→ September 23, 2008
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Roasted Red Pepper Pesto.

Most people associate “pesto” with basil pesto, also known as pesto Genovese, a mixture of basil, Parmiggiano-Reggiano, garlic, pine nuts, and olive oil. The term “pesto” just means “smashed” or “beaten,” and can refer to any sauce made from pureed ingredients in an emulsion with oil. On my last trip to Italy nine years ago, my wife had pasta with olive pesto in a little restaurant in Assisi, and liked it so much that we went back the next night so she could have it again. My personal favorite non-basil pesto is one with roasted red peppers.

This is ridiculously easy to make if you just want to use jarred roasted red peppers, although roasting your own is easy – do it on a grill or in a 400 degree oven until the skin of the pepper is charred (not burned to ash), then let it rest in a bowl with foil covering it for ten minutes, then peel the skin off. To use them for this recipe, make sure the peppers have no seeds or rib meat remaining.

1 roasted red pepper
1 clove garlic, pressed or chopped
3 Tbsp pecorino romano cheese, grated
3-4 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
pinch salt, pepper, crushed dried chili pepper (optional)

Puree the first three ingredients, then gradually add the olive oil while continuing to puree to form an emulsion. Season with salt, pepper, and red pepper as desired. Serve over pasta (with grilled chicken, if you like) or use in place of tomato sauce on pizza.

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→ September 22, 2008
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Haute cuisine.

Interesting read from the Wall Street Journal on cutting-edge cuisine in Spain, which has become the vanguard of the cooking-as-lab-experiment movement over the last five to ten years. The famous El Bulli restaurant is mentioned, but the focus is on some of the other culinary standouts in Catalonia.

And I suppose as long as you’re on their site, you might want to check out their banking bailout FAQ, aimed at active investors but useful for everyone.

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→ September 9, 2008
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NYC Eats, September 2008 edition.

Those of you who track me on Twitter or Facebook know that I hit Bar Americain on Friday, after getting recommendations from several readers and even people in the business who saw my note on Mesa Grill from April. At BA, the smoked shrimp salad sandwich was very much as promised. Served on a dark Pullman loaf with watercress inside, but the salad had a rich, sweet smoky flavor (I think hickory, but I’m no expert on smoking woods). I had never had or even heard of “smoked shrimp” before, and other than an excess of dressing (mayonnaise-based, but thinned out with vinegar), the sandwich was outstanding. It’s served with real French fries – no batter or coating, just potatoes, served with a remoulade dipping sauce – and all meals come with a bread basket that includes these amazing, savory cornbread sticks with black pepper.

The one new breakfast spot was Mon Petit Café, which does indeed strive for that Parisian-café look and feel. I met BP’s Joe Sheehan for the meal, and I am pretty sure I ordered wrong: feeling the need for a big protein infusion, I went with the ol’ EMPT, scrambled with bacon and a baguette, although I ordered a croissant on the side. The bacon was ridiculously good – I could have eaten a half-pound of it, no problem – while the eggs were sort of overcooked on the inside so that some of the eggs’ liquid had leaked out. The croissant was amazing, as was the chocolate croissant that Joe Sheehan ordered (dessert for breakfast is a big thing over in France). Joe noticed on the restaurant’s Web site that they have good-quality bagged tea if you ask for it; the alternative is Lipton, which just makes dirty water. I’m giving a grade of “incomplete” here, because I need to go back and order something more appropriate.

Virgil’s BBQ was right across the street from my hotel, and though I’ve seen it fifty times I never managed to make it inside. Their pulled pork sandwich (ordered without sauce) was solid average, but not above it. The meat was extremely moist and I received plenty of burnt ends, but they apparently didn’t trim the meat at all, which meant first removing a huge portion of pork fat from my mouth, then lifting the lid performing surgery on the mound of meat to remove any other slimy bits. The meat had no clear smoke flavor or flavor from the dry rub used before smoking, but because it was smoked properly, it could rest somewhat on the laurels of the flavor that pork develops no matter what wood is used to smoke it. The side of barbecued baked beans was a waste of time, and the iced tea was too bitter. I wouldn’t mind trying their brisket, and the pork was good enough to go again since I’m usually staying in the vicinity. Incidentally, the sides that come with the sandwich are French fries or (cole slaw with potato salad). Not only is that weird (one side vs. two), but who the hell orders French fries in a BBQ joint?

Between doubleheader games on Sunday, I went to Flushing’s Chinatown and tried Sentosa, a refugee restaurant from Manhattan’s Chinatown, now on Prince Street a block away from the Main Street stop on the 7. I’ve had Malaysian food twice in my life, including this meal. I stuck to dishes that were obviously Malaysian, since the menu was sort of a pan-Asian thing with lots of Chinese or even Chinese-American options on it. The roti canai with chicken curry featured a large, thin, slightly sweet pancake that is meant to be dipped in the curry sauce. The dish got the obligatory one-pepper label for “spicy” (there were no degrees of spiciness, which is apparently a binary variable in Malay cuisine), but I’d give the coconut milk-based red curry about a one or two out of ten in terms of spiciness. The chicken was dark meat, of course, and there were two potato cubes in the tiny bowl. For an entrée, I went with nasi lemak, which I think is the most famous Malaysian dish out there, a sort of deconstructed fried rice that’s served with a giant mound of white rice that was cooked with coconut and cloves and is surrounded by accompaniments: curried chicken (more of a brown curry this time), a sweet/spicy mixture that apparently contained anchovies (whatever it was, it was very chewy), picked vegetables (mostly cabbage and carrot), sliced cucumber, a hard-boiled egg, and roasted peanuts. I mixed and matched haphazardly, skipping the hard-boiled egg entirely and trying to avoid the temptation to just eat all the rice, which was completely infused with coconut flavor. Everything but the anchovy mixture was excellent, and unlike the barbecue lunch, it didn’t push me into a meat coma afterwards.

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→ August 31, 2008
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Q&A and a food rec.

I did a Q&A with a Miami-themed sports blog, City of Champions. The first comment is particularly priceless.

As for food … I’m not a big fan of the variety of spoiled milk known as cheese, but for some reason, cheeses from Italy aren’t included in that distaste. I recently discovered a sheep’s-milk cheese from Tuscany called, oddly enough, pecorino toscano (roughly translated as “Tuscan young sheep”), and have become a big fan. I’ve used pecorino romano for years, but as a cooking cheese, mixed into pasta alla carbonara, grated into polenta or risotto, etc. As an eating cheese, it falls short: it’s dry and slightly grainy, and extremely salty. The pecorino toscano, however, tastes like a younger romano, with a very smooth, creamy texture, and the same underlying flavor as the romano without the harsh saltiness. The taste and texture were both significantly improved by allowing the cheese to come to room temperature. A small wedge lasted five days in the cheese drawer, wrapped first in waxed paper and then in plastic wrap.

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→ August 30, 2008
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Espresso.

My cousin from Italy came to visit this week – her first time in the U.S.; we’d met her nine years ago in Italy – and paid me the ultimate compliment by saying she liked my espresso … and that it was the first decent espresso she’d had in the U.S. I’m no expert on coffee or espresso, but I’ve got a system that seems to work for me.

I’ve said in the past that you need a burr grinder to properly grind coffee. Blade grinders smash the beans in an uneven fashion, and generate more heat the longer you grind, so to get coffee ground finely and evenly enough to use in an espresso machine, you’d have to grind the beans so long that they’d continue roasting and could even smoke, and you probably still couldn’t get the grind fine enough. If you can’t afford a good burr grinder, buy your coffee ground for an espresso machine, and buy it in the tiniest quantities possible.

I use a Capresso Infinity Burr Grinder, which, at $90, is the cheapest “true” burr grinder available. (I had a lower-end Capresso burr grinder before that one, but it couldn’t go fine enough for espresso.) The Infinity works for French pressed coffee, drip coffee, and espresso, and claims to be able to go fine enough for Turkish coffee, although I’ve never tried that. On the downside, it creates some coffee dust that spurts out when you remove the plastic receptacle where the machine deposits the ground coffee, and you’ll have to give the machine a good whack to get all of your grounds to fall. There are, of course, many more expensive grinders you can buy, from Saeco, Rancilio, DeLonghi, and other brands.

For the espresso machine itself, again, I own what I think is the cheapest legitimate model available here, the Gaggia Carezza. The Carezza makes a great shot of espresso. It steams/froths milk well, but I’ve found it takes two boiler cycles to steam enough for cappuccino or a caffe latte, so the lower machine cost means some extra time investment when you’re making drinks. The Carezza is still available, but Gaggia has introduced a slightly smaller and cheaper machine, the Evolution.

I also bought a heavier tamper than the cheap plastic thing that came with the Carezza, and I use a $5 instant-read thermometer when steaming milk. That’s about it for the specialized hardware. Have a double shot glass capable of holding 2.5 ounces of liquid ready to receive the espresso out of the machine, and get your cup(s) ready for the actual espresso drink(s). I do not recommend that you use the plastic splitter that allows you to divide the espresso coming out of the machine into two cups; it’s a crema-killer.

For coffee, the most important variable is not roast, but date: Coffee begins to go stale as soon as it’s done roasting. If you can buy beans where they’re roasted on the day on which they’re roasted, you’ll get better espresso, with more crema and a fuller body. Beans sold at Starbucks were roasted three weeks before the day you buy them. For making espresso, they suck. I buy my beans at Whole Foods, where they put the roast date on the outside of the bin; if I’m lucky, I’ll get beans that are still warm. I store them in airtight mason jars, loosening the lids once a day to let out the excess carbon dioxide.

To actually make the drink:
1. Turn on the espresso machine about ten minutes before you intend to make coffee. Make sure that the water reservoir has plenty of water in it, and that the portafilter is in place but (of course) has no coffee grounds in it. This allows the metal part of the portafilter to heat up before you put coffee in it.
2. The Carezza has three buttons: a power switch, an espresso on/off switch, and a steamer on/off switch. Unless the steamer switch is on, the machine assumes you’re making espresso, and a green light is illuminated when the machine’s boiler is hot enough to do so. (If you have a different machine, these steps may vary slightly.) When the green light is on, flip the espresso switch to “on” and open the steamer valve by turning the knob on top of the machine that controls steam pressure. I use my metal steamer pitcher to catch the hot water coming out of the valve, and I pour this into the shot glass and into the demi-tasse cups to warm them up.
3. When the boiler recovers, pull a blank shot – that is, pull a shot without any coffee grounds. This is a good time to turn on the coffee grinder and get the beans ready; I find that two scoops of beans yields enough for about 15-16 grams of grounds, which is the right amount for two shots of espresso. I’ve found it’s far, far better to use a little too much coffee than a little too little; in fact, going to 18-20 grams will almost ensure a good but imperfect pull. Always pull two shots at once.
4. Remove your portafilter from the machine, dump out any remaining water and rinse quickly with hot water if necessary. Add the ground coffee and press it down with your tamper, using about 30 pounds of pressure. I know what the right amount of pressure is now because I’ve done it for a while, but if you’re just starting out, try using a bathroom scale and pressing down on it with your tamper. Tap out any loose grounds and put the portafilter back on to your machine.
5. Put your shot glass under the portafilter. Wait until the boiler is ready and then turn the espresso switch on. You should get about 2-2.5 ounces of espresso in 25-35 seconds of brewing; I usually stop at 2 ounces, around 25 seconds when I’ve done everything right. The espresso stream becomes noticeably thinner beyond that point.
6. Wait 20-30 seconds and remove the portafilter. (If you don’t wait, the machine will “burp” and you’ll get wet coffee grounds everywhere, including up in the machine where you don’t want them.) If you’re just making espresso, you’re just about done – run a blank shot to clean the machine and that’s all.
7. To add steamed or frothed milk, turn the second switch to “on” and wait for the boiler to heat up. I leave the two shots of espresso in the shot glass to keep the liquid as warm as possible. Steaming is simple: With a thermometer in your milk, raise the pitcher until the tip of the steamer wand is touching the top of the milk. Froth until the milk’s temperature reaches 100 degrees, then plunge the wand into the milk until the thermometer reaches 160 degrees. The goal is pourable froth, and if you froth it too long the froth will become dry and spoonable rather than pourable. I’ve found this is easier to do with the steam valve most of the way open – trying to finesse it with a low level of steam produced coarser bubbles for me.
8. Turn the steamer switch off and run a blank shot of espresso. If you left the portafilter in place during steaming, wait several minutes for the pressure to dissipate before running the blank.

I think that’s it, although I may have missed a step or a detail. The product links above go to amazon.com; you can also find them at Whole Latte Love, where you’ll find buyer guides and more product information. For some coffee-making tutorials and a very active message board on coffee, check out coffeegeek.com.

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→ August 19, 2008
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Chicago and Ann Arbor.

Ann Sather is a small Chicago chain known, with good cause, for its cinnamon rolls. I went to the 70-year-old Ann Sather restaurant one El stop south of Wrigley Field (it’s right outside the Belmont station off the Red Line) before the Under Armour Game on Sunday for breakfast. The cinnamon rolls – two constitute a single side order – are very good, with a soft dough that’s somewhere between cake and brioche in texture. The cinnamon-sugar-butter filling was heavy on the cinnamon (good), although it tasted a bit like cheap cinnamon (not good, but, in their defense, it’s cheap). Every egg plate comes with your choice of two sides, and two cinnamon rolls constitute one side, so it’s a pretty good deal. I went with two eggs scrambled, which were prepared without the slightest adulteration from salt; the hash browns “well done” (my waitress’ suggestion), which means they have a crisp brown crust that breakfast potatoes should be required by federal law to have; and the “Swedish potato sausage.” I asked my waitress what that sausage contained and was told pork, veal, and potatoes, and that “it’s pink.” I’m thinking, okay, pork sausage usually has a pink hue to it, but what came to the table was dead pink in the center, and in my book, that’s raw. I didn’t eat them. That platter plus tea came to about $11.50 before tip.

In the mini-mall attached to the Renaissance Hotel on West Wacker is a fast food-ish place called Wow Bao which I really had to try. I’ve had authentic Chinese dumpings – both bao zi and xiao long jiao zi – in Taiwan and in the U.S., and I think they’re out of this word, particularly the latter kind. Bao zi are giant puffs of a simple yeast dough usually stuffed with a meat filling and steamed; the texture of the dough is very soft, almost pillowy. Jiao zi are smaller dumplings with a thinner dough and a higher filling-to-dough ratio; the fillings are juicier and part of the experience of eating one is getting the burst of liquid that comes with the first bite. (Think of jiao zi as a Hershey’s Kiss: the dough is the foil wrapper and the filling is the chocolate. That gives you a rough idea of the construction, at least.)

Anyway, Wow Bao serves enormous bao zi for $1.39 apiece or $7.99 for a six-pack; I tried several kinds, the barbecue pork being the best if a bit too sweet, the whole wheat with edamame being the worst with an overpowering taste of scallions, and the chicken and curry also scoring well despite perhaps a lack of authenticity. I highly approve of their homemade ginger ale, which tastes like … ginger. One big negative was a poor ratio of dough to filling, which, since the dough on most of the dumplings comprised only white flour, meant for a bit of a food coma not long after I ate.

Shifting locales, I’ve been remiss in not writing up Zingerman’s Roadhouse in Ann Arbor, Michigan, from my trip to see the Tigers and White Sox last month. The fried eggs were cooked flawlessly (over medium) while the thickly sliced bacon was excellent and also correctly cooked. The grits … well, I’m not a huge grits fan, but these were pretty good, with a fair amount of salt in them. Not as good as even mediocre polenta, of course, but good for grits. The big bonuses for me: real tea; and a small plate of donut holes for us to try, obviously just fried and out of this world, as just-fried donuts usually are. There were five of us there and the waitress was absolutely hellbent on splitting the check for us – she wouldn’t take no for an answer – but I suppose that’s better than the waitress who takes your order and disappears for an hour.

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→ August 11, 2008
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Long Beach eats, 2008 edition.

First up, some admin stuff:
* I’ll be on ESPNEWS today at 3:40 pm EDT.
* There will be a chat this week, probably on Thursday.
* I’ve got two blog entries up at the Four-Letter, one on the top prospects from the AFLAC All-American Game and another on the top guys at the Area Code Games.

To the food…

Long Beach was definitely in the house, although I ventured out to the streets of LA for a few meals. Dessert first: Frozen yogurt is all the rage in southern California, and the most popular chain is Pinkberry, so I felt almost obligated to try it so I could make fun of all of the people who consume the stuff. I was, however, unprepared for how absolutely vile the stuff is. The flavor made me feel like I was sitting inside a bottle of white vinegar, licking the sides and inhaling the fumes. Their yogurt comes in three flavors – “original” (vinegar-flavored), green tea, and coffee. It’s all nonfat, which is about the stupidest thing I’ve seen in ages, since the fat in yogurt helps coat the taste buds and mute the yogurt’s acidity. The result of removing the fat is the need to increase the sugar to balance out the acid, and that results in a major glycemic load and a very unsatisfying product. I ate the oreos I’d ordered as a topping and tossed the gunk. Something that looks that much like ice cream shouldn’t taste that much like shit.

Moving along rapidly … I decided to revisit a restaurant I’d tried back in 2006 and didn’t love, because so many readers have told me it’s the best sushi place in this part of greater LA: Koi in Seal Beach. I admit I was wrong about Koi, having complained of bland sushi. I’m guessing it’s a maturing of my taste for sushi, since I’ve gotten to experience some high-quality sushi on my travels and now understand what incredibly fresh sushi tastes and feels like in the mouth. Koi’s is absolutely on par with the freshest sushi I’ve ever had, and the flavors, while not intense, were complex and smooth. I avoided all rolls – not only are they apparently inauthentic, but I feel like they’re a way to use sauces to cover up mediocre fish, and at a place where the fish is really good, you’re just hiding the quality under salt and sugar. I ordered salmon (I recommend it without the ponzu sauce), yellowtail, yellowtail belly (special order), and three items off of the specials board: sea bass (served with salt and lemon juice, so you eat it without any soy sauce at all), bluefin toro, and Japanese red snapper. Everything was delicious, fresh, and soft as butter. On my second visit, I asked the main sushi chef, named Taka, to “surprise me.” He hit me with albacore belly with lemon juice, sea salt, and shaved ginger, which was incredibly soft but had a very slightly fishy taste that I think came not from the fish but from the combination of flavors. It was almost like the faintest taste of a grassy cheese, although I hate to use that term because it makes the fish sound spoiled, which I’m quite sure it wasn’t. Taka surprised me again with sweet shrimp nigiri, the first time I’ve ever eaten raw shellfish. I ate both pieces, because I’m not an ingrate, but had a hard time getting past the knowledge of what I was eating. (If you missed the previous discussion, I avoid raw shellfish because the risk of food-borne illness is particularly high.) I also received the shrimps’ heads, deep-fried, but found them inedible between the tough shell and the weird goo in the middle.

My other sushi experience here, at Haru Haru on the border of Long Beach and Seal Beach, was disappointing; I went there because it was close to the stadium and next to a Trader Joes, so I could eat, get some supplies, and still get back in time for the second game. I asked if there were any special nigiri/sashimi of the day, but there weren’t, and the fish I got was bland and even a little bit tough. It’s not worth the stop so close to Koi, even if Koi is a good bit more expensive.

Tiny Thai in northern Long Beach – north of the airport just off Carson St and Lakewood – served totally nondescript Thai food, although it appears to have a devoted following. I asked the waitress for suggestions; she asked if I liked spicy food and I said not really. (Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. That night, I was not in the mood.) The first thing she suggests is a stir-fry with chicken, beef, or pork in a sauce of chili peppers and basil. The second thing is garlic beef or chicken, which isn’t so much spicy but gave me visions of waking up at 3 am as a fire-breathing member of the allium family. I ordered pad see ew instead – I had an odd craving for broccoli anyway – and it was very ordinary, and the chicken had clearly been cooked in advance, as there’s no way they could have cooked it in the time between my order and its arrival at the table.

Bouchees Bistro on Long Beach Ave is sort of a gourmet food for the masses place, and I was intrigued by the $3-5 sliders they offer, which seems to be a popular option. I went with three – the jumbo lump crab cake, the angus sirloin burger with bacon and spicy aioli (I had them omit the cheese), and the seared ahi tuna with avocado – and started with a house salad with balsamic vinaigrette. The salad was the highlight because it was flawlessly dressed – not a drop too little or too much – and the ingredients (romaine lettuce, cucumber, tomato) were ridiculously fresh. Sometimes I forget how good Californians have it when it comes to produce. Of the sliders, the crab cake was the best – they did not lie about jumbo lump – and the ahi tuna was the worst, with a seared exterior that was already cool when it reached the table and made me wonder if it had been sitting at all. One turnoff: I didn’t eat all of the tomatoes in my salad because I’m not a huge fan, but ate half of them. The waitress who took my salad bowl away said, “Next time, ask to leave the tomatoes off.” I felt like I was being scolded and pointed out to her that I ate some of them, figuring I didn’t need to point out that it was my discretion whether or not I wanted to eat every last freaking bite of my food. She backed off.

I hit two breakfast spots, nothing new. The Coffee Cup is my new favorite spot; I had chorizo and eggs, the combo ($6 for two eggs, two slices of bacon or links of sausage, and two pancakes), and the EMPT with their own honey apple sausage. Everything was good; the sausage was delicious although the casing got a little bit tough in the cooking. I appreciate that they didn’t charge me for the hot water for my tea – I brought my own bags, and some places will charge even if I don’t use their crappy Lipton bags. (The Coffee Cup uses Pickwick, a slightly better food-service option than Lipton but still not great.) The blueberry pancakes (50¢ extra for the berries) were good but had a strong taste of cinnamon that might turn some folks off. Their breakfast potatoes – big chunky home fries – are outstanding, but they do burn the occasional piece. I also love the whole wheat bread they use for toast, and they’re not stingy with the butter.

I had one morning where I stopped at the Long Beach Café because the Coffee Cup was out of my way and I regretted it. The food wasn’t half as good, the “biscuit” was a sorry excuse for a baked good of that name, the eggs were overcooked, and so on.

Two recs from Los Angeles: I met dak and Junior from Fire Joe Morgan at BLD, the name of which is an acronym for the three meals they serve. We were there for dinner, and started with a plate of meats and cheeses that we asked the server (clearly a budding actress) to choose for us, with only the guidance that we disliked particularly pungent cheeses. She did pretty well by all accounts; I wanted no part of the camembert, but the sheep’s milk cheese (I think it was called Midnight Moon) was like a young pecorino romano, the speck (smoked prosciutto) was outstanding, and the spiced marcona almonds, quince paste, and slices of black mission figs on the side were all addictive. For an entrée, I went with the seared cod with spicy avocado cream sauce and sliced fingerling potatoes, all of which was impeccably fresh but disappointingly low-impact in flavor. The dish was just missing its mojo. The two writers paid for dinner for some inexplicable reason, so when dak comes to Massachusetts later this summer, I’m going to reciprocate and take him to McDonald’s. (Ken Tremendous big-leagued me and said he was too busy to show.) Anyway, both dak and Junior liked what they ordered, so I’d call it a hit all around, and even if I didn’t love my dinner I can appreciate the freshness of the ingredients.

Over on S Figueroa north of USC, La Taquiza is my kind of Mexican place: small and authentic, but user-friendly for the non-native. I went with the carnitas tacos – carnitas was the special of the day – and a watermelon agua fresca, which was my reason for going in the first place, as it was mentioned in the LA Times article to which I linked about a month ago. The carnitas were delicious, although the tacos were just fresh tortillas (I watched a woman making them as I waited in line) and meat, with a modest salsa bar available. The agua fresca was good, but not up to Phoenix Ranch Market standards, with a pretty strong lemon flavor but plenty of sweetness to balance it. It was like a watermelon lemonade, shaded a little more towards the watermelon. I’m underselling the place, though – I’d go back and probably be a little more specific on the order.

Filed Under: Appearances, Food Tagged With: , , , , , ,
→ July 29, 2008
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The Next Food Network Star, final episode.

Well, that was totally predictable. I don’t particularly mind seeing Aaron win, since he was one of three contestants whose shows I might have watched (Adam and Shane were the other two), and I think that what he does poorly (relate to the camera) can be taught, especially if his problem is nerves. The only thing that I dislike about Aaron is his butchering of the language – things like subject-verb agreement are not really optional in my book – but he’s likeable and I’m interested in his food.

If Lisa said “za-ba-YONE” one more time, I was going to punch the television. She referred to it as an Italian sauce, but the Italian word is zabaglione, four syllables with a defined “L” sound in the middle. In Italy, it’s also more likely to be a dessert – it’s egg yolks, sugar, and dry Marsala, whisked to the ribbon stage over simmering water – rather than a savory sauce. The savory version is the French sabayon, without a “z” in sight. If you can’t pronounce it properly, fine, just don’t over-enunciate it every damn time you say it. My wife was watching with me, and when I finally said, “Why the hell is she pronouncing it like that?” my wife’s response was dead-on: “Because she’s a snob.”

Adam was great on camera, as usual, but beer-can chicken isn’t all that special a dish, and it’s a little bit white-trashy. I didn’t walk away from his pilot feeling like there was a real show there. And by the way, McCall was a ringer, right? She talked like she was reading lines off a script.

I wish they’d shown a little more of the behind-the-scenes stuff with Gordon Elliott, either more of the “pitch” meetings or more of the directions he was giving the talent during the tapings. And it’s a pretty bad job by FN to say that Aaron’s show (“Big Daddy’s Kitchen”) will air in one week, when we all know that that final episode was taped ages ago, and when his show is nowhere to be found on any FN schedule. I’d like to at least give one episode a shot, but odds are by the time it comes around I’ll have forgotten all about it.

Unrelated note … my wife also likes the analogous HGTV series Design Star, and I watched their last episode with her on Sunday. (The winner is chosen by audience vote, rather than by judges, so there’s one more episode coming where they announce the winner.) One of the two contestants, Jen, painted horizontal stripes on the wall in two close but not identical shades of beige, and kept calling it an “architectural feature.” I liked the way the walls looked, but what the heck is an architectural feature? Why is that a good thing? You can’t drop jargon into a show aimed at a lay audience. I wouldn’t go on ESPNEWS and start talking about a back-side collapse or a hook or stab without either explaining it further or substituting a more accessible term. I’m not saying Jen shouldn’t win, but I was surprised that none of the judges criticized her for her use of the industry vernacular.

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→ July 25, 2008
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Soft-serve ice cream.

Callum sent along this great New York Times article on the evolution of soft-serve ice cream:

Young chefs around the country, with fond memories of Dairy Queen stands and Mister Softee trucks, are remaking soft-serve ice cream, with epicurean takes on traditional ingredients as well as some things never before seen spiraling out of an icy nozzle, like saffron, bourbon and jalapeño flavors.

At Sketch Ice Cream, a shop in Berkeley, Calif., boysenberry, balsamic Bing cherry, white peach and strawberry are the soft serves of choice this month; vanilla is always available.

I grew up with and am still totally partial to Carvel ice cream, one of the original soft-serve ice cream vendors. Carvel’s product is technically a frozen custard because it contains egg yolks, although it turns out that it also contains mono- and diglycerides, which come from natural sources but aren’t strictly necessary for a good soft-serve product. That won’t stop me from eating Carvel, since it tastes great and still has the best texture I’ve ever had in soft-serve ice cream, but maybe it’s time for me to branch out a little.

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→ July 24, 2008
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Kale with Garlic and Chorizo.

I bought some kale today at Whole Foods on a whim. I’ve never had kale before, but I keep reading how healthful it is, and I feel like I make the same three or four vegetables all the time anyway. Knowing the affinity that dark green, leafy vegetables have for garlic, cured pork, and lemon, I went rooting around in my freezer for some bacon … and found, instead, some chorizo I’d frozen probably two months ago and forgotten. Thus, this dish.

1 bunch kale (no idea how you measure this stuff)
2 cloves garlic, slivered
1 link chorizo or andouille sausage (cured or dried, but not fresh), diced finely
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp water
pinch salt
lemon juice (optional)

1. Remove the kale leaves from their stems. (Best way: Fold the leaf in half at the stem, cut the stem away from the leaf.) Slice crosswise into ribbons. Rinse in a salad spinner or colander.
2. In a large lidded sauté pan, heat the olive oil until hot but not smoking. Add the garlic and sausage and sauté until the garlic is brown, the oil has turned slightly red or golden, and the sausage is fragrant.
3. Add as much kale as the pan will hold and toss gently in the oil. When this wilts, add more kale, continuing until all of the kale is added.
4. Add the 1 Tbsp water and reduce the heat to medium. Put the lid on the pan and cook for 15 to 18 minutes, until the kale has turned a deep green and is fully wilted. (The curly edges will still be curly and a little stiff.)
5. Season with salt and, if desired, a twist of lemon juice. Serve immediately.

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