For the past week and a half, I've been on a rotation called jeopardy, which consists of coverage for every other intern on service, plus a few scheduled night shifts. I got called in last night... or maybe it was two nights ago... for the first time. That happened to be the only night I'd made plans; I'd invited over a cointern and his boyfriend for what I have now dubbed the Yuppie White Person Sandwich of Magic. It consists of taleggio cheese ($3.99/lb at East Village Cheese!); thinly sliced white nectarine; homemade bush basil, arugula, and walnut pesto; and fresh arugula, all on freshly baked poolish-based 15% wheat bread. Grill prn. So. Delicious. I also did fig and homemade frangipane mini-tarts including homemade fig jam and a short crust with some fresh rosemary in it. Also so delicious.
But I got called in, so there was no time to plate them attractively and certainly no time to share with anyone else (only questionably a tragedy, since there was more for me). Sorry for the lack of pictures; please don't let that deter you. Make that sandwich. Make it now.
Showing posts with label bread. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bread. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Social media
I've been struggling with whether or not to continue this blog now that my stomach is actually MD*. There's plenty of identifying data on here, but on the other hand, nothing particularly offensive (I think... e-mail me if you disagree, of course!). Informal consultation with a few residents and one attending has convinced me that it's probably okay. A recent (er, not so recent now, I guess) position paper on the benefits and pitfalls of online activity for physicians is actually reassuring; I don't complain about patients, period, and don't plan to post anything particularly personal or embarrassing.
Unless you consider crostini of minted goat cheese spread and balsamic macerated cherries to be embarrassing.
I love macerated fruit (all fruit, in any form, to be fair). In particular, it's a great way to alter summer fruit in some way without taking away from the firm plumpness of it all like baking or stewing!
Protip: to easily halve and pit cherries, run a sharp paring knife all the way around the cherry lengthwise, then twist the two halves apart. They'll separate cleanly. Use your knife or fingers to flick the pit out of the half in which it's seated, and presto! Pitted halved cherry.
The bread is a simple country blonde from Flour Water Salt Yeast. Our super super, Peter, gave us a free window AC unit that one of his super friends didn't need, which will go a long way in increasing the frequency with which I bake, roast, and broil this summer. The bread was baked at 475, and broiled at an even higher temperature. Without the AC on, the apartment was nearly intolerable.
And now, have a bonus recipe for really good cookies.
Sesame-apricot cookies with the Momofuku technique
1 cup butter, room temperature
3/4 c white sugar
3/4 c packed brown sugar (I prefer light)
2 eggs
3/4 tsp vanilla extract (if you're not using almond, use a full tsp)
1/4 tsp almond extract
2 c flour
a scant 1 1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp cinnamon (can up to 1/2 for a more prominent flavor!)
1 c oats, not instant
Total of 2 c chopped dried apricots, white sesame seeds, and black sesame seeds, in your preferred ratios
Cream the butter and sugars in a stand mixer, if you have one. Add the eggs and vanilla and mix just until combined, scraping down the sides. Turn the stand mixer to medium-high speed (setting 4 on my KitchenAid) for a full 10 minutes, stopping halfway through to scrape down the sides. Add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt, mixing just until combined, scraping down the sides. Finally, gently fold in the nuts/chocolate/fruit. Cover and chill the dough for at least 1.5 hours.
Preheat your oven to 375 F (original recipe on which I based this suggests 400, but I found that a bit too hot). Scoop out 1.5-tbsp scoops of dough onto a large cookie sheet, leaving at least 2 inches of space around each scoop. Grind a little kosher salt over the top. Bake 8-11 minutes. Note that the browning will start at the edges and rapidly move into the center; these cookies go from underdone to overdone in literally under a minute! Cool completely on the cookie sheet before serving.
*WOOOOOOOOO**
**Except I've yet to actually practice, sooo...
Unless you consider crostini of minted goat cheese spread and balsamic macerated cherries to be embarrassing.
I love macerated fruit (all fruit, in any form, to be fair). In particular, it's a great way to alter summer fruit in some way without taking away from the firm plumpness of it all like baking or stewing!
Protip: to easily halve and pit cherries, run a sharp paring knife all the way around the cherry lengthwise, then twist the two halves apart. They'll separate cleanly. Use your knife or fingers to flick the pit out of the half in which it's seated, and presto! Pitted halved cherry.
The bread is a simple country blonde from Flour Water Salt Yeast. Our super super, Peter, gave us a free window AC unit that one of his super friends didn't need, which will go a long way in increasing the frequency with which I bake, roast, and broil this summer. The bread was baked at 475, and broiled at an even higher temperature. Without the AC on, the apartment was nearly intolerable.
And now, have a bonus recipe for really good cookies.
Sesame-apricot cookies with the Momofuku technique
1 cup butter, room temperature
3/4 c white sugar
3/4 c packed brown sugar (I prefer light)
2 eggs
3/4 tsp vanilla extract (if you're not using almond, use a full tsp)
1/4 tsp almond extract
2 c flour
a scant 1 1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp cinnamon (can up to 1/2 for a more prominent flavor!)
1 c oats, not instant
Total of 2 c chopped dried apricots, white sesame seeds, and black sesame seeds, in your preferred ratios
Cream the butter and sugars in a stand mixer, if you have one. Add the eggs and vanilla and mix just until combined, scraping down the sides. Turn the stand mixer to medium-high speed (setting 4 on my KitchenAid) for a full 10 minutes, stopping halfway through to scrape down the sides. Add the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt, mixing just until combined, scraping down the sides. Finally, gently fold in the nuts/chocolate/fruit. Cover and chill the dough for at least 1.5 hours.
Preheat your oven to 375 F (original recipe on which I based this suggests 400, but I found that a bit too hot). Scoop out 1.5-tbsp scoops of dough onto a large cookie sheet, leaving at least 2 inches of space around each scoop. Grind a little kosher salt over the top. Bake 8-11 minutes. Note that the browning will start at the edges and rapidly move into the center; these cookies go from underdone to overdone in literally under a minute! Cool completely on the cookie sheet before serving.
*WOOOOOOOOO**
**Except I've yet to actually practice, sooo...
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Parthas
This may come as a shock: being an intern is rough. I absolutely loved my sub-internship*, but it's been an exercise in accepting the fact that cooking healthfully and exercising regularly is hard when you're a junior doctor. I mostly ended up eating Way Too Much Thai Food, oatmeal, and huge bunches of chard cooked with garlic.
There's nothing better than garlicky, tender chard, except for garlicky, tender chard eaten in the presence of someone with no sense of smell. Or kale. Or green beans. How I love green beans (which are called grüne Bohne in German).
I did have time to make some awesome carrot cake cupcakes, sweet potato pie, and pizza with a new crust recipe from Flour Water Salt Yeast. The texture of this crust was worlds better than that of my usual. I can't get away from the white wine and molasses from my old recipe, though. Next time, I'll try the FWSY process with those ingredients included; hopefully it won't much alter the structure of the dough.
The sweet potato pie... well, I remembered the recipe at the time I made it, which was about two weeks ago. At this point, all I know is that I used about a pound and a half of slow-roasted sweet potato, three eggs--yolks directly mixed into the batter, whites whipped until stiff and gently folded in--brown sugar, cayenne, cinnamon, cloves, and no flour whatsoever. The crust has oats and wheat bran in it.
To celebrate Match Day** and our three-year marriage anniversary, Andy and I walked the length of Manhattan today (and totally got one-upped as soon as we got home and saw the NYC subreddit), starting at 215th St., heading down Broadway until 60th St., and continuing down 7th Avenue until we hit SoHo.
South Seaport at last! It took us about five hours, including stops for breakfast (diner fare in Harlem), lunch (sushi in Chelsea), and caffeine (once under the overpass just north of Columbia, once in the Financial District). Perhaps doing this walk after a big deadlift day was less than intelligent; my thighs are informing me that victory tastes bittersweet.
*in which we get long coats and pagers and prescribing privileges (with oversight, of course) and pretend to be interns
**Possibly the happiest day of my life: first choice, and I get to stay in New York one more year so as not to abandon Andy while he finishes his PhD!
There's nothing better than garlicky, tender chard, except for garlicky, tender chard eaten in the presence of someone with no sense of smell. Or kale. Or green beans. How I love green beans (which are called grüne Bohne in German).
I did have time to make some awesome carrot cake cupcakes, sweet potato pie, and pizza with a new crust recipe from Flour Water Salt Yeast. The texture of this crust was worlds better than that of my usual. I can't get away from the white wine and molasses from my old recipe, though. Next time, I'll try the FWSY process with those ingredients included; hopefully it won't much alter the structure of the dough.
The sweet potato pie... well, I remembered the recipe at the time I made it, which was about two weeks ago. At this point, all I know is that I used about a pound and a half of slow-roasted sweet potato, three eggs--yolks directly mixed into the batter, whites whipped until stiff and gently folded in--brown sugar, cayenne, cinnamon, cloves, and no flour whatsoever. The crust has oats and wheat bran in it.
To celebrate Match Day** and our three-year marriage anniversary, Andy and I walked the length of Manhattan today (and totally got one-upped as soon as we got home and saw the NYC subreddit), starting at 215th St., heading down Broadway until 60th St., and continuing down 7th Avenue until we hit SoHo.
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*in which we get long coats and pagers and prescribing privileges (with oversight, of course) and pretend to be interns
**Possibly the happiest day of my life: first choice, and I get to stay in New York one more year so as not to abandon Andy while he finishes his PhD!
Monday, February 17, 2014
Think of Iceland
The planning is underway for Hannah and Andy's Great Iceland Tour of 2014! We're going on a nine-day trip to celebrate my impending graduation. Iceland has long been on my list of places to visit*; while the car rental and gas prices will be pretty steep, the actual flight and recreation--meaning days and days of hiking and soaking in volcanic hot springs--are quite affordable. It's still chilly in early May, which means that Andy can career around the countryside with me without breaking a sweat (he's a freak of nature who turns beet-red at the mere thought of actual warm weather).
I'm going for the geography but plan to take the opportunity to try some new and different foods. Aside from the traditional Icelandic dishes of fermented shark and sheep's head and dried puffin (the first of which has been described as truly foul), the famous Icelandic hot dog, eaten with "the works" (eina með öllu), is the local delicacy of choice. Oh, and a strained yogurt-type thing called skyr. The idea of eating whale doesn't sit right with me; I'll probably skip that.
I made the huge mistake of baking fresh bread again, this time a straightforward overnight whole-wheat boule.
The recipe came directly from Deborah Madison's Greens cookbook. It's got some great recipes with unique concepts, but I frequently have issues with the proportions of herbs and seasonings to whatever protein or carb makes up the bulk of the dish. In this case, the recipe only called for three eggs against a cascade of cornichons, capers, celery, and--less alliteratively--red onion. There were so many vegetables and so much remoulade that, while the spice level was decent, the eggs were practically lost. I doubled the number of eggs and sprinkled in some more seasoning and a little more onion, celery, and pickle, and it was perfect. The spicy watercress really makes this dish, too; if you can find it in your local grocery, I highly recommend it over lettuce or spinach.
*Other hot items on the list: Mongolia (where I wish to go hawking on a bicycle, since I am not an experienced horseback rider), Antarctica, Socotra Island, Turkey (especially Cappadocia), South Korea, Croatia
I'm going for the geography but plan to take the opportunity to try some new and different foods. Aside from the traditional Icelandic dishes of fermented shark and sheep's head and dried puffin (the first of which has been described as truly foul), the famous Icelandic hot dog, eaten with "the works" (eina með öllu), is the local delicacy of choice. Oh, and a strained yogurt-type thing called skyr. The idea of eating whale doesn't sit right with me; I'll probably skip that.
I made the huge mistake of baking fresh bread again, this time a straightforward overnight whole-wheat boule.
What we didn't devour for breakfast with butter and blackberry jam I grilled for Creole egg salad and watercress sandwiches.
The recipe came directly from Deborah Madison's Greens cookbook. It's got some great recipes with unique concepts, but I frequently have issues with the proportions of herbs and seasonings to whatever protein or carb makes up the bulk of the dish. In this case, the recipe only called for three eggs against a cascade of cornichons, capers, celery, and--less alliteratively--red onion. There were so many vegetables and so much remoulade that, while the spice level was decent, the eggs were practically lost. I doubled the number of eggs and sprinkled in some more seasoning and a little more onion, celery, and pickle, and it was perfect. The spicy watercress really makes this dish, too; if you can find it in your local grocery, I highly recommend it over lettuce or spinach.
*Other hot items on the list: Mongolia (where I wish to go hawking on a bicycle, since I am not an experienced horseback rider), Antarctica, Socotra Island, Turkey (especially Cappadocia), South Korea, Croatia
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Bread weather
I've been on an orthopedics service for the last week. Between waking up very early and spending most of the afternoon agonizing over my rank list*, I've been able to cook, but too drained lazy to blog. Catchup time!
For those of us who live under a rock on Pluto, cold and slush have overtaken the Northeast. I'd failed to capitalize on this with anything but a ruined umbrella and damp socks. Cue a timely bread-baking session yesterday! Two loaves later:
This is a poolish-based seeded loaf based on a recipe for harvest bread from Flour Water Salt Yeast. A poolish is a preferment with a one-to-one flour-to-water ratio (by weight, of course), which some books might refer to as 100% hydration. This Eastern European preferment is less sharp than a sourdough-type starter. It's also more susceptible to ambient temperatures, since the total fermenting time is short compared to a true starter. I love the slightly sweet, buttery flavor a poolish gives to the finished crust, not to mention how resource- and time-parsimonious it is compared to a sourdough starter.
Because I'm trying to get rid of the minute amounts of random ingredients that are lurking in my cabinets--lurking in a cramped way, that is--I threw in 46 g of buckwheat flour**. While I didn't have any wheat bran, in went a couple handfuls each of sunflower seeds, flax seeds, raw millet, parcooked wheat berries, and oats. Buckwheat is delicious, but in this case I felt like it distracted a little from the otherwise subtle bread. I'm going to load it up with more seeds next time, especially millet, and coat the outside of the loaf with a seed blend as well.
Harvest seed bread
With all due credit to Ken Forkish
Poolish:
250 g white flour
250 g 80 F water
0.4 g dried yeast
The night before baking, mix the ingredients by hand in a 6-quart tub until completely blended. Cover and leave out overnight at room temperature, between 65 and 70 F. When it is done, 12 to 14 hours later, it will have tripled in volume and be bubbly, with bubbles visibly popping on the surface. It will last 1-2 hours, depending on how warm your room is. If room temperature in your house is more than 70 F, be sure to check a little earlier so your poolish doesn't age beyond its bubbly peak.
Final dough:
200 g white flour
50 g whole wheat flour
140 g 105 F water
11 g sea salt
1.5 g yeast
25 g wheat germ
10 g wheat bran
Assorted nuts and seeds
All the poolish
Pour the water around the perimeter of the poolish and loosen it from the tub. Then add the remainder of the ingredients. Mix by hand; you can wet your hand as much as you want when you mix, but it's a very sticky dough. The end temperature will be variable; I didn't even bother to measure. The dough will need two folds during the first hour after mixing. Let it rise for 2 to 3 hours, or until 2.5 times its original volume.
Turn out the dough onto a floured surface and shape into a medium-tight ball. Dust a proofing basket (makeshift or otherwise) with flour and place the loaf seam side down in the basket. You can also coat the basket with more seeds or bran for an extra-crunchy outside. Lightly flour the top, cover with a kitchen towel, and proof for 45 min to an hour. Mine proofed in just under 45 minutes; check early.
As soon as you start proofing, put a rack in the middle of the oven and place a Dutch oven with a lid on in it. Preheat the oven to 475 F while the loaf is proofing, to allow the Dutch oven to reheat. Carefully invert the proofed loaf onto a lightly floured surface. Remove the Dutch oven and very carefully place the loaf in the Dutch oven, seam side up. Cover and bake for 30-35 minutes, then uncover and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the loaf is deep brown to dark brown.
Remove the loaf from the Dutch oven and let cool on a rack or on its side (for maximum air circulation) for at least 20 minutes before slicing and serving.
*My personal decision deadline is today. Basically, this.
**N.b.: Buckwheat flour, teff flour, and millet flour are among the many gluten-free flours out there. Unless you have celiac disease--in which case you probably shouldn't be eating this bread anyway--you'll have to add gluten to make up for the amount of all-purpose you're cutting out. I calculated that there are 5.5 g gluten in 46 g all-purpose flour and added that amount to the blend.
For those of us who live under a rock on Pluto, cold and slush have overtaken the Northeast. I'd failed to capitalize on this with anything but a ruined umbrella and damp socks. Cue a timely bread-baking session yesterday! Two loaves later:
 |
| Happy poolish! |
 |
| The recipe below makes one loaf. We, however, are gluttons. |
 |
| To assess for proofing, poke the bread. If the indentation slowly bounces back, it's ready to go. If it rapidly springs back, it's not sufficiently proofed; if it stays indented, it's overproofed. |
Because I'm trying to get rid of the minute amounts of random ingredients that are lurking in my cabinets--lurking in a cramped way, that is--I threw in 46 g of buckwheat flour**. While I didn't have any wheat bran, in went a couple handfuls each of sunflower seeds, flax seeds, raw millet, parcooked wheat berries, and oats. Buckwheat is delicious, but in this case I felt like it distracted a little from the otherwise subtle bread. I'm going to load it up with more seeds next time, especially millet, and coat the outside of the loaf with a seed blend as well.
Harvest seed bread
With all due credit to Ken Forkish
Poolish:
250 g white flour
250 g 80 F water
0.4 g dried yeast
The night before baking, mix the ingredients by hand in a 6-quart tub until completely blended. Cover and leave out overnight at room temperature, between 65 and 70 F. When it is done, 12 to 14 hours later, it will have tripled in volume and be bubbly, with bubbles visibly popping on the surface. It will last 1-2 hours, depending on how warm your room is. If room temperature in your house is more than 70 F, be sure to check a little earlier so your poolish doesn't age beyond its bubbly peak.
Final dough:
200 g white flour
50 g whole wheat flour
140 g 105 F water
11 g sea salt
1.5 g yeast
25 g wheat germ
10 g wheat bran
Assorted nuts and seeds
All the poolish
Pour the water around the perimeter of the poolish and loosen it from the tub. Then add the remainder of the ingredients. Mix by hand; you can wet your hand as much as you want when you mix, but it's a very sticky dough. The end temperature will be variable; I didn't even bother to measure. The dough will need two folds during the first hour after mixing. Let it rise for 2 to 3 hours, or until 2.5 times its original volume.
Turn out the dough onto a floured surface and shape into a medium-tight ball. Dust a proofing basket (makeshift or otherwise) with flour and place the loaf seam side down in the basket. You can also coat the basket with more seeds or bran for an extra-crunchy outside. Lightly flour the top, cover with a kitchen towel, and proof for 45 min to an hour. Mine proofed in just under 45 minutes; check early.
As soon as you start proofing, put a rack in the middle of the oven and place a Dutch oven with a lid on in it. Preheat the oven to 475 F while the loaf is proofing, to allow the Dutch oven to reheat. Carefully invert the proofed loaf onto a lightly floured surface. Remove the Dutch oven and very carefully place the loaf in the Dutch oven, seam side up. Cover and bake for 30-35 minutes, then uncover and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until the loaf is deep brown to dark brown.
Remove the loaf from the Dutch oven and let cool on a rack or on its side (for maximum air circulation) for at least 20 minutes before slicing and serving.
*My personal decision deadline is today. Basically, this.
**N.b.: Buckwheat flour, teff flour, and millet flour are among the many gluten-free flours out there. Unless you have celiac disease--in which case you probably shouldn't be eating this bread anyway--you'll have to add gluten to make up for the amount of all-purpose you're cutting out. I calculated that there are 5.5 g gluten in 46 g all-purpose flour and added that amount to the blend.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Curmuncheon
Some blank slates are meant to be written upon. Some are meant to be left pristine, looking like the glint off a sharp blade sounds in cartoons. This is relevant because today's quick perusal of Tastespotting yielded, among others, the following bread pudding variants:
Sorry, kids, get off my lawn. All I want in my bread pudding, aside from bread, is sugar, milk, eggs, vanilla, maybe raisins, and maybe cinnamon, plus a sauce containing alcohol. Talk About Good and Talk About Good II have unsullied Louisiana recipes for bread pudding as it should be.
Bread pudding, adapted from Talk About Good II
1 loaf French bread, preferably a day old
1 quart milk
4 eggs (5 if you like an eggier pudding)
1/3 c white sugar
2 tsp vanilla
pinch salt
Butter for pan, plus extra for top (1-2 tbsp)
Optional: 1/2 c raisins
Optional: 1/2 tsp cinnamon
Preheat an oven to 350 and butter a shallow baking dish. Whisk together the milk, eggs, sugar, vanilla, and salt. Tear the bread into small chunks and stir it in, along with the cinnamon and raisins if you're going there. Allow to sit until the bread has swollen and absorbed some of the liquid. Dump everything into the buttered baking dish. Slice the remaining butter and distribute over the surface; you can also sprinkle on more cinnamon if you wish. Bake 30-40 minutes or until the pudding is just set and the top is crispy.
Whiskey (or rum) sauce
1 packed cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup half-and-half or heavy cream
5 tbsp butter
pinch salt
3 tbsp whiskey or bourbon, or 1 1/2 tsp rum extract
Optional: 1/2 tbsp orange zest
Whisk together all ingredients over medium-low heat until combined. Raise heat slightly and bring to a low boil. Cook 5 minutes or until thickened to desired consistency. Serve warm over warm pudding.
- "chai spiced maple pumpkin"
- "crockpot (????) tiramisu"
- "goat milk with mapled rhubarb" (the goat milk actually sounds good, but when did maple become a verb?)
- "apple pie pumpkin spice" (FALL WORDS, EVERYBODY!)
Sorry, kids, get off my lawn. All I want in my bread pudding, aside from bread, is sugar, milk, eggs, vanilla, maybe raisins, and maybe cinnamon, plus a sauce containing alcohol. Talk About Good and Talk About Good II have unsullied Louisiana recipes for bread pudding as it should be.
Bread pudding, adapted from Talk About Good II
1 loaf French bread, preferably a day old
1 quart milk
4 eggs (5 if you like an eggier pudding)
1/3 c white sugar
2 tsp vanilla
pinch salt
Butter for pan, plus extra for top (1-2 tbsp)
Optional: 1/2 c raisins
Optional: 1/2 tsp cinnamon
Preheat an oven to 350 and butter a shallow baking dish. Whisk together the milk, eggs, sugar, vanilla, and salt. Tear the bread into small chunks and stir it in, along with the cinnamon and raisins if you're going there. Allow to sit until the bread has swollen and absorbed some of the liquid. Dump everything into the buttered baking dish. Slice the remaining butter and distribute over the surface; you can also sprinkle on more cinnamon if you wish. Bake 30-40 minutes or until the pudding is just set and the top is crispy.
Whiskey (or rum) sauce
1 packed cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup half-and-half or heavy cream
5 tbsp butter
pinch salt
3 tbsp whiskey or bourbon, or 1 1/2 tsp rum extract
Optional: 1/2 tbsp orange zest
Whisk together all ingredients over medium-low heat until combined. Raise heat slightly and bring to a low boil. Cook 5 minutes or until thickened to desired consistency. Serve warm over warm pudding.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Pulaski > Crusher
There was that little bump in the road with Dr. Pulaski at first refusing to acknowledge Data as a sentient Starfleet officer equal to any flesh-and-blood sentient Starfleet officer. Otherwise, she smokes Dr. Crusher in every way: she can recite Klingon literature from memory, demonstrates her knowledge of technology-independent medical care in the second-season episode "Contagion," and has a snarky sense of humor that dovetails neatly with her firm-but-caring bedside manner. And, in a little human touch, she's afraid of the transporter. That beats out noblebright, tap-dancing Beverly in every way, in my opinion.
The important stuff being out of the way, I can keep talking about butter.
I've written about brioche before, but that brioche did not incorporate homemade buttermilk and cultured butter. This one does, which makes it strictly better. I was brainstorming things to make from the approximately 1 kilo of dough this recipe yielded. Brioche buns stuffed with caramelized onions and sage, brioche pain perdu, brioche cinnamon rolls, brioche crostini... brioche crostini!
Remember the whole "sorry" thing? I'm very sorry that I didn't smoke my own salmon for this. Andy told me to shut up and make more crostini.
Brioche salmon things
I used this recipe for the dough, except with fresh buttermilk instead of the whole milk, a little over 6 oz of salted cultured butter, and a little less salt. The dough will taste very sugary; while the end product is not as sweet, you may want to reduce the sugar if you know you'll be using the bread for a savory recipe.
To bake: generously butter the cups of a muffin tin. Remove the dough from the fridge and gently deflate it. Fill each muffin cup half to two-thirds of the way to the top with dough, working quickly while it's cool and malleable. Allow to rise in a not-too-warm place until the dough just crests the top of the cups.
Preheat the oven to 425 F. About 5 minutes before baking, brush the tops of the brioches with egg yolk beaten with a little buttermilk or melted butter; just before you put them in the oven, brush them again. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through baking, or until the tops are a deep golden brown. Remove from the tin and cool completely before using as below.
Cut the mini brioches into 1-inch-thick slices, reserving the domed tops for bread pudding (or snacking). If you like, brush the tops of the slices with butter and broil until golden brown and crispy. Slice the cucumber into quarter-inch slices and pat dry. Lay a cucumber slice on each brioche slice. Pipe on some fat-free Greek yogurt or other thick yogurt (or sour cream, or crème fraîche, or slightly softened cream cheese, but I personally think that's way too rich) and sprinkle liberally with chives. Top with a rosette of smoked salmon, lox, or sushi-grade raw salmon, and finish it off with a fine grating of lemon zest and some cracked black pepper. If using raw salmon, also add a sprinkling of coarse sea salt. Other options: using fresh dill instead of (or in addition to ) the chives; add on chopped smoked or raw almonds for crunch.
The important stuff being out of the way, I can keep talking about butter.
I've written about brioche before, but that brioche did not incorporate homemade buttermilk and cultured butter. This one does, which makes it strictly better. I was brainstorming things to make from the approximately 1 kilo of dough this recipe yielded. Brioche buns stuffed with caramelized onions and sage, brioche pain perdu, brioche cinnamon rolls, brioche crostini... brioche crostini!
Remember the whole "sorry" thing? I'm very sorry that I didn't smoke my own salmon for this. Andy told me to shut up and make more crostini.
Brioche salmon things
I used this recipe for the dough, except with fresh buttermilk instead of the whole milk, a little over 6 oz of salted cultured butter, and a little less salt. The dough will taste very sugary; while the end product is not as sweet, you may want to reduce the sugar if you know you'll be using the bread for a savory recipe.
To bake: generously butter the cups of a muffin tin. Remove the dough from the fridge and gently deflate it. Fill each muffin cup half to two-thirds of the way to the top with dough, working quickly while it's cool and malleable. Allow to rise in a not-too-warm place until the dough just crests the top of the cups.
Preheat the oven to 425 F. About 5 minutes before baking, brush the tops of the brioches with egg yolk beaten with a little buttermilk or melted butter; just before you put them in the oven, brush them again. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through baking, or until the tops are a deep golden brown. Remove from the tin and cool completely before using as below.
Cut the mini brioches into 1-inch-thick slices, reserving the domed tops for bread pudding (or snacking). If you like, brush the tops of the slices with butter and broil until golden brown and crispy. Slice the cucumber into quarter-inch slices and pat dry. Lay a cucumber slice on each brioche slice. Pipe on some fat-free Greek yogurt or other thick yogurt (or sour cream, or crème fraîche, or slightly softened cream cheese, but I personally think that's way too rich) and sprinkle liberally with chives. Top with a rosette of smoked salmon, lox, or sushi-grade raw salmon, and finish it off with a fine grating of lemon zest and some cracked black pepper. If using raw salmon, also add a sprinkling of coarse sea salt. Other options: using fresh dill instead of (or in addition to ) the chives; add on chopped smoked or raw almonds for crunch.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Rework
I'm going to tell a very embarrassing story about myself. Perhaps airing it will strip it of its humiliating power.
One day about a year ago, Andy made a comment about me lifting a ton, or 2000 pounds, over the course of a workout. This is the conversation that followed:
Don't sell me short, it's two tons!
...Hannah, how much is a ton?
One thousand pounds.
No. No, it's two thousand.
What? Oh. [beat] Oh my god, Andy, dinosaurs were really big!
He likes to reference that conversation, as you might imagine, but I also have my own "dinosaurs were really big" moments. For instance, contemplate the Hubble Deep Field images. Meditate both on its size, its relative tininess, and the fact that some of the stars in that picture were dead long before their light reached earth*. Gnarly, dude.
One of my favorite sandwiches used to be a BLT. Crisp bacon, juicy tomatoes, a tiny swipe of mayo, with the freshness of lettuce and yielding crunch of toast... Alas, vegetarianism put a stop to that. Ever since, I've been using tempeh bacon or Morningstar brand veggie bacon. Morningstar has the flavor (with a tinge of artificiality), but a weird, crumbly texture. The tempeh has neither the flavor nor the texture. Both are pretty processed, to boot. So when I saw a recipe for mushroom "bacon," I got really excited.
I increased the amount of both soy sauce and oil and added smoked paprika and just a touch of brown sugar. It was delicious, although I'd recommend actually buying and slicing whole fresh chantarelles and/or oyster mushrooms. The other varieties in the blend I bought didn't have nearly as nice a texture.
Pound for pound, the price of mushroom bacon and store-bought fake bacon are approximately equivalent, although this of course depends on the season and your local farmers' market. The mushrooms win in the naturalism department. Overall, I'd say the extra work is worth it.
*On the other hand, there's really only one way to define what's true now, and that's what's true here. Shut up and feel the wonder.
One day about a year ago, Andy made a comment about me lifting a ton, or 2000 pounds, over the course of a workout. This is the conversation that followed:
Don't sell me short, it's two tons!
...Hannah, how much is a ton?
One thousand pounds.
No. No, it's two thousand.
What? Oh. [beat] Oh my god, Andy, dinosaurs were really big!
He likes to reference that conversation, as you might imagine, but I also have my own "dinosaurs were really big" moments. For instance, contemplate the Hubble Deep Field images. Meditate both on its size, its relative tininess, and the fact that some of the stars in that picture were dead long before their light reached earth*. Gnarly, dude.
One of my favorite sandwiches used to be a BLT. Crisp bacon, juicy tomatoes, a tiny swipe of mayo, with the freshness of lettuce and yielding crunch of toast... Alas, vegetarianism put a stop to that. Ever since, I've been using tempeh bacon or Morningstar brand veggie bacon. Morningstar has the flavor (with a tinge of artificiality), but a weird, crumbly texture. The tempeh has neither the flavor nor the texture. Both are pretty processed, to boot. So when I saw a recipe for mushroom "bacon," I got really excited.
 |
| Damn online photo editor isn't working. |
I increased the amount of both soy sauce and oil and added smoked paprika and just a touch of brown sugar. It was delicious, although I'd recommend actually buying and slicing whole fresh chantarelles and/or oyster mushrooms. The other varieties in the blend I bought didn't have nearly as nice a texture.
 |
| The bread is a homemade whole wheat and flaxseed loaf. |
 |
| There's a swipe of Greek yogurt under all that veg. |
Pound for pound, the price of mushroom bacon and store-bought fake bacon are approximately equivalent, although this of course depends on the season and your local farmers' market. The mushrooms win in the naturalism department. Overall, I'd say the extra work is worth it.
*On the other hand, there's really only one way to define what's true now, and that's what's true here. Shut up and feel the wonder.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Oatmeal, you get me
Dear Matthew Inman,
I have long been an avid reader of your snarky, George Grosz-esque* comics. As a guinea pig-owning vegetarian, I can't really identify with your sage observations on dogs and bacon, but this, this really spoke to me. I don't lift to get pretty**; I lift to be able to chow down on large amounts of fresh-baked bread with aioli and avocado and oil-doused eggplant.
Oh, and macarons. I will eat all my protein calories from macarons, and let me tell you, at what I estimate to be just under 2 g protein per, that's a lot of cookies! I made a big batch for the end of my EM sub-I. They're not as showy as my first EM rotation's Ativan cupcakes, but a. I used clinical equipment to make them again and b. they let me do this:
Komm, süßer Tod, Part VIII: Abram Aronovich Slutsky
Most readers of this blog never had the privilege of experiencing the USSR firsthand, but Komrad Slutsky certainly did. After a humble birth to a Jewish family in the Parafievka (which I believe is in modern-day Ukraine) and taking part in the bitter fighting of World War I, Slutsky joined the Bolshevik party. The Bolsheviks' October Revolution was, of course, a great success, and Alexander Kerensky's Russia gave way to the (theoretical) rule of the people. Slutsky focused his efforts on securing Soviet authority in central Asia and quickly had a meteoric rise to head of the foreign department of the OGPU. Apparently, this was aided by several shady economic dealings directed against the poor, vulnerable Swedes. From there, it was a short leap to leadership of the whole kit and kaboodle!
Slutsky's tenure in the OGPU was illustrious. He managed to infiltrate Britain with the Cambridge Five and extort false confessions to Stalin's content. Unfortunately for him, the purges spared not even the highest-ranked. One day, Mikhail Frinovsky, deputy head of the secret police (by that point the NKVD... I know, it's complicated), invited Slutsky into his office for some nice, strong Russian tea. One thing lead to another, and soon Frinkovsky's own deputy was summoned... only to find Slutsky dead in his chair. Frinovsky claimed Slutsky died of a heart attack, and indeed Slutsky was known to have had heart trouble for a number of years. He was interred, and everything proceeded smoothly (if you count engineering mass assassinations and the starvation of millions smooth).
But mysteriously, two months after his death of very natural causes, the Party expelled Slutsky from its ranks as an "enemy of the people." Sure enough, just before Frinkovsky's own execution, he admitted that the chief of the NKVD himself had ordered Slutsky sedated with chloroform and injected with cyanide. The chief, Nikolai Ezhov, confirmed this upon his own execution.
The connection: macarons are made from almond flour --> bitter almonds --> cyanide. Almonds are also cool because almond trees are susceptible to aflatoxin-producing fungi. Aflatoxin can either cause acute hepatic necrosis or, on a long-term basis, liver cancer. Neato!
Since this post is already quite lengthy, I might as well extend it more and give you my spiel on macarons. They're light, slightly chewy almond-flour cookies filled with, well, anything! These are plain almond macarons with chocolate-salted caramel ganache. The filling was a little heavy for me, actually, since the cookies are so light.
Macarons require a lot of technique to get right... but the techniques required aren't actually that difficult, manually speaking. You just can't skimp on any of the steps. I'll provide a recipe for the cookies, but first, here are some helpful tips:
1. A scale is pretty much essential. I'll explain why throughout this list.
2. For the cookie batter, use powdered sugar and VERY finely ground almonds. Sift the ground almonds before weighing, especially if you grind your own! Mix the weighed/sifted portion with powdered sugar, and sift in small portions into the beaten egg whites. Here's one place a scale is essential, since all that sifting will give you variable volumes of almonds and sugar (if you're just going by cup measures).
3. Age your egg whites. This just means letting them sit, covered, at room temperature for 6-8 hours or overnight (it gets rid of some of the moisture). Weigh them both before and after aging! Most recipes call for somewhere between 90 and 110 grams of egg white, which may be pre- or post-aging. Pay attention to which it is!
4. Use a gel or powdered food coloring only (I used a few drops of leaf-green Americolor). Water-based dyes will make your batter too sticky, and the cookies will sink.
5. In my experience, letting the piped macarons sit before baking isn't necessary. Smacking the baking sheet firmly on the table is. That way, you get those pretty macaron feet!
6. Finally, DO NOT under any circumstances open the oven after putting the macarons in until you're confident they're at least 90 percent cooked. Opening the oven will crack all your cookies, guaranteed.
The Recipe
100 g egg whites, post-aging weight
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
pinch salt
50 g granulated sugar
100 g almond flour (post-sifting weight)
200 g confectioner's sugar
Optional: 1/4 tsp extract of some sort
Optional: 1/4 tsp gel (or equivalent powdered) food coloring
In a food processor, clean spice grinder, or clean coffee grinder, combine the almond flour and confectioner's sugar. Grind together for about 2 minutes or until very fine. Set aside.
Beat the egg whites with the salt and cream of tartar until foamy. Slowly add the granulated sugar while beating until the whites are stiff; add in the food coloring and extracts just at the end, if using. At this point, begin to preheat your oven to 300 F.
Sift in about half the almond/sugar mixture. With a spatula, swiftly swirl the mixture into the egg whites only about five times. Sift in the rest of the almond/sugar mixture, and GENTLY fold everything together until the batter is homogeneous. DO NOT overmix this. The batter should fall in ribbons that meld together in about 30 seconds.
Line baking sheets with parchment paper. With a piping bag fitted with a round tip (or a 100-cc syringe with the tip cut off), pipe even 1-inch circles about 2 inches apart. They need plenty of space for air circulation! Rap the baking sheet very firmly against the table 5-7 times to get out the air bubbles (if you see them rising, help them along by popping them with a needle or toothpick). Resting the batter isn't necessary, but go for it if you really want.
Bake for 10-12 minutes. DO NOT open the oven until at least 10 minutes have elapsed. Cool on the parchment paper, then gently use a thin metal spatula to lift them off. Fill as desired.
*get it? get it?
**Okay, so this part rings true as well. I'm not an inbred baked potato, but I am a ravening thigh monster.
I have long been an avid reader of your snarky, George Grosz-esque* comics. As a guinea pig-owning vegetarian, I can't really identify with your sage observations on dogs and bacon, but this, this really spoke to me. I don't lift to get pretty**; I lift to be able to chow down on large amounts of fresh-baked bread with aioli and avocado and oil-doused eggplant.
Extremely hot weather is actually a detriment to bread-baking, especially for those of us without thermostats. Bread rises and proofs very quickly in a humid apartment, and running the oven at 475 for 40 minutes requires ozone-slaying doses of AC. Even Peter Reinhart's advice couldn't keep me from over-proofing this one. Andy chowed down on a third of the loaf in one sitting anyway.
 |
| No need for a recipe, other than to tell you to use lots of paprika and put lime juice and black garlic in the aioli! |
Oh, and macarons. I will eat all my protein calories from macarons, and let me tell you, at what I estimate to be just under 2 g protein per, that's a lot of cookies! I made a big batch for the end of my EM sub-I. They're not as showy as my first EM rotation's Ativan cupcakes, but a. I used clinical equipment to make them again and b. they let me do this:
Komm, süßer Tod, Part VIII: Abram Aronovich Slutsky
Most readers of this blog never had the privilege of experiencing the USSR firsthand, but Komrad Slutsky certainly did. After a humble birth to a Jewish family in the Parafievka (which I believe is in modern-day Ukraine) and taking part in the bitter fighting of World War I, Slutsky joined the Bolshevik party. The Bolsheviks' October Revolution was, of course, a great success, and Alexander Kerensky's Russia gave way to the (theoretical) rule of the people. Slutsky focused his efforts on securing Soviet authority in central Asia and quickly had a meteoric rise to head of the foreign department of the OGPU. Apparently, this was aided by several shady economic dealings directed against the poor, vulnerable Swedes. From there, it was a short leap to leadership of the whole kit and kaboodle!
Slutsky's tenure in the OGPU was illustrious. He managed to infiltrate Britain with the Cambridge Five and extort false confessions to Stalin's content. Unfortunately for him, the purges spared not even the highest-ranked. One day, Mikhail Frinovsky, deputy head of the secret police (by that point the NKVD... I know, it's complicated), invited Slutsky into his office for some nice, strong Russian tea. One thing lead to another, and soon Frinkovsky's own deputy was summoned... only to find Slutsky dead in his chair. Frinovsky claimed Slutsky died of a heart attack, and indeed Slutsky was known to have had heart trouble for a number of years. He was interred, and everything proceeded smoothly (if you count engineering mass assassinations and the starvation of millions smooth).
But mysteriously, two months after his death of very natural causes, the Party expelled Slutsky from its ranks as an "enemy of the people." Sure enough, just before Frinkovsky's own execution, he admitted that the chief of the NKVD himself had ordered Slutsky sedated with chloroform and injected with cyanide. The chief, Nikolai Ezhov, confirmed this upon his own execution.
The connection: macarons are made from almond flour --> bitter almonds --> cyanide. Almonds are also cool because almond trees are susceptible to aflatoxin-producing fungi. Aflatoxin can either cause acute hepatic necrosis or, on a long-term basis, liver cancer. Neato!
Since this post is already quite lengthy, I might as well extend it more and give you my spiel on macarons. They're light, slightly chewy almond-flour cookies filled with, well, anything! These are plain almond macarons with chocolate-salted caramel ganache. The filling was a little heavy for me, actually, since the cookies are so light.
Macarons require a lot of technique to get right... but the techniques required aren't actually that difficult, manually speaking. You just can't skimp on any of the steps. I'll provide a recipe for the cookies, but first, here are some helpful tips:
1. A scale is pretty much essential. I'll explain why throughout this list.
2. For the cookie batter, use powdered sugar and VERY finely ground almonds. Sift the ground almonds before weighing, especially if you grind your own! Mix the weighed/sifted portion with powdered sugar, and sift in small portions into the beaten egg whites. Here's one place a scale is essential, since all that sifting will give you variable volumes of almonds and sugar (if you're just going by cup measures).
3. Age your egg whites. This just means letting them sit, covered, at room temperature for 6-8 hours or overnight (it gets rid of some of the moisture). Weigh them both before and after aging! Most recipes call for somewhere between 90 and 110 grams of egg white, which may be pre- or post-aging. Pay attention to which it is!
4. Use a gel or powdered food coloring only (I used a few drops of leaf-green Americolor). Water-based dyes will make your batter too sticky, and the cookies will sink.
5. In my experience, letting the piped macarons sit before baking isn't necessary. Smacking the baking sheet firmly on the table is. That way, you get those pretty macaron feet!
6. Finally, DO NOT under any circumstances open the oven after putting the macarons in until you're confident they're at least 90 percent cooked. Opening the oven will crack all your cookies, guaranteed.
The Recipe
100 g egg whites, post-aging weight
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
pinch salt
50 g granulated sugar
100 g almond flour (post-sifting weight)
200 g confectioner's sugar
Optional: 1/4 tsp extract of some sort
Optional: 1/4 tsp gel (or equivalent powdered) food coloring
In a food processor, clean spice grinder, or clean coffee grinder, combine the almond flour and confectioner's sugar. Grind together for about 2 minutes or until very fine. Set aside.
Beat the egg whites with the salt and cream of tartar until foamy. Slowly add the granulated sugar while beating until the whites are stiff; add in the food coloring and extracts just at the end, if using. At this point, begin to preheat your oven to 300 F.
Sift in about half the almond/sugar mixture. With a spatula, swiftly swirl the mixture into the egg whites only about five times. Sift in the rest of the almond/sugar mixture, and GENTLY fold everything together until the batter is homogeneous. DO NOT overmix this. The batter should fall in ribbons that meld together in about 30 seconds.
Line baking sheets with parchment paper. With a piping bag fitted with a round tip (or a 100-cc syringe with the tip cut off), pipe even 1-inch circles about 2 inches apart. They need plenty of space for air circulation! Rap the baking sheet very firmly against the table 5-7 times to get out the air bubbles (if you see them rising, help them along by popping them with a needle or toothpick). Resting the batter isn't necessary, but go for it if you really want.
Bake for 10-12 minutes. DO NOT open the oven until at least 10 minutes have elapsed. Cool on the parchment paper, then gently use a thin metal spatula to lift them off. Fill as desired.
*get it? get it?
**Okay, so this part rings true as well. I'm not an inbred baked potato, but I am a ravening thigh monster.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Just a number
This year has flown by. Yesterday was already Andy's birthday. One more year, one more chance for culinary celebration of my lifting buddy/idea tester/personal assistant/ambulatory heat blanket.
Unfortunately, the birthday chemist was continuing to work status-post all-nighter at lab, and I was coming off a quality three hours' sleep. Celebration was deferred. After the caffeine jitters wore off enough for us to imbibe large amounts of water and pass out for about twelve hours, I made a wish-this-were-ironic birthday dinner of quinoa burgers with green goddess dressing on vegan buns.
Green goddess dressing has a large number of variations as interesting as its history. Traditionally, it contains mayonnaise and sour cream; most modern updates are lighter on the saturated fats. I opted to use egg yolk and just a bit of nonfat Greek yogurt, with just enough acid to bind the whole thing together. It was just a touch too garlicky (probably the fault of the garlic/chive duo), and the parsley didn't speak as much as I wanted it to.
It's also an expensive proposition, unless you have an herb garden*. Either plan for a week of herbaceous dinners or make this for a crowd. Then again, I may or may not have eaten it by the spoonful...
Quinoa veggie burgers
1 cup quinoa, well-rinsed
1 cup cooked spinach
1 medium sweet potato, baked until barely tender (but not fully squishy
1 egg white
2 cloves garlic, minced (omitted this time because the dressing is so garlicky)
1.5 tbsp wheat gluten (optional)
paprika, salt, and pepper to taste
Cook the quinoa as directed and allow to cool. Make sure there isn't much residual moisture therein. Squeeze as much water as possible out of the spinach and chop it finely. Grate or finely chop the sweet potato and squeeze as much moisture as possible out of that as well. Mix all ingredients together, pulsing a few times in a food processor if necessary for good structural integrity. Shape into six patties. Bake at 400 degrees F for 10 minutes per side, or until firm and crispy but still moist at the center. Cool slightly before removing from the cookie sheet.
Vegan whole wheat flaxseed buns
1 cup warm water
1.5 tsp yeast
2 tbsp brown or turbinado sugar
4 tbsp olive oil, or 2 tbsp olive oil + 1 egg, or 2 tbsp olive oil + 1 egg's worth of vegan egg substitute
2 cups bread flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 tsp salt
1/3 cup flaxseeds, divided
Mix together warm water, sugar, and yeast; let sit until the yeast has bloomed. Mix in the flours and knead until the dough is springy and smooth. Let rest 20 minutes, then mix in the salt and about 2 tbsp of the flaxseeds. Cover and let rise in a warm spot for about an hour and a half. Punch down and divide into six even portions. Shape into a ball by pulling the edges of the dough together at the bottom. Smack the dough ball firmly onto a flour-dusted surface, seam-side down. Spray the top of the unbaked buns with olive oil and sprinkle them with the rest of the flaxseeds. Let rise for half an hour, or until doubled in size. Give another spritz of olive oil. Bake at 400 degrees F for 12 to 15 minutes, or until golden brown.
Green demigoddess dressing
(Makes about a cup)
2 cloves garlic
juice and zest of 1 lemon
2 egg yolks (The original recipe uses mayo and sour cream; if you're sketched out by raw egg yolk, use more yogurt instead)
2 tbsp yogurt
4 anchovy fillets
1 minced shallot
1 tbsp white wine vinegar
1/2 cup olive oil
1 medium bunch chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/2 cup fresh tarragon leaves (not the stems)
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves
1/3 cup fresh dill sprigs
1/3 to 1/2 cup fresh chives (I used 1/2 and found it a little too garlicky)
1/4 cup fresh spinach (optional)
pepper to taste (you likely won't need salt)
In a food processor or with an immersion blender, blend the garlic, lemon, egg yolks, anchovy, shallot, and olive oil. Add the remaining ingredients and blend until smooth; thin with more olive oil if necessary.
*Oh, happy day!
Unfortunately, the birthday chemist was continuing to work status-post all-nighter at lab, and I was coming off a quality three hours' sleep. Celebration was deferred. After the caffeine jitters wore off enough for us to imbibe large amounts of water and pass out for about twelve hours, I made a wish-this-were-ironic birthday dinner of quinoa burgers with green goddess dressing on vegan buns.
Green goddess dressing has a large number of variations as interesting as its history. Traditionally, it contains mayonnaise and sour cream; most modern updates are lighter on the saturated fats. I opted to use egg yolk and just a bit of nonfat Greek yogurt, with just enough acid to bind the whole thing together. It was just a touch too garlicky (probably the fault of the garlic/chive duo), and the parsley didn't speak as much as I wanted it to.
It's also an expensive proposition, unless you have an herb garden*. Either plan for a week of herbaceous dinners or make this for a crowd. Then again, I may or may not have eaten it by the spoonful...
Quinoa veggie burgers
1 cup quinoa, well-rinsed
1 cup cooked spinach
1 medium sweet potato, baked until barely tender (but not fully squishy
1 egg white
2 cloves garlic, minced (omitted this time because the dressing is so garlicky)
1.5 tbsp wheat gluten (optional)
paprika, salt, and pepper to taste
Cook the quinoa as directed and allow to cool. Make sure there isn't much residual moisture therein. Squeeze as much water as possible out of the spinach and chop it finely. Grate or finely chop the sweet potato and squeeze as much moisture as possible out of that as well. Mix all ingredients together, pulsing a few times in a food processor if necessary for good structural integrity. Shape into six patties. Bake at 400 degrees F for 10 minutes per side, or until firm and crispy but still moist at the center. Cool slightly before removing from the cookie sheet.
Vegan whole wheat flaxseed buns
1 cup warm water
1.5 tsp yeast
2 tbsp brown or turbinado sugar
4 tbsp olive oil, or 2 tbsp olive oil + 1 egg, or 2 tbsp olive oil + 1 egg's worth of vegan egg substitute
2 cups bread flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 tsp salt
1/3 cup flaxseeds, divided
Mix together warm water, sugar, and yeast; let sit until the yeast has bloomed. Mix in the flours and knead until the dough is springy and smooth. Let rest 20 minutes, then mix in the salt and about 2 tbsp of the flaxseeds. Cover and let rise in a warm spot for about an hour and a half. Punch down and divide into six even portions. Shape into a ball by pulling the edges of the dough together at the bottom. Smack the dough ball firmly onto a flour-dusted surface, seam-side down. Spray the top of the unbaked buns with olive oil and sprinkle them with the rest of the flaxseeds. Let rise for half an hour, or until doubled in size. Give another spritz of olive oil. Bake at 400 degrees F for 12 to 15 minutes, or until golden brown.
Green demigoddess dressing
(Makes about a cup)
2 cloves garlic
juice and zest of 1 lemon
2 egg yolks (The original recipe uses mayo and sour cream; if you're sketched out by raw egg yolk, use more yogurt instead)
2 tbsp yogurt
4 anchovy fillets
1 minced shallot
1 tbsp white wine vinegar
1/2 cup olive oil
1 medium bunch chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1/2 cup fresh tarragon leaves (not the stems)
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves
1/3 cup fresh dill sprigs
1/3 to 1/2 cup fresh chives (I used 1/2 and found it a little too garlicky)
1/4 cup fresh spinach (optional)
pepper to taste (you likely won't need salt)
In a food processor or with an immersion blender, blend the garlic, lemon, egg yolks, anchovy, shallot, and olive oil. Add the remaining ingredients and blend until smooth; thin with more olive oil if necessary.
*Oh, happy day!
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Stitching bananas
As far as I'm concerned, fresh fruit is the pinnacle of gastronomy... with the exception of ripe bananas. Unripe bananas are higher in starch than their jaundiced counterparts and thus have a somewhat lower glycemic index. On the other hand, since the body is not so good at breaking down and absorbing those plant starches, the undigested starch can cause a mild osmotic diarrhea, similar to that caused by the xylitol or sorbitol in "sugar-free" candies and chewing gum. On the other other hand, they have a firmer texture and pleasantly grassy taste than mushy, cloyingly sweet ripe bananas, which, for the record, are among the fruits that suffer most from inbreeding and destruction of unique and subtle cultivars.
Most importantly, they're better for suturing practice! Firmer, less friable skins, you see, are easier to stitch up. I'm less than naturally talented when it comes to manual skills, so these bananas are making a noble sacrifice in the name of medical education. The backstory for how the banana came by its laceration: When the lights in the supermarket go off for the night, the great battle between the bananas and apples begins. The apples have cleverly recruited the nopales as their chief allies. Though many have been neutered by conscientious suppliers, some hale and hearty nopales retain at least a few of their potent spines. This particular banana is a young private who threw herself in front of a colonel to protect him from a killing blow.
 |
| Like I said, manual skills: not my thing. |
More practice is needed. I'm also working on the vertical and horizontal mattress stitches, and fueling my efforts with vegetarian eggs Benedict using Alton Brown's hollandaise recipe.
Hollandaise, for the uninitiated, is one of the French sauces de bas, or mother sauces. It's an emulsion of butter in egg yolk, with a touch of lemon juice and pepper. In the interests of avoiding an anxiety attack, I'm refusing to calculate how many calories are in the portion I just made.
And who'd have thought there's such a thing as Canadian fake'n? I'm not too impressed--it's somewhat generic-tasting--but the dish wouldn't have been eggs Benedict without it.
English muffins
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon gluten
1 tablespoon sourdough starter (somewhat optional)
1 3/4 cup buttermilk at 110 degrees
1 egg
2 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1 1/4 tsp salt
3 tbsp melted butter
2 1/4 tsp yeast
semolina for dusting
Mix the melted butter, warm buttermilk, starter, and yeast. Let sit 10-15 minutes, or until the yeast blooms. Add the remaining ingredients and mix until the dough is smooth and pliable. Set in a warm place to rise about 2 hours, or until doubled. Punch down and divide into two-ounce portions; dust with semolina flour. Flatten and rest for 20 minutes while you heat a cast-iron skillet or griddle to medium-low with scant canola oil therein. Cook 10-12 minutes on each side, or until deeply browned.
Monday, December 31, 2012
All within is warm
Distasteful places to be: central Florida, Chechnya, Three Mile Island, New York on New Year's Eve... That's why I'm staying in with kale, creamy vegetable chowder, and freshly baked bread.
I've been following the tenets laid forth in Flour Water Salt Yeast, an early Christmas present, and they work. I didn't buy a Banneton proofing basket, opting instead for a blue faux-wicker trinket purchased in Chinatown for $1.75 and lined with a flour-dusted towel. The bread still has a crisp crust and perfect crumb, and a flavor that belies its four aforementioned ingredients; I chalk it up to the multiple temperature adjustments I made to get the dough to exactly 25 degrees Celsius. Thanks for the tip, Ken Forkish!
Maybe, calmed fortified by all this warm food, I'll wander downtown to the harbor for the stroke of midnight*.
Creamy vegetable chowder
Use any root vegetables you like for this; I'd hate to be authoritarian. Roast the cubed vegetables while you're preparing the base to save time. To make a vegan soup, omit the milk; the potatoes will make it creamy.
1 parsnip
1 turnip
3 carrots
1 large sweet potato
1 fennel bulb, trimmed
2 russet potatoes, peeled and cubed
1 small onion
3 stalks celery
4 leek fronds
1 cup cooked great Northern beans
1/2 lemon
2 tbsp flour
vegetable stock (I used a homemade mushroom stock)
milk, optional
olive oil
thyme
bay leaf
salt and pepper
Preheat your oven to 425 F. Peel and cube the parsnip, turnip, carrots, sweet potato, and fennel bulb and toss with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Roast until browned and tender. Meanwhile, dice the onion and celery and chop the leek fronds, including the white up to 1/2 to 1 inch of the dark green portion. Heat 3 tablespoons olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven and saute the onion, celery, and leek until the vegetables are soft and the onion transluscent. Add 2 tablespoons flour and mix thoroughly; cook on medium-high heat 3 to 5 minutes, or until golden brown. Stir in vegetable stock, 3 to 5 cups depending on how thick you'd like your chowder to be. Add 1 tsp thyme and a bay leaf. Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer, cooking until the potatoes are very soft. Add half the roasted vegetables and puree until smooth. Stir in the juice of 1/2 lemon, the remaining vegetables, and the beans. Heat through and add milk or additional stock to desired thickness. Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve garnished with grated Parmesan and chopped parsley.
*Warning: gastronomic goodwill is liable to evaporate like acetone on a lab bench in the face of slow-moving tourists.
Title credit: Ford Madox Ford
I've been following the tenets laid forth in Flour Water Salt Yeast, an early Christmas present, and they work. I didn't buy a Banneton proofing basket, opting instead for a blue faux-wicker trinket purchased in Chinatown for $1.75 and lined with a flour-dusted towel. The bread still has a crisp crust and perfect crumb, and a flavor that belies its four aforementioned ingredients; I chalk it up to the multiple temperature adjustments I made to get the dough to exactly 25 degrees Celsius. Thanks for the tip, Ken Forkish!
Maybe, calmed fortified by all this warm food, I'll wander downtown to the harbor for the stroke of midnight*.
Creamy vegetable chowder
Use any root vegetables you like for this; I'd hate to be authoritarian. Roast the cubed vegetables while you're preparing the base to save time. To make a vegan soup, omit the milk; the potatoes will make it creamy.
1 parsnip
1 turnip
3 carrots
1 large sweet potato
1 fennel bulb, trimmed
2 russet potatoes, peeled and cubed
1 small onion
3 stalks celery
4 leek fronds
1 cup cooked great Northern beans
1/2 lemon
2 tbsp flour
vegetable stock (I used a homemade mushroom stock)
milk, optional
olive oil
thyme
bay leaf
salt and pepper
Preheat your oven to 425 F. Peel and cube the parsnip, turnip, carrots, sweet potato, and fennel bulb and toss with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Roast until browned and tender. Meanwhile, dice the onion and celery and chop the leek fronds, including the white up to 1/2 to 1 inch of the dark green portion. Heat 3 tablespoons olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven and saute the onion, celery, and leek until the vegetables are soft and the onion transluscent. Add 2 tablespoons flour and mix thoroughly; cook on medium-high heat 3 to 5 minutes, or until golden brown. Stir in vegetable stock, 3 to 5 cups depending on how thick you'd like your chowder to be. Add 1 tsp thyme and a bay leaf. Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer, cooking until the potatoes are very soft. Add half the roasted vegetables and puree until smooth. Stir in the juice of 1/2 lemon, the remaining vegetables, and the beans. Heat through and add milk or additional stock to desired thickness. Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve garnished with grated Parmesan and chopped parsley.
*Warning: gastronomic goodwill is liable to evaporate like acetone on a lab bench in the face of slow-moving tourists.
Title credit: Ford Madox Ford
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Matthew Barney meets AvP
On Friday, Andy and I went to see a dance performance by Shen Wei's dance company. It was mind-blowing. Since the Park Avenue Armory's arts performances are pretty much obligated to include something amusingly high-concept, the third piece allowed audience members to walk among the dancers (who were mostly naked, so don't bring the kids unless you deem them mature enough to appreciate topless male and female dancers rolling around in paint*) and appreciate the union of technology and humanity** that is going to be driving Shen Wei's next artistic phase, or so the program says. In any case, the second piece, Folding, was by far my favorite. Like I said, mind-blowing. You can watch several YouTube performances, like this one. However, the most amazing piece also included what I found to be the performance's only perceptible-to-a-non-dancer-or-dance-aficionado flaw: very silly headgear. Andy likened the head coverings to squash; I imagined them as what would happen if Matthew Barney remade Alien versus Predator. They were downright distracting from the ridiculous choreography.
Other note (and skip this one if you have a weak stomach): I accompanied three of my classmates this morning in shadowing an autopsy at the medical examiner's office. Aside from experiencing fresh organs, substantial amounts of blood, and a man whose long bones had been harvested for grafts***, I noted that of the cadavers we encountered, nobody was older than 46, and nobody's BMI was anywhere near normal. This stands in stark contrast to the quite elderly, usually practically cachectic cadavers in the anatomy lab. Hmm.
Now, food! Two days' worth to blog about today:
Brown sushi rice with seared tempeh and a marinated Asian vegetable salad****.
Farmhouse vegetable soup from Cook's Illustrated, with whole-wheat bread.
In deference to Cook's Illustrated, I'm not going to post the recipe. They do ridiculous things like use forty-five pounds of ground meat to find the absolute perfect meatloaf recipe. For this recipe, the tester made at least ten varieties of vegetable soup to find the perfect balance of umami and nuttiness and fatty deliciousness (lemon-thyme butter to finish is the secret!). For that, I'll pay for a subscription.
One note, though: the recipe calls for cabbage and parsley. I forgot to buy both, so I used kale. It's a cabbage relative, and it's got that fresh tang of parsley. Other than that: totally faithful to the brilliance that is this soup.
*It's artistic, not voyeuristic, I swear to you.
**Including projected T1-weighted cranial MRIs!
***Have you ever bent someone's boneless arm? No? Never thought I would, either.
****I found a massive daikon for a dollar. And layed the smackdown on a woman about my age who tried to insist that the watermelon radish I was teaching Andy about was not, in fact, a radish. Score.
Other note (and skip this one if you have a weak stomach): I accompanied three of my classmates this morning in shadowing an autopsy at the medical examiner's office. Aside from experiencing fresh organs, substantial amounts of blood, and a man whose long bones had been harvested for grafts***, I noted that of the cadavers we encountered, nobody was older than 46, and nobody's BMI was anywhere near normal. This stands in stark contrast to the quite elderly, usually practically cachectic cadavers in the anatomy lab. Hmm.
Now, food! Two days' worth to blog about today:
Brown sushi rice with seared tempeh and a marinated Asian vegetable salad****.
Farmhouse vegetable soup from Cook's Illustrated, with whole-wheat bread.
In deference to Cook's Illustrated, I'm not going to post the recipe. They do ridiculous things like use forty-five pounds of ground meat to find the absolute perfect meatloaf recipe. For this recipe, the tester made at least ten varieties of vegetable soup to find the perfect balance of umami and nuttiness and fatty deliciousness (lemon-thyme butter to finish is the secret!). For that, I'll pay for a subscription.
One note, though: the recipe calls for cabbage and parsley. I forgot to buy both, so I used kale. It's a cabbage relative, and it's got that fresh tang of parsley. Other than that: totally faithful to the brilliance that is this soup.
*It's artistic, not voyeuristic, I swear to you.
**Including projected T1-weighted cranial MRIs!
***Have you ever bent someone's boneless arm? No? Never thought I would, either.
****I found a massive daikon for a dollar. And layed the smackdown on a woman about my age who tried to insist that the watermelon radish I was teaching Andy about was not, in fact, a radish. Score.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Fungi gone wild
It's cold. Again. I'm still wearing flip-flops*, but this counts as soup weather.
Cream of wild mushroom! Well, mostly wild. Thirty-three percent tame, actually. The porcini are dried and from a Whole Foods bin; the shiitake and cremini were from farmers market bins and are purportedly woods-gathered or whatever. Either way, they were great in soup form, especially with shallot croutons (read: shallots fried in brown butter) and whole wheat artisan-style bread. And then about a pound of spinach, a persimmon, and a mango for dessert. I felt fancy, so I abandoned the behind-on-studying mentality and actually passed the soup through a wire strainer a couple times to make it smooth.
Cream of mushroom soup
3 cloves garlic
1/2 oz dried porcini
12 oz fresh cremini
8 oz fresh shiitake
3 large shallots
2 to 3 tbsp butter
about 1/3 cup white wine
3 cups water
1 1/2 cups milk
a dash of soy sauce
sage, thyme, nutmeg, salt, and pepper
Bring the water to a boil and put in the dried porcini; let sit while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. Mince 2 of the shallots and the garlic. While the butter is melting in the bottom of a pot, slice the third shallot thinly. Just as the butter begins to sizzle, fry the shallot slices in the butter. Remove when they're toasted to a dark golden brown. Add the minced shallots when the butter is fully browned and cook until translucent. Add the garlic, salt and pepper to taste, and the chopped fresh mushrooms; cook until the mushrooms have stopped exuding liquid. Add the wine and reduce to about 1/3 of the original total volume of wine and mushroom liquid. Add the porcini broth (but not the porcini themselves), soy sauce, sage, thyme, nutmeg (you only need a little of each, especially the nutmeg), and bring to a boil, then reduce and simmer until all the mushrooms are very soft. Puree, strain, puree again, and strain again. Stir in the milk and heat gently until the soup is warm. Adjust salt, pepper, and spices to taste.
*and will continue to do so until it actually endangers my toes.
Cream of wild mushroom! Well, mostly wild. Thirty-three percent tame, actually. The porcini are dried and from a Whole Foods bin; the shiitake and cremini were from farmers market bins and are purportedly woods-gathered or whatever. Either way, they were great in soup form, especially with shallot croutons (read: shallots fried in brown butter) and whole wheat artisan-style bread. And then about a pound of spinach, a persimmon, and a mango for dessert. I felt fancy, so I abandoned the behind-on-studying mentality and actually passed the soup through a wire strainer a couple times to make it smooth.
Cream of mushroom soup
3 cloves garlic
1/2 oz dried porcini
12 oz fresh cremini
8 oz fresh shiitake
3 large shallots
2 to 3 tbsp butter
about 1/3 cup white wine
3 cups water
1 1/2 cups milk
a dash of soy sauce
sage, thyme, nutmeg, salt, and pepper
Bring the water to a boil and put in the dried porcini; let sit while you prepare the rest of the ingredients. Mince 2 of the shallots and the garlic. While the butter is melting in the bottom of a pot, slice the third shallot thinly. Just as the butter begins to sizzle, fry the shallot slices in the butter. Remove when they're toasted to a dark golden brown. Add the minced shallots when the butter is fully browned and cook until translucent. Add the garlic, salt and pepper to taste, and the chopped fresh mushrooms; cook until the mushrooms have stopped exuding liquid. Add the wine and reduce to about 1/3 of the original total volume of wine and mushroom liquid. Add the porcini broth (but not the porcini themselves), soy sauce, sage, thyme, nutmeg (you only need a little of each, especially the nutmeg), and bring to a boil, then reduce and simmer until all the mushrooms are very soft. Puree, strain, puree again, and strain again. Stir in the milk and heat gently until the soup is warm. Adjust salt, pepper, and spices to taste.
*and will continue to do so until it actually endangers my toes.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Pittsburgh Nights
I hope you had a great Thanksgiving weekend. Mine was basically spent flopping around on my delightful in-laws' delightful couch* and eating lots of desserts, and also delightful Italian food at this place called Stagioni, and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and not doing the Introduction to Bedside Diagnosis studying that I'd promised I would do. Now, I think my mother-in-law tried to rectify our diet somewhat by making a delicious carrot soup and arugula salad and grilled cheese on Saturday night, but we had to go ahead and ruin it by two straight days of NYU-provided junk food. Other relevant point: December heralds this thing that my grandmother is calling a gala that is basically a delayed wedding reception for us. I rather dislike the spotlight, a lot, but if this spotlighting party thing** is going to happen, it's going to happen to a lady who fits into the, erm, curve-hugging dress she bought at the beginning of the summer, dammit.
Thus, chickpeas in a caramelized onion and za'atar broth with arugula, persimmon, walnut, and feta salad in a lemon-mint dressing, and homemade crackers. I call it Delicious Zip-that-dress Dinner.
*Man, that is one fine couch.
**Mom: "You never got nervous when you were the center of attention for academic achievement! But now you're being the center of attention as a whole person!"
Me: "The part of me that can get married qualifies as a whole person?"
Mom: "..."
Thus, chickpeas in a caramelized onion and za'atar broth with arugula, persimmon, walnut, and feta salad in a lemon-mint dressing, and homemade crackers. I call it Delicious Zip-that-dress Dinner.
*Man, that is one fine couch.
**Mom: "You never got nervous when you were the center of attention for academic achievement! But now you're being the center of attention as a whole person!"
Me: "The part of me that can get married qualifies as a whole person?"
Mom: "..."
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