Vegetables

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 30, 2009 | RECIPES

I want to love braised leeks, really I do. The French adore their les poireaux, which sound deliciously romantic in French, don’t they? But then again, everything sounds sexy in French; especially if you say it slowly, as they do in the south of France.

Cervelles au beurre noir.

Calf’s brains in brown butter. See?

The truth is, I’m in love with the idea of braised leeks, more than the actual leeks themselves.

Some of my favorite cookbooks include recipes for braised leeks: Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Alice Waters’s Chez Panisse Vegetables, and Susan Spicer’s Crescent City Cooking.

So why can’t I fall over backwards for a dish of braised leeks? Or at least swoon a little at the thought.

Maybe I would change my mind if I just spent more time with them.  So I did.

Here we go.

Simply braised leeks.

(Note: if you plan to serve the leeks as a side dish, count on 2 leeks per person.)

Cut off the root end and the dark green tops, keeping the light green portion. Cut in half and place under running water, fanning the layers to remove any grit trapped between the layers (or gnats, which I found a few in this batch –I love organic produce. You only need to worry when bugs don’t want to eat your dinner) .

Place the leeks, cut side down, in a shallow sauce pan that’s either buttered or swiped with olive oil. (You need some fat here. I wouldn’t blink, or tattle, if you rubbed it with bacon fat.)

Pour in enough dry white wine to come up quarter of the way up the leeks. Using the smallest pan possible is key — only if you want enough wine left over to drink.

Pour in enough chicken or vegetable stock to come up just over half way of the leeks. Sprinkle with fresh ground pepper.

Turn the heat to medium-high and bring the liquid to a boil. Reduce the heat to simmer, and cover with a lid, partially askew to allow some steam to escape.

Cook until the leeks are tender and the tip of a knife easily pierces through the leek, about 30-40 minutes, turning the leeks twice: once after 10 minutes and then again after another 10 minutes.

Now, for the best part — a buttered, bread crumb topping.

Time to get that broiler heating. Place the leeks, in a single layer, in a shallow, oven-proof baking dish.

For each portion of leeks, mix two tablespoons of whole wheat bread crumbs (nutty flavor and ultimately crunchier texture) with one tablespoon of grated Parmigiano-Reggiano and toss with a tablespoon of melted butter.

Season with salt and pepper. You could also mix in some chopped fresh herbs if you have any.

Sprinkle the crumb topping over the leeks and place the leeks underneath the broiler until the crumb topping is dark brown and crispy, maybe a couple, three minutes, depending upon how close the heat source is to the leeks.

And there you have it. Tender, braised leeks, with a delicate, sweet, faintly onion flavor. Quite lovely.

After a late afternoon rendezvous, I get the allure: the tactile pleasure of cutting and cleaning leeks; the flittering, wispy aroma, happy to escape the sliver of a crack between the pan and lid. I can see myself making a whole roasting pan full. But still…

after all that, why do I still think of leeks as a seasoning and not a side dish?

Is something wrong with me because of my lack of overt passion for leeks?

Where did this indifference come from? Blame it on early American settlers who weren’t in the least bit smitten with the leek.

Neither were early American cookbook authors, writing a couple hundred years after the Pilgrims landed, portraying leeks as a mere flavoring ingredient — nothing special and certainly not worthy of serving alone.

When it comes to leeks, I rationalize I’m simply all-American.

29
Apr

Peach Pizza

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 29, 2009 | NEWS & NIBBLES

srb-peach-pizza2

Do peaches really belong on top of pizza?

Fruit topped pizzas are not that unusual. The Hawaiian pizza is an innocuous combination of pineapple chunks and salty ham.

So when I spotted the peaches, chorizo and goat cheese pizza at a microbrewery, I thought, why not? There are probably more bizarre combination than that.

Let’s just say that I’m glad I tasted it. Probably wouldn’t order it again. But kudos to the chef for thinking outside the box. Way outside.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 28, 2009 | BOOK & PRODUCT REVIEWS

I couldn’t very well post the worst kitchen gadgets without immediately coming clean on the best tools.

And notice I said top 10 “tools,” not gadgets.

Because even if a couple of these are truly gadgets in the dictionary sense, they are so critical to a well-equipped kitchen that they’ve earned a promotion to tool status.

I’ve not mentioned any pots or pans on this list. Those deserve their own top 10 list, and I’ll get around to that one day.

With the exception of one, none of these tools is considered a kitchen appliance, either, as that, too, deserves it’s own list. Something like “Cool Kitchen Tools with Cords Attached.”

Here are the top 10 kitchen tools that every serious cook should have:

(drum roll, please)

10. Hand held blender

So many tools could have taken this coveted 10th spot, but ultimately I decided on the blender stick. It purees sauces, both sweet and savory and soups and dips. It fits in a drawer, it’s easy to store and even easier to clean.

9.  Fish spatula

A fish spatula is wider at the tip than at the handle. It’s thin and has slats. Not only does it flip delicate fillets without breaking them in two, it’s perfect for flipping pancakes, potato cakes and pretty much anything else.

8. Wooden spoon

Why wooden? It works on non-stick surfaces. It’s the best, sturdy tool to stir cookie dough. The only downside, if you consider it one, is that it must be hand washed. No dishwasher, unless you don’t mind ruining it.

7. Ice cream scoop

Of course it works on ice cream, but it also can portion out muffin batter, cookie dough, meatballs and crab cakes so that each one is the same size as the previous one, which is only important if you want them to cook evenly, and perhaps look a little uniform.

6. Kitchen shears

From snipping herbs, cutting kitchen string and even poultry, shears are indispensable in the kitchen.

5. Microplane

This cool tool moved from the woodworking shop to the kitchen, and we’ve been grateful ever since. Grate citrus zest, ginger, Parmesan, and even chocolate.

4. Whisk

Get fluffier scrambled eggs with a whisk and fold in whipped cream or egg whites into batters with fewer strokes; this tool is also essential for smooth, lump-free sauces and gravies.

3. Serrated knife

It is the only knife that should touch bread.

2. Paring knife

For those tiny little jobs where a chef’s knife is overkill, like slicing strawberries.

1. High quality chef’s knife

If you had to chose only one tool, this is THE tool. Since it is the workhorse of the kitchen, you should invest in the best knife you can afford. Which one? That depends on you. Go to a knife shop and hold several. One of them will whisper your name. Buy it.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 27, 2009 | NEWS & NIBBLES

I’d share a picture of one of these contraptions, but I don’t have one — picture or contraption.

That’s not to say I haven’t had one or three of these “tools” in my kitchen at one time or another.

I have, but after discovering they were pretty much worthless, I donated them.

Why donate instead of toss? Because…

One cooks trash is another cook’s treasure.

Even though I’ve found these doohickeys to be useless, that doesn’t mean that someone else, who thinks their kitchen revolves around said items, is wrong. Unenlightened, perhaps, but definitely not wrong.

Teaching cooking classes in dozens of kitchen stores across the country has given me the opportunity to play with more clever-but-inane tools than you can shake a whisk at.

I love gadgets as much as the next cook, but the 10 items on this certifiably unscientific and utterly biased list, do not belong in the kitchen. At least not in mine.

Without further ado, here are the top 10 useless, and therefore don’t-waste-your-money kitchen gadgets:

(drum roll, please…)


10.  Grapefruit knife

The serrated edge is a good idea in theory, but it just tears the juice pockets. A paring knife works just as well.

9.  Strawberry huller

It never works anyway, sometimes leaving bits of leaves behind, or worse, grabbing valuable flesh along with the core, which by the way, tastes just fine if the strawberry is at peak ripeness.

8.  Asparagus peeler

Looks cool, but a regular peeler does the same job.

7.  Spaghetti server

Tongs work just as well to grab and serve spaghetti. Save a slot in your drawer or utensil crock for another spatula or wooden spoon, both of which are much more versatile.

6.  Hand held mini chopper

Never chops evenly. A chef’s knife does a much better job.

5.  Artichoke stand

Full disclosure: this is the only one on the list that I haven’t personally tried, but seriously, a stand to set artichokes on for steaming? Must have been made by the same folks who made the vertical roasting stand for chickens, another gadget that belongs on this list.

4.  Creme Brulee torch

Pul-leeze! Your arm will get tired before your sugar burns. Get yourself a real propane torch from Ace Hardware.

3.  Avocado scoop

Always leaves behind the brightest green flesh, and I never seem to buy an avocado that’s just the right size for this tool.

2.  Egg separator

The best egg separator is attached to your arm.

1.  Mango pitter

Good idea, bad execution. Every mango pit is different, so you either leave too much mango on the pit, or the pit is too large and the pitter gets stuck, so you end up making chunky mango puree from repeated attempts.

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 24, 2009 | BOOK & PRODUCT REVIEWS

&copy istockphoto.com/Sergey Skleznev

© istockphoto.com/Sergey Skleznev

A baker I am not. The whole scientific process intimidates me.

I still shudder when I think about the impact salt can have on yeast.

Did you know that salt can kill yeast? That’s heavy! How do I keep salt and yeast separated long enough for the yeast to have a fighting chance?

I believe bakers are different from normal, everyday folks. Bakers are born with an innate ability to judge things that I cannot.

They know what the dough should look and feel like, and how high it should rise before punching it down. And by punching, do they mean actually hitting the dough with brute force?

A baker’s vocabulary is a secret code with undulating terms such as proofing and scaling, creaming, foaming and of course, the muffin method. It’s a conspiracy.

Bakers know what’s missing after only one bite of a cake or bread. My talented, if militant, Chef instructor in beginning baking class, took one bite of my angel food cake and said, “You forgot to add vanilla, didn’t you?”

How did she know that?

I tasted it and didn’t notice vanilla was missing. It tasted like a sugary but dry sponge. It is a sixth sense that I, as a savory cook, do not have.

Testing the bread and pastry recipes for my cookbooks proved to be enormously rewarding for me, and perhaps I learned more than I thought I did during six weeks of baking and pastry classes during my culinary training.

If I can bake breads and cakes, anyone can. You do have to follow the directions, as the ingredient amounts and seemingly inane processes are developed for a specific purpose, like creating a chemical reaction that causes the bread to rise.

It’s not as free form as creating a sauce, which is driven entirely by taste and appearance. But baking has its sweet rewards.

The smell of freshly baked bread is outdone only by the first bite into a hot buttered slice of soft, yeasty bread.

It’s worth the stress of mixing, kneading and punching and keeping the peace between salt and yeast.

Recommended bread books:

The Bread Baker’s Apprentice by Peter Reinhart

The Bread Bible by Rose Levy Beranbaum

Professional Baking, 5th Edition by Wayne Gisslen

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 23, 2009 | NEWS & NIBBLES

beef-tenderloin

Just because you can make a dish in your home kitchen doesn’t mean that you necessarily want to.

It might be because of the mess (deep frying) or the lengthy ingredient list (mole) or the whole production of it all.

Or, maybe you lack certain professional equipment (a grill that burns at 1,700 degrees, for instance).

And frankly, certain foods just taste better when made by a talented chef and his or her crew.

Bonus? No dishes to clean up.

Here’s our list of the top 10 dishes best left in the hands of a capable restaurant — and why:

1.  French fries

Let us count the ways way. First, there’s the mess. And then hassle of double frying to produce crisp spuds. We even know a chef who thrice cooks his fries. What to do with all the left over oil?

2.  Egg rolls

Or any Chinese food, for that matter. Too many ingredients, too much assembly required and too much deep frying.

3.  Sashimi

Sushi chefs know how to get fresh fish, know how to cut it and nobody gets hurt. Unless it’s blowfish.

4.  Souffles

When a souffle falls at home before it reaches the table, that’s not the only thing that deflates.

5.  Tamales

It takes a village to make a tamale. That’s why Mexicans make tamales at home only on special occasions, like Christmas and the birth of a child.

6.  Soft shell crabs

First there’s the matter of cleaning them (removing their guts if we’re gonna get graphic). And then that frying thing.

7.  Foie gras

Not only is there the beige matter that’s high on the ick factor (removing the membrane), most home cooks don’t know what to do with a lobe of foie gras — and it’s rather expensive for experimentation.

8.  Steak

One could argue that grilling a steak at home is one of life’s simple pleasures. But isn’t cutting into a juicy steak that’s just come off a 1,700 degree grill is much more pleasurable? Oh yeah, especially if butter poaching prior to grilling is involved.

9.  Pizza

Unless you have installed a umpteen-thousand dollar pizza oven in your back yard (and you know who you are, MG), re-creating wood-oven, artisan pizza is best left to the experts; like the one in Phoenix, the only pizza maker who’s won a James Beard Award for it.

10. Any dish from The French Laundry

Even if you wanted to, you probably couldn’t. That is not a slam about your cooking skills. It is a testament to the  general mystique of dining under Thomas Keller’s roof. You’ve at least seen the cookbook, yes?

So, what’s on your list of dishes best left to restaurants? Indian curries or tandoori? Turtle soup or gumbo? How about goat?

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 22, 2009 | BOOK & PRODUCT REVIEWS

agavenectar1Tequila isn’t the only byproduct of the agave cactus that chefs adore. Arizona’s top toques have been sweetening dishes from appetizers to desserts with agave nectar for a while, and now other chefs (and cookbook authors) are catching on.

Kai, Arizona’s only Mobil Five-Star restaurant, and Tonto Bar & Grill both use agave nectar extensively. That makes sense, as both restaurants focus on Native American and Southwestern cuisines, respectively. But chefs cooking all kinds of cuisines are also stocking up on the stuff.

For years, agave nectar was relegated to diet books and health magazines, but the fructose syrup has escaped the niche and is sweetening up restaurant menus and splashing the pages of cookbooks.

In fact, there is a cookbook devoted to baking with agave nectar called, shockingly, Baking with Agave Nectar. And Cal-Med goddess Joanne Weir trumps the desert syrup in her just released Tequila cookbook.

There are are two “strengths” of agave nectar. One is light, almost flavorless beyond the “sweet” flavor. The other is amber, which has a touch of flavor. Some say it tastes similar to honey, although agave nectar is not nearly as viscous as honey.

What’s so great about agave nectar? Health experts still say it’s “empty” calories, but if you’re gonna load up on sugary sweets, agave nectar has some advantages.

For one, it’s low on the glycemic index – it doesn’t kick start digestive insulin like other types of sugars. And, because it’s sweeter than sugar (1.4 times) you can use less of it.

But that’s not why chefs use it. They use it because it dissolves quickly and it doesn’t crystallize. And it’s cool. As in hip.

Agave Syrup on Foodista

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 21, 2009 | FISH & SEAFOOD

Because A. J.’s Fine Foods had halibut on sale for $15.99 a pound, I bit. Isn’t that a gorgeous pound of fish?

And while I was there, I noticed some plump shiitake mushrooms, big ones, so now I was beginning to picture my Saturday evening dinner.

Grilled halibut, marinated in a sherry mustard vinaigrette with a shiitake ragout (just a fancy name for sauteed veggies). Oh, and don’t forget the caramelized onions, garlic and fresh herbs from my garden.

All of it would sit atop fresh baby spinach, dressed in the same sherry vinaigrette I used to marinate the halibut.

I know you’re supposed to whisk the vinegar and other flavorings together before you slowly drizzle in the olive oil in an effort to create an emulsion, but I like to use little glass jars I’ve saved.

I just put some whole grain mustard in the jar with some minced garlic, some thyme leaves, a little salt and pepper and a pinch of sugar. Always a little something sweet in my vinaigrettes, just to take the edge off.

I’ll shake up the flavorings, and then I’ll pour in a little oil and shake. A little more oil and another shake, and repeat until I’ve used all the oil. It might not create the most emulsified emulsion, but it works for me, and shaking is a whole lot more fun than whisking, don’t you think? Pour a couple tablespoons over the halibut and give a little rub. It can sit at room temperature while you forge ahead.

Now caramelize the onions in a little olive oil. I was in a bit of a rush, so I turned up the heat, which is why the onions are caramelizing unevenly. Chef Hutchins, my saucier culinary instructor, would be mortified. We won’t tell him.

Throw the mushrooms in when the onions are getting nice and caramelized. After the mushrooms are tender, you can stir in the garlic.

Once that’s fragrant, then you can deglaze the pan with a little sherry. I like Dry Sack. You could just use the sherry vinegar, but that will add a bit of a twang.

OK, it’s time to get that grill going. Medium-high heat for searing.

Now we need a little red for the dish. I scraped the mushroom mixture into a bowl and used the same pan to saute up some chopped grape tomatoes with the fresh herbs from my garden.

Pretty sure I’d be washing up the pan anyway, so why use another pan? For the record, those tomatoes wouldn’t mind a little drink of sherry, either.

Now it’s time to grill the halibut. I cut the original fillet in half. One end was monsterously thick, the other, just plain ole thick, so I knew one of them would be spending a little more time in the incubator.

I grilled them flesh side down, creating grill marks, for about 3 minutes. Then I turned them, skin side down, and turned off just the burner below them to finish cooking with indirect heat. It took about 8 more minutes for the thick one, and 10 minutes for the monster thick one. Then off the grill to rest a bit before plating.

Oh, I removed the skin before I put them on top of the salad. Actually, the grill removed them. The skin was stuck to the grill because I forgot to oil them. C’est la vie.

And so the final dish looks like this: Spinach salad with sherry mustard grilled halibut, topped with sherry glazed shiitake mushrooms and caramelized onions, with herbed grape tomatoes and orange segments.

Just because I had an orange and it was time to use it.

The whole dish took just about an hour from start to finish.

Easy-peasy.

Halibut on Foodista

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 19, 2009 | NEWS & NIBBLES

appletart1

I just read a story about the top 10 dishes of Great Britain, and it got me thinking about what an American top 10 list would look like.

To be fair, our list has to be longer and not just because we’re a nation of braggarts — that would be a Texas list (and before you go all crazy on me, I’m from Texas and I say that with the utmost pride).

Geographically speaking, the USA is 38 times the size of Great Britain and population-wise, it’s five times as large, ergo, we need a bigger list than just 10 dishes.

While I’m certain that I could come up with 380 dishes in a flash, in the interest of keeping your attention, I think I’ll just rattle off 50.

To even begin talking about America’s top dishes, you have to think both nationally and regionally. While it would be easy to list the top three as apple pie, hot dogs and ice cream, I want to delve a little deeper and pick dishes that not only define us as Americans, but ones that also reflect the melting pot that is our population.

We are a nation of immigrants. Only a few of us are descendants of Native Americans. Our foods are also reflective of this ethnic stew. Some of our foods are truly native: corn, beans and squash, for example. Others came with the Spanish (cows and pigs) and Africans (okra) and other settlers. Still others brought certain cooking techniques (the French and Germans specifically come to mind).

I’m not sure if 50 is long enough to reflect the diversity among our most recognized dishes, but it’s a start. So, without further ado, here we go:

(drum roll, please)


50. Blackened redfish (thank you, Paul Prudhomme)

49. Root beer float

48. Pimiento cheese sandwich

47. Scrapple (although I’m not particularly fond of this, many, many Americans swear by it)

46. Frito pie (I’m particularly fond of this staple from my childhood)

45. Bundt cakes (any flavor, sour cream coffee cake is the most popular)

44. Green goddess dressing (over any kind of lettuce, perhaps romaine is traditional)

43. Chicken & dumplings

42. Maryland crab cakes

41. Whoopie pie (yippee!)

40. Jambalaya

39. Cioppino (San Francisco would be hurt if I left them out, they’re sensitive that way)

38. Shoofly pie

37. Iceberg wedge with blue cheese dressing

36. Pecan sticky buns

35. Denver Omelet

34. Peach cobbler

33. New England clam chowder

32. Buttermilk pancakes

31. Brunswick stew

30. Philly cheesesteak

29. Chicken fried steak with cream gravy (don’t forget the biscuits)

28. Fried rice (of course we fry the rice, we’ll fry anything)

27. The Po’boy (oyster, shrimp or even roast beef for purists)

26. Shrimp & grits (I personally like the New Orleans style but the South Carolina version rocks, too)

25. Brown Betty

24. Cedar-planked salmon (Seriously? Only one Northwestern dish? I need to go to Portland)

23. Cobb salad

22. Meatloaf

21. King Ranch chicken casserole

20. Kansas City spareribs (notice I didn’t say BBQ — remember, I’m from Texas and we think we invented BBQ)

19. Succotash

18. Fried catfish

17. Soft shell crabs, fried of course

16. Black-eyed peas

15. Seafood gumbo

14.Wisconsin cheese soup

13. Collard greens (or mustard greens)

12. Grilled cheese (fancy schmancy or plain)

11. Mashed potatoes

10. Chicken pot pie

9.  Bowl of chili (red, green, white or even Cincinnati-style with spaghetti)

8. Steamed Maine lobster

7. Chimichanga (yes, it was invented north of the border, although who was first is still in dispute)

6. Chocolate chip cookies

5. Mac & cheese

4. Shrimp cocktail

3. Southern fried chicken

2. Texas BBQ beef brisket

1. Turkey & dressing

(keep scrolling….)

(a little further…)

(almost there…)

(patience…)



0. The hamburger (had to include it — it’s my favorite)

By Gwen Ashley Walters | APRIL 18, 2009 | DESSERTS

orangecandy

Guess my hand was shaking a bit while snapping this photo. Or, maybe it’s just the natural sparkling glow of candied orange peel. Yeah, that must be it.

Making candied peel is a perfect weekend task. It takes a bit of work, but the result is worth it. Start with organic oranges, or if those aren’t available, give the oranges a good scrubbing to remove the shiny wax they’re sometimes coated with.

While you bring a big pot of water to boil, slice off a little of the top and bottom of 2 to 3 oranges, and then slice off the peel to the flesh. Cut the peel into 1/4-inch matchsticks. Set up a large bowl of ice water.

Gently boil the peel for a couple of minutes and then remove them with a slotted spoon to a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking. Do that two more times, blanching a total of three times.

Next, remove them to paper towels to dry, and scrape off most of the pith with a knife.

Pour 3 cups of sugar and 3 cups of water into a wide saucepan and bring just to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Stir in the dried orange sticks and cook until the sticks are tender, about 40 minutes. The mixture will reduce and thicken.

If you’re so inclined, you can add a cinnamon stick, a star anise pod or two and/or whole cloves into the sugar water in the beginning to spice up the oranges.

Meanwhile, place another cup of sugar in a large bowl. Set a cooling rack in a sheet pan.

When the orange sticks are gooey-thick, remove with a slotted spoon and dump into the bowl of sugar and toss. Be very careful! The sugar syrup is extremely hot and you don’t want to get any of it on you.

Space the sugared peels on the rack so they don’t touch each other and let them dry for at least a day, maybe two.

Now, what to do with them?  Eat them, of course.

Or dip one end in melted dark chocolate.

Or chopped them up and add to muffins or scones.

Or, wrap them in cellophane with a pretty bow and give to a friend.

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