Resurrection.

My little food snob of a blog has been rattling in her cage lately. For a minute there, she was placated by Christmas carols and New Year's vacations, but the din she makes around supper-time is outrageous.

So I'm Back.

I'm back, and I'm going to tell you about fish tacos.
The first thing to know about fish tacos is that I'm usually very partial to the beer-battered deep-fried kind. However, I wasn't feeling that heavy last Monday so I decided to just wing it.

And that's when the cage broke.

Non-Battered Fish Tacos
Feeds two people two-to-three tacos

For fish:
1 lb Cod Pieces
1/2 c. flour
1 tbsp Aleppo

For Cabbage: (can be made ahead)
3/4 a bag shredded cabbage (or half a small head)
1/3 c. plain Greek yogurt (I use 2%)*
1-2 tbsp. Mayonnaise
1 tbsp Penzey's Buttermilk ranch mix*
1 tsp. Aleppo*
Juice from half a lime
salt and pepper to taste

To Serve:
1 pt. grape or cherry tomatoes
small diameter tortillas
shredded cheese (optional)

Method:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Defrost fish in a bowl of cold water. While fish is bathing, cut the tomatoes in half and arrange them face up on a baking sheet with sides. Cover the sheet first with tinfoil if you also hate washing baking sheets. Drizzle olive oil, salt and pepper on the tomatoes and put them in the now-warm oven.
Don't forget about them.
Check on fish. Change its water if necessary, or, If its defrosted, pour the water off and dry it on paper towels.
To assemble cabbage, mix everything together in a large bowl. To be fair, I didn't actually measure any of that stuff when I made it, so use your head, if necessary. If you are not eating immediately, or are preparing the cabbage in advance (which isn't a half bad idea), err on the side of too much cabbage/not enough dressing, as just a couple hours will reduce the volume of the cabbage by half as it absorbs the dressing and settles/looses air.
Once the fish is dry (ish) mix the flour and Aleppo. You'll be shocked to learn that I didn't measure this either, but your looking for a fairly high ratio of Aleppo to flour, and just enough flour to coat all your fish pieces.
Heat your favorite frying pan over medium-high heat with a tablespoon or so of olive oil. Dredge the fish pieces in the flour mixture till just coated. When the oil is hot, add them to the pan. Work in batches if necessary so that they don't overlap.

You forgot about the tomatoes, didn't you.

That's alright, check them now, they're probably just right-- disintegrated and a little caramelized. Take them out of the oven.
To serve, assemble fish, cabbage and tomatoes in a warmed tortilla. Or, if you wanted, in a small pan lightly coated in oil, melt a little bit of shredded cheese between two tortillas and built your taco in a mega,cheese-filled tortilla.

* Some notes on ingredients:
1. Plain Greek yogurt tastes a whole lot like sour cream, is the same texture/viscosity, has a lot less calories, and is actually really good for you (live cultures and what not). I keep a sour-cream sized tub of it in the fridge at all times: Its great for breakfast or a snack with honey (or jam or something else to sweeten it), it can be used as sour cream for Mexican or Indian, and is a great base for dips-- add taco seasoning for sweet potato fries, or chopped spinach and shallots for spinach dip.

2. If you don't know about Penzey's spices, you should. They run a primarily mail-order operation of herbs and spices that are high-quality, affordable, and specifically sourced-- they carry four different types of cinnamon! I extra-recommend a trip to one if their stores if you can swing it-- touching and smelling and exploring all those spices is a sensual bliss. (The nearest store in southeast Michigan is in Beverly Hills.)

3. I'm sure I've ranted about Aleppo before, but I have to do it again. I use it more than any other spice or seasoning. Its a soft, subtle, flavorful heat that is never overwhelming. I've only ever seen it at Penzey's though, so you should probably just go order some.

If you miss me

Look for me here.
Student teaching doesn't allow for worded-frivolities.

Italian peasant pantry pasta

In my opinion, being able to cook out of the pantry is an important skill, and one that I think is a tell-tale mark of a good home cook-- one must first know what to stock a pantry with, then, have the dedication to maintain it and the ingrained knowledge of flavors to use it successfully. To be absolutely clear, up there where I say "good," I do not mean adequate. I mean good in the thick sense, like the curves of a beanpot coddling a ham hock and cannellinis, or mothers' hips shaping out a skirt. Solid. Reliable. And good.
This post was supposed to be about wine. In fact, I have told at least three different people that my next post would be about three specific wines. I even dug the empty wine bottles out of the recycling and took pictures of them.
Indstead, I'm going to make a liar out of myself and tell you about the unexpected pantry pasta I made last night, entirely out of pantry items.


Despite my best efforts, summer is escaping.
This dish seems sort of timely, then, on-the-brink Italian peasant sort of food. I prepared this as four distinct elements that I then piled on a plate: pasta, eggplant, tomato-bean sauce and tuna. It was a nice presentation and I think cooking each bit separately, while a little time consuming, ultimately added to the complexity of the dish.

Peasant pasta with tuna
1 can yellow fin tuna
cooked pasta of your choosing-- I used TJ's basil garlic linguine
bread crumbs
Parmesan

For sauce:
olive oil
3 large cloves garlic pressed
5 ripe tomatoes,or about a can and a half canned in a large dice (drain canned ones; leave the seeds in fresh ones)
1 can drained and rinsed cannellini beans
~1/4 balsamic vinegar
~1/4 red wine
salt and pepper
a few good shakes of Aleppo

For eggplant:
one large eggplant, cut in to rounds
olive oil
salt, pepper, Aleppo

Method:

In your favorite saucing pot, cook garlic in a couple table spoons of oil, careful not to let it burn. Add tomatoes and simmer. Add beans and vinegar. Let it cook down a bit and add wine. Season with salt, pepper and allepo. keep over low- medium heat, replenishing liquids with additional splashes of wine and balsamic if it starts to cook off to much. The finished product should be thick like a stew and a deep red.

At the same-ish time, slice the eggplant thinly (1/4" ish). Lay flat on a baking sheet and drizzle with a slightly excessive amount of oil on both sides, then salt, pepper and Aleppo generously. Bake at 300-400 degrees, depending on how much time you have/how hungry you are.
Flip eggplant slices half way though. I left them for about 25 minutes at about 400.

When everything's about ready, drain and press as much water as possible out of the tuna, then sautee it in a small pan with a little olive oil until its starting to look a little crispy.

Serve in an artfully arranged pile in this order:

pasta---a few eggplant slices--bean sauce--tuna flakes--sprinkling of breadcrumbs---sprinkling of cheese.

I recommend smashing it all together a bit before eating, to get the full effect of texture and flavor.

farmshare: Notes for the Curious

Yes, yes, I'm one of them; I have a farm share. It's terribly hip of me, I know, but I don't really feel bad about it: Its a pretty awesome concept-- who could say no?


For those unfamiliar, a CSA farmshare is basically like investing in a farmer. You give them money at the beginning of the year to fund the farm, they give you produce as it is harvested. Essentially, I paid $300 in May for a half bushel of produce every week.
This is not a new concept, but it is the first time I've done it. Now that we're over half way through the growing season, the share and I have gotten in to a rhythm, I think, and I've been compiling some notes on the topic.

1. Regardless of the cool-ness of the concept, this is not "special" food. Eat it. Now.
The first couple of weeks, I suffered from special/cool/new disorder-- you're familiar with it, I'm sure-- where I was hesitant to use my share except in the *perfect* recipe--suateeing just wasn't good or clever enough. It turns out though, that unlike your favorite party dress when you were eight, produce does not like to wait around on the shelf for adequately fancy occasions. In fact, very unlike your special-occasions outfit, it will wilt and rot in record time, fast than you really realized was possible, until you've made a hobby and/or drinking game out of swatting fruit flies. Produce is not something to get sentimental about.



2. Creativity takes on new meaning when you get 6 ears of corn a week for a month.
The biggest downside of the farmshare concept is that you don't get to choose what produce goes in your half bushel-- your limited to what your CSA grows, has in season and wants to allot you.
Such as 6 ears of corn a week for a month. To be clear, this is not at all the worst thing that's ever happened to me, just one that required a little creativity. Similarly, I haven't a clue what to do with celery herb (tastes like celery, looks like parsley-- I guess soup?) For as much fun as being presented with a box of fresh food is, it can take considerable efforts in the arenas of creativity and time. I know I'm not the fist person to say this; I had read all about the farmshare-oh-shit-phenomenon before I bought one. Its just one of those things that's hard to fully grasp without having experienced, like hair bands or roller coasters, I think.

3. Your pick-up day matters.
Overall, I do think it's a good investment, but next year I may look in to another farm that offers a more consistent variety of produce and will choose my pick-up day less arbitrarily-- right now it's on Tuesdays, which is problematic since I tend to work ten hour shifts on Tuesday and Wednesday, meaning I can't even think about starting to cook until Thursday, and by that point, things are starting to wilt.

Madison in parts: Street Food

To a girl that grew up on a dirt road called Rustic lane, street food has always been foreign fodder contained in the pages of timelessly trashy teen novels about LA and movies my mom probably didn't want me to watch. For all practical purposes, street food was something that dragons and the tooth fairy ate while they were kickin' it in alternate-universe Mexico.
Even if you feel a bit less hyperbolic about food sold out of carts, I'd wager a guess that the phrase conjures images of tacos dripping grease and bursting hotdogs on wonderbread buns.


Well, I'm here to tell you that such veiws are becoming, well, wrong. The September 2009 issue of Bon Appetit declares "the art of the street cart" a "delicious dining revolution."
After my Friday afternoon encounter in Madison, I'm inclined to agree. Who knew?
We stumbled upon this diag-esque strip of brick at the end of State Street, tucked between an odd shaped Catholic Church and the University Library. Lining it were eight or ten street food carts, offering everything from smoothies to Indonesian fare. With four hungry adults to feed, we shopped around and then gathered back on the lawn of library square to share our findings.




Jason's choice was Hibachi steak. While they clearly win the award for best-dressed mini trailer, it wasn't all looks-- that hibachi steak was pretty good too, salty and tender, with a spicy sweet tang from the barbecue style sauce that topped it.



From the Indonesian cart, Kakilima, we chose a dish that was fried chicken and potatoes, served with a tangy sauce. The seasoning reminded us of the massaman chicken curry at Tuptim. It was served with a salad of pickled carrots and cucumbers-- the crunch and tang contrasted the softness of the rest of the dish nicely.



South of the border style food may seem like an unadventurous cop-out of a choice for street food-- unless your my dad, the quesadilla master. He can do things with beans and a tortilla that Napoleon Dynamite can't even imagine. The chicken quesadilla from Sabores Latinos cart didn't contain beans, but was otherwise a fine specimen of the trade, if a little messy.

Over all, we had a pretty stellar dining experience-- great variety, great flavor, and great price (about $5 a dish). According to 77 Square, "the definitive" Madison entertainment guide this is not quite concidence as "getting a spot, a good one, on the Mall requires enduring a process regulated by the city. Each September, a group of 20 judges reviews each cart and assigns a point rating based on physical aspects, food menus and variety." And while I'm sure we've all got a thing or two to say about government, this seems to be one thing Madison got absolutely right.

Madison in parts: The Dane County Farmer's Market

Around here, we like our farmer's markets, I know. The Ann Arbor Market could pick a fight with almost any other market in southeast Michigan and win on sheer number of supporters alone. Ann Arbor farmer's market rolls deep, and for a good reason-- we have a great little producer-only market on our hands.

The Dane County Farmer's Market market is also Producer-only, but boasts over 300 vendors (for contrast, A2 has about 100) and is widely believed to be the largest producer-only market in the county.
It's mind boggling. It's farmer's market mecca. I'm serious. Its the only farmer' s market written up in that 1,000 Places to see Before you Die book (as far as I can tell from my very unempirical flipping through). It is the market.

It's held each Saturday around capitol square, which is the sidewalk that rings Madison's spectacular capitol building in the center of downtown.
It is a well established fact that foot traffic moves counter clockwise around the square-- not that you have much of a choice. By the the time we left at 11 am, the crowds were like art fair, or Huron's 6200 hall, or floor ticket at a concert. A concert full of veggie loving folk with a thing for cave aged Gouda and cheese curds.



Not to mention ostrich jerky and jam and snickerdoodles and hot and spicy cheese bread, which was still warm when we bought it, wispy like old fashioned school rolls, flecked with hot pepper flakes and greasy cheese pockets.

It definitely did not make it home with us.

Madison, in parts: The Tractors

Last weekend, I went to Madison, Wisconsin with my family for the national meeting of International Harvester enthusiasts, aptly known as The Red Power Roundup (let me tell you, there's more to it than that damn Craig Morgan song).

While farm-implement shows may not seem like a steamy cup a tea to everybody, I find them pretty neat, and not just because the first thing I drove was a tractor. Much like a comic book convention or quilt show, this is a cultural experience, a microcosm of passionate individuals who never fail to exceed expectation and stereotype. Even when their thing is not my thing, I always enjoy the company of folks who love what they're doing.

There wasn't much in the way of food at the show though, not unless you count Kent's Big Bars, which are undeniably delicious homemade ice cream bars, and What My Family Made For Dinner each night, which also fell in the categories of ridiculous and delicious.

Madison, However, and It's crazy between-the-lakes, monster capitol squared in by one-way streets, bike-trails everywhere self had a lot to say on the subject. So, instead of giving you a novel on my trip to Madison, I will be writing about it in a series, a little trick I learned from trying to write one poem about ten different things. That poem wasn't very good, but I think these posts will be.

In the meantime, I'd like to show you a couple of pictures from the show, which I know, you're thinking I came here to see about food but I'd like to take this as a public service announcement opportunity and encourage you to think about where your food came from who grew it -- not just the pointedly local food you get at the market, but all of it-- and then, maybe, to share in some of the small joys of farmers, like using the same tractor your Grandpa bought new.

Farmall 1206 Turbos from the fifties and sixties.

International Harvester is just any ole tractor company; the founder, Cyrus McCormick, invented the horse drawn reaper that revolutionized the way the entire world farmed.

The Family Havanese, Asta, dressed for the occasion.

Our Truck, a 1966 Travelall, waiting to parade to the Wisconsin Historical Archives.

Me and Kent's Big Bar.

Art+beer= Fair

If you want to read what I had to say about the Shadow Art Fair, you should look here.
It includes beer but mostly is about Shadow Art Fair, thus it is an Annarbor.com exclusive. Check it.

Old News

When I am struck by long bouts of busy/ lazyness such as this, I always debate weather I should start back up with the thing i was going to post a month ago and never got around to, or if I should ignore what happened between my latest blog worthy experience and the last posted one.
Today I decided to give you news from June 1st anyway.
If you are just so over the Taste of Ann Arbor, well, then, I guess you should go read something else-- but maybe scroll down real quick and look at the pictures.



In case you missed it (or are just one of those sorts of people who like to have the same bedtime story read to them over and over again) Taste of Ann Arbor was a Sunday street festival that closed down Main street between William and Washington, borrowed the art fair booths and filled them with bite-sized tastes from local restaurants. In true festival/fair form, you bought tickets (see above) from a lady wearing a smock and sun visor and traded those for food.
Pictured with the tickets above is pulled pork from Connor O'Neill's, which certainly wasn't my first choice for either restaurant or food item. However, when you arrive half an hour or so before things shut down you can't really be choosy about what's left.

What you can do though, is get lucky: as we strolled around post pulled pork, a certain dessert caught my eye: Amadeus had one piece of iced apple torte left, which turned out to be exactly what I wanted. I have to imagine that the chilling was for outdoor food safety purposes and that indoors, it would be served warm, which would be fine-- adaptive, even-- because this was an apple masterpiece: tart and sweet, crunchy and soft with a hint of lemon. Apple perfection is no small honor around these parts: both Jason and my favorite pie is apple. He won't even let me bake him one he likes his mother's so much.

Jason got that piece of chocolate raspberry cake up there, which was soft and airy and moist and delicious, but it couldn't hold a birthday candle to that tart.

I'm getting off track. What I meant to tell you about-- or perhaps remind you about-- is Amadeus. Its not new or flashy or loud. It's menu doesn't contain wild caught rock shrimp with mango arugula chutney.
They do have kielbasa and pirogi though,and tradition and romance and old world charm a little like your grandfather, though their coffee is probably stronger than your grandfather would like it. You probably walk past it all the time, on your way to Arbor Brewing or Habana or the like. It's right there on Washington, dimly lit behind some curtains.
Next time, I recommend you poke your head in, at least for coffee and dessert, and just see if you can resist. I dare you.


This will be my last post before I *squeal* go "syndcated" and also post my blog at the Ann Arbor News' new online home, Annarbor.com, which goes live Friday, July 24th. Check me out there too, I may occasionally post non-food things over there in the Duce section. Woot. End Broadcast.

Bitters

SO, I like the idea of cocktails. They seem sort of neat, and perhaps sophisticated, and at least a little more interesting than than my usual whiskey straight or, as previously mentioned, the occasional gin and tonic. But, you need stuff to make them. More precisely, you need little bits of stuff-- dashes and eighths of teaspoons for instance. I'm pretty sure that's why I generally avoid them; they seem like a nuisance. Like Gnats or fruit flies or lint.
Therefore, I'm perpetually secretly seeking an arsenal of mixed drink recipes-- ones that simply require pouring pours and mixing with ice via the lone sundae spoon that always ends up underneath the silverware tray some how.
And that, ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, is how I ended up with a bottle of Campari. I would request conspiracy charges however, for the guy who wrote the "lazy bartender" blurb in last month's Bon Appetit that described Campari as the perfect summer cocktail when mixed simply with club soda.
Given such a glowing review, you can imagine my surprise when I wandered over to the Campari website and they described it as "the ultimate acquired taste"... should they be trying to sell the stuff? Honestly, how bad could it really be?
The reverse psychology worked. We ran out and bought a bottle.
Campari is neutral grain alcohol flavored with a secret blend of herbs and barks and bug shells (for color) that tastes approximately like the peel of a grapefruit: a lovely light citrus that is quickly replaced by the purest bitter imaginable, the sort of pureness that lands metals and gasses on the periodic table.
And people drink it. For fun. People like me, apparently, since Jason and I are now proud owners of a whole fifth of it.
Now, least Jason call me on it, I am being a bit hyperbolic. Or at least, he would think so, because he likes the stuff, cold, mixed with a little club soda.
I do not. There's a cocktail made out of this stuff, called a negroni, which adds sweet vermouth and gin, which I find palatable, but the best way I've discovered to drink it is in a light white wine, like cheap Vhino Verde, which is down right delicious.
And while the fifth was nearly $30, and near everyone I have handed it to thus far has made a face like a cat in the bathtub upon first sip, I'd say it's worth buying for a party if you never have. Just make sure you have a little sweeter white wine around, or even orange juice, and you just may acquire the taste.

Dominoes and Gin

Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm back. I apologize for my extended absence, it wasn't all fun and games-- its was mostly papers and research (if you have a hankering to read 10 pages of analysis about Success For All Schools, or The Workshop in the Classroom, or Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, I could hook that up) with occasional fits of cooking and evenings running.



I tried my hand at blender-soup, for example, in my absence. You can see how well that went. It was a birthday present for my mother; broccoli with a lemon sour cream, and she liked what was left after I threw it all over my poor coffee pot.
I have been the family farm twice; once to soak in the late march sun with the last of the hay bales, and once to plants rows of root vegetables, which, as my mom pointed out, need the same amount of love, but less watering.
I've only had dinner on the deck three times, but I intend on changing that soon. And buying more charcoal.
I've had two evenings of gin and tonics and have gotten much better at dominoes, as well as BS, which everyone agrees reminds them of summer camp or middle school.



I understand that its out of season right now-- (along with white pumps, snow shovels and corn) but-- I've been hoarding.
Recipes, that is.
A dinner party, more specifically. I've slowly collected a mental dinner party for you.
I, of course, did not have a dinner party; I had finals. So, fair warning, I think this sounds great theoretically, but it could turn out to be like communism-- great on paper.
Anyhow, at the very least, I can vouch for deliciousness and simplicity separately, and highly recommend all of the following for any occasion.

Appetizers:
Fried Chickpeas
Cured things: garlic stuffed olives, salami, prosciutto, etc.
Carbohydrate: crackers, or toasty baguette pieces
A cheese you like; I like Gouda.
Fruit, as it is *almost* fruit season.

Salad, with baby greens and beets and feta and pecans and vinagrette

Baked Orzo with Shirmp

Rhubarb Custard Pie




So, chickpeas. In case you missed, I loooove chickpeas. This, however, is my favorite way to love chickpeas-- its more of a formula than a recipe though. Your going to need a can or two of chickpeas, one if its for you, two if its for sharing. Rise the chickpeas, in a colander or in the can, and then dry them out on paper towel.
In a good sized heavy pan, heat up a large glug of olive oil. Remember, your frying not sauteeing-- you want enough to make 'em greasy, but not so much that they're swimming.
Once the oil is hot, add your garbanzos. Ideally, you want them to brown and crust a little, and get sort of creamy on the inside. When you feel confident that this is happening (sneak one out of the pan if you need tangible proof), add about a teaspoon or so of smoked paprika, which come in a tin like this and can be found at Morgan and York, if I recall correctly, and generous salt and pepper. I recommend adding a little Aleppo pepper, which is an oily Syrian flake-- leave it out you have hot smoked paprika, though.
If you have no smoked paprika, you really really should get some, but regular ol' paprika will do in a pinch.
Ok, well, that's it. You're done. Put 'em in a pretty bowl with a spoon, and watch them disappear.

The rest of the appetizers and salad I think you can figure out on your own.
On to the largest Pyrex you own.

You're going to need it for the baked orzo. I followed the recipe pretty exactly (which I have shamelessly stolen from Gourmet), but would make a few changes next time-- I used a pound of jumbos, which was not enough; two would have been great. The recipe has you mix in the shrimp with the pasta, which makes them hard to find, and thus, hard to serve evenly. Next time I would fish 'em out of the sauce before mixing with the orzo and spread them over the top, under the cheese, before baking. I could also see grilling the shrimp and then throwing 'em on there, instead of cooking them in the sauce.
I'm sorry I didn't take any pictures, I should have as I had plenty of time-- Jason and I ate it for three days straight.

Ingredients

• 1 medium onion, finely chopped
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano, crumbled
• 1/4 teaspoon dried hot red pepper flakes
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 1 (28- to 32-oz) can crushed tomatoes
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 lb large shrimp (about 36), shelled and deveined
• 1 lb orzo (rice-shaped pasta)
• 1/2 cup Kalamata or other brine-cured black olives, pitted and chopped
• 1 lb feta, patted dry and crumbled (3 cups)

Preparation

Preheat oven to 425°F.

Cook onion, garlic, oregano, and red pepper flakes in 1 tablespoon oil in a 4-quart heavy pot over moderately high heat, stirring, until onion is softened, about 3 minutes. Add wine and boil until reduced by half, about 3 minutes. Stir in tomatoes and salt, then reduce heat and simmer briskly, stirring frequently, until slightly thickened, about 8 minutes. Stir shrimp into sauce and simmer, stirring occasionally, until shrimp are just cooked through, about 3 minutes.

While sauce and shrimp are cooking, cook orzo in a 6-quart pot of boiling salted water until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup cooking water, then drain orzo in a sieve. Return orzo to pot and toss with remaining tablespoon oil. Stir in sauce with shrimp and reserved cooking water, then add olives and salt and pepper to taste.

Spoon half of pasta into an oiled 13- by 9- by 2-inch glass baking dish, then sprinkle with half of feta. Top with remaining pasta and feta, then bake in middle of oven, uncovered, until cheese is slightly melted and pasta is heated through, 10 to 15 minutes.

Rhubarb Custard Pie was not my idea. It was something my mom whipped up last Sunday after spending the day planting potatoes, and it was already in the fridge by the time I arrived for dinner. I must admit, when she first put my little slice in front of me, I was skeptical-- it was this funny pale green color that reminded me of a faded and yellowed fifties photograph. It turns out thats a fair assessment of this pie-- pale and calm and markedly old fashioned, except that it tastes a thousand times better than I could imagine anything else that color tasting. It's sweet and rhubarb-sour and thick, all in the right places.

Ingredients
4 cups medium diced rhubarb
1 ¾ cup sugar ( or even a little less)
¼ c flour
2 tbsp water
½ tsp salt

2 egg beaten
3 tbsp milk

grated nutmeg to tatse—teaspoon or so
1 tbsp butter

Top and bottom pie crust, prepared from the recipe of your choice

Method

In a pot big enough to hold it all, combine the first four ingredients and cook down over medium-ish heat for about 15 minutes.

meanwhile, make your crusts.

If you have time, let the rhubarb mixture cool. If you don't we'll go over that in a minute.

In a large bowl, combine the milk and eggs. If you cooled your rhubarb, whisk it all in. If you didn't, add the rhubarb a cup or so at a time so the dairy doesn't curdle. Add the nutmeg.

Arrange the bottom crust in a pie plate, and spoon your filling in. Cut off little chunks of the butter, and spread them evenly atop the filling. Roll out your top crust and affix it to the bottom one. Don't forget to cut steam holes and give it a little egg wash so it browns up nice.

Bake at 350 for 40-50 minutes, depending on your oven.

A weekend in the City

In case you hadn't caught on, my boyfriend is pretty spectacular. For instance, my valentine's day gift was a hand painted mug (I love mugs. I have a genetic love of dishes from my mother) and today, he cleaned (!) my room (!) while I was at work because I spent the day moaning about how I hadn't gotten anything done, cleaning or otherwise, and he likes me. In addition to be amazing, his best friends have a beautiful apartment in Chicago, and have extended us an open invitation to their spare room.

So, far we have quickly destroyed it each time we visit and even hung our bath towels to dry on the edges of James' electric drums-- but James and Ariel have been very good sports.
So good in fact, that when I suggested we check out an underground supper club in town, they were not only agreeable, but excited. Chicago's version is called Clandestino, and the ring leader, Efrian, got his start with the much publicized Ghetto Gourmet interviewed in the first link. The dinner we attended was in the loft office of a mortgage company.
Well, everyone keeps asking, How was it?



It was cool. It was way cool. The vibe was awesome, the people were great, and the sense of community was visible. The food was delicious, meticulously planned and exuded soul and spirit. Menu was as follows:

Chips and 2 salsas
Flautas w/ lamb chorizo and potato
Spanish Mackerel ceviche, cured w/ lime and grapefruit
Chicken Tortilla Soup
Birria de Chivo, served in roasted poblano
Tres Leches Torte

The winners, in my opinion, were the chicken tortilla soup and the Birria, which is goat. The soup, especially, was subtle and salty and deep without being rich.


The goat though. It was my first goat-eating experience, and it was infinitely better than my over-all first goat experience, which occurred at the tender age of three at the Detroit Zoo when a goat snatched my zoo-map right out of my chubby hands and had the nerve to chew it apart it in front of me.
This goat course was sublime. It was sort of shredded, and stuffed in a pepper with a little rice and topped with a little cheese. It was tender but chewy, and I ate it quicker than I wanted to, because, well, I couldn't help it. It came with what seemed to be roasted root veggies and smear of some sort of barbecue-like sauce that, I swear, with the squash, was one of the best sauces I have tasted.

Afterward, we went to the Signature Room for a drink, which is the bar at the top of the Hancock building with spectacular, hard to photograph and easy to be awestruck by views. My scotch on the rocks was $13, and so was Ariel's amaretto and James' Bloody Mary, which was, coencidentally, too spicy to drink. It was nice though, and we were dressed for it.

On the way home, we had the cabbie take us to a liquor store and the boys went in and bought bought some beer while Ariel and I held the cab.
We may have gone to bed a little late, and may have woken up a little hungover. So in the early afternoon, we meandered through the radiant sunshine to ye old Zagat-rated corner breakfast spot, Nookie's.

It was so good I didn't even finish my eggs, and I love eggs over easy. The coffee was free and Jason had buckwheat pancakes and after, we took a train downtown and spent the afternoon in one of my very favorite places on earth (so far), the Art Institute of Chicago, which not only has some of my favorite Toulouse-Lautrec and Monet's haystacks, but American Gothic, which I find in even more surreal to be in the same room with than Surat's monster.



Did I mention that James recently graduated from the Chicago Le Cordon Bleu institute? Right.
So, Sunday James made us a fantastic pork tenderloin dinner that every bit reflected his formal education and love of food.

That night we played a make shift version of cranium and watched The King of Kong, which, was ridiculous and I recommend highly.

In the morning, Jason and I picked up a little bit and crept out, long after James had left for work at the fish market, while Ariel slept and Stan chased water around the bath tub.

Canada is just over there

The time has come: It is truly, unmistakably, most dismally, winter. The holidays have past, the sun is sparse, and the few warmer days we do have are just a cruel set up for impending blizzards. (That's right Michigan, after 20 years I've figured you out).
It would be a great time for a California vacation, except that as I figure it, it would cost the entire contents of my checking account to get there.
However, for about $18 in travel expenses you can can still spend the afternoon tasting wine.

Pictures by the mamma

Though it's easy to overlook, Ontario is just right over there, and they have their very own guaranteed vintacultural region (like Italy's DOCG in theory). In a little over an hour, you can make it to Lake Erie's north shore region, which is packed full of wineries willing to give a free taste on a Sunday afternoon. The official winery route map shows six, and we stopped at least one that wasn't on the map. There are little grape signs everywhere once you get down there.

Jason, Me, and the daddy at Sprucewood Shores

If you need a mini vacation, this is what you need to do. I swear. You don't even need a passport. And if you take the tunnel, when you get out, there's a tourist information center where the lone lady manning the giant desk will pluck you a map and write directions on it upside down AND highlight your route.

No, not all the wine was amazing. Quite a bit of it was watery. (I'm willing to attribute this to the relatively cold growing season) But the merlot-cab at Colchester Ridge was excellent, and the Mastronardi cab franc was quite nice too. And, Windsor has quite a few nice restaurants that are remarkably cheap (we have been particularly impressed with Mezzo, though we researched quite a few others that looked nice-- they just didn't serve lunch.)


In short, it was a satisfying Sunday. We drove back to Windsor along the river as the sun was setting, and as it grow colder outside we relaxed in to the front seats and didn't even have to look at each other to know that this was good. When we got home, we fell asleep on the couch in a heap, waking up just in time for a round of scrabble before bed--
And if that's not vacation, I don't know what is.

Weekends, for me, aren't quite the relaxing opportunity for doing all the thing that get pushed aside all week-- I work until midnight Friday and Saturday, which severely limits my ability to relax in general (if you've ever accidentally tried to go to Trader Joe's on a Saturday afternoon you'll understand why), not to mention my ability to do weekend-type food things, like cook or go out. As a result of this, if I don't have a solid plan and alarm set for Sunday, I am highly predisposed to accidentally sleep all day, and spend the early afternoon eating peanut butter and jelly on frozen waffles while drinking coffee and getting lost in the internet.

I am pleased to announce, however, that I did an excellent job of doing stuff this weekend.

Friday after work we headed out to Sidetrack's for post-work beer. While this really isn't anything unusual, I did want to mention that while Sidetrack's occasionally has the worst service of any restaurant in the Ypsi-Arbor area (it occasionally takes a strong combination of luck, persistence and a touch of bitchy-ness to get a waiter) they also have a great selections of beer on tap (such as Bell's hop slam currently) and the kitchen is open until 2am. Sidetrack's is know for their burgers, which are excellent, but my favorite is their wacky selection of bar-food appetizers-- particularly beer-battered and deep-fried pickles. If you've never had a deep-fried pickle, you really should, and Sidetrack's are far better than any others I've had. They also deep-fry battered artichoke hearts, and make a mean veggie slider. Click here for the menu-- also of note are the Irish egg rolls, which are just so grossly delicious.




On Saturday, Jason and I went to Morgan and York for lunch. M&Y do made to order sandwiches at the deli counter, and while they're giving Zingerman's competition for the most expensive sandwich in town ($10-11) Morgan and York's offerings are subtler, and more inventive. Last time we went, I had shredded beets and spicy ham, this time I went for Bresola and artichoke. What these sandwiches lack in size is easily made up for in flavor, not to mention that it just feels good to hold hands and slowly wander the shop while your sandwiches are made, reading bottles and chocolate bars and vinegar descriptions. Its a lovely way to spend part of a sunny Saturday afternoon before work. And, least I forget, they have this ridiculous Zucchini soup (its in the bowl up there) that's only $12 for a whole quart. The soup doesn't have any cream in it-- but it's creamy and thick and just a little bit spicy and comes with a little cup of mancheigo to sprinkle on it, and somehow, it feels very forgiving. It is a nice soup.
I will warn you though, that while you wander around and look at things in a way that's a cross between a kid in a candy shop and an afternoon at an art museum, you are likely to find something that is out of your budget that you convince yourself would be ok to try because it's Saturday, and the sun's out and you have a quart of forgiving soup waiting for you.
We ended up with a six-pack of Bell's hopslam.

There it is, hangin out on my windowsill.

a six pack of beer doesn't sound so bad, except that this particular six pack is $18.50. Yes, that 1 is supposed to be there. Hopslam is one of Bell's specialty beers, that is only available seasonally. Why is it so expensive? Well, part of it is that it's a seasonal specialty. The other part is that it's 10% abv. In our defense, we didn't notice the price tag until after it was rung up, and at that point, our gulit about putting it back overrode the gilt about spending $3 a beer.
Is it worth it?
Not really. Don't get me wrong, the stuff is good. Its brewed with honey, which gives it a light citrusy flavor and completely overrides the bitterness of the hops. I liked it a lot, and I do not like IPA's-- i'm a wheat beer girl. Not to mention that one bottle left me completely buzzed, a task that generally takes about two and a half. But, I don't drink to get drunk I drink to you know, enjoy, so the fact that it got me there twice as fast wasn't exactly a posetive.

Verdict: If someone like you enough to buy you one, go for it. I doubt you'll be disappointed. But it's not twice as good as the rest of Bell's beer, so I wouldn't reccomend spending twice as much on it.

What you're having for dinner

you'll have to excuse the fact that I took that with my cell phone, because it is delicious. Now, perhaps you read my last post about the soso-pork "stew" I made for dinner last week. If you did, I'm sorry. Don't make it. I can't imagine why anyone would go through all the bother of making that one, when this one is so much more satisfying and so much quicker. Skeptical? This recipe has 120 positive reviews at epicurious. You can't go wrong-- its got all the makings for perfect-- slightly smoky from the ham, rich and tromato-y, with a lil tiny kick form the arugula. All inside 20 minutes.

Fast White Bean Stew

• 2 large garlic cloves, chopped
• 1/4 cup plus 1/2 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 (14- to 15-ounce) can stewed tomatoes ( I used diced)
  
• 1 3/4 cups reduced-sodium chicken broth
• 2 (19-ounce) cans cannellini beans, rinsed and drained (3 cups)
• 1 (1/2-pound) piece baked ham (1/2 to 3/4 inch thick), cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 (5-ounce) bag baby romaine or baby arugula (10 cups loosely packed)
• 8 (3/4-inch-thick) slices baguette

Preparation

Cook garlic in 1/4 cup oil in a 3 1/2- to 4 1/2-quart heavy pot over moderately high heat, stirring, until golden, 1 to 2 minutes. Coarsely cut up tomatoes in can with kitchen shears, then add (with juice) to garlic in oil. Stir in broth, beans, ham, and pepper and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, 5 minutes. Stir in greens and cook until wilted, 3 minutes for romaine or 1 minute for arugula.

While stew is simmering, preheat broiler. Put bread on a baking sheet and drizzle with remaining 1/2 tablespoon oil. Broil 3 to 4 inches from heat until golden, 1 to 1 1/2 minutes.

Serve stew with toasts.

Dear December,

I'm sorry I've been gone so long. It's been nearly two months, I know. But I have a note from my mother. It reads:
Dear Bogosphere:
Please excuse alli for her lack luster blogging. She has been very busy sleeping on the couch,



putting her aunt's dog in her sister's purse,





and having her parent's over for dinner and feeding them chicken in Riesling, made entirely from Detroit farmer's market purchases.




Regards,
The Mamma

It's true. December was busy. But I wouldn't want to deprive you of my December cooking adventures simply because I am a solid mixture of lazy and overbooked. So.

First, I want to tell you about Maria's Grandma's scramble.


If you look carefully, you can see a big bag of it sitting in the corner there. I'd suggest you pop over to gastronomical three and read Maria's scramble story, as it's particularly lovely and warm and nostalgic. My story about it involves multiple very very slow drives around Ann Arbor to gather the necessary ingredients in lots of snow and even more traffic, which was warm, but not lovely or nostalgic.

Scramble

4-6 cups Cheerios or other multigrain “O” cereal

4-6 cups Wheat Chex

4-6 cups Rice Chex

4-6 cups thin pretzel sticks

2 lbs. mixed nuts

2 cups canola oil ( I used olive oil, because I ran out of canola and the idea of taking 45 minutes to make a 5 minute drive for the second time in a day was too much to bear. It was a noticeable change, as cereal soaked in olive oil tastes like olive oil, but it was a change I enjoyed immensely.)

1 T worchester sauce

1 T onion salt

1 T garlic salt

1 T celery seed ( I did not use celery seed, for the same reason I did not use canola oil)

Preheat oven to 200 degrees

Combine cereals, nuts and pretzels in a large roasting pan. Whisk together oil, worchester sauce and spices. Pour over dry ingredients and mix gently. Bake for two hours in the oven, stirring occasionally, until aromatic and crispy.

* * * * *

Summer Christmas Stew

What do you do with something that calls it self stew but contains 6 CUPS of chopped parsley? Well, first, you should read the entire recipe, particularly the bit that says "serves 12-14 as main course." If you don't, that's ok, you'll just have to eat pork soup for the rest of the week too.

Everyone who ate this thought they liked it. Which, is a pretty fair evaluation of it. See, it's not really stew at all, because it's not nearly thick enough. Also, there's relatively little seasoning, which isn't necessarily bland so much as soft. Then, there is 6 cups of parsley in it-- which makes it taste Clean. Clean like new converse and puppies after baths and your teeth after the dentist. What I'm trying to say is, while it's nice, it sort of unnatural clean. At least, for being soup in the middle of December's issue of Gourmet it is (it is festive looking however, what with the parsley and tomatoes). My mom is adamant that this turned out exactly the way it was intended, and while I don't doubt her, it was not at all what I had intended. (I'm so sorry; I apparently love italics today). So my fix? Cheese (parmesan or mozzarella) and lots of lemon juice at the end. It gives it the richness and kick it's lacking, and is much more pleasing. And while I maybe haven't done the best job of selling this, I'd love it if you tried it your self and told me what you thought.

Cannellini with Pork

NOTE: amounts included below are intened to serve 12-14. I'd reccomend halving.

• 2 pounds dried white beans, such as cannellini or Great Northern (4 3/4 cups), picked over and rinsed
• 5 pounds boneless pork shoulder, trimmed and cut into 1½-inch pieces
• 4 quarts water
• 2 Turkish bay leaves or 1 California
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• 2 medium onions, chopped
• 3 tablespoons finely chopped garlic
• 4 teaspoons finely chopped rosemary
• 1 1/2 pounds cherry tomatoes, halved
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 6 cups flat-leaf parsley (from 3 bunches), very coarsely choppe

Preparation

Soak beans:
Combine beans with enough water to cover by 2 inches in a 4-to 5-quart pot. Bring to a boil and boil 2 minutes, then remove from heat and let stand, covered, while you cook the pork.

Cook pork while beans soak:
Bring pork and water (4 quarts) to a simmer in an 8-to 10-quart heavy pot. Skim any foam, then add bay leaves and oregano. Simmer, uncovered, 1 1/4 hours.

Cook beans and roast tomatoes
Drain beans and add to pork mixture along with onions, garlic, rosemary, and 1 tsp each of salt and pepper. Simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until beans are just tender, 35 to 45 minutes.

While beans simmer, preheat oven to 475°F with rack in upper third. Toss tomatoes with oil and spread out, cut sides up, in a large 4-sided sheet pan. Stir together sugar, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper and sprinkle over tomatoes. Roast until tomatoes begin to shrivel and caramelize on bottom, about 45 minutes.

Finish Stew:
When beans are tender, scoop out about 4 cups beans with a slotted spoon and coarsely mash.

Return mashed beans to stew along with tomatoes, parsley, and 1 teaspoon salt and simmer 3 minutes. Discard bay leaves and season stew with salt and pepper.