They're "flour sack towels," widely available at kitchen and bath stores.

Fratello: Worth Finding

You've probably driven past Fratello Ristorante without noticing it. On busy Meridian Avenue but tucked in the back of a nondescript mall, Fratello (which means "brother") has been quietly serving the neighborhood for ten years. The restaurant invited me to sample Fratello and interview the owner, Carmine Camporaso.

Shall we begin with the food? Yes, of course, it's Italy — we begin and end with the food. 

My first tasting dish was Ravioli Mare, a house-made seafood ravioli with crab and lobster. Ravioli often disappoint me because the flavor of the filling is lost in pasta and giant tomato sauce flavors. Not this time. The seafood dominates this dish. The pasta, perfectly al dente, and the light tomato sauce played a supporting role.

Next up was a Fettucini Al Funghi Porcini — fettucini pasta with a light cream sauce infused with porcini. The standout in this dish was the porcini. Carmine described how they cook the porcini flavor into the sauce. There is a little lemon in there, barely discernible, which balances out the cream. A housemade sausage, rounds out this hearty pasta entree.

The third dish was quite different from the first two. In the first two dishes, one ingredient sang the main flavor note and other flavors balanced out the chorus. In this dish, Tonno Alla Griglia, there were two stars and neither of them dominated. Grilled ahi tuna with sundried tomato, capers, and kalamata olives, was served atop a bed of spinach sauteed in olive oil and garlic and generously dressed with olive oil. The ahi was fully cooked. Carmine said they will cook it to order (which for me, would be rare.) 

Light, with really well developed flavors, this dish seemed like two. On top was the ahi played against the sharp, briny flavors of capers and olives, and the roundness from the olive oil and sundried tomatoes. Then, underneath, a counterpoint from bright spinach and olive oil and garlic, all perfectly balanced. 

Carmine grew up in a restaurant family in Italy. He has been in the US since 1996 and runs Fratello Ristorante with his sister and brother. He takes pride in ingredients — ask him about his gnocci and he will tell you he makes it there. Ask about the menu and he will point out favorites, seasonal and imported ingredients.

The tomato sauce is made in-house, and cooked just right. Too much cooking and it gets acidic and people try to compensate with sugar. The olive oil — he talks a lot about the extra virgin olive oil. He talked about the beet salad (beets are a favorite of mine), the perfect marriage of arugula and parmesan, the sausage he makes without casings. 

This is not heavy Italian fare, dominated by pasta and tomato sauce with meatballs. He does some of that, to please those who are looking for that style, but Fratello's strong suit is the light and balanced touch of Southern Italy. There is pizza on the menu but that's not the style Carmine likes to prepare.

It may not be easy to see Fratello if you're not looking for it, but it is worth seeking. 

Fratello is located at 1712 Meridian Avenue in San Jose, near Hamilton. First and second course entrees are in the $16-20 range.

Easy Dessert Soufflé

A dessert soufflé that's fast, easy, and delicious? That's what the article in Fine Cooking promised. They're a reliable magazine, so I had to try this. But there is one odd thing about this recipe: It's been a failure for others. When I went to the recipe on the Fine Cooking site, I found three comments, all giving the recipe one star and complaining loudly about how the recipe had failed miserably, falling into a goopy mess of eggs and jam.

I had none of those problems. In fact, we loved it. Light and fulfilling with lots of marmalade flavor. 

(Please click on the picture! These are gorgeous!)

The recipe is simple. It omits the yolks and uses marmalade for flavor. 

Butter some 6-8 oz. ramekins or custard cups, and sprinkle with sugar:

 

Mix the marmalade with Cointreau and lemon juice:

Whip two egg whites to stiff peaks and fold them into the marmalade mixture. Spoon into the cups, bake in a 425-degree oven. 

I don't know why I succeeded and three other readers had a train wreck. There were some differences but nothing I would expect to make this big a difference. Because I have larger (8 oz.) remekins, I increased amounts a little and used three eggs rather than two, but there was enough meringue that I really didn't have to. My ramekins were filled 2/3-3/4 (the recipe called for 1/2).

I'm at a loss to explain the other reviewers' experiences. I know meringues can be fussy. Some hints: Start with room temperature eggs. Fresh eggs do better. Mix in the cream of tartar any time but add sugar gradually after the meringue is already quite foamy and pillowy. Bring it just to stiff peaks — stop earlier rather than later because if it breaks, you have to toss it and start over. The hot oven, well pre-heated, is also probably essential.

I am planning to do this again with raspberry jam instead.

Almost NY Pizza

I love the food here in Northern California. It's superior in almost every way to the food I had growing up in upstate New York. 

Almost.

Regulars know that I have been on a long quest for proper New York pizza. The kind that's available in a New York minute on just about every block in Manhattan. (I'm also seeking great fried chicken and New York deli, so comment if you have a lead.) 

Then my friend Food Gal blogged about Howie's Artisan Pizza in Palo Alto: 

It’s high and puffy on the edges, with airy, rolling caverns that provide great chew and crunch. It’s thinner, yet still crisp, in the center. And when the wheel of a pizza cutter slices through it, there’s a distinctive “crack, crack, crackle” sound.

“The pizza talks to me now,” says Chef Howard Bulka of the just-opened Howie’s Artisan Pizza in Palo Alto’s Town & Country Village. 

Indeed, it does.

I was on my way.

Food Gal covered the place well. It was busy, on a weeknight, and we had to wait — not too long — for a table. We ordered three pizzas: An everything, a sausage and broccoli rabe, and a pepperoni.

   
 
Sorry about the crappy cell phone pics, by the way — all I had. 

Before long, we met Howie. He's easy to spot: the only one without a Howie's shirt. 

 

And covered with flour because Howie has been where he loves to be: behind the counter, throwing dough. 

So how was it? Here's what you need to know: I was happy. But Howie? Not satisfied. Compliment his pies and he'll start talking about how he's still tweaking, how it's so busy but he really wants to — well, this is Silicon Valley, and the guy wants to do some more R&D. "I’ve been cooking 30 years, and I’ve never been perplexed as I have been by pizza dough," he told Food Gal.

Me? I give it 4-1/2 stars, which is more than I have given any pizza place outside New York, New Jersey, or Chicago. I rated it as I would if I had this pizza in Manhattan. What worked: Hot oven, crackling, thin crust. Fresh ingredients and really nice flavors. The broccoli rabe was terrific. I didn't see the wild mushroom pie Food Gal had but will go for the more intricate combinations next time.

I'd have liked a bit more chew at the outside edges and I like to see more big bubbles and fire-kissed, blackened spots. Howie's pizzas are more refined than I like. They don't show the scars of the furnace. (Though I note some gloriously charred spots on the pictures Food Gal took — maybe the ovens were fatigued the night I went.) I also might have liked some seriously stretchy cheese, a cushion over the cracker-like crust.

But that's all nit-picking. I'll be going back again. I want to see where Howie's tweaking takes this fine pie.

Death Cap Mushroom Season

Usually I post about wonderful edibles. Today, we have an inedible.

Kathy's blog warns that this is the season in Northern California for the aptly named Death Cap mushrooms, Amanita Phalloides. Not just a worry for people, keep an eye out for them in your yard, lest the dogs take a bite. It smells like honey and looks like a snack. Three recent dog deaths were reported in Oakland.

More: Wikipedia (also the source for the photo).

Beard Papa

Foodgal reports that a new Beard papa is opening in Menlo Park.

Beard what??

I wrote about them before. Once you get past the goofy name, it's creampuff heaven. Foodgal says they now have five Bay Area locations.

Efficient Travel is for the Birds

Do you find business travel a nuisance?

I used to dislike business travel but I like it now. The biggest change for me is to give up on the quest for efficiency. Efficiency means flying back after the end of the work day, scheduling to minimize the stay, driving past a pretzel vendor's cart, rushing to the airport, sitting down in a seat sweaty and out of breath. Inefficiency means staying an extra night, scheduling fewer appointments, allowing more time to get to the airport or train.

The truth is, travel is inefficient and unpredictable. I was happier once I accepted that. Five hours on a plane, an hour at the airport, waiting for a table or a taxi. Don't fight it. Factor in the inefficiency and you begin to enjoy and use the extra time instead of being anxious about it.

For my last trip to Chicago, I made time to visit the well-known Frontera Grill. I had a great time. Never would have done this with my priority mindset. I have learned to read news on the iPhone, carry a magazine, take pictures, talk to people more, build relationships, and develop memories.

Efficiency? Not always your friend.

Spicy Holiday

I've posted before about the vastly superior spices and herbs available on-line. Here's a great gift idea for friends who are foodies (or need your help to turn into a foodie!).

Penzey's has a great gift set. A deal at its normal $12 price, more of a deal ($7.95) until December 31,  2009. It contains four of my favorites: Their must-have cinnamon; Mural of Flavor, a wonderful salt-free blend; their fresh ground pepper; and their granulated garlic. All four are way better than you'll ever find at the grocery store.