James Beard Did Me Wrong

A couple of nights ago I picked out some birthday cards at a bookstore, and then browsed the discounted titles. I found a copy of Beard on Food tucked in amongst the Food Network cookbooks, and for $6, couldn't leave it behind.

James Beard is, per the subtitle to this work of collected columns, "the dean of American cooking." I've read about him here and there, but this is the first time I've dug in.

His writing's inviting and accessible, and his familiarity with the delights of Maryland and DC instantly ingratiated him to me. So when Cam and I picked up some beautiful fresh cod on the way home from a weekend on the Shenandoah River, we turned to Beard for inspiration. We settled on his method for poaching fish, and chose his garlic aioli recipe to accompany the fish and broccoli.

Beard recommends a "simple court bouillon" for poaching -- white wine, water, parsley, lemon, onion, cloves, salt, pepper, bay leaf and thyme, simmered for 20-30 minutes. Once strained, it makes a fragrant bath for the fish, which was cleanly delicious.

The aioli, however, was a whole 'nother story. It seemed so simple. Egg yolks processed with garlic and salt and a long, fine stream of olive oil. Et voila, a creamy white sauce. With a cup and a half of oil, I knew it'd make a ton, but I figured it'd be good on sandwiches.

I'm not sure if the oil never emulsified or if Beard's proportions were just way out of whack, but WHOA. This did not work. We ended up with garlic oil, rounded slightly by the egg yolks. I poked around on the interwebs, and it seems like this is possibly what I was supposed to end up with, but it's not at all what I had in mind. We drizzled the garlicky oil on the broccoli and fish, and it was good, but I just wasn't comfortable keeping it.

And I couldn't leave well enough alone, either, so I researched how to resuscitate an un-emulsified aioli. Two more egg yolks (plus the one I accidentally lost to the garbage disposal), whipped anew, then another long slow dribble of the oily eggy garlicky stuff.

It still didn't work. And now it's in the garbage. So, James Beard, you're on probation. Your fish was delicious and your oxtails sound heavenly, but that aioli was not my cup of viscous, vibrantly yellow tea. Onward.

1,000 Stalks Of Celery

Well, the day that began with 45 minutes in a Pilates class wrapped up with an hour and 20 minutes of chopping celery. Now my back's sore and I've got a blister on my right index finger the size of a dime, but I'm not complaining. I'm proud, it's my sore, slightly puffy badge of honor.

I've recently started volunteering for a local organization that makes meals for sick clients. It's a pretty amazing place -- they serve tons of clients across three states, three meals a day developed by in-house dieticians and chefs. I work in the kitchen, and while it's not glamorous work, so far, it's a blast. On my first night I dropped scoop after scoop of sliced, hard boiled eggs onto spinach salads. Tonight I chopped the aforementioned celery, and then finished out the night "stirring" -- and by stirring I mean turning with a shovel, essentially -- an enormous vat of turkey salad. I like being in the kitchen, seeing what food production is like in a commercial setting, even though I'll never do more than simple prep. Plus, tonight, the chef who's in charge of the Tuesday night crew had chocolate chip cookies for us.

So tonight I'm sore and tired, but it feels great!

Pie Masters!

Complete exaggeration, of course, but we did it! Saturday night we made Smitten Kitchen's Tomato & Corn Pie! I've been dreaming of it for ages, been gently prodded by a reader who assured me it was simple, in spite of being pastry-based, and even blogged about it for work.*

Saturday, incidentally, pretty much ruled from top to bottom. Cam and I hit a new farmers' market that looked dismal upon first glance, but actually had a really great variety of produce. So singular was my mission, however, that I just grabbed tomatoes, chives and corn, and completely ignored everything else. Now our crisper and counter top are woefully bare... Way to go. Anyway, later that day I saw The September Issue, which wasn't the best doc I've ever seen, but it was interesting on a number of points -- the fashion and publishing industries in particular, and as a somewhat unsurprising profile of Anna Wintour and her foil, Grace Coddington. Plus, pretty clothes!

My beloved Bulldogs had the late game on Saturday, so around 6 Cam and I went to a new wine bar near our neighborhood. We had the best of intentions -- a glass each, maybe some cheese -- and did reasonably well. I had a Shiraz and a Granache, he had a Malbec and a Cab (we like our big reds!), and we had a runny turning goat cheese, a sheep I don't much remember, and some speck. I'd never had speck before**, but it was delicious, like a more mellow prosciutto.

At any rate, when we got home after that fun, we got into some pie. I made the pastry, and Saint Tigerlily was right - it's "un-mess-up-able." Cam blanched the tomatoes and peeled them (a task he's undertaken before, but without Smitten Kitchen's helpful "cut a cross in the bottom of the skins before blanching" tip, which made peeling much simpler, he reports), and cut the corn from the cobs, while I pastried and grated cheese snipped herbs and mixed mayonnaise with fresh lemon juice. We layered everything into the shell***, covered it, and slathered the top with melted butter. Once cooking, it made the house smell so good we could barely keep our faces out of the oven, and when it'd cooled just enough to eat, we, too, devoured half in one unseemly seating.

I beseech you, as I have been beseeched (?), take advantage of the late tomatoes and corn, and make this. You won't be sorry!

*I don't talk about work here, but if you know me, you know blogging's part of my job. I have a ton of freedom with what I blog about, so I blogged about summer ending, but needing just one more weekend so I could make this pie.
**The waitress totally busted me checking out the Wikipedia entry for speck. She was interested in their definition, and generally supported it. It made me wonder, though -- is the proliferation of smart phones making servers feel less useful/fulfilled?
***How in the world did SK get such perfect layers?! She's a genius, plain and simple.

Making Beauty

OK, I fear I may be entering into stalker territory here, what with my Orangette obsession, but bear with me. I'm reading Molly Wizenberg's entire, sizeable archives right now, and it's a treat I look forward to like settling in with a juicy novel. It's tougher to cuddle with my laptop, but the feeling that washes over me when I read her blog is almost as good as curling up with a book. Her writing is precise and contained, so perfect it's almost precious, but that's probably just a green streak of jealousy. She's really, really good. So forgive my repeated references, and be forewarned: There may be more of this yet to come.

So the thing she wrote that got me thinking this evening is this:

"Cooking is a way to make sense of my days, and to make something beautiful of them. We all find ways to do this, I think, whether we are conscious of it or not."

That's good. I know just what she means, and I think you probably do too. I think running -- rather, exercise in general -- is the most regular way I make my day beautiful. Gross though I look (and smell) during and after, workouts cap my days, however trying, with something worthwhile. I sweated 18 buckets. I ran 3 miles. I tested my heart for 45 minutes. It's inelegant, and certainly less romantic than cooking, but it's mine.

Secondmost is probably cooking, or baking. The satisfaction of producing something more than edible sets me right. I remember coming home after an especially difficult day at work, a day where my post-work treadmill session failed to get the stink off me. I walked into the kitchen and set to work, and whereas Cam and I usually soux chef for one another, he just let me go. And when I produced a sustaining, even tasty meal, I felt better. Finally. Something beautiful.

Beyond that, I dream of other ways. Regular blogging. Better photography. Actually listening to my massive record collection. So how do you make something beautiful of your day?

An Orangette Afternoon

Today, I took the day off of work, just for me. We've been on the road more than we've been home since late May, it seems. Certainly, we've had more weekends away than in the city.

Remember these two?


Winston and Sweeney spent the duration of our recent trip to the Salt Lake City area in the incredibly caring hands of my boss and her husband, the Watsons. When we got home after 5 days gone, these two felines, who usually act like we've been gone for months (the typical I'm-ignoring-you-oh-you-were-gone? made famous by cats only lasts a second around here), instead greeted us calmly, like at the end of a regular ol' workday. I tell you, the Watsons are the BEST at cat sitting. How to thank them?


Orangette's granola, modified slightly. I couldn't find rice syrup at the one store I tried, so I subbed in maple. As I'm sure you can guess, it worked just fine. I omitted the sesame seeds, and used half almonds/half pecans. It's my first attempt at granola, and it won't be long till I bake round two. The scent alone -- swoon! The house was still heady with cinnamon and ginger hours later, though it's currently being overtaken by lemongrass and ginger (not that I'm complaining! Cam's winging Thai for dinner.). Anyway, it's crunchy and sweet and nutty and delicious, and will disappear quickly heaped over yogurt, sprinkled on ice cream, and gobbled by the handful straight out of the fridge. Next time I'll be a bit more liberal with the salt, and cranberries, added after the baking, will fit right in.


Before I made the granola, I pulled together a batch of these Chewy Cocoa Cookies with Chocolate Chips, also courtesy of Molly Wizenberg. More accurately, I pushed and smooshed together a batch -- the dough is quite dense. The cookies, too, are dense, and so thoroughly chocolatey. There's none of that dissatisfaction I usually have with chocolate cookies. Chips I have no dissatisfaction with -- it's the stuff holding them together, when ostensibly chocolate, I generally find to be bland, even flavorless. But that's not an issue here.

So the house smells delicious and it's reasonably clean, and I have all manner of homemade goodies to share and to horde. To me, that's a solid day off. I'm so thrilled to have a relatively blank calendar for the next three weeks, to have time for farmers' marketing, for homecooked meals, and for the chance to make plans -- like the date I have with Tomato and Corn Pie. I promised myself to her, in writing, on this lovely blog, and I intend to call on that pie on Sunday. I can't wait.

Corn, Tomatoes, Potatoes and Bacon

Lately, the recipes I've found appealing for dinner stray from the traditional protein/veggie/veggie or starch formula I picked up growing up. We always had three things on the plate, a meat -- most frequently chicken, but seafood, beef, or pork sometimes too -- a starch, Mom and I preferred potatoes or macaroni & cheese (Kraft, please!), but sometimes we had rice to appease my Dad and sister -- and a green vegetable, beans or peas in the colder months, salad in the summers. This makes it sound overly simple, and reduced, not nearly as appetizing as it was, but we ate well and healthfully.

One of my favorite dinners, I'm realizing now, was more of a one (ok, 2) pot meal, like the ones I've been drawn to lately. It's my Mom's version of Chili Mac, and it's still a homey favorite. It's basically ground beef browned with onions, garlic, cumin and chili powder. Throw in a can of tomatoes (I always preferred crushed, but sometimes they were chunkier), season, serve over noodles (we like tricolored spirals and elbows), and coat with a healthy layer of shredded cheese. Yum.

So, as I mentioned yesterday, tonight I had plans for a simple recipe I found on Epicurious called "Corn and Potatoes with Heirloom Tomatoes." We had lots of corn and tomatoes (though not heirlooms) from my abandoned inclination to make Smitten Kitchen's corn and tomato pie, and after reading the blurb,

This recipe alone is reason enough to grab your tote bag and head to the farmers market. Blackberry Farm dresses up the dish with parmesan foam and a drizzle of aged balsamic vinegar, but the ingredients stand on their own beautifully. Slip a fried egg on top, and you have an easy summer supper.

I started cooking.


First, brown some chopped bacon.


Pull out the bacon with a slotted spoon, then sautee a minced shallot in the fat.


Add a little white wine, then some water and the chopped Yukon Golds. Cook down for a bit, and while you're waiting, blend 1 of your 4 cups fresh corn with a bit of water, then strain out the solids and keep the milk. Add the corn and some more water, a bunch of sweet smoky paprika, fresh thyme, and salt (at just about every stage, you add a bit more salt).


Cook down till the liquid's nearly gone, then pull off the heat and add the tomatoes, the corn milk, and salt and pepper.


Top with the crumbled bacon, and add a sunny side egg to the top, if you're so inclined. We were, and the yolk made this homey meal luxurious. If I'd thought to add the parmesan and balsamic, it'd have been even more so, but it was delicious as you see it -- especially once I added some Sriracha.

I hope I revisit this recipe. It seems infinitely modifiable, and like the sort I'll be able to internalize quickly enough and free myself from constant recipe consultation.

A Homemade Soup

Why have I spent so much time not reading Orangette?

Unlike a lot of the (tiny number) of people who read this blog, I wasn't with Molly Wizenberg from the beginning. I'd heard of her Orangette, but I never read her properly till she appeared on my desk in hardback form, A Homemade Life. Her book is thoughtful and spare, sprinkled with recipes and stories about what makes the dishes special. It's beguiling, really, and after I devoured it, I, of course, checked out Orangette. Just once. And then I left.

I'm not exactly sure why, but I revisited it last week and was smitten anew. And tonight, in a long overdue move, I made one of her recipes. Of all things, in this season of sweet Maryland corn and tomatoes, stone fruits and all things fresh and good, I made her broccoli soup with lemon-chive cream. It was simple, fresh and delicious, perfect for Sunday dinner after a weekend of excessive celebration (another lovely wedding, of course! Cam's sister wed her love in a brief, giggly ceremony, followed by food and dancing.). I joked to Cam that it could also be called onions five ways -- you'll need leeks, onion, spring onions, chives, and garlic for this soup. And, having made it, I wouldn't leave any of them out.

Never fear, tomorrow night's dinner's already planned, to take advantage of said corn and tomatoes: A sort of corn/potato/tomato hash, cooked in bacon fat, topped with crumbled bacon and a fried egg. Mmmmm.

Welcome To The Family, Robot!

Hello, lover! Or, more accurately, hello birthday gift from Cam. He's too much, I swear. This thing is freaking gorgeous. World, meet Robot (the "t" is silent), short for Robot Culinaire. Combined with this little beauty...


...We are in business! Maybe literally. But that's a story for another time. This is the story of our first dinner with Robot. Shrimp Cakes with Chili-Lime Cream Sauce, from Bon Appetit. I think it's supposed to be a first course, or appetizer, but did that stop us? Of course not. So, while Cam peeled and cleaned the shrimp (exceptionally grody ones - half of them had orange stuff lining their, um, tracks - roe? We'd never seen that before.), I mise'd the place.

Green onions and an egg, some butter, of course.


White wine, chopped ginger and shallots, and lime juice form the base for the sauce.


Those formerly icky shrimp.


The cakes! 12, as the recipe promised. Very simple, really - just 16 large shrimp, a green onion, some dijon mustard and Sriracha, salt, pepper and panko. We omitted the cilantro - I have the tastes-like-soap issue with it from time to time. Robot 'em up, form cakes, roll in more panko, and refrigerate for a bit to firm them up.

If you looked at the recipe, you may notice two more ingredients we "omitted." An egg, and some lemon juice. Oops!


Fry 'em up in peanut oil. I tried not to watch. One of Cam's favorite things to torture me with is the Fry Daddy. We do NOT have one, and I maintain we don't ever need one - fried food should rarely be consumed, and you should have to leave the house for it. Anyway...


Plated with the sauce, which I would've eaten over dirty socks, it's that good. Started with the above foundation, then made ridiculous with butter, cream, and about two tablespoons of Sriracha. I die!

So, yeah. Easy recipe, and delicious, even without the egg and lemon juice. My only real critique is that the cakes were a little dense, but I'm sure that's all about me forgetting the egg. I'd make them again, and serve them to anyone. You, if you're lucky.

Who Feels Like Chicken Tonight?

Me, for one. I've got that ridiculous bird in the oven right now. Ridiculous because he weighs 5lbs. I wanted a nice yummy organic birdie in the 3-4lb range, but ye olde Perdue was my only option. I think it'll be fantastic anyway. It's destined for the belly of my friend who could use some comfort food. We'll let you know how it turns out, because you need to know.

So, the many many wall-ready pictures aren't up yet. I'm weirdly indecisive about this particular decorating decision. Just about every piece of furniture we've got I've loved and felt sure about, and I know I want all those pics up, but I'm having a hard time with it. I need some opinions, but I think that'll be hard to do electronically. So would you please come over and help me with that? I'll feed you chicken!

Shake My Taters

First of all, is there anything quite like a Mom? Cam and I are lucky to have two of the best, and so Mother's Day was an incredibly fun holiday this year. But, really, we celebrated moms all weekend.

Saturday, after a quick perusal of some local yard sales, we headed to Annapolis to meet the newest mom I know: My friend, Susan. She had a baby boy about 6 weeks ago, and we had yet to meet him. As anticipated, he's adorable. He's got her coloring and her husband's red hair, and he screamed up a storm while we there. I have that effect on infants, for some reason. Then we went to my "nephew", Evan's, second birthday party. It was a really fun afternoon with old family friends, most of all, Evan's mom, my best friend. She's pregnant again and so cute. That night we caroused with one of Cam's buddies, then the next morning, mom celebrations began anew.

My mom is super cool so for Mother's Day, she went to the bagel place and got bagels for everyone, and when we woke up we gave her her present: tickets for the 6 of us (mom, dad, sister, bro-il, cam, and me) to go see Star Trek. It. Was. AWESOME. Seriously. I mean, exceeded-expectations good-times-for-fans-and-non-fans AWESOME. I was really worried there would be a "heh heh check us out we're in a Star Trek movie heh heh" mentality from the cast, and there was none of that. This was a rockin' good time.

After the movie, Cam and I took off to make an early dinner (is that what "supper" is? The meal after church, but not in the evening?) for another awesome mom in our lives - his. She requested bulgogi and kimchi, so after a grocery shopping trip, we spent an hour and a half buzzing around her awesome, newly renovated kitchen. We chopped, diced, mashed, blended, massaged, sliced and squeezed our way to a pretty incredible meal, and she was thrilled. It was so fun to take the time to make something new, and Cam and I are a great team in the kitchen. It's pretty rad to be with someone who enjoys feeding people as much as I do.

After supper (and cleaning the kitchen), we swung back by my parents' to bring them the leftovers for their dinner, and joined them for beers on the deck. Nice finish.

Oh, and tonight? Tonight I ran, and came home to a delicious dinner a'la Cam. That's where the title comes from - he made skillet potatoes, and jumped off the couch at one point, exclaiming, "Ooh I gotta shake my taters!" Perfect.

julie, julia, potatoes, and leeks

like zillions of people before me, i'm sure, digging into Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen inspired me to cook. specifically, all i have been able to think about since i started the book two days ago is julia childs' potage parmentier, or potato soup. it's the first recipe in the first book julie ever wrote, as julie notes, and it's dead easy. so, tonight, potato and leek soup, plus buttermilk chive biscuits courtesy of smitten kitchen, and benton's prosciutto. simple, satisfying, and unbelievably delicious. dicing potatoes, slicing leeks (my first!), salting and simmering, immersion blending, butter melting, sipping. perfection. thank you, julie and julia.

i don't intend to cook my way through the legendary tome, like julie did, but it has piqued my interest in blogging with a purpose, setting an impossible goal and charting its progress, warts and all. cam and i have hatched a plan. it's a 5-year (or so) plan, but if we can get the right people to collaborate (one's already signed on, one's thinking about it, and one's oblivious but should be a cinch), it could be pretty great. it's colossal, life-changing, and possibly life-making. it's also just a pipe dream, for now...