BellyGlad

BellyGlad has relocated to Tunisia!

2011-10-12T12:20:00.000-07:00

It's true: Thanks to a grant from the U.S. government, I'm spending a year teaching college students in the coastal city of Sousse, Tunisia. If you're interested in reading about my experiences there, please send an email to bellyglad@gmail.com.

Curious about Tunisian cuisine? Check out Eating our way across Tunisia from May, 2010.

Before & After: Plums from the Central Square farmers' market

2011-07-29T08:29:00.001-07:00

I found these multi-colored plums and thought they looked perfect for a casual galette I was making to take to a friend's barbecue. I used the Frog Commissary crust and prepped it with a mixture of semolina and sugar, as recommended here. The only problem was that I didn't use quite as much sugar with the plums as was recommended (I used only 1 Tablespoon; the recipe called for 3), and the result was a bit more tart than I would have liked. Still, such lovely colors!

Summer Veggie Blessings

2011-07-18T16:29:00.000-07:00

So much has been happening in my life lately (see here) that I've found it difficult to keep up with blogging--though that doesn't mean I haven't been cooking. In fact, nothing calms me down and clears my head like standing in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. So whenever I'm not planning and packing and sorting out financial details and studying Arabic, I'm making things for dinner on the porch or picnics by the river or family get-togethers. And because it's been hot out, I've been favoring lighter fare--especially summer salads and side dishes and main courses made with fresh produce I've collected at the farmers' market. Herewith, a few of my favorite summer recipes and some photos, to boot!

Corn Salad with Cilantro Lime Vinaigrette

6 ears of corn, shucked
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/8 teaspoon ground coriander
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped fresh cilantro

Place ears of corn on a baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil, season with salt and pepper, and roast at 450 degrees for about 25 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool before slicing the kernels from each cob with a knife. Prepare dressing by combining remaining ingredients, then tossing with corn.

Read More http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Cilantro-Lime-Vinaigrette-103849#ixzz1SCTinr6O

Roasted Carrots with Dill
8-10 large carrots (I prefer to use the smaller ones I find at the farmers' market, and slice them lengthwise into halves or quarters)

Olive oil
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, cut into small pieces (optional)
Kosher salt and freshly cracked black pepper
1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill

In a roasting pan, toss carrots with enough olive oil to coat. Top with butter, kosher salt, and pepper. Roast in a 425° oven to desired tenderness, then turn the broiler to high and cook carrots until lightly browned. Sprinkle fresh dill over carrots.

Zucchini Pesto Pizza

For this one, I simply bought a whole wheat pizza dough at Whole Foods and pre-baked it for about 5 minutes on parchment paper. Then, I topped it with homemade pesto, sauteed zucchini slices, onions, and goat cheese crumbles and baked at 450 degrees for about 10 minutes.

Enterprise Mobile Market Hits the Road

2011-05-28T14:00:00.000-07:00

If you attended last year’s Boston Local Food Festival, you probably noticed--amidst the food
vendors and farm stands--a big white bus, outfitted with an awning to provide shade to boxes of
heirloom tomatoes, beets, heads of lettuce, and other produce.

This is the “mobile market,” debuted by Dave Jackson of Enterprise Farm at the first BLFF in
2010. The inspiration for a farmers’ market on wheels came from similar ventures across the
country. At Enterprise (located in Whately, Massachusetts, about two hours west of Boston), the
project began with the purchase of a ‘95 Chevy Bluebird once used by a military traveling band.

“We bought the bus a year ago and converted it over the summer,” said Shelly Beck, project
manager at the farm. She described ripping out the seats and adding produce bins, along with a
refrigerator, stairs out the back, and an awning attached to the side of the bus.

The goal of the bus project is to bring Certified Organic produce grown on Enterprise Farm’s
80 acres to urban areas without access to fresh farm food. Because the fruits and vegetables
are direct from the grower, Beck said, “Prices can be kept low--comparable to wholesale.” The
mobile market also carries a SNAP machine so that it can accept food stamps.

It’s a program that fits well with Jackson’s mission to “change our food distribution system
so that people of all walks of life can eat fresh, local, and healthy.” Recently, he and Beck
partnered with an organization called Shape Up Somerville to bring the mobile market to the
Mystic Avenue Housing Development, an area along Route 93 that qualifies as a “food desert”
because of its lack of access to healthy, affordable food. “It’s the kind of place where you have
to take a cab to get to a grocery store,” Beck said. Starting in June, the mobile market will bring
fresh produce to the neighborhood on Saturdays.

The bus will also make regular stops at housing communities and senior centers in
Northampton and Greenfield, and soon perhaps at a school in Holyoke where Beck envisions
parents’ picking up their kids and stopping to buy some fresh produce on their way home for
dinner. These sites will be testing grounds for the future of the mobile market, Beck said: “We
need to find out what the demand is, what people want, and what the food culture is in these
areas.”

Membership support from the Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program at Enterprise
Farm allows Jackson and Beck to pursue projects like the mobile farmers’ market and to
subsidize some of the cost of the fruits and vegetables sold on the bus. “The best way to
support what we’re doing,” Beck said, “is to join the CSA.”

She hopes to bring the mobile market back to this year’s BLFF so that festival-goers can stop by and learn more about Enterprise’s innovative efforts to make fresh, delicious food more accessible.

Photos courtesy of Shelly Beck.

Eating in the south of France: Highlights from the markets & cafes

2011-05-09T14:33:00.000-07:00

For me, one of the most exciting parts of traveling is checking out the local food scene. We did just that on a recent trip to the south of France, with stops at markets and outdoor cafes in every city and town along the Cote d'Azur and the Rhone River that we visited.

Candied fruits at the Saleya street market in Nice.

Oversize artichokes and "coeur de boeuf" (beefsteak) tomatoes--which, incidentally, David Lebovitz says are a sham.

Luscious zucchini flowers still attached to the veg.

White asparagus, inexplicably beloved by Europeans, still at Saleya.

A pain au chocolat and cafe au lait at a charming bakery and cafe near Saleya that was decorated with pink tulips in the windows.

Local honey, so pretty in the sunlight, at the huge street market in Arles, once home to Vincent van Gogh and (briefly) Paul Gauguin.

Amazing little macarons in every color and flavor, including strawberry, lime, pistachio, vanilla, coffee, mint, etc.

Piles of spices, including a mixture made with rosebuds in the foreground.

A "living" wall known as the mur vegetal on the outside of the Les Halles building that houses the indoor food market in Avignon.

Delicate sea creatures harvested from the Mediterranean, for sale at Les Halles in Avignon.

A picnic lunch procured at a street market in the Croix-Rousse neighborhood of Lyon, and consumed in the Parc de la Tete d'Or. It included a spicy saucisson, green olive tapenade, creamy Saint-Marcellin cheese, a bottle of local Lyonnaise rose wine, and of course, a fresh baguette.

Two glasses of Montrachet wine, costing nearly $20 each and worth every penny, accompanied by olives and cheese, at an outdoor cafe in Beaune.

BSO Hosts Annual Food Drive April 14-May 7, 2011 at Symphony Hall

2011-04-27T03:07:00.000-07:00

Each year (since 2009), the Boston Symphony Orchestra hosts a food drive to benefit the Greater Boston Food Bank, and this year, the drive has been extended from one week to four weeks, with donations of canned foods accepted at all performances and rehearsals April 14-May 7. Even if you don't have tickets for a show, you can still drop off canned goods (but please no baby food or formula) at Symphony Hall between 7pm and 8pm for evening concerts and between 12:30pm and 1:30pm for afternoon concerts. Or make a cash donation online at www.bso.org/fooddrive.

Photo of the Tanglewood Festival Chorus, who made a huge contribution to this year's BSO Food Drive, by Stu Rosner.

BOSTON SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA FOOD DRIVE PROGRAMS, APRIL 14-MAY 7, 2011

Thursday, April 14, 10:30 a.m. (Open Rehearsal)
Thursday, April 14, 8 p.m.
Friday, April 15, 1:30 p.m.
Saturday, April 16, 8 p.m.
Stéphane Denève, conductor
Jonathan Biss, piano
BEETHOVEN Piano Concerto No. 5, Emperor
ROUSSEL Symphony No. 3
RAVEL La Valse
_________________________

Thursday, April 21, 8 p.m.
Friday, April 22, 1:30 p.m.
Saturday, April 23, 8 p.m.
Maasaki Suzuki, conductor
Hana Blažíková, soprano
Ingeborg Danz, mezzo-soprano
Christoph Prégardien, tenor (Evangelist and arias)
Hanno Müller-Brachmann, bass-baritone (Jesus and
arias)
Tanglewood Festival Chorus,
John Oliver, conductor
J.S. BACH St. John Passion (1749 version)
_________________________

Thursday, April 28, 8 p.m.
Friday, April 29, 1:30 p.m.
Saturday, April 30, 8 p.m.
Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos, conductor
Simon Trpčeski, piano
REGER Variations and Fugue on a Theme by Mozart
LISZT Piano Concerto No. 2
RAVEL Boléro
_________________________

Wednesday, May 4, 7:30 p.m. (Open Rehearsal)
Thursday, May 5, 8 p.m.
Friday, May 6, 1:30 p.m.
Saturday, May 7, 8 p.m.
Charles Dutoit, conductor
Bernarda Fink, mezzo-soprano**
Jean-Paul Fouchécourt, tenor
Laurent Naouri, baritone
Tanglewood Festival Chorus,
John Oliver, conductor
BERLIOZ Roméo et Juliette

A chocolate truffle-making workshop in downtown Boston

2011-04-10T16:02:00.000-07:00

I was lucky enough to be invited to a Taste of Chocolate workshop at Elephant & Castle last Saturday, and was pleased to find that the instructor was none other than Valerie Conyngham of Vianne Chocolat (about whom, incidentally, a friend of mine recently wrote a great profile in Edible Boston).

Valerie introduced us to cocoa beans (left) as well as cocoa butter (right), which is often sold by chocolate makers for use in cosmetic products. Some chocolate makers (Hershey's, for instance) replace some of the cocoa butter in their chocolate with vegetable oil, which gives the chocolate a waxy flavor (watch out for this in the list of ingredients when shopping for chocolate).

Valerie showed us an 11 lb. bar of chocolate that used to be the only way chocolate was sold--now it comes in handy chips and disks for chocolate makers.

She demonstrated the process for making chocolate ganache and flavoring it with Chai tea. When making a flavored ganache, you can infuse the heavy cream with a flavor (as she did with the tea) or add the flavor later (as you might do with raspberry jam, for instance). When I asked about the most challenging flavor to get into a ganache, she said that for her it was stout beer.

Though we didn't have a chance to try it ourselves, Valerie spoke about tempering chocolate, a tricky process that requires raising and lowering the temperature of melted chocolate in order to give it that glossy appearance and satisfying snap of chocolate candy you find at a chocolatier. David Lebovitz offers some good information and instructions on tempering here.

Then each student in the workshop received a tray that contained three kinds of ganache--burnt caramel, raspberry, and milk chocolate--and could choose how to assemble the truffles and whether to coat them in tempered chocolate or roll in toppings like ground almonds, toasted coconut, or cocoa powder. The chocolate we used was Callebaut.

The final step in our process was packaging our candies--setting them on gold pads inside little candy boxes and tying them up with ribbon. I took home three boxes of truffles, quite enough for after-dinner treats and sharing with friends.

Nationwide bakesale for Japan this weekend

2011-03-31T06:50:00.000-07:00

Come to Ula Cafe in Jamaica Plain on Saturday 10am-2pm to purchase a baked good and participate in a nationwide bake sale (with 40 locations in various cities across the country) to support Peace Winds Japan. I'll be there from ten to twelve and would love to sell you a muffin!

Recap of the Boston Bakesale for Japan (Sunday, April 3):

This event was a big success, raising over $1600 for Peace Winds with help from Ula Cafe, Clear Flour Bakery, Community Servings, We(heart)macarons, and tons of amateur bakers around Boston who donated baked goods. Many thanks to organizer Tara Bellucci and the volunteers and customers who came out in support of Japan in grassroots, bakesale style!

Raspberry crumb bars ("because Japan is in a crummy spot.")

Oreo cupcakes

Donuts glazed with coffee

Japanese flag stained-glass sugar cookies

Vegan cupcakes with matcha green tea frosting

Volunteers outside Ula Cafe

Folding origami cranes

A Labor of Love: Spaghetti alla Carbonara & 1-2-3-4 Cake with Chocolate Peanut Butter Frosting

2011-03-21T11:56:00.000-07:00

In my family, on your birthday, you get to have whatever you want. (For dinner, that is.)

I like to extend that same privilege to the people I care about the most. So when my beau requested the spaghetti dish we shared at Dante and "peanut butter Tastykakes" for his birthday this past weekend, I set to work figuring out how to make both.

I found a classic version of Spaghetti alla Carbonara (no cream or vegetables or other unnecessary ingredients) via Epicurious, from a 2003 issue of Gourmet Magazine. I picked up some good Parmigiano Reggiano and Pecorino Romano at Whole Foods and was pleased to find that this dish is relatively quick and simple to make and very satisfying to consume. I served it with an arugula salad and a dry red wine to cut the richness of the cheese-and-egg sauced pasta.

For desert, I prepared another classic--a 1-2-3-4 cake that first came to my attention when it was published in an Alice Waters cookbook for kids called Fanny at Chez Panisse. It's a very old recipe whose name is a simple formula for remembering the basic ingredients (1 cup of milk, 2 cups sugar, 3 cups flour, 4 eggs).

When I had looked around online for a chocolate peanut butter frosting, I wasn't convinced that the recipes I was finding were reliable (many of them called for natural peanut butter, which seemed questionable owing to its texture). A pastry chef friend advised making a peanut butter frosting and then covering that with a simple chocolate ganache. But then my sister suggested a milk chocolate peanut butter filling found in The Craft of Baking by Karen DeMasco. She'd made DeMasco's peanut butter sandwich cookies with the filling (and used the leftover as ice cream topping) and swore it was delicious.

As it turned out, the flavors of the yellow cake and the chocolate peanut butter frosting complemented each other very well--and the finished product even tasted like a Tastykake! It wasn't a light meal, but then, a birthday dinner, made with love, should be rich and filling.

Eating at the beach in Rincon, Puerto Rico

2011-03-14T11:50:00.000-07:00

I'll admit that when I booked a trip to Rincon in the midst of a Boston winter, I wasn't thinking much about the food. My main objective was the beach. But as it turned out, there was a lot of good eating to be done right at the beach, or very nearby. Not only eating, but drinking too, especially in the form of local Medalla beer (the only variety of which is light), made in nearby Mayaguez and perfect for a hot day.

One of our favorite spots was the Harbor Restaurant, a family-owned eatery overlooking the Balneario Rincon, the public beach. We tried the grilled pork chops and the hearty mofongo shown below, prepared with mashed green plantains and garlic, stuffed with chicken and served with a rich stew sauce. This was a heavy meal at mid-day but one I was nonetheless glad to try.

There's nothing pretentious about Puerto Rican criollo cuisine, and we had fun trying local favorites like frituras, a selection of fried items including cheese balls, corn sticks, yuca, and mini-empanadas at Tamboo Beside the Pointe off Route 413 (locally known as "the road to happiness"). Mojitos made with fresh mint were a great accompaniment to the view of the crashing waves and surfers at Sandy Beach.

We hardly had to leave the beach to find a meal at Quick Lunch, a food truck just beyond the sand at Steps Beach (which, incidentally, offers some of the best snorkeling in the Caribbean). The local couple behind the counter makes all the food offered here, including pinchos (skewers of barbequed chicken, pork, shark meat, etc), empanadas (filled with mahi mahi, conch, etc), and fresh mango and strawberry smoothies.

Other notable beach-side dining spots included Calypso Grill by Marias Beach and the suprisingly wonderful Ode to the Elephants Thai restaurant overlooking (from high atop a hill) the ocean near Pools and Antonio's Beaches. Farther inland, when clad in shirts and shoes, we liked the custard-filled pastries at EC Bakery on Route 115 near Church's Chicken and the incredibly tasty lechon (roast suckling pig) served with beans and rice and sweet plantains at El Fogon near the Route 429 turn-off.

Blogging for the 2nd Annual Boston Local Food Festival

2011-02-27T12:02:00.000-08:00

Last year, I photographed and posted about my experience at the first Boston Local Food Festival. This year, I'm excited to be blogging for the festival. I also have the chance to provide the organizers with some feedback on making this second iteration even better, and I'd love to hear your ideas. Please email me at bellyglad@gmail.com.

Check out the complete roster of Local Food Festival bloggers!

A wine dinner atop the mountain at Cranmore

2011-02-15T09:57:00.000-08:00

Ski resorts in New England work hard to differentiate themselves from one another, but rarely do they do so through the quality of their cuisine. Cranmore Ski Resort in North Conway, New Hampshire, is doing just that through an innovative series of wine dinners prepared by Chef Glenn Phillips and served at the mountain's summit.

I was lucky enough to be invited to Cranmore to experience a winter wine dinner at the Meister Hut--a vertical log cabin that serves as a warming lodge for skiers during the day and transforms into a cozy fine-dining establishment on wine dinner Saturdays in January and February. Sommelier Missy Nelson of Pine State Trading in Manchester pairs each course with a moderately priced wine, and on the drive back to Boston we were tempted to stop at one of the (tax-free) New Hampshire state liquor stores to pick up a few bottles of the ones we like best.

After a cold glass of Lillet with an orange twist when we first arrived, we began with a Sauvignon Blanc from Honig to accompany a rich lobster-mushroom bisque. Missy told us that the Napa Valley-based winemakers at Honig use sustainable farming methods, as well as a solar-powered winery. They also employ Golden Retriever "sniffer dogs" to sniff out mealybugs in the vines, rather than using a pesticide.

This crisp, fruity white carried us through an appetizer of grilled shrimp served with an edible orchid, and a Caesar salad with marinated Roma tomatoes, colorful peppers, and anchovy fillets.

As we dined, we learned more about the complex process of hosting a wine dinner atop the mountain--which involves preparing the food at the base (because the kitchen at the Meister Hut is so tiny) and transporting it up the mountain via snow cat vehicles once the ski trails have closed for the day. Diners reach the summit by ski lift--which is a fun experience in street clothes and snow boots as opposed to ski gear--and the night we attended, a heavy snow was falling.

Our choice of entrees included an Angus beef tenderloin served with brie cheese yukon gold mashed potatoes, white asparagus, and crispy fried leeks. This was paired with a 2009 William Hill Cabernet Sauvignon that has not yet been released to the public.

A pork tenderloin stuffed with mission fig and fontana syrup and served with a Cabernet-caramelized shallot pan sauce came accompanied by a light California Pinot Noir from Bridlewood.

And finally, our dessert of a berry tart with homemade whipped cream was served with a 10 year-old Taylor Fladgate Fonseca tawny port--a sweet end to an evening of "rustic elegance" by fireside, as Cranmore's Director of Operations (and our wine dinner host) Glenn Harmon said.

And though we'd come up the mountain on the lift, it was snowing so much by the time we left this more than three-hour dinner that we had to catch a ride down in a snow cat. The final wine dinner of the season will happen this Saturday, February 19, and more information can be found here.

A Homemade Agnolotti Pictorial

2011-02-04T05:57:00.000-08:00

We started this project with farm fresh eggs and two new cookbooks on hand--My Calabria and The Geometry of Pasta.

We rolled the dough through a pasta maker my parents got for their wedding.

Then we used a biscuit cutter to make perfect rounds of dough.

These we filled with a mixture of ricotta cheese and fresh herbs, for half the batch, and pureed pumpkin and ricotta cheese, in the other half. Then we folded them over and pressed their edges together with a little egg white to seal them.

We served the pumpkin-filled batch with a brown butter-sage sauce concocted by my sister.

The second batch (just cheese) got a traditional Bolognese sauce on top.

A cookie cutter collection

2010-12-25T12:53:00.000-08:00

In my family, cookie cutters get passed from one generation to the next. That's how my mom has acquired such a large collection, many of them from the 1950s, when my grandmother was making butter cookies heavy on the butter.

On Christmas Day, we got out the whole collection and sorted through it so that I could take some of the duplicates. I'd recently been on a cookie cutter-seeking odyssey through Cambridge and Somerville--inspired by a Scandinavian spice cookie recipe I found in the New York Times that seemed to require a reindeer cookie cutter. Reindeer are native to Norway, Sweden, and Finland, so that shape only seemed natural, but after going to several stores and finding no reindeer, I decided to make do with stars.

My mom's cookie cutter collection contains not one but two kinds of reindeer, along with other four-footed animals like donkeys, horses, elephants, and even camels and dinosaurs.

There are at least six different Christmas trees, and a few different shapes of holly leaves with berries.

The Santas are mostly the old-fashioned kind, carrying large packs of toys on their backs.

In an effort to organize the collection, we separated out the Christmas cutters from the other holidays and miscellaneous shapes.

Sometimes a given cookie cutter was clearly not appropriate for Christmas. "Bell is Christmas. Dove is Christmas. Candle is Christmas. Foot is NOT Christmas," said my mom.

Occasionally a cookie cutter shape was a little hard to identify, like the one below, which might be considered a pig--or as my mom insisted, a coyote.

But these days she sticks more to the smaller shapes that fit easily into the gift tins she prepares for friends and family members. This year's cookies included 11 varieties: frosted gingerbread, chocolate-cinnamon teebrot, lemon sparklers, lime drops (made with lime oil), powdered-sugar covered almond balls, pecan pie bars, Swedish drommar (made with coconut and ammonium carbonate), salty butter pecan, German lebkuchen, chocolate and vanilla-striped zebra, and traditional butter cookies decorated with colored sugars. (Photos here)

A mix of old and new in Peru

2010-12-15T19:01:00.000-08:00

Peruvian cuisine takes a lot of its influence from ancient indigenous traditions--such as the use of whole grains like quinoa and kiwicha (amaranth)--as well as flavors and ingredients (like rice and beef) introduced more recently by the Spanish. Immigrant groups, especially Chinese, have brought new styles to the table, and Chinese restaurants called "Chifa" are found everywhere in Lima and Cusco. Another highlight is the vast array of produce available, including 35 species of corn, 15 species of tomato, more than 200 species of potato, and many native fruits I had never tasted before--the best of the which was the melon-flavored pepino shown in the lower left corner of the photo below.

Inca Kola is the ubiquitous drink of Peru, with a cloyingly sweet flavor somewhere between Mountain Dew and cream soda. The photo below also shows a dish called causa in which a yellow potato dumpling is filled with a mixture that usually contains key lime, onion, chili and oil.

Sweet fried churros originated in Spain, and in Peru you can find them plain or, as below, filled with vanilla cream, dulce de leche, and chocolate.

The Pisco Sour, along with Inca Kola and Chicha, is a national drink of Peru, made with pisco (a distilled liquor made from grapes), egg white, lime juice, and sugar. We had a lesson in mixing up these frothy drinks at a hotel bar in Lima.

Chicken soup made with quinoa is a popular first course. We tried this hearty dish, spiced with dill and other aromatic herbs, during a stay in the Sacred Valley.

Peruvians eat cuy, or guinea pig, at special occasions. In the highlands town of Ollantaytambo, we visited a local home where guinea pigs were allowed to run around loose on the floor. The cuy we tasted (below) was seasoned with black mint and salt under the skin. There wasn't much meat, and the skin was a bit chewy.

The Incas drank chicha beer, and the tradition continues today. It is made from corn and brewed in a huge earthenware pot, from which it is ladeled into glasses. The pink version below was flavored with strawberry juice and herbs including mint and dill. Before serving a glass of chicha, it's common to spill a few drops on the ground for Pachamama, or Mother Earth.

We tasted a sweet bread flavored with honey and spices that is made at Christmastime during a stop at San Pedro market in Cusco.

Also in Cusco, we sampled chili peppers that had been stuffed with meat and vegetables and then deep fried in batter.

One morning, I sampled a local dish called panqueques (pancakes!) served with banana and honey overlooking the Plaza de Armas in Cusco.

Drinking plenty of coca tea, which is highly caffeinated, was one good way to minimize symptoms of altitude sickness.

Beans are a staple of Peruvian cuisine, as are potatoes and grains.

Easy Roasted Pumpkin Soup for Thanksgiving

2010-11-23T18:58:00.000-08:00

When I went looking for a pumpkin soup recipe last week, I had a few requirements in mind. I wanted a soup that called for fresh pumpkin rather than canned so that I could use the sugar pumpkin I'd bought at the farmers' market. I was hoping for a savory soup that wouldn't taste like pumpkin pie, and I wanted a creamy texture without using any dairy. This recipe from Martha Stewart fit the bill. I used homemade chicken stock, which provided a rich base for the flavors of the roasted vegetables. I was worried that the shiitake mushrooms would overpower the pumpkin, but they didn't. Some toasted pumpkin seeds sprinkled on top made a nice garnish.

For more Thanksgiving recipe ideas, see last year's Gourmet Magazine Thanksgiving.

Roasted Pumpkin Soup
Serves 4

* 2 3/4 pounds sugar pumpkin or butternut squash, halved and seeded
* 1 onion, peeled and quartered through the stem
* 2 shiitake mushrooms, stemmed, caps wiped clean
* 1 garlic clove, peeled
* 1/2 cup olive oil
* Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper
* 5 cups homemade or store-bought low-sodium vegetable stock

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Cut pumpkin into 2-inch pieces. Combine pumpkin, onion, mushrooms, and garlic on a rimmed baking sheet. Add oil and 2 teaspoons salt; toss to coat, then spread in a single layer. Roast until pumpkin is tender when pierced with the tip of a sharp knife, about 30 minutes, rotating pan and tossing vegetables halfway through. Let cool, then remove skins.
2. Transfer vegetables to a medium saucepan; heat over medium. Pour in 2 cups stock; puree with an immersion blender until smooth. With the blender running, slowly add remaining 3 cups stock, and puree until smooth. Bring soup just to a simmer. Remove from heat, and season with salt and pepper. Cover to keep warm.

Winter Farmers' Markets in the Boston Area

2010-11-08T12:51:00.000-08:00

It's always a sad time of year when the farmers' markets draw to a close. This year I did my best to stave off the winter panic by buying a huge pile of apples (shown left) and tomatoes at the final market in Union Square and turning them into apple sauce and tomato gravy, which I froze in 1-2 person portions for the long, cold months ahead.

But the good news is that more and more winter options for local food are becoming available--including a Somerville winter market that begins in early January at the Armory. The list of on-going markets below comes from the Massachusetts Department of Agriculture.

Ongoing Markets

Carlisle, Saturday, 9:00 am – Noon, November 27, December 18, January 22, February 19, March 19, April 16, Union Hall, 27 School Street, Carlisle, MA

Chelmsford, Saturday, 10:00 am – 2:00 pm, November 13 to February 5, Chelmsford Agway, 24 Maple Road, No market 12/25 or 1/1

Dedham, Sunday, 10:00 am – 2:00 pm, Year Round, 626 High Street

Fairhaven, Sunday, 1:00 pm – 4:00 pm, October 24, November 21 and December 19th, Nemasket Building on the corner of Bridge and Green Street

Natick, Saturday, 9:00 am – 1:00 pm October 30 to April 2, Johnson Elementary School, Rt. 27/ South Main St. No market 12/4, 12/25 or 1/1

Newburyport, Sunday, November 7 to December 19, 10:00 am – 1:00 pm, No market 11/28, The Tannery Marketplace, 50 Water Street

Northampton, Saturday, 9:00 am – 2:00 pm, November 20 to end of April, (No mkt. 12/25 or 1/1), Thornes Marketplace, 150 Main Street (basement in the Old Dynamite Records space)

North Attleboro, Sunday, Noon – 4:00 pm, November 7 to May 29, (no mkt. 12/26 and 4/24), Attleboro Farms, 491 Hickory Road

Plymouth, Second Thursday of the month, December 9 to April 14, 2:30 pm – 5:30 pm, Indoors at Plimoth Plantation, 137 Warren Avenue

Somerville, Saturday, 10:00 am – 2:00 pm, January 8 to March 26, Center for Arts at the Armory, 191 Highland Ave, EBT‐SNAP accepted

Springfield/Forest Park, Second and Fourth Saturdays of each month, 10:30 am – 1:30 pm, December to April in Forest Park at the old monkey house next to park administration building, EBT‐SNAP accepted

Walpole, Sunday, 10:00 am – 2:00 pm November 7 – April, No market 11/28, VFW Hall, 33 Robbins Road (After December may only run once a month, check www.walpolemafarmersmarket.com for updates)

Wayland, Saturday, 10:00 am – 2:00 pm, January 8 to March 12, Russell’s Garden Center, 397 Boston Post Road, Rt. 20.

Westford, Saturday, 11:00 am – 2:30 pm, January 15 to March 19, Roudenbush Community Center, 65 Main Street

Scilatelle for World Pasta Day, October 25

2010-10-18T17:55:00.000-07:00

When I first learned about World Pasta Day and was asked to help publicize it on my blog, I tried to remember the best pasta I had ever eaten. It didn't take me long to settle on scilatelle, a Calabrese dish handmade by my cousin at her kitchen table in Isca sullo Ionio in Southern Italy.

It's made by rolling pasta dough by hand around a reed (from a plant that grows in the area) to create a noodle with a tiny hole running through it. This is a delicate, time-consuming process, and that's part of its charm--scilatelle is not a pasta you would make on a weeknight after a long day of work. It's a pasta you start preparing early in the morning on the day of a big family gathering, with a pot of gravy simmering on the stove. I dug out an old notebook I kept during a visit to Italy in May, 2000 and found this description of the task:

Lidia is making the pasta for lunch today, and it is hypnotizing to watch her roll each strand by hand...She rolls out a long piece of dough made with farina di grano, then breaks off small, inch-long pieces. She presses each piece around a thin reed and rolls it against the table with her hand until it spreads out around the reed and becomes about six inches long. She then slides it off the reed and sets it on a dish towel, lined up with the others, to dry before cooking.

This pasta seems particularly well suited to World Pasta Day--which this year will be celebrated at the IV World Pasta Congress in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil--and to the work of one of my favorite local food organizations, Oldways, which advocates the Mediterranean Diet and traditional methods of food preparation like the one I described above. The purpose of the event is to promote the consumption of pasta as part of a healthy diet. And that is a mission I can definitely get behind.

If you don't want to spend the better part of a day making scilatelle (though I have to wonder what's wrong with you), my sister recommends buying a box of De Cecco brand perciatelli (from the word "perciato," which means pierced) for your World Pasta Day dinner.

A Profusion of Pretzels

2010-10-18T09:45:00.000-07:00

A friend's Oktoberfest party gave me a good excuse to make a big batch of soft pretzels recently (and by big, I mean that I used an entire 5 lb bag of flour, which was quite a feat).

Making pretzels can be a lengthy process if you are tripling the recipe, so I started the night before by preparing the dough and letting it rise and then covering it loosely with plastic wrap and sticking it into the fridge overnight.

The only disadvantage to this was that I needed to let it warm up to room temperature the following morning, and I'm not known for my patience. I started kneading and dividing the dough while it was still pretty cool, and the effort reminded me of my days playing tennis, when I used to work my hand muscles with grip exercises. I didn't have much success rolling out ropes of dough as long as 24 inches (as stipulated in my recipe, courtesy of Alton Brown) to coil into the pretzel shape, and perhaps that's why they came out rather fat and compact.

Alton Brown says to boil each pretzel for thirty seconds in a mixture of water and baking soda, then brush it with egg yolk and sprinkle with pretzel salt before baking at 450 degrees. He recommends leaving the pretzels in the oven until they turn dark brown, but I prefer mine a little lighter in color, and I used coarse sea salt instead of pretzel salt, which worked out just fine.

We served the pretzels with four kinds of mustard, alongside some grilled sausages and roasted pumpkin. They were agreeably doughy, with a good, yeasty flavor. And as one friend commented, "These are great for a party because they soak up a lot of booze."

Apple Galette with Frog Commissary Pie Crust

2010-10-12T12:46:00.000-07:00

A galette is a rustic tart baked on a flat sheet with the edges of the crust simply folded over to contain the filling. David Lebovitz says the galette is "less fussy" than a traditional French tart, and he's absolutely right. I like to make one of these when I've been a bit overzealous in buying fruit at the farmers' market, and I'm feeling too lazy to bake a pie.

In August, I came back from a weekend in Camden with a huge box of Maine blueberries and made a tasty galette with curls of lemon rind on top. But this apple galette turned out even better. I used a variety of apples--some picked at Dowse Orchards in Sherborn and some acquired at the Union Square Farmers' Market. When my mom bakes an apple pie, she likes to use at least five different kinds of apples, but I'm less ambitious. I did take her advice, however, on the best recipe for flaky pie crust, which comes from the Frog Commissary Cookbook (Frog was a restaurant in Philadelphia that opened in 1973). A few years ago she gave me her copy of the book, and the pie page is totally discolored from years of baking. I'm happy to add my own Crisco fingerprints when I use it.

As far as I can tell, this recipe is not available online--I keyed it in straight from the cookbook. Thank you, Steven Poses et al.

Flaky Pastry for Pie Crusts

1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup plus 1 Tbsp cold vegetable shortening (or half butter & half shortening)
2-3 Tbsp cold water

In a large bowl combine the flour and salt. Using a pastry blender or two knives, cut in the shortening until the mixture is coarse and crumbly. Sprinkle on the water, 1 Tbsp at a time, while tossing the mixture with a fork. Gently gather up the dough with your hands and pat firmly into a ball. This is best used immediately.

To roll the dough, set the ball of dough on a sheet of wax paper and press it into a 6" circle. Top with a second sheet of wax paper and roll the dough from the center out into a 12" circle.

You can them remove the dough from the paper and place onto a baking sheet for a galette or into a proper pie plate. Chill until ready to use.

The Boston Local Food Festival in Photos

2010-10-02T16:00:00.000-07:00

The festivities stretched along the boardwalk in front of the Children's Museum in the Fort Point Channel neighborhood on a beautiful October Saturday.

Save the Harbor, Save the Bay demonstrated the virtues of local lobster to kids.

Save That Stuff provided bins for sorting trash, compostables, and recycling with the goal of a zero-waste festival.

At The Food Project booth, kids took a turn pressing apples for cider.

Krina Patel of Kitchen Thinkers collected food memories for the Stir a Memory project, designed to start conversations around food that have to do not just with nutrition but with people's emotional connections to the things they eat.

Whately, MA-based Enterprise Farm debuted their mobile farmers' market.

Blue Heron Organic Farm from Lincoln, MA brought colorful produce and flowers.

Valerie Conyngham, a graduate of Cambridge School of Culinary Arts, sold her perfect little artisan chocolates known as Vianne Chocolat.

Even the soda was local--made in Charlestown, MA by sprindrift soda.

And the all-female band Zili Misik, which calls its music "new world soul," is a product of Berklee, our local music school.

Long-Awaited Journeyman Arrives in Union Square

2010-10-02T09:56:00.000-07:00

Thanks to mutual friends, I first heard about Journeyman when it was merely a twinkle in the eyes of Diana Kudayarova and her husband Tse Wei Lim. I knew they were academics--not restaurateurs--but that they had discovered a love of food and wanted to devote themselves to a craft. (A "journeyman," according to Wikipedia, is a craftsman who has completed an apprenticeship and fully learned his trade but is not yet a master).

Over the course of several months leading up to the opening of their restaurant, they chronicled their journey in a 3-part series in the Boston Globe, and I checked in on their progress via their blog and Facebook page. What attracted me most about them was the sincerity of their mission and their lack of pretension about good food. As they wrote in the Globe:

"we started this venture in large part because we were hoping to trade our abstract, power-pointing, health-benefits-included office jobs for something where we would actually see the results of what we do, where we’re able to work with our hands, make things, and count smiles and bruises at the end of each day."

And as of September 15, they're actually doing it. The concept behind Journeyman is this: small portions of exquisitely prepared, incredibly high quality food that is seasonal, local, and bursting with flavor. It's the kind of place that makes you pause--even if you're engrossed in conversation--and think about the flavor and texture combinations making magic in your mouth.

This is the only sign to let you know that you've arrived to the discretely situated Journeyman, down an alley off Union Square.

The space--once a pasta sauce factory--retains some of its original industrial elements but still manages to feel small and cozy without being crowded.

Menu descriptions are very spare. The work of art below, for example, was described simply as "Salad." The only down-side to this is that you have to retain what your server tells you about ingredients and preparation. I wasn't taking notes and don't remember the names of our wine pairings. At the same time, it was refreshing not to worry about those details--and to leave myself completely in the capable hands of the chefs.

Our first course was a sublime showcase of local, seasonal food.

I chose the 3-course vegetarian menu, and my companion ordered the omnivore option so that we could try both. My pumpkin agnolotti with ricotta salata was delicious, as was her tender pork belly served with a runny egg.

A window looks onto the kitchen, from which emanated so many tempting scents that I was a bit sorry I hadn't ordered the 5-course meal so I could try them all.

Dessert was a selection of candied Heirloom apples, custard, cake, and apple sorbet.

And then we happily accepted this plate of mignardise ("small sweet things") from the kitchen--bite-sized pieces of molten chocolate cake and jellied plum along with tiny servings of burnt caramel foam.

Pasta Salad for a New Addition to the EcoFoodie Family

2010-09-26T16:20:00.000-07:00

True to form, my friend Rebecca of EcoFoodie decided she didn't want a traditional shower but rather a laid-back barbecue to welcome her almost-here baby. It featured her husband's famous cheeseburgers; cupcakes from Sweet decorated with images from a Kandinsky painting that will hang in the nursery; and this end-of-summer pasta salad made by yours truly.

I was pleased by how colorful and festive this salad--made with farfalle pasta and farmers' market radishes, carrots, chives, and basil--turned out. I dressed it with a vinaigrette inspired by Jamie Oliver's "best pasta salad" recipe, which calls for boiling some cloves of garlic in the pasta water (very fragrant!), then mashing them and combining with white wine vinegar, olive oil, sea salt and fresh ground black pepper. It was zesty and full of fresh flavor. And the EcoFoodie-themed onesie we decorated was pretty fresh too.

First-Ever Boston Local Food Festival

2010-09-18T11:42:00.000-07:00

"In Massachusetts, less than 5% of the food we eat comes from right here," said Laury Hammel, Executive Director of the Sustainable Business Network, at a recent press conference to announce the first Boston Local Food Festival. Compared to the local food movements farther south and on the west coast, in Boston our local foods are "really under the radar," he continued.

But the Local Food Festival, with seed money from the Mass. Department of Agriculture, aims to change all that: "What we are talking about is a transformation in the local food system," Hammel said. The purpose of the festival is to bring about greater awareness of the local foods available and to help support the local food economy. He mentioned recent strides toward this goal, including the impressive shift by the Boston Convention Center to using 50% locally sourced food.

It's also about making local foods accessible to everyone--a mission reiterated by several of the movers and shakers in attendance at the press conference. Edith Mundane, Director of Food Initiatives in the mayor's office, talked about the fact that 21 local farmers' markets now accept food stamps. The festival will be free to attend, and all prepared food available from vendors will be sold for $5 or less.

Jamey Lionette, festival director, said the festival will include the unveiling of a "mobile farmers' market"--to bring fresh farm food to under-served communities--by Dave Jackson of Enterprise Farm. Festival-goers can also watch demos such as pasta-making by the folks at Sportello, winter cooking by J.J. Gonson of Cuisine En Local, and the butchering of a whole hog by Matt Jennings of Farmstead. Taste local beer from as many as 9 local suppliers, learn about artisanal cheese-making from Fiore di Nonno, listen to the music of the Squeezebox Stompers from Southie, meet the female entrepreneurs behind Nella Pasta, and taste jams, pickles, sauces and more made from local produce.

The festival will take place outside the Children's Museum (whose new President and CEO, Carole Charnow, used to run the Moosewood Cafe) in the Fort Point Channel neighborhood on October 2, 2010 from 11am to 5pm.

A Peck of (Not Pickled) Peppers

2010-09-11T09:52:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things to do with end-of-summer peppers and tomatoes is to whip up a fresh pasta sauce. Sautee a garlic clove or two (and perhaps a small onion, if you wish) in good olive oil. Then chop your veggies any which way and toss them into the pot with a little salt and perhaps a dash of sugar.

If you've got a potato masher on hand, you can use it to mash the chunks a bit as your sauce cooks (it won't take long). Add some fresh green herbs like basil at the end if you want to--it's all very casual.

Consider eating your bowl of pasta at lunchtime on the porch, perhaps with a copy of the New York Times and a glass of cold white wine like this delicious Tocai Friulano. And don't forget to toast the last days of summer.

What to do with all those plums?

2010-08-29T12:49:00.000-07:00

It's plum season in New England, and those cartons of deep purple orbs at the farmers' market are hard for me to resist. When I came home with too many recently, my mom recommended this 2005 recipe from the New York Times. You put the cake batter in the bottom, then arrange the halved plums on top (skin side up). As it bakes, the plums sink down and the cake rises up around them, so just little hillocks of plum are showing at the end. Instead of using cinnamon on top, I sprinkled on a sweet Middle Eastern spice blend that I bought at Sofra. I also used half whole wheat flour and half white flour, which worked out just fine.

Original Plum Torte

Total time: 1 hour 15 minutes
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1 cup unbleached flour, sifted
1 teaspoon baking powder
Pinch of salt
2 eggs
24 halves pitted purple plums
Sugar and cinnamon for topping.

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Cream sugar and butter in a bowl. Add flour, baking powder, salt and eggs, and beat well.
3. Spoon the batter into a spring form of 8, 9 or 10 inches. Place the plum halves skin side up on top of the batter. Sprinkle lightly with sugar, depending on the sweetness of the fruit. Sprinkle with about 1 teaspoon of cinnamon, or to taste.
4. Bake for 40 to 50 minutes. Remove and cool; refrigerate or freeze if desired (but first, double-wrap the tortes in foil, place in a plastic bag, and seal). Or cool to lukewarm, and serve.
5. To serve a torte that has been frozen, defrost and reheat it briefly at 300 degrees.
Yield: 8 servings.

Fourth Annual Pie in the Park

2010-08-21T09:34:00.000-07:00

From the Pie in the Park Facebook profile:

Pie in the Park is a yearly pie-baking event held in Brooklyn's Prospect Park.

Bakers bring their best pie and gather together to enjoy each others' company and one of New York's finest outdoor public spaces; pies are eaten and judged by attendees on Best Crust, Best Filling, Best Presentation and Best Overall. All the money raised from the event goes to a food-related charity.

Mission: To enrich communities by sharing and preserving pie-baking traditions.

These beautiful photos were taken by Crystal Ginn.

This year's winners included a lot of savory elements--a pie made with plantains and picadillo-spiced meat, for example, and a bing cherry and bacon marmalade pie with duck fat-and-thyme crust. My favorite people (above) brought a creme fraiche-plantain-peanut pie and a lemon tart made with olive oil.

See more photos here.

Novel Vegetables at the Farmers' Market

2010-08-16T08:42:00.000-07:00

I came home from the farmers' market last weekend with two vegetables I'd never seen before. The first was a long, hot pink bean whose vivid color I could not resist, and the second was a funky-looking green bulb that the farmer told me was a Mexican cucumber.

A little googling taught me that the pink bean was a cranberry bean, meant to be shelled and boiled in water. The Mexican cucumber, which was somewhat sweeter than a regular cuke, could be sliced for salads or even sauteed.

I ate mine sliced fresh with radishes and crackers. The cranberry beans, meanwhile, I anticipate using in this fresh cranberry bean salad.

Artisan Bread Fair in Skowhegan, Maine

2010-08-08T07:13:00.000-07:00

A Bellyglad reader wins a romantic trip for 2 to Italy

2010-07-19T12:04:00.000-07:00

Last February, just before Valentine's Day, I posted about a funny-sounding contest being hosted by Dr. Oetker's Frozen Pizza--with the grand prize of a trip to Italy for one lucky couple. Much to my surprise, one of my readers (Janel Ovrut of Eat Well with Janel) actually won the contest!

And this summer, she and her fiance took that grand prize trip to Italy. They were allowed to stay anywhere they liked for 5 nights, and they chose the incredible looking Villa San Michele in Fiesole, close to Florence. To give you an idea of just how nice (and pricey) this place is, consider that they ran into Larry Lucchino and John Henry and their wives over breakfast one day.

I have to admit that I drooled a little bit and felt a few pangs of jealousy while looking at Janel's photos of their trip. But I'm also pretty excited to have been a part of their first experience with the bel paese--and glad that the grand prize went to a couple who really cares about food.

A Haven in the North

2010-07-11T08:20:00.000-07:00

There is an island off Rockland, mid-way up the coast of Maine, that likes to keep to itself--for fear of turning into another Nantucket or Martha's Vineyard. I was lucky enough to visit with a friend whose family has been there for two hundred years, having emigrated from Prince Edward Island in Canada. But I was warned not to reveal too much about this 11 square-mile island with a year-round population of about 380 that swells to over 1,000 in the summertime.

I will say that it boasts one of the most charming inns I've ever seen, called the Nebo Lodge, which offers nine rooms (decorated with a mixture of antiques and modern pieces, and an airy, seaside feel--not cloyingly floral as you find at many New England B&Bs), as well as a fantastic restaurant that showcases local suppliers. One of those suppliers is the Turner Farm, first established in 1765, whose greenhouse is shown below.

It's clear that the people of this island care about good food--from the sweet Maine blueberries and raspberries that grow along the side of the road...to the lobsters they catch (with colorful buoys decorating the surface of the local waterways), the oysters they farm, and the clams they dig...to a variety of wild mushrooms whose woodsy whereabouts are a closely guarded secret. On our boat trip to a sandy beach, we were treated to fresh deviled eggs prepared on-site with the aid of an improvised pastry bag (and served with enough beer to float the island).

It's rumored that restaurant critic Adam Platt once wrote about this place in New York Magazine--referring to it only as "the island" to protect its anonymity on the New England island scene. His brother, the actor Oliver Platt, casually strolled into the Nebo the night we dined there. For an island so small, a lot of wealth and prestige concentrates there. And yet--maybe because of the friendliness of the people or the sheer power of the natural forces to which the island is exposed--it still manages to feel unpretentious.

We spent our days collecting sand dollars, drinking from natural springs, sunbathing, and riding bikes past beautiful scenery. Given the treasures--culinary and otherwise--to be found on this tiny isle in the Penobscot Bay, I don't blame locals for keeping their recipe cards (so to speak) close to their chests.

When in Siem Reap

2010-06-05T12:09:00.000-07:00

I had said I'd draw the line at eating insects, but sometimes while traveling you have to put aside your plans and preconceptions and just dive in. And thus I found myself at a rest stop in Cambodia last week, pulling the legs off a roasted tarantula and popping them into my mouth. I was riding along on one of the adventure tours offered by the travel company where I work, and my week began in Ho Chi Minh City and ended in the ancient ruins of Angkor. The Vietnamese dishes I tried were delicious, but Cambodian cuisine--from delicately flavored fish amok cooked in coconut milk and served in a banana leaf, to exquisitely presented Khmer curries, to fresh baguettes, to roasted locusts--was even more memorable.

At the aforementioned rest stop in Cambodia, we found a local market with baskets full of edible insects. And because one of my Thai colleagues gamely accepted both a cricket and a tarantula, I was obliged to sample at least a leg from one of the giant, hairy spiders. Examining it before I put it into my mouth, I noticed that it was segmented into a few sections, with little hairs running down its length. The texture was crispy, with no flesh to speak of. The flavor was smoky and slightly burnt and at the same time mildly sweet. In my notebook, I wrote: "Leg slides oddly between the teeth."

A few days later, perched on a stone wall overlooking the moat surrounding Angkor Wat, we would try tiny frogs (below) stuffed with noodles and lemongrass (the dominant impression here was the crunchy skin) as well as water snake jerky, which tasted like a combination of fish and bacon.

That evening we toasted the sunset with small glasses of sweet, brown rice brandy and were surprised by the muscular black man decorating the label on the bottle. "It will make you strong," our guide laughed. But having braved a number of food items I'd previously considered off-limits, I was already feeling pretty powerful.

Eating our way across Tunisia

2010-05-08T11:36:00.000-07:00

When my mom and I planned a trip to North Africa for her sixtieth birthday, we anticipated the haunting ruins of Carthage and the endless dunes of the Sahara desert. But we never expected how Mediterranean much of Tunisia would feel--nor how much countries like France and especially Italy (only about a hundred miles away across the sea) had influenced its culture and cuisine.

Breakfasts often consisted of Italian coffees and French or Tunisian pastries, while lunch and dinner began with soup, followed by brik or salad or tajine as a second course, followed by a couscous dish, meat, or fish and vegetables. The most common ingredients included tomatoes, olive oil, tuna, eggs, dates, and honey.

As beautiful as the dishes we tried were the ceramics in which they were served--like this matching set of hand-painted plates and bowls at a farmhouse on the Cap Bon peninsula in the north of the country.

The ubiquitous brik is made with egg, parsley, and often tuna wrapped inside thin pastry and fried. We also tried a similar dish called Fatima fingers (named after the daughter of Mohammed), thin rolls made with mashed potato wrapped in crispy phyllo dough.

In Tunisia, couscous is prepared in a double boiler, with the vegetables and meats cooking below, and the aromatic steam rising up to cook the couscous in the pot above.

Though we never tasted it, camel meat is available for eating. Here pieces of a camel (including the head) hang inside a butcher shop. Lamb, chicken, and beef are more popular, however.

We visited a fish market on the island of Djerba and watched as local men auctioned off the freshly caught fish.

Bread was a constant accompaniment to our meals. The foods of the Sahara include this Bedouin flat bread, which was cooked in the sand, with hot coals from the fire raked over it. It was served still steaming hot, and we could feel the distinctive crunch of sand grains between our teeth.

April is orange season, and we ate these unusually sweet fruits every chance we got--especially at breakfast and at the end of meals.

Mint tea is a popular drink, made by steeping green tea leaves once, discarding the tea, then steeping a second time and adding fresh mint and lots of sugar. The variety shown here was served with toasted almonds in the glass in place of mint leaves.

Our favorite sweets were the corne de gazelle (horns of gazelle) made with almonds, pistachios and sesame seeds wrapped in pastry and flavored with cinnamon and orange blossom water.

And I would be remiss if I did not mention the spicy harissa made with ground chilis (visible in the upper right corner above) and served at every meal. Tunisians pour a little olive oil over top and dip their bread in it. It's also used to flavor meat and couscous dishes.

Nor can I forget the beloved date, grown in desert oases. The date palm is an ancient plant that appears in the Quran, and its harvest is very important to Tunisia. These little finger-shaped fruits are so highly caloric that it is said six dates a day can sustain a human being. We were too busy eating other things to test that theory.

A Cure for the Boil-Order Blues?

2010-05-03T09:42:00.000-07:00

I had the most exquisite iced tea of my life at a spa in Kanchanaburi, Thailand. My sister and I had been massaged by strong Thai women, rubbed down with oil, and then wrapped in loose, cotton robes. We were thoroughly relaxed by the time they led us to a couple of chairs on the porch and brought us a pitcher of lemongrass and pandanus iced tea. The day was warm, and the tea was lemony and slightly sweet and very cold.

Later, we bought some of the dried lemongrass and pandanus leaf mixture at Chatuchak Market in Bangkok. It turns out there's no real tea involved--just these two fantastic plants used widely in Thai cooking. The lemongrass is a stalk used to flavor soups and curries, while the pandanus is a green plant whose long, thick leaves are used both for cooking and for crafts like weaving.

I thought of the bag of lemongrass and pandanus in my kitchen cabinet this weekend as I boiled a big pot of water for drinking and dish-washing during the aftermath of a water main break that is affecting two million people in Boston. I poured a bunch of the mixture into the bottom of a pitcher, then let it steep in hot water for about ten minutes before scooping out the shards of lemongrass and pandanus and stirring in a spoonful of sugar. I stuck it in the fridge to cool, and when I poured a glass an hour later it was just as tasty and refreshing as I remembered.

It's a little bit harder to find these ingredients in New England, but Asian markets often carry lemongrass, and both the fresh and dried varieties can be steeped in hot water to make tea. I'd be tempted to try another green leaf in place of the pandanus--perhaps mint or even rosemary.

A Visit to the Boston Shaker

2010-04-17T13:14:00.000-07:00

If you haven't been to this cocktail specialty shop that once lived within the store known as Grand in Union Square but now has its own digs in Davis, you really should go.

It's like a modern apothecary, with tons of shelves full of small bottles and interesting tools and equipment, including an array of options for cracking ice exactly to your specifications. One of the bartenders at Drink in Fort Point Channel supplies hand-stitched canvas bags just for crushing ice. There is also a fine selection of bitters, including the chocolate flavor shown above.

A friend of the owners supplies stylish vintage glassware, and old cameras line the tops of shelves.

A counter at the back of the store is used for workshops and classes, the most recent of which was a wine-based cocktails class. You'll also find a couple bookcases of cocktail-themed books, some of them full of ancient cocktail lore.

But one of the best aspects of the Shaker is its affable proprietors, who are devoted to the cocktail movement and highly knowledgeable about their specialized equipment--not unlike the apothecary keepers of yesteryear.

Mini-cheesecakes with raspberries

2010-04-08T12:06:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who gave up cheese for Lent and then invited everybody to a big party to celebrate her being able to eat cheese again. She requested that everyone bring something made of cheese, and the contributions were really quite varied and clever. But one fellow brought mini-cheesecakes, which are truly a crowd-pleaser. I remember making them as a kid for Girl Scout events, and I can tell you they were as popular in the early eighties as they are now.

The assembly is the best part (other than the eating, of course): you place a round Nilla wafer at the bottom of each cupcake liner, then spoon the cream cheese mixture over top and bake. Finally, you get to fill the little well that forms in the top of each cake with whatever you please, be it a spoonful of raspberries, a dollop of whipped cream, or even a few mini-chocolate chips.

* 12 vanilla wafers
* 2 (8 ounce) packages cream cheese, softened
* 1/2 cup white sugar
* 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
* 2 eggs

1. Line muffin tin with foil liners. Place 1 vanilla wafer in each liner.
2. Mix cream cheese, vanilla, and sugar with an electric mixer on medium speed until well blended. Add eggs, and mix well. Pour over wafers, filling 3/4 full.
3. Bake for 25 minutes at 325 degrees F (165 degrees C). Remove from pan when cool. Chill. Drizzle with raspberry jam, or sprinkle with mini chocolate chips. Get creative!

Healthy Spring Pasta with Peas & 'Paragus

2010-04-05T12:58:00.000-07:00

I love a good pasta primavera, especially one whose recipe calls for boiling all the ingredients in the same pot of water (I'm not sure about the science behind this, but somehow I believe that the pasta soaks up the nutrients from the veg).

I adapted this dish from an old Bon Appetit recipe that included bowtie pasta (or farfalle, butterflies, which sounds so much nicer) and sugar snap peas. I'm sure both would be excellent, but I used what I had on hand, and was pleased with the result, which I topped with grated parmesan as well as a handful of toasted almonds for a bit of crunch.

* 1 pound asparagus, trimmed, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
* 1/2 pound whole wheat fusilli pasta
* 1/2 pound frozen organic peas
* 3 tablespoons olive oil
* 1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese (about 1 1/2 ounces)
* Additional freshly grated parmesan cheese

Add asparagus to large pot of boiling salted water. Cook until just crisp-tender. Transfer to bowl of cold water using slotted spoon. Cool asparagus slightly and drain. Add pasta to same pot of water peas and boil 2 minutes. Add asparagus and heat through. Drain well. Return pasta-vegetable mixture to pot. Add oil and toss to coat. Add 1/2 cup cheese. Season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately, passing additional cheese separately.

Afternoon Tea at Asana in the Mandarin Oriental

2010-03-28T19:45:00.000-07:00

When you go to afternoon tea at the Asian-inspired Asana, you start with a pot of tea (vanilla rooibos for me) and a bento box of scones with lemon curd and devonshire cream. Then, you can select a total of ten sweet and savory bite-sized treats from the tea cart, just like dim sum.

The atmosphere is ultra-modern, with Asian influences like bamboo floors and vases of orchids. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out onto bustling Boylston Street. On a sunny Saturday afternoon, our group of four women was among only a few other occupied tables.

Our savory selections included curried chicken salad, cucumber with cream cheese, smoked salmon and chive, and lobster with yuzu espuma. And for sweets--lemongrass profiteroles, green tea macaroons, gala apple spring rolls, hazelnut squares, chocolate-walnut bars, and ginger and lemon financiers.

The menu also includes decadent, delicious-sounding hot chocolate made from homemade truffles immersed in steaming hot milk. But given the generosity of the afternoon tea spread ($25 per person), it's doubtful you'll have room for anything more.

Help the BSO as it contributes to the 2nd annual Orchestras Feeding America effort

2010-03-27T08:25:00.000-07:00

Again this year the Boston Symphony Orchestra is teaming with the Greater Boston Food Bank to collect non-perishable food and raise funds toward ending hunger in America. The BSO will be collecting food at performances over three nights--April 1, 2, and 3--during its run of Mendelssohn's Elijah. You can make your donation of canned food on those nights, or contribute to the effort online at www.bso.org/fooddrive. See below for more information.

According to the Greater Boston Food Bank's website, the statistics around hunger in our region are pretty startling: "more than 394,000 low-income people are served by The Greater Boston Food Bank each year, a 23 percent increase since the last study was conducted in 2005. This means that a little more than 8 percent of the population in eastern Massachusetts uses a food pantry, soup kitchen, or shelter." Especially for those of us who care so much about food, the BSO food drive is an excellent opportunity to help those who don't have enough.

From www.bso.org:

Receptacles for the BSO's food drive at Symphony Hall will be available at both the Massachusetts Avenue and Cohen Wing entrances, before concerts and during concert intermissions on April 1, 2, and 3 (concerts begin at 8 p.m.). Though patrons with tickets to these concerts are especially encouraged to support the food drive, members of the community are also invited to participate in the food drive by dropping food items off between 7 and 8 p.m. each night. The BSO food drive can only accept canned food items, including canned tuna, chicken, or other meats, canned vegetables and fruit, and canned juices, soups, and pasta. For safety reasons, the Greater Boston Food Bank does not accept baby food, baby formula, and glass containers.
The “Orchestras Feeding America” program was launched in 2009 with 250 orchestras participating nationwide to collect over 200,000 pounds of food.

Photo Credit: Boston Symphony Orchestra

So you wanna masala?

2010-03-16T07:31:00.000-07:00

Sometimes a whole meal can be based around one special ingredient. That was my intent last weekend when I bought a bag of fragrant yellow garam masala at Christina's Spice & Specialty Foods Shop (right next to Christina's Ice Cream) in Inman Square.

Garam masala (which translates to "hot mixture") is a mixture of ground spices--often chili peppers, garlic, ginger, fennel and mustard seeds, star anise, turmeric, coriander, cardamom, etc--that forms the basis for many Indian dishes. It's best, of course, to buy whole spices and grind them yourself with a mortar and pestle or a coffee bean grinder. But I trusted Christina's to provide the next best thing. I'd learned from Chef Ranveer Brar that one of the secrets of Indian cooking is marinating meat in yogurt, and so I looked for a recipe that would allow me to do so with the garam masala I'd just bought. I'm not confident enough in cooking Indian cuisine to improvise on my own just yet.

This recipe from Epicurious turned out delightfully--full of the flavors of the garam masala. The chicken marinates for two hours in seasoned yogurt, then bakes for an hour on a bed of onions, both of which make it incredibly tender and piquant. It made enough for a week's worth of lunches or dinners for one, and I served it with naan, white rice or the bulgur salad pictured (which I livened up with some chopped dried dates).

Easy Chicken Masala (from Epicurious)

1 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
1/4 cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon garam masala*
2 teaspoons coarse kosher salt
1 large garlic clove, pressed
1 4- to 4 1/2-pound roasting chicken, cut into 8 pieces, backbone removed
2 small onions, cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices

Mix yogurt, chopped cilantro, olive oil, garam masala, salt, and garlic in 13x9x2-inch glass baking dish. Add chicken to marinade, 1 piece at a time, coating all sides. Cover with plastic wrap; refrigerate at least 2 hours. DO AHEAD: Can be made 1 day ahead. Keep refrigerated.

Position racks in top third and bottom third of oven; preheat to 400°F. Arrange onions in thin layer on large rimmed baking sheet to form bed for chicken. Top with chicken pieces in single layer, spacing apart for even roasting (chicken will still be coated with marinade). Discard remaining marinade.

Roast chicken on top rack until cooked through and juices run clear when thickest portion of thigh is pierced with knife, about 1 hour. Serve chicken atop onion slices. Spoon pan juices around.

* An Indian spice mixture; available in the spice section of many supermarkets and at Indian markets.

The Secret to Perfect Lasagna

2010-03-13T11:07:00.000-08:00

A couple weeks ago, some high schools friends and I got together for a weekend-long baby shower in Baltimore. I offered to cook a big dinner for everyone Saturday night, and since I was traveling, our Baltimore hosts graciously procured the ingredients for a wild mushroom lasagna recipe I'd selected. It seemed like an easy, one-pot meal for a large group, but as I began the preparations Saturday afternoon, it quickly became apparent that this recipe was a little involved for a kitchen full of people plus one toddler. It was a good thing I made the mushroom sauce first (with dried porcinis and tomatoes)--before our late afternoon walk around the Inner Harbor.

When we returned, I put together the bechamel sauce and then turned to the lasagna noodles, which came from a great Italian specialty shop called Trinacria in downtown Baltimore (I'll admit to shoving a freshly filled cannoli in my mouth when we stopped there for bread Saturday morning).

The recipe warned against no-boil noodles--the kind that, in my experience, end up undercooked and crisp around the edges. But I'd used pre-cooked noodles before and had them turn out the opposite: too soft. This time, as my recipe advised, I pre-boiled the noodles for just eight minutes, then grabbed them from the boiling water with tongs, laid them on dish towels (not in a bowl of cold water as the recipe instructs--somehow in the chaos I missed that part), and with the help of a couple assistants, assembled the lasagna, starting and finishing with a generous layer of bechamel, which kept the top and bottom layer of noodles from drying out.

The finished product was quite tasty (though it didn't get served til after 8pm), but I marveled most at the perfect consistency of the noodles--something I'd never before achieved with lasagna. When I got home, I tried again with the same noodles, again pre-boiling them, for an eggplant and ricotta lasagna. They turned out marvelously.

So I am now convinced that this is the secret to well made lasagna: don't take short cuts with no-boil noodles. Buy regular noodles (the best you can find), boil them until they are about 70% cooked, and start and finish with a layer of sauce (be it tomato or bechamel or whatever you like). This may work best of all when you're alone in the kitchen and can fully focus on the task at hand. But it won't be nearly as much fun as cooking in a house full of people you've known since you were a kid.

Thanks to teenytinyturkey for the photo.

A Healthy Lunch That Smacks of Spring

2010-03-01T18:29:00.000-08:00

I've hit that point in winter when I'm tired of making big pots of soup, and all I want is something fresh and bright and lively. This bulgur salad fits the bill--with flavors of lemon, cilantro and mint to make it vivid, and the crunch of almonds to keep it interesting. Bulgur wheat is a whole grain with a slightly nutty flavor that is healthier than rice or couscous because of its fiber, protein and vitamins. I baked a chicken cutlet in olive oil, garlic and lemon juice to serve alongside.

Bulgur Salad with Cilantro & Mint (adapted from Epicurious)
1 cup bulgur
2 cups boiling-hot water
2 tablespoon olive oil
1/4 cup sliced almonds
1/2 cup chopped cilantro
1/2 cup chopped mint
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice, or to taste

Put bulgur in a bowl, then pour hot water (2 cups) over it and cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let stand until tender, about 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, heat olive oil in a small heavy skillet over medium heat until hot, then cook almonds, stirring, until golden, about 1 minute.
Drain bulgur in a medium-mesh sieve, then return to bowl and stir in herbs, 1 teaspoon lemon juice, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon pepper, and almonds (with oil). Season with salt and more lemon juice if desired. Serve at room temperature.

New Orleans-style brunch at Tupelo in Inman Square

2010-02-25T15:29:00.000-08:00

There's nothing like grits and fried oysters for Sunday brunch. And if you like drinking out of Mason jars so big you practically need two hands to lift them, Tupelo is the place for you.

One of the best parts of brunch is the sunny, homey atmosphere--along with the friendly service, and the Elvis memorabilia on the walls.

A friend who'd recently returned from Mardi Gras ordered the Oyster Po'Boy with jalapeno aioli.

While I had pulled beef barbecue with cheddar grits and watercress. Both were hearty and delicious. Next time, I'll try the chicken and waffles with bourbon maple syrup and spiced cream. I noticed a lady who was having that, and she looked pretty happy.

Though we didn't order any, we did admire the champagne cocktails from afar. And the stunning red walls.

Moroccan chicken bistilla for my ladies

2010-02-21T10:51:00.001-08:00

Making Moroccan chicken bastilla
Originally uploaded by Bellyglad

Moroccan bistilla (I've also seen it spelled "bastilla") is not a dish to be undertaken lightly--it requires a lot of separate components, an array of ingredients, and a bit of patience for working with the phyllo dough. Which is why I saved it for a weekend dinner with some of my favorite lady friends.

The bistilla is a traditional meat pie sweetened with cinnamon and sugar. In Morocco, it's often made with squab (ie. pigeon). In my kitchen, we stick to chicken.

Preparing bistilla begins with stewing and seasoning the meat, and then shredding it into tiny pieces. Some of the flavorful juices from the chicken are reserved for making an egg mixture not unlike scrambled eggs, but softer. The third component is crushed almonds that have been toasted in oil and mixed with sugar and cinnamon. These form the three layers of pie between sheets of phyllo dough brushed with butter.

The result is a sweet-savory pie encased in crispy leaves of phyllo and dusted with powdered sugar and cinnamon. It contains more sticks of butter and cups of sugar than I care to mention, but it is a delectable special-occasion dish, and my friends seemed to enjoy it. The recipe I chose made enough for two pans of pie, so I sent everyone home with leftovers.

Valentine's Day polenta

2010-02-14T12:11:00.000-08:00

On Romance & Frozen Pizza

2010-02-09T15:16:00.000-08:00

I recently received a Valentine's-themed press release that was simply too quirky not to share. I think my favorite part about it is that it combines the seemingly incongruous concepts of "frozen pizza," "romance," and "Italy" (not that romance and Italy are incongruous, but you get the idea--one of these things is not like the others). All you have to do is share your love story, and a photograph of yourself consuming a frozen pizza, and you could win a free trip to Italy, sponsored by the very non-Italian-sounding Dr. Oetker.*

Good Morning,

Wanted to send you a quick note to let you and your readers know that Dr. Oetker Ristorante, Italy’s top-selling frozen pizza, is currently hosting a “Tales of the Heart” contest in the U.S. to reward romantic couples with an all-expenses paid trip to Italy.

The task is simple – couples are invited to upload a photo enjoying a Ristorante Pizza, along with their personal love story – for the chance to win a trip to one of the most romantic cities in the world. We’d love for one of your readers to be the winner! The contest ends February 28, 2010 and you can find out all the details at www.ristorante.us

In the meantime, please let me know if you have any questions or are interested in trying Dr. Oetker’s top-selling frozen pizza.

Cheers!

Alison

*In fact, Dr. Oetker is a German company that started out selling baking powder. Today, Dr. Oetker frozen pizzas are available at local grocery stores like Shaw's, Stop & Shop, Hannaford's, and Roche Bros. I cannot vouch for the romance you will experience while eating one.

Cocoa Metro: Chocolate milk for the soul

2010-02-05T12:03:00.000-08:00

Michael Dunford calls himself "Chief Chocolate Drinker" at Cocoa Metro. I like to think of him as the milkman, because he kindly left a 32 oz. glass bottle of chocolate milk on my step while I was at work. But he's also got a background in design, which shows itself not only in Cocoa Metro's clever packaging but also in its appealingly minimalist website.

The best part about Cocoa Metro, though, is not how it looks but how it tastes. I've never been a milk drinker, including chocolate milk, so I wasn't expecting to be overwhelmed. But, wow.

The experience took me back to drinking Yoohoo as a kid--except as an adult, I don't want the watery consistency and the chemical-y aftertaste of a chocolate drink that's not allowed to call itself "milk." I want what Cocoa Metro has (and I didn't even know I wanted it until I took the first sip)--the full rich flavor of Callebaut Belgian dark chocolate, made liquid. It's not so rich and sweet, though--like some European hot chocolates--that you can't drink a whole glass.

You can drink a whole glass. Maybe even a whole bottle. And (especially at only 240 calories a cup) you absolutely should.

Dunford (soon to be a graduate of Babson's entrepreneurialism-focused MBA program) and his wife, Lizzy, started Cocoa Metro by mixing up batches of chocolate milk in their own kitchen. You can find a bottle (just $5 for 32 oz.) at Russo's, Formaggio Kitchen, Bread & Chocolate, and several locations of Whole Foods.

What's not to love about House of Chang?

2010-01-31T07:19:00.000-08:00

It was a cold Friday night in Boston, I'd been working for nearly twelve hours straight, and the friend I'd been supposed to meet had canceled. As I boarded the red line for Harvard Square, I was exhausted, and grouchy, and fairly certain that at home, the cupboard would be bare. I couldn't muster the energy to think about cooking, let alone stop for groceries in the sub-freezing temperatures.

Sinking deeper into existential despair, I flipped indifferently through a copy of the Boston Phoenix that I'd grabbed on the way to the T. But as I skimmed Robert Nadeau's review of the new House of Chang on Concord St. in Cambridge, it suddenly became clear what I would do: go directly home and order everything he recommended. I didn't have the brain cells left to make choices of my own.

And I needn't have. His recommendations were spot-on: an order of scallion pancakes (yes, a little doughy and lacking in scallions, but so what); the Suan La Chow Show dumplings filled with pork and served with bean sprouts in a vinegary gravy; and the Yu Hsiang spicy eggplant (I ordered this "mild," but it still came with a pleasing amount of hot red pepper). Not only that, but I'd barely settled in when the doorbell rang with my (merely $20) delivery. And on an otherwise cold and disappointing night, this hot Chinese take-out meal became an utter blessing.

HoneyBell oranges really are that juicy

2010-01-25T13:33:00.000-08:00

I didn't have a chance to think it was a joke when I opened my box of twelve HoneyBell oranges and found two plastic bibs inside. I'd been warned right on the packaging that the bibs were no laughing matter. And cutting into an orange right then and there (I'd barely removed my coat after a long day at work), I found it to be cold, and sweet, and positively exploding with juice. So the bibs came in handy. I'll admit to being thrilled by the two orange-shaped temporary tattoos that came in the box too. But I didn't really need to be reminded to "Share with Favorite People Only!" as the box instructs.*

In the long stretch between Christmas and Memorial Day, it can feel like there aren't too many things to look forward to. But for me HoneyBells have become something to anticipate--they're available just a few weeks a year in the month of January. A hybrid of tangerine and grapefruit, these oranges are shaped like bells and colored a deep orange. They're the perfect thing to eat with breakfast, or after dinner, or before your hot yoga class, or after a night of heavy drinking.

And the story behind Cushman's Honeybells is a cute one too--in 1945 in West Palm Beach, Florida, Ed Cushman and his family were running a citrus stand. One day they received, in a shipment of grapefruits, some strange-looking oranges that immediately distinguished themselves for their "honey-sweet" taste. And thus, the Honeybells came to be. Cushman's is owned by Harry & David now, but the oranges are just as sweet and juicy as ever.

*Full disclosure: I shared with no one.

East by Northeast Brings New Flavors to Inman Square

2010-01-08T18:38:00.000-08:00

Perhaps the most beautiful dish we tried on opening night at Philip Tang's new East by Northeast restaurant was this cabbage salad made with honey, rice vinegar and peppercorn oil, topped with bright pink watermelon radish.

But nearly everything we sampled was bursting with fresh, almost summery flavors on a snowy winter night in Boston. This vivid, colorful menu reflects the time Tang (formerly of Hungry Mother) spent in sub-tropical Taiwan, learning to cook the dishes he grew up with.

Even the cocktails we started with tasted zesty--particularly the rum mixed with ginger soda and slices of lime. Icelandic Reyka vodka with pomegranate juice and Himalayan goji berries was another happy choice.

Many of Tang's veggie dishes feature local vegetables, and though I didn't find out for sure, presumably these included our favorites: the sauteed kale topped with crunchy garlic; the light and refreshing kohlrabi and carrot salad with sesame-ginger dressing; and the celery root salad with poached chicken and apple in a creamy sesame-mustard sauce.

The other stars of Tang's menu are his handmade noodles, which have drawn comparisons to David Chang's Momofuku. Beef noodle soup is one of the most popular dishes in Taiwanese cuisine, and Tang's version was made with thick noodles, beef shank, celery root, and parsnip in a hearty, spicy beef broth.

Another thick-cut noodle soup (this one a special) came with smoky pork meatballs and vegetables including sunchoke and mustard greens. It wasn't my favorite, but like the other dishes, it was full of interesting flavors.

We liked the hand-rolled short rice noodles best. Prepared with chicken, daikon, shiitake mushrooms and XO fish sauce, these tender little pillows reminded me of incredibly light gnocchi flavored with an array of Asian seasonings.

At the beginning of the meal, our waitress advised us to order three to four dishes per person, but we were satisfied with roughly 2.5 each. Still, at $150 for four people, it was not an inexpensive dinner. But I haven't found anyplace else in Boston serving Taiwanese-inflected food this fresh and innovative.

Top 10 BellyGlad Moments of 2009

2010-01-01T14:03:00.000-08:00

1. Food Fit for an Inauguration. The bill of fare from Abraham Lincoln's presidential inauguration in 1865, as well as this year's menu for President Obama.

2. A Band of Female Food Bloggers Descends Upon Fleming's Steakhouse. As PR reps recognized the utility of food bloggers for spreading the word about their restaurants, free dinner invitations flowed, and even the FTC got in on the fun with a (well advised) full disclosure requirement.

3. Julia Child Was My Neighbor. Five years since her death, 2009 was a banner year for Julia Child. I reviewed the movie Julie & Julia and was lucky enough to hear her former editor, Judith Jones, speak in Harvard Square.

4. Recession-ipes?Brian McFadden of the Phoenix is the genius behind recipes for Napkin Soup and Hampster Foie Gras. For my part, I recommended inexpensive but satisfying experiences like Soup Dumplings for the Soul.

5. Regrettably, the world of food publishing fell victim to the economic meltdown, and 2009 was the year that Gourmet died. We paid tribute to the magazine with a Thanksgiving dinner prepared from the last ten years of November issues.

6. But as the global economy changed, new movements like Urban Agriculture emerged. I met city farmer Novella Carpenter of Oakland, Ca, and learned that people are raising chickens right in my Cambridge backyard. It could also be said that reality TV and the Food Network influenced our eating and entertaining habits this year: An Iron Chef Competition Among Friends in Porter Square.

7. And in spite of the Recession, several worthwhile new restaurants opened in 2009--including Coppa in the South End. So did the imaginative new wine shop known as Central Bottle.

8. Because a year without travel would be a year without sunshine, two of my favorite far-flung gastronomic adventures of 2009 included Portugal and the Pacific Northwest.

9. Part of the fun of writing about food is the occasional opportunity to be snarky. Hence, a list of popular 2009 Food Terms That Annoy Me. Just Because. Plus, my worst dining experience of the year: Barbequed Jackfruit.

10. But in the end, perhaps 2009 was really about...roasted poultry. It was the year I roasted my first chicken in the first apartment where I've lived on my own, and also the year I experienced my first roast goose at Christmas.

A Christmas Cookie Extravaganza

2009-12-25T04:59:00.000-08:00

At Christmastime each year since I can remember, my mom makes at least a dozen varieties of cookies--some of them for eating and some of them for giving away. The tins she prepares as gifts are beautiful, with paper baking cups for each kind of cookie, and a printed label that says "Nancy's best homemade cookies."

Her recipes are mostly American and European, culled from sources like Bon Apetit, Good Housekeeping, Family Circle, old coworkers with whom she used to conduct a cookie exchange, and friends and family. Some of these are quite old, as she started buying the December issues of women's magazines with recipes when she was in college in the '60s.

This year's cookies include Swedish Drommar (made with baker's ammonium carbonate for a light and airy texture), Spitzbuben (which means "little rascals" in German), Teebrot (chocolate and cinnamon, another German recipe), Butterballs, Tante Elsa's Almond Crescents (a family recipe), Lemon Stars, Cherry-Macadamia Triangles, Gingerbread from Colonial Williamsburg, French Palmiers, and more.

Traditional butter roll-out cookies are best as bite-sized trees and angels, decorated with sugars and sprinkles. She and my aunt used to paint them with colored egg yolk "paint."

A recipe adapted from Chez Panisse, these cookies contain dried cranberries and fresh orange peel.

Coconut buttons from Gourmet get brushed with dark chocolate.

For a great slide show of holiday cookies and recipes, see the New York Times.

A Christmas Goose is Cooked

2009-12-21T18:47:00.000-08:00

According to the Urban Dictionary, the phrase "your goose is cooked" means you're done for, as in "You've been caught buying dope. Your goose is cooked!" (Their example, not mine). But last Sunday when my friend's husband, Pete, leaned into the living room to utter the phrase, it meant simply that the goose he'd prepared was, well, cooked.

The bird had been procured at John Dewar & Co. in Newton, MA (where specialty birds like squab, capon, pigeon, partridge, and even ostrich are also available). It was a twelve-pounder but relatively long and skinny-looking in comparison to the rounder, full-breasted turkey I'm used to seeing in a roasting pan. Pete said that when it came out of the package, it looked as though it had been slathered in Crisco. He'd stuffed it with apples and onions. The bird had required about two and a half hours to cook to a temperature of 165 degrees, and had released at least four cups of clear fat (visible in the photo to the right of the bird). Pete intended to save it for making French fries and so on.

I chose a piece of dark meat near the ribs and found it to be close to steak in consistency but with the milder flavor of poultry. Pete and Cynthia served a prune stuffing with apples and onions alongside. And for dessert, of course, there was an old-fashioned figgy pudding, tasting of molasses and well studded with figs, topped with hand-whipped cream and hard sauce made of butter and sugar. It was decorated with a sprig of holly.

And because a goose for Christmas (followed by pudding) is a tradition reflected in that most beloved of holiday tales, A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, I leave you with an excerpt from that text and a brief scene of the Cratchit family meal, as revealed to Scrooge by the Ghost of Christmas Present:

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last. Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular, were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows. But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs Cratchit left the room alone -- too nervous to bear witnesses -- to take the pudding up and bring it in.

Suppose it should not be done enough? Suppose it should break in turning out? Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose -- a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid? All sorts of horrors were supposed.

Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day. That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastrycook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to that. That was the pudding. In half a minute Mrs Cratchit entered -- flushed, but smiling proudly -- with the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.

Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs Cratchit since their marriage.

Coppa does not runneth over

2009-12-10T06:29:00.000-08:00

A small group of us had intended to go to Toro last night for my birthday dinner, but when we arrived we found it closed for a private party. (Damn! Couldn't they have told me this when I called?) But a waitress who was smoking a cigarette outside and observing our dilemma encouraged us to try their new sister restaurant, Coppa. We were skeptical about heading there in a group on their very first night, but thinking the weather might have kept crowds at bay, we walked a handful of blocks up Shawmut Ave. to Ken Oringer and Jamie Bissonnette's corner spot with a figure of a pig hanging outside its front door. I was immediately surprised by how small the space was, but it was early still, and we quickly got a table. The second surprise was the menu--with a list of $5 stuzzi (starters) and main dishes that were shockingly affordable.

We started with the arancini from the stuzzi menu ($5 each) and an order of roasted brussels sprouts from the verdura menu ($6 each). Both were delicious but far too little to share among our group of five. We added an order of bruschetta with white bean spread, again from the list of stuzzi, and the cauliflower marinated with shallots, thyme and sea salt from the verdura. It quickly became apparent that the verdura provide more generous portions for sharing, while the stuzzi are really portioned for one. Everything was delicious--particularly the tiny brussels flavored with pancetta, pecorino and horseradish--but we were hungry for more, and noticing the bread on other tables, we asked for and received a generous hunk of crusty Italian bread.

We were inspired by the fun list of cocktails ($8 each) to try the Fig Swizzle, made with homemade fig cordial; the Belladonna, made with Gin, Pimm's Cup and Grenadine; and the Piscodora, with Pisco and Domain de Canton Ginger. All three were strong but tasty. Next time I'd try one of the cocktails made with old-fashioned bitters like Aperol, Campari and Cynar. We moved on to wine next and were happy to find a range of reds from $5 to $12, with the $5 choice being a very respectable Sicilian Nero d'Avola.

The highlight of the meal was the handmade pasta ($12 each). Mine was delicious, pleasantly chewy bucatini topped with a red sauce that tasted of pancetta and red peppers. Again though, portions were very small, and I could have eaten a bowl twice the size of the one I got. The others liked their cavatelli di pollo, orechiette with broccoli rabe and sausage, and ravioli made with two kinds of cheese. The only disappointment was the trofie with pesto, which was undercooked.

There's no dessert menu, but Coppa does offer two flavors of gelato--a semisweet chocolate and a rich hazelnut. As one of my friends commented, together they make nutella. Judging from how clean we licked the bowls, I'd say they were a hit. And that we were still hungry. Next time, I'd go to Coppa for a glass of wine and a bite of wood-fired pizza before a movie, or a snack of salumi and a chat at the end of a night. For a full Italian meal, go elsewhere.

Apologies for the terrible pun in the title of this post.

An Unexpected Irish Breakfast at the Druid

2009-12-07T07:01:00.001-08:00

I used to take myself out for restaurant meals more often. That was before the economy crashed and I started "tightening my belt," as the saying goes. But on Saturday I found myself killing time in Inman Square between touring Taza chocolate factory and waiting for my bike to be repaired at Broadway Bikes. It was cold outside, and I wanted something savory and hearty. First I thought of Olecito for tacos, but I wanted to sit down at an actual table and have the option to linger.

That was when I noticed the chalkboard advertising a full Irish breakfast outside the Druid on Cambridge St. I'd passed this bar often in the evenings, but it had always been too crowded to go in. Now it was dimly lit and nearly empty around noon on a Saturday. A few older guys drank early beers at the bar. And the legitimately Irish bartender offered me a table of my own.

I asked for the Irish breakfast sans black and white puddings (not a fan). It came with two eggs over medium, just as I'd specified, baked beans (they're hidden under the eggs in the photo), Irish sausage, Irish bacon, roasted tomatoes, potatoes, and white toast with little tinfoil packets of butter. For a second I felt like I was back in the UK, treating myself to breakfast as I used to do on weekend mornings during a stint teaching at an international school in London. It was very decadent. I sat there for a good long time, reading my paper, sipping my coffee, and taking perfect bites that combined at least two if not three items of the items on the plate.

This is the joy of an Irish breakfast--putting a bit of egg on a piece of toast you've skated around in the beans and perhaps mopped in the juice from the tomato. If you can add a small piece of Irish bacon too, all the better.

Taza Chocolate Opens its Doors to the Public on Saturday, Dec. 5

2009-12-02T11:45:00.000-08:00

The first article I ever published in a real magazine was called "Mexican Hot Chocolate: An Ancient Tradition in Your Own Kitchen." I had just traveled to Mexico City, and the steaming hot cups of chocolate I'd drunk while standing in the middle of the bustling Zocalo plaza had made a big impression.

So naturally I was excited to learn about the founding of Taza Chocolate in 2005 and about cofounder Alex Whitmore's trip to Oaxaca to learn about the Mexican method of stone-ground chocolate-making.

Later, once Taza grew big enough to require a factory space in Somerville, Whitmore returned to Oaxaca to study under a molinero, or stone miller. He brought back several stone "molinos" still used at their chocolate production headquarters at 561 Windsor St. And this Saturday, you can see them for yourself as Taza opens its chocolate factory to the public between 10am and 6pm.

I'm looking forward to a taste of their hot chocolate--and a look behind the scenes at an operation that has distinguished itself with its fair and sustainable practices, along with its ancient techniques of stone-grinding organic cacao beans.

Find more information at www.tazachocolate.com

A Gourmet Magazine Thanksgiving, Part II

2009-11-26T16:33:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving this year started early. Feeling bereft and uncertain in the days after Gourmet shut its doors (closed its covers?), we decided to pay tribute to the magazine that had been such a big part of our family by cooking from it exclusively for our holiday dinner. This required combing through back issues at my parents' house in New Jersey and led to my mom's unilateral decision to narrow our scope to November issues from the past decade.

Then, in a thoroughly modern process necessitated by living many states apart, we created a Google document containing possible recipes from each year. Each family member added comments (these ranged from "what makes this chestnut soup different from the next?" to "let's not get crazy, people"), and we winnowed the list down to one or two recipes from each issue. The final menu is listed, along with each magazine cover, here. See the rest of the photos here.

At the end of it all, the day felt like a veritable marathon of cooking--in which we woke up early, swallowed quick cups of coffee and bowls of oatmeal, and then went straight to work. There was no pause for lunch or mid-afternoon football or anything else. And all four of us cooked for hours in a modest-sized kitchen, reaching over one another for pots and ingredients, vying for burners on the stove and space in the oven, and elbowing each other as we chopped vegetables at the counter top. By the time dinner was ready, there was an impressive stack of dishes in the sink. But we each agreed it was the most fun Thanksgiving we'd had in years.

The stack of magazines to be consulted while we cooked.

Making pear-hazelnut-frangipane tart, decorated with Bosc pears.

A festive bowl of pomegranates and clementines.

Measuring parsley from the garden.

Polenta, parmesan and parsley ready for the sausage-polenta stuffing.

Sweet and spicy hazelnuts and walnuts seasoned with cumin, paprika, cinnamon, etc. Perfect for snacking before dinner.

Taking the turkey out of the oven. One of the best recipes of the day was a delicious gravy with apple cider and sage leaves.

The chestnut soup was creamy and smooth and vaguely sweet with a bit of sherry and bay leaf. Fried sage leaves made a crispy, savory garnish.

The brussels sprouts included shallots and mushrooms with white wine and garlic. A winning side dish.

Our favorites included Parker House rolls, an apple-ginger-cranberry sauce, and yukon gold mashed potatoes, made with a potato ricer to keep them light and fluffy. About the only thing we didn't like was the recipe for balsamic-glazed carrots, which had too much vinegar flavor.

A view of the table, after about 6 hours of cooking.

Of the pies, our favorite was the pear-hazelnut-frangipane tart with its lovely nutty flavors of almond and hazelnut. Some of us found the pumpkin-sour cream pie too sweet. Others were not that picky.

My mom's handwritten list of our final selection of recipes, along with an issue of the magazine from 1977.

A Gourmet Magazine Thanksgiving

2009-11-25T18:57:00.000-08:00

My mom started subscribing to Gourmet magazine in 1976, the year she and my dad got married. By the time I graduated high school, the magazines had nearly "pushed us out of house and home," as my dad would say. The trouble was, they were everywhere. And my parents fought endlessly about whether they should stay or go, particularly when my mothers' cookbook collection was also threatening to take over the kitchen. But in some ways, Gourmet was also the family Bible.

As a tribute to Gourmet, which ceased publication in November, our family decided to cook Thanksgiving dinner entirely from back issues over the past ten years. Below are the Thanksgiving magazine covers, beginning in 1999, along with the recipes we'll use from each issue. Check back to find out how it goes.

Cranberry Apple Ginger Sauce p.234 (1999)

Parker House Rolls p.170 (1999)

Fried sage leaves p. 200 (2000)

Pear and Hazelnut Frangipane Tart p.155 (2001)

Balsamic Roasted Carrots p.193 (2002)

Chestnut Soup p.99 (2003)
Roast Turkey with cider sage gravy p.172 (2003)

Sour cream Pumpkin Pie (2004)

Polenta and Sausage Stuffing p. 100 (2005)

Brussels Sprouts with Shallots and Wild Mushrooms p.202 (2006)

Spicy Green Salad with Manchego and Pear p.82 (2007)

Roasted Chestnuts (2008)

Sweet & Savory Spiced Nuts p.104 (2009)

Central Bottle brings a new wine-buying experience to Central Square

2009-11-23T19:12:00.000-08:00

From a distance, the new Central Bottle on Mass Ave near MIT might look a little too cool and architectural. But get up close, and you’ll notice whimsical touches like light fixtures made of tiny Campari bottles—not to mention the blue-eyed baby toddling around, forcing his parents (busy part-owners Nick Zappia & Liz Vilardi) to keep everything breakable out of his reach.

A visit last night to this week-old spot revealed a lot of warmth behind the glass façade—and a lot of innovation too, including a flat screen TV against one wall for connecting by Skype with winemakers and vineyard managers on other continents during wine tastings at the store (videos of these will be archived at centralbottle.com).

Nick, who also runs The Blue Room in Kendall Square, told me they have a couple bottles open for tasting every night. And on Thursdays the place transforms into a wine bar, with wine for sale by the glass along with bruschetta-like snacks called cichetti.

I’m told they also carry box wines from I Clivi (one white, a Tocai Friulano; one red, a Merlot) that are fantastic. Yes, box wines. Fantastic. If you don’t believe me, consult The Passionate Foodie. In addition to wine, you’ll find a wall hung with salumi, a decent selection of fresh cheeses, enticing jarred preserves like cranberry mostarda and sugar pumpkin & fig chutney, olive oils, Iggy’s bread, and more.

But perhaps one of the most charming things about Central Bottle is the story behind its conception—in which four partners (including David and Maureen Rubino, along with the aforementioned Nick and Liz) rented an apartment in Venice for a week “so they could cook, yell out the window in Italian and make dramatic hand gestures, spy on the neighbors, get lost in the winding streets, go to the opera, celebrate a birthday, meet the Rialto’s fisherman, and most importantly become intimate with the elusive enoteca…so they could come home and share what they love so much about Venice—intimate places to gather, eat cichetti, drink and buy wine.”

I haven’t been there on a Thursday yet, but it seems to me that the folks behind Central Bottle are on the right track to create just such an atmosphere.

An Iron Chef competition among friends in Porter Square

2009-11-21T07:33:00.000-08:00

A few years back, a couple of Porter Square dwellers decided to host an Iron Chef-style competition between friends from all walks of life who share one thing in common: their love of good food. It's since become a popular tradition. Hosts Peter and Viva select the main ingredient (this time it was hearty leafy greens), and a rotating cast of home chefs spend weeks testing recipes to hone a single dish to present to the judges, who wear funny hats (just because), award points, and provide feedback on the final products. The other guests/audience members--me included, at the most recent Iron Chef in early November--get to lap up the tasty leftovers.

Any good Iron Chef competition must include a little fire. Here, a former chef who gave up the demands of a professional kitchen (but still likes to dabble in the culinary arts) prepared mushrooms with Calvados brandy to serve with his dish.

The first course served to the judges was a cold green soup made from kale, chard, beet greens, smoked ham, onions, carrots, shallots and heavy cream.

Next came hostess Viva's quiche, prepared with chard, shallots, goat cheese, homemade bacon cured with roasted garlic, and a little puff pastry on top for good measure. I snapped this photo before she had a chance to add the arugula side salad.

One of my favorite dishes was this beef Wellington served with an intensely flavorful veal reduction, the aforementioned mushrooms, and a beet salad made with Greek yogurt. But it lost points with the judges for failing to highlight a leafy green.

The winning dish was a sweet, vibrantly green spinach bread (a riff on zucchini bread) that was topped with a sauce made from purple kale, star anise, lemongrass and amaretto, and drizzled with a raspberry coulis. It earned points for creativity and presentation.

But the dish I'd be most likely to make at home (and the 2nd place winner) was my friend Cynthia's mildly sweet European dessert tourte made with Swiss chard, Grand Marnier-soaked raisins, and orange zest in an almond meal crust. The brilliance of this tart is that it takes a traditionally savory green loaded with nutrients and transforms it into a light, citrus-flavored dessert that does not taste overly leafy. It is the opposite of spinach in Fillo, for instance, which packs a punch of spinach-y flavor. Though I'd never tasted one before, this type of sweet tourte is evidently quite popular in France. Cynthia's recipe (below) is slightly modified from Daniel Boulud's Cafe Boulud Cookbook.

Sweet Swiss Chard Tourte

Crust:

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/4 cups powdered sugar

1/2 cup finely ground almonds

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup cold butter

1 egg lightly beaten

Mix together the flour, sugar, almonds, and salt. Using a pastry cutter, large-tined fork, or food processor on pulse setting, cut the chilled butter into the flour until it resembles coarse sand with a few pea-sized pieces of butter still visible. Stir the egg into the mixture and toss gently a few times, just until it forms a ball that holds together.

Separate the dough into two balls, flatten slightly into thick disk shapes, wrap in plastic wrap, and chill for several hours before working with it.

For fast prep: put the dough in the freezer for 40-50 minutes before working with it.

Tourte:

1/2 cup golden raisins

3 TBSP warm Grand Marnier

1 1/2 pounds Swiss Chard, stems and tough center veins removed and washed

1 TBSP honey

1/2 cup pine nuts

2 large eggs, plus 1 egg, lightly beaten for egg wash

1 TBSP sugar

1/2 cup heavy cream

2 TBSP whole milk

1 tsp finely grated orange zest

1. Warm the Grand Marnier and then pour over raisins and let soak for 30 minutes. Drain before using.

2. Bring a large pot of lightly salted water to the boil. Plunge the swiss chard in the water and blanch for 5 minutes, or until the leaves are tender but still very green. Drain the chard in a colander and run it under very cold water.

When the leaves are cold enough to handle, drain them well, then squeeze them between your hands to remove excess moisture. Roughly chop the swiss chard and set it aside for the moment.

3. Melt the honey in a small pan over medium heat and toss in pine nuts. Cook, stirring until the pine nuts turn golden brown. Pull the pan from heat and cool to room temperature, then break the nuts apart if the honey has caused them to form clumps.

4. Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

5. Roll out dough and place one in tart pan on a cookie sheet and one on flat cookie sheet. Place in the refrigerator until ready for use.

6. In a medium bowl, whisk together the 2 eggs, the sugar, cream, milk, and orange zest. Stir in the cooked pine nuts, the swiss chard, and raisins. Spoon the filling into the tart shell and brush the rim of the tart with a little egg wash--this will be the glue for the top crust. Lift the circle of dough onto the tart and pinch the top and bottom crusts together. Trim off any excess dough and brush the top of the tart with an even coating of egg wash.

7. Slide the baking sheet into the oven and bake the tart for about 50 minutes or until the top is beautifully golden. Transfer the tart to a rack and cool.

To serve: The tart should be served a room temperature. Cut into 6 wedges and, if you would like, serve each wedge with a dollop of lightly whipped cream flavored with some vanilla and flower water.

To drink: Pair with a very late harvest wine from the Loire; an excellent one is Quarts de Chaume.

Raising chickens in the city with Novella Carpenter and my neighbor Holly

2009-11-14T09:22:00.001-08:00

novella
Originally uploaded by Farm City

Novella Carpenter, an urban "squat" farmer in Oakland, CA, began her talk on urban agriculture last night at the Fort Point Arts Center by telling us she'd had a pretty weird trip to the East Coast so far. The editor of Vogue had invited Novella to her house--something this down-to-earth, dumpster-diving city farmer hadn't exactly been expecting. But since her memoir, Farm City: The Education of an Urban Farmer, was published, lots of esteemed publications, including the New York Times and The New Yorker, have taken notice of Novella and her lifestyle and philosophy of food.

Novella got her start growing vegetables in raised beds on an abandoned lot next to her house. Then came a box of live chicks that arrived in the mail. Now she calls chickens the "gateway urban farm animal" that led her to rabbits, pigs, and eventually goats. Because feeding these critters (especially the pigs) was expensive, Novella and her boyfriend took to scavenging for feed after dark in the dumpsters of Oakland's Chinatown. She described the Chinese donuts and wontons they scored, along with buckets of gross but protein-rich fish guts. As she found herself wading through garbage wearing a head lamp in the middle of the night, Novella reflected that she and her boyfriend were now "these pigs' bitches." So much for feeling like the powerful humans at the top of the food chain.

But as a result of one such dumpster-diving "date" behind Eccolo Restaurant in Berkeley (known amongst dumpster divers for whole roast chickens and other treasures), she met Chef Chris Lee. He would eventually help her make prosciutto and salami from the slaughtered pigs.

As for coming to terms with killing the animals she'd raised, she said that from the start the intent was always clear: she would give these animals a great life, and then they would provide her with meat. But still, she said, "I hate slaughter day."

These days, she has turned her attention to Nigerian dwarf dairy goats, which measure only about 20 inches in length and produce a lot of milk, some of which she uses for making cheese. Novella's gardens produce enough fruits and vegetables for neighbors to wander in and harvest them, which makes her feel as though she is "feeding the community," a source of pride for any farmer. But it's not a profitable endeavor--she breaks even, she says. Most urban farms are nonprofit, but she'd like to see a program that would teach people how to make money from growing and producing food in the city.

In Boston, more city-dwellers are farming than you might expect. A woman named Holly spoke next about raising chickens locally in Cambridge, where the law allows "chickens kept as pets." Some of her neighbors know about the four hens that live in a coop she built out back, she said; some do not. But so far her urban experiment--spurred on by a class she took with Joan Teabagy at Codman Farms in Lincoln, MA--has been very successful. And her hens produce enough eggs to keep Holly and her partner in plenty of fresh pasta.

Some advice from Holly on raising your own chickens in the city:

Check the local laws: though Cambridge is relatively tolerant (there are lots of chickens in Cambridgeport especially, she says), Somerville does not allow chickens.

Plans for building a hen house can be found online (Holly's is 5 square feet, with an additional 60 square feet for a run, which is enclosed with a plexiglass roof so that hawks can't get to the chickens).

Shredded junk mail makes great chicken litter.

Chickens need space to peck in the dirt (once everything dies in her garden, she'll let them run there, Holly says).

As long as you keep their house clean, chickens don't smell (Holly adds fresh litter regularly and clean out the coop every couple of months).

Skunks, possums, raccoons, cats and dogs are all threats to city chickens; keep them safe with chicken wire that is dug into the ground.

Roosters can't be kept in the city, but this is not a problem unless you want to breed chicks.

Using a bulb to light the hen house will keep hens laying eggs even during daylight savings time, when they normally wouldn't have enough daylight hours to lay. (Hens lay about one egg every day.)

Fresh eggs will last up to a month in the refrigerator as long as you don't wash them.

You can rent a mobile poultry processing unit for small slaughters (however, there is only 1 of these in Massachusetts at the moment, so demand for it is high).

Slow Food Boston, host of this event, is a great resource for more information on producing your own sustainable, local food.

Learning to make tandoor oven-baked naan bread at Mantra

2009-11-12T16:50:00.000-08:00

Though it’s become an integral part of Indian cuisine, the tandoor oven actually originated in Turkey. Today it is found throughout the Middle East, along with the Balkans, Central Asia, Armenia, Georgia, and elsewhere. It is traditionally a deep, cylindrically-shaped clay oven, heated at the bottom with a charcoal or wood fire to temperatures of about 400 degrees for meat, and 450 degrees for bread.

Needless to say, most of us don't have one of these at home. But it's still fun to learn about cooking in the tandoor tradition during a weekly Tuesday night class at the Naan Bar at Mantra in Downtown Crossing.

Ranveer Brar, corporate chef at the One World Cuisine restaurant group (which owns Bukhara, Diva and many other Indian restaurants around the city), began by showing us how to prepare dough for naan bread. He mixed 2 pounds of flour seasoned with a pinch of salt and a pinch of sugar, 1 egg, and “thirty percent milk,” using the kneading attachment on a Kitchen Aid mixer to work the dough. It’s preferable to do so by hand, adding a teaspoon of oil toward the end, and being careful not to over-knead. He advised resting the dough in the refrigerator for two hours, and if you don’t happen to have a tandoor oven, using an unglazed porcelain or terra cotta baking slab (or a pizza stone, says my internet research). Roll the dough into a small flat round about the size of a plate. According to Ranveer, slapping it loudly as you shape it is essential. In a tandoor oven, the bread is pressed to the sides of the oven and sticks there. With a regular oven, you’ll need to watch for the dough to puff up, and then turn it over to cook the other side.

Some people flavor the dough with mint or toasted caraway seeds, and some stuff it with (or pile on top) delicious combinations of sweet or savory ingredients like coconut or garlic. At the Naan Bar at Mantra, you can try 3 varieties of naan--ranging from ginger & honey to sundried tomato & rosemary, along with even more inventive combinations like chocolate & marshmallow or PB&J--with 3 kinds of chutney, for twelve dollars.

But bread is not the only item you can cook in a tandoori, and Ranveer continued our lesson with meat kebabs. He encouraged us to marinate chicken, beef, or lamb in yogurt to make it tender, and to flavor it with 10% seasoning--which might include red chili, celery seed, cilantro, coriander seeds, fenugreek, cumin, fried red onions, and garam masala (prepared with a base of cardamom, coriander and rose petals, along with a balance of hot and cool spices).

And speaking of spices, Ranveer leads monthly spice tours (the first Saturday of every month) at Shalimar Indian Foods & Spices in Central Square, with a meal afterward at The Dosa Factory, a casual new lunch counter at the back of the shop, for twenty dollars. And even without a tandoor oven, knowing more about the amazing array of Indian spices (and their ayurvedic properties) would surely be a useful tool for any cook interested in expanding her repertoire to South Asia.

To register for a class, call 617-542-8111 and ask for Laura.

Lidia Bastianich & Judith Jones discuss their relationship in food

2009-11-10T03:31:00.000-08:00

Two doyennes of the food world came together last night at the Brattle Theatre to discuss the release of their new cookbooks as well as the history of their long relationship (the venerable Ms. Jones, once Julia Child's editor and mentor at Alfred A. Knopf, is now Lidia's).

Lidia began by remembering her initial discomfort with writing: "I could communicate with food," she said. "But I was insecure with words; I was editing myself before I even sat down to write."

It was touching to watch her turn to Judith Jones, now in her eighties, and say, "The most precious gift you gave me was liberty--the feeling that I can express myself in words."

In her newest book, Lidia Cooks from the Heart of Italy, she explores ten lesser known regions of Italy--by literally going into people's kitchens and talking and cooking with them. Many of her own photographs of the regions she visited appear in the book.

But as the two women tested recipes together, Lidia explained, it was clear that Judith had her own agenda--she wanted to know how to prepare each dish for one.

Now a widow, Judith lives alone, and she said that cooking for herself is a way of "treating yourself well." Describing her own rituals, she mentioned preparing simple meals that fill the house with good smells, and lighting candles. "It brings a lot of joy, and it makes you feel less alone." Thus, her new book: The Pleasures of Cooking for One. With more single households in America now than ever before (Judith cited the statistic that 51% of New Yorkers live alone), her message is timely.

As the evening concluded, an audience member asked where they'd be eating in Boston. Lidia mentioned Jody Adams and Lydia Shire as two of her favorite local chefs, and then revealed that she and Judith would be dining at Michael Schlow's Alta Strada in Wellesley tonight.

As for her favorite meal, Lidia said, "I love a perfect fig. Perfectly ripe, slightly cracked, with a drop of nectar on it. That is perfection for me."

Enchantment in the countryside at Gilson's Herb Lyceum

2009-11-08T07:43:00.000-08:00

We'd read on the Herb Lyceum's website to expect a magical night. And as four of us arrived on a chilly Saturday evening to a restored barn from the early 1900s, decorated with antiques, and three long tables set with candles, we could tell this promise would be fulfilled. There were dried herbs hanging on the walls, along with old farm tools. Vases of dried flowers stood alongside black-and-white photographs and gourds of various shapes and colors. A kind woman named Cathy (Chef Will Gilson's stepmom, it turned out) gave us a warm welcome and told us about the history of the property--including its long tradition as a Gilson family homestead (though others have lived there), and the work it took to renovate the barn and restore it using antique fixtures and recovered wood.

There were four of us who'd come together, but she encouraged us to mingle amongst the mostly older crowd as though it were a dinner party. Cathy told us that many of the diners who come to the Herb Lyceum subsequently try Will's restaurant, Garden at the Cellar, in the city--but every now and then she gets people who go to Garden first and then make their way to the Lyceum, as we had done.

We were amongst the only city dwellers dining that night--and it was fascinating to hear the new resident chef, Paul Callahan, talk about his experience of moving to a nearby farm in Groton as a result of his job at the Lyceum. Instead of seeking out ingredients as most chefs do, he told us, the local purveyors call him--offering grass-fed beef, or heirloom cabbage, or whatever is fresh and abundant. Chef Callahan's past experience includes such Boston institutions as L'Espalier and The Butcher Shop, and it's not hard to tell that working as the first full-time chef at the Herb Lyceum is a far different atmosphere.

"The difference is the people," he said. "I get to come out of the kitchen and interact with people--nobody is just a number here or a table that needs to be flipped--and I get to know the local purveyors." For a chef who loves to experiment with local ingredients and wants to have a dialogue with diners about the choices he's made in creating the six courses served at Friday and Saturday-night herb dinners, it's a pretty ideal fit.

All of the herbs used in preparing these dinners come from the gardens and greenhouses on the property. In the future, more of the produce will be grown on the grounds at the Lyceum too, and plans are in the works to start a CSA and expand the buildings to include space for bigger events (the current barn holds 32 people, maximum).

The menu at the Lyceum changes monthly, and diners bring along their own wine or beer. Highlights of our November meal included a sweet kraut made with apples and heirloom arrowhead cabbage from nearby Springdale Farms, and a day boat scallop that had been skillet-roasted with sage and brown sugar for a tasty sweet-savory crust. Cathy had told us that "clean platers get dessert," and it wasn't hard to fulfill her mandate as we spooned into a creamy roasted chestnut bisque, made with parsnip puree and dried cranberries.

Our main course was a rich, herbs-de-provence-braised short rib wrapped with spinach and foie gras inside homemade puff pastry, Wellington-style. A delicious smoked potato fondue (accomplished, the chef admitted, with an improvised smoker on the stove-top) and a variety of local squash in hearty, brown Perigueux sauce came alongside. By then we were totally sated, but the cheese plate proved irresistible: a wedge of creamy French cheese alongside Port wine-soaked bing cherries and honeyed pine nuts with lemon verbena. We finished with an upside-down quince cake drizzled with bourbon-spiked caramel and vanilla chantilly cream (made with vanilla bean, not extract, Chef Callahan was careful to emphasize) studded with thyme.

My only regrets were that we didn't get to stroll the grounds in daylight, and that two of our table companions were loud, overbearing, and increasingly drunk regulars who detracted from our focus on the delicious food and lovely atmosphere (if you go, steer clear of Grace & Tim). The other folks we sat with were quite friendly, and meeting new people at the table is a fun idea. But our experience ensured that when I return, it will be with enough friends to occupy one of the smaller tables.

Otherwise, though--thanks to Cathy and Dave Gilson and the fantastic Chef Callahan, along with good friends and outstanding food--the night was a magical one, indeed.

A Night in France, with Cheese & Wine & Ratatouille (but not the film version)

2009-11-07T10:33:00.000-08:00

My friend Alli's recent trip to Paris (where she did not take a single picture, it must be noted) prompted her to cook an enormous pot of ratatouille and share with us the cheese and chocolates she brought back.

As we spooned up portions of the fragrant stew, a few of the guests admitted to being familiar with ratatouille only because of the popular animated movie of the same name. At this, Alli and I were both a bit aghast.

But our conversation made me curious about the origins of the dish, and with a little digging, I found this explanation from La Tartine Gourmande, a well known French food blogger in Boston:

What is Ratatouille?

In the 18th and 19th centuries, the name was used to refer to a coarse stew. It derived from tatouiller and ratouiller, both expressive forms of the French verb touiller which means to stir up. This dish originated in Nice and is known all around Provence and France now, with a lot of different variations. The base however stays the same: zucchinis,eggplants, tomatoes, peppers, garlic and onion cooked in olive oil. All the beautiful flavours of the South of France. It is known that the word ratatouille was in use in Nice whereas the word bourbouillade was used in Nîmes.

For Beatrice's recipe for Ratatouille Tatin Tartlets, you can visit her blog.

For Alli's recipe, you will first have to get to know her.

But under no circumstances should you consider seeing the film an appropriate substitute for trying this dish.

Chef Richard Garcia Pairs Fair Trade Coffee with Sustainable Sea Urchins

2009-11-01T07:52:00.000-08:00

The first time I really became aware of sea urchins it was because I was spending the summer in Greece, and not stepping on one in the Aegean Ocean became a high priority. A little Greek girl taught me to call them echinos, which means both "sea urchin" and "hedgehog" and refers to their pointy spines. But I'd never tasted the fleshy inside of an urchin, and so I was fascinated to watch Chef Richard Garcia (of Tastings Wine Bar & Bistro in Foxboro) prepare them recently at an event called Eat, Drink & Be Fair at the Artists for Humanity center in South Boston.

First he snipped into a locally harvested urchin with a pair of scissors to reveal the meat inside. Chef Garcia told me these sea creatures are abundant off the shores of Massachusetts.

Then he scooped out the prized orange flesh with a spoon.

And finally, Chef Garcia filled the leftover shells with a parsnip-sea urchin-cappucino soup he had created using the meat of the urchins.

All of the chefs at Eat, Drink & Be Fair had been tasked by Green Mountain Coffee (those are coffee filters hanging from the ceiling, below) with using Fair Trade certified ingredients to create a winning meal, but Chef Garcia's was by far the most inventive. And while I can't say the flavors of slightly bitter coffee and briny sea urchin were my favorite combination, I'd still rather eat an echinos than step on one in the ocean.

Celebrating Fall in Ipswich, MA

2009-10-31T10:05:00.000-07:00

Ipswich's Crane Beach is one of my favorite summer weekend destinations. Little did I know that autumn here is spectacular too.

Pumpkins for sale at Russell Orchards. Their annual Apples & Wine festival will be Nov. 7-8.

Here you can also find the famous cider donuts that grace the cover of this month's Edible Boston. Unlike the cider donuts of my youth in New Jersey, these don't come covered in cinnamon sugar. But they are very cakey and perfect with a cup of coffee.

Twenty-five varieties of apples grow here too. According to Michael Pollan in Botany of Desire, there used to be many more. Learn more about the apples at Russell from how2heroes.

A view over the fields and salt marshes all the way out to the sea, from the Inn at Castle Hill. The colors of fall on this part of the North Shore are absolutely stunning.

A toast to Portugal's Borba wines

2009-10-24T07:06:00.000-07:00

The New York Times recently called Portugal's affordable Douro Valley wines a "harbor in an economic tempest"--and with good reason. But Douro is not the only region in Portugal that is producing amazing wines at incredible value. As I found out at a wine-tasting dinner hosted by Adega Coop. de Borba at Grill 23 last week, the lesser known Borba wines of the Alentejo region are every bit as tasty and Recession-friendly.

Borba is one of the oldest wine-making regions in the world--with roots tracing back to the Roman occupation. It is situated in the heart of the Alentejo, an agricultural center located in the south of Portugal, close to the border with Spain. The wines of Borba take their unique character from the valley micro-climate in which several native varieties of grape grow--including Aragonez (the same varietal as Tempranillo in Spain), Trincadeira, Touriga Nacional, Castelao, and others. As Luis Gaspar of Adega Coop. de Borba told us, "Portuguese winemakers don't do single varietal wines--they prefer to make blends of the best of the various varietals."

The Adega Coop. de Borba, founded in 1955, was the first wine cooperative in the Alentejo, and today it consists of 300 members--many of them tiny, family-run vineyards. Recently, grants from the European Union have allowed the cooperative's winemakers to utilize new technologies and improve the quality and consistency of the wines. As a result, Wine Spectator rated a wine from Borba for the very first time: Adegaborba.pt White 2008 (which retails for $8 a bottle) was awarded 87 points.

I can recommend three bottles I tasted myself--all of them usually available locally at Prospect Liquor in Inman Square, as well as Kappy's and Yankee Spirits outside the city.

Adega Coop. Borba Reserva Red 2005 (~$10-15) Look for the classic cork label (made from actual cork) that has graced this bottle since 1955. In Portugal, people associate this label with the Reserva wine's full flavor and aroma.

Adegaborba.pt Reserva Red 2004 (~$10) A more modern and very aromatic wine made from a blend of Trincadeira, Alicante Bouschet, and Cabernet Sauvignon.

Adega Coop. Borba Garrafeira Red 2002 (~$20-25) This more expensive wine is only produced in years in which the grapes are exceptional, and its flavor is complex, with hints of spice.

Homemade applesauce

2009-10-23T12:03:00.000-07:00

Nothing reminds me of my mom more than making applesauce at home. First, because it was a staple of our family dinners growing up. My mom would plan our meals based on a color-code she learned in Home Ec class: one protein; one white (rice, potatoes); and one bright color (green, say for salad, purple for beets, or the vibrant pink of homemade applesauce). And second, because she gave me the food mill I now use to press apples in my own kitchen. And third, because she's right when she says that homemade applesauce is one of the most simple yet utterly satisfying foods you can make.

All it requires is buying a bag of McIntosh apples (or picking them yourself, if you're farm-ish), quartering them with a knife (leaving skins, seeds, stems attached, no fuss) and putting them into a sautee pot along with about a 1/2 cup of water. Cover with a lid, and turn the heat up to about medium, then putter about for ten minutes or so, checking on the apples every now and then to see if they've gotten soft and the skin has started to pull away. Once they start to look as though you could mash the flesh with a fork, the apples are ready. You'll simply drain away most of the water, then dump the apples into your food mill and spin like mad until as much of that sweet flesh (but none of the skins, etc) as possible presses through to the bowl beneath. And that's it, my friends.

The sauce you're left with won't really resemble anything that comes from a jar. You won't need to add brown sugar or cinnamon, but you can. Either way, it will be warm and delicious, and it will taste like God's own food.

A Fair Trade coffee cupping

2009-10-17T08:42:00.000-07:00

Chef Gilson's pumpkin soup, made from local pumpkins.

I've tasted my share of wines, but I'd never attended a coffee tasting until last week, when I was invited to a dinner hosted by Green Mountain Coffee at Garden at the Cellar in Cambridge.

At the end of a meal that highlighted several Fair Trade and local ingredients, our host, GMC's Sandy Yusen, set two French presses on the table. While we waited for hot water to boil, she explained that coffee tasting is called "cupping," and at Green Mountain it normally involves sampling 10 cups of coffee to test for consistency from cup to cup. Green Mountain holds cuppings on the coffee farms where it sources its Fair Trade beans in order to teach the farmers how to improve quality and taste.

Sandy added 6 rounded scoops of freshly ground Sumatran Reserve coffee to the first press (or 2 Tbsp coffee per person) and passed it around so that we could sniff its "fragrance"--the smell of the ground coffee before hot water is added (as opposed to "aroma," which is the smell of the coffee once it is brewed). She then added 3 cups of water to the press (1 cup for every 2 Tbsp coffee), and we waited about four minutes for it to steep. In the meantime, she told us about the projects in Sumatra that have been funded by the Fair Trade social premium (a benefit that is paid to the coffee farmers' cooperative on top of the cost of beans)--including improvements to roadways, school systems, and access to clean water.

Then Sandy pressed the coffee and poured out a small sample of the Sumatran brew for each of us to taste. As with wine, tasting coffee involves slurping it to coat the tongue, and trying to detect notes that are floral, fruity, chocolatey or earthy. She explained that pieces of fruit often remain on the Sumatran beans, giving the coffee an earthy, raiseny, orangey flavor. Compared to the Kenyan Highland Cooperatives coffee we'd try next, Sandy described the Sumatran in beer terminology as a "stout"--a bean that can stand up to a dark roast. The Kenyan, on the other hand, is more of a hoppy IPA and takes a lighter roast. The flavor of the Kenyan brew can be described as more fruity and chocolatey.

Chef Gilson's tea-poached pears, made with Fair Trade tea.

When tasters sample coffee, she told us, they also talk about acidity or "brightness"--the same lively feeling you experience on the tip of the tongue when you eat an orange. As coffee cools, its acidity diminishes. Again like wine tasters, coffee tasters consider body (or mouthfeel)--is it thin like tea, or thick like syrup or cocoa?--and terroir, the regional characteristics that influence taste. In broad terms, coffee regions include Central & South American, associated with classic, smooth, balanced flavor; African, known for flavorful, bold, winey coffee; and Indonesian, which tend toward the sweet, mellow and aromatic.

At Green Mountain, the philosophy is that fairly traded beans from around the world are not only better for local people and for the environment, but they also result in better coffee. In order to spread the word about Fair Trade, they're hosting an event called Eat, Drink & Be Fair on Wednesday, October 21 at the Artists for Humanity Epicenter in South Boston. Four local chefs, including The Cellar's Will Gilson, will compete in a cook-off using Fair Trade ingredients.

For more information on hosting a cupping, visit CoffeeResearch.org. To learn more about Fair Trade, visit TransFair. And to find out where to buy Fair Trade products here in Boston (and hear about Boston's bid to become a Fair Trade City), check out Fair Trade Boston.

A view of the bar at Garden at the Cellar.

Piattini Cafe & Gelateria

2009-10-11T19:43:00.000-07:00

Piattini has always been a reliable spot for a tasty bowl of pasta and a glass of wine in the Back Bay, and now it’s got a little sister—-a gelateria and café that opened just nextdoor on Newbury Street this weekend.

I stopped in Saturday afternoon (day #2 in business) for a gelato, and after tasting a few flavors (which ranged from sweet potato to rosemary-honey to fig), settled on the heavenly mela mascarpone with bits of both green and red apple and a soothing undertone of vanilla.

The café’s tables were full—-including one two-top that sits right in the front window—-and the staff seemed crazed but happy.

When I go back, it will be for a Colombe coffee and one of those beautiful fruit tarts I spied in the pastry case. Or maybe a plate of antipasti and a glass of wine.

My only regret is that the gelati are stored in covered stainless steel containers, so it’s impossible to gaze upon them as I’m wont to do.

But there’s no question that this gelato (produced by a fine Philadelphia-based artisan, Capogiro) is superior to anything you’ll find in the North End.

The Smoldering Bear

2009-10-11T14:07:00.000-07:00

When I finally stopped at Marliave in Downtown Crossing last Friday, I couldn't believe I'd let a place with so much character escape my notice for so long. It all started because a friend and I were looking for someplace quiet and cozy for an after-work drink on a rainy evening. "What's the opposite of the Barking Crab?" she asked, naming our summertime standby. "I don't know," I said. "The Smoldering Bear?" That sounded...warm.

We knew the usual places nearby would be crowded with office folks. But as we headed toward Silvertone on Bromfield St, ready to elbow our way to the bar, I suddenly remembered Marliave at #10 Bosworth. Inside, it was quiet and dark. The hostess led us upstairs past vintage textured walls to the second floor bar, which was nearly empty and lit with candles. I noticed a huge antique mirror hanging on one wall and other vintage touches to remind us we were entering a restaurant that first opened in 1885--and survived Prohibition as a speakeasy.

It's been about a year now since Chef Scott Herritt of Grotto in Beacon Hill restored and re-opened Marliave, named for the original French owner. As we settled in at the bar, my friend and I were charmed by both the cocktail menu (with drinks named for Ulysses S. Grant, Papa Hemingway, and others) and the sweet bartender, Dara. She poured me a "Yellow Journalism"--made with Clear Creek pear eau-de-vie, the citrus-vanilla flavored Licor 43, prosecco, and lemon--while a server schooled us on the competition between newspaper moguls Pulitzer and Hearst that produced the scourge of yellow journalism.

As time passed, a handful of others joined us at the bar, and diners began to occupy some tables in the formal dining room overlooking Province Street. Though I hadn't planned to eat, I was pleased enough with the experience so far to order the scrambled eggs with black truffle and toast ($12). The cheesy eggs came in a soup terrine with a few shavings of black truffle on top, accompanied by a bowl of baby potatoes in rich herbed butter sauce, and four pieces of French bread toast. It was exactly what I felt like eating on a cold, wet night.

Those truffled eggs, plus the warm, quiet atmosphere around the bar and the utter lack of pretension in service, made us grateful we'd stumbled in. "This place is a gem," my friend said. "If you write about it, just call it 'The Smoldering Bear.'"

And while I agree that it'd be a shame if Marliave lost its hidden-treasure charm, and finding a seat at the bar became the bloodsport that it is at so many other downtown locales--now that I've found it, I'd like to see this 120 year-old relic stay in business.

Thanks to -sarma- on Flickr for the lovely photo.

Portuguese Convent Sweets

2009-10-04T08:43:00.000-07:00

The Portuguese love egg-rich desserts, from flan-like pumpkin pudding pictured in the first photo to Pasteis de Nata, the famous egg custard tarts in puff pastry (see photo 2). They serve endless combinations of eggs and sugar, like the ovos moles (in photos 4 & 5) made by beating egg yolks with sugar water. The historic reason for this is that nuns in convents would use egg whites to starch their habits, and winemakers needed large quantities of whites to "clear" their wines. In order to utilize the yolks that were leftover, monks and nuns developed the pastries and dessert dishes for which they are now well known. For more photographs of Portugal and its classic desserts, including specifics on where to find them, see here.

Portuguese piri-piri will be my undoing

2009-09-29T16:34:00.001-07:00

Hors d'oeuvres at Quinta do Martelo
Originally uploaded by andrea.calabretta

Our local guide in the Azores warned me not to become addicted to piri-piri, the pleasantly tangy red pepper sauce that came alongside bread and homemade cheese before every meal.

But by then it was already too late.

The beckoning of this piquant condiment, so well paired with mild white cheese, would not be denied. And so I ruined my appetite for the main meal again and again as I dropped tiny spoonfuls of piri-piri onto endless bites of bread and cheese--until I finally bought a jar of my very own at a farmstand near Biscoitos, Terceira for two euros fifty.

I was told the sauce is made from a pepper called malagueta that is common in the region. And though it originated with the Portuguese, piri-piri is now a staple of East African cuisine as well. In the photo, you can see a small container of it at back left, with the classic white cheese in the foreground.

Now that I am back in Boston, my piri-piri addiction continues unabated, and I'm already wondering how to get more...

Harvesting grapes in Terceira

2009-09-27T06:47:00.000-07:00

While traveling in the Azores last week, we noticed a family harvesting grapes just off the road on Terceira island. In the Azores, where the weather can be variable and sometimes harsh due to the islands' position in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, grapes are grown amongst lava rocks, which retain the heat of the sun. We watched as three generations of a family cut grapes from the vines and then pressed them for making vinho do cheiro, a traditional wine made from American grapes (the phylloxera plague of the 19th century was responsible for the introduction of American vines). The most popular wine in the Azores, though, is verdelho white wine from the island of Pico. Aguardente (brandy), fortified wine, and delicious fruit liqueurs including blackberry and passion fruit are also produced here.

Wedding Pie

2009-09-15T18:57:00.001-07:00

My friend Ecofoodie got married Labor Day weekend in a small, very personal, and very lovely ceremony in the Berkshires.

One of my favorite parts (surprise, surprise) was dessert. It was not the standard wedding cake, but instead pecan pie made by the groom's mom, along with an assortment of See's chocolates, and Danish wedding cookies made by the bride herself in a marathon baking session the day before her guests arrived. It takes a special kind of lady to make so many cookies at such a fraught moment.

For more clever alternatives to the standard wedding cake, see Let Them Eat Cake--Just Not at Your Wedding.

Starting this Saturday: Chocolate Bar at the Langham Hotel

2009-09-08T16:53:00.000-07:00

There's nothing quite like the sensation of biting into a chocolate bar. Especially if said Chocolate Bar is actually a spread of delicious desserts--from panna cotta to profiteroles--served Saturdays at Cafe Fleuri in the Langham Hotel, downtown Boston.

I was lucky to sample some items from Executive Pastry Chef Jed Hackney's repertoire recently, and it was enough to convince me that this Bar is way better than a mere Hershey's.

Two stand-outs were the warm apple cider donuts (oh my, it must be fall) and the cups of custardy zabaglione with berries at the bottom.

Neither of those sound like chocolate, you say? Well, don't be so literal!

Chef Hackney (pictured) plans to introduce all kinds of temptations to this year's Chocolate Bar series, and not all of them will contain the precious cocoa bean. But not to worry--should you choose to spend a Saturday afternoon gorging yourself as happily as I did, you won't lack for mousses and cakes and macaroons and pots de creme that do.

Top Ten Eating Experiences in the Pacific Northwest

2009-08-29T09:44:00.001-07:00

An unbiased selection of the best food & drink experienced by two sisters from the Northeast over a one-week period in San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle. Find more photos here.

1. Dinner in the cafe at Chez Panisse, Berkeley. Eating at Alice Waters' restaurant has been a life-long dream for me and my sister, who grew up on the Fanny at Chez Panisse cookbook. It lived up to our expectations for incredibly fresh, delicious ingredients and simple food, made well. We had the iconic baked goat cheese with greens in a lemony vinaigrette; chanterelle mushroom lasagna with bechamel baked in the wood oven; fresh pork sausage with shell beans and sage; the Chez Panisse house red zinfandel; and for dessert, vanilla bean ice cream with lavender honey and nectarines.

2. Wood-fired pizza at Delancey, Seattle. Brandon and Molly (of Orangette) do one thing at Delancey, and they do it well. In my opinion, it'd be hard to find a better pizza outside Italy. The key? Fantastic ingredients, including fresh mozzarella and Grana Padano cheese. Molly's chocolate chip cookie with grey salt for dessert was not bad either.

3. The Ferry Market on the Embarcadero in San Francisco. Better fresh fruit turnovers than those from Frog Hollow Farm I have truly never encountered. The cherry was good, but oh my, the fresh peach & frangipane was deluxe. Not to mention the exquisite selection of fruits and vegetables and cheeses and meats and so on from local purveyors all around. Plus Blue Bottle Coffee, dripped fresh for every single cup.

4. Bread & treats from Little T American Baker in Portland. Just down Division St from the Bluebird Guesthouse where we stayed, Little T is a fine place for croissants and baguettes in the French tradition, as well as tasty quiche and blackberry muffins.

5. Enormous burritos in the Mission District, San Francisco. We don't get burritos like this on the East Coast. We just don't.

6. Dim Sum at Tom Kiang in Richmond, San Francisco. Per instructions from a friend, we then proceeded to eat a hot fudge sundae at Toy Boat Cafe and browse at Green Apple Books nearby.

7. BridgePort Brewing Co. beer in Portland. The Portland "brew pub" is a great tradition, and this place is the oldest craft beer brewery in the city.

8. Burgers & shakes at Red Mill Burgers, Seattle. Oprah says this is "one of the 20 hamburgers you must eat before you die," and I have to agree. Note the huge stack of bacon for bleu cheese & bacon burgers in the photo below.

9. Salty caramel ice cream at Molly Moon, Seattle. New but already popular Molly Moon offers flavors like balsamic strawberry, rosemary meyer lemon, cardamom, and pleasingly salty caramel.

10. Thai food at Pok Pok, Portland. An American guy is responsible for this hip spot with more-authentic-than-most Thai food. It falls to number 10 because my sister (who's been living in Bangkok for the past 2+ years) says it's still not quite right. Blame the difficulty of sourcing Thai ingredients.

11. Homemade Marionberry pie in Manzanita on Hwy 101, Oregon. So this wasn't really in Portland, and that's why it's #11. But it did qualify as one of the best things I ate all week--on the same day in which we spotted a bald eagle, and witnessed several people being baptized in the Pacific Ocean at Cannon Beach. Marionberries are a kind of blackberry that grow like crazy in this region.

Pie in the Park, Round 3

2009-08-24T18:10:00.000-07:00

There's something to be said for eating a lot of pie among friends in a beautiful park on a summer afternoon. And that's just what a bunch of Brooklyn bakers did this past Sunday as they celebrated the third annual Pie in the Park, an event organized by the very stylish and pie-savvy Lauren Cucinotta to raise money for Hot Bread Kitchen, an NY-based nonprofit bakery that employs immigrant women who bake artisanal breads from around the world.

Winners of the pie-baking contest included miniature basil-and-lemon curd pie pops on sticks (best presentation) and a candied bacon and dates pie topped with candied bacon ice cream (which captured the top prize). I wasn't able to attend, but judging from the fabulous photos, I'd put my money on the fig and lavender goat cheese galette made by Meghan Currier, who was kind enough to provide the recipe below.

Fig and Lavender Goat Cheese Galettes
Makes four 7" galettes

I made one giant galette from this recipe. You can use any type of fig you like and mix your own lavender goat cheese if you don't have access to pre-made (I made my own).

Dough
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
7 tablespoons ice water

Filling
1 1/2 pounds figs
8 ounces lavender goat cheese, softened*
1 tablespoon honey, plus more for drizzling
1/4 cup ground almonds
1/8 teaspoon dried lavender buds

1 tablespoon melted butter
1 teaspoon sugar

To make dough
Combine flour, sugar, and salt in a large bowl. Cut 4 tablespoons
butter into the flour mixture with a pastry blender, mixing until
dough resembles coarse cornmeal. Cut in remaining 8 tablespoons butter
with pastry blender, just until the biggest pieces of butter are the
size of large peas.

Dribble 7 tablespoons ice water into the flour mixture in several
stages, gently tossing and mixing with your hands between additions,
until the dough just holds together. Do not pinch or squeeze the dough
together or you will overwork it, making it tough. Keeping tossing the
mixture until it starts to pull together. If it looks like there are
more dry patches than ropy parts, add another tablespoon of water and
toss until it comes together. Divide the dough into four pieces,
firmly press each piece into a ball and flatten into a 3-inch disk,
and wrap tightly in plastic wrap. Refrigerate at least 30 minutes
before rolling out.

To roll out the dough, take one disk from the refrigerator at a time.
Let it soften slightly so that it is malleable but still cold. Unwrap
the dough and press the edges of the disk so that there are no cracks.
On a lightly floured surface, roll out the disk into a circle about
1/8-inch thick. Transfer the dough to a parchment-lined baking sheet
and refrigerate at least 1/2 hour before using.

To make galettes

Preheat oven to 400F.

Trim stems from figs and quarter them lengthwise; set aside.

In a small bowl, combine goat cheese and one tablespoon honey.

Remove rolled-out dough from the refrigerator. Spread a fourth of the
goat cheese mixture over each dough round, leaving a 1-inch border
around the edge. Evenly sprinkle ground almonds over goat cheese.
Arrange figs on top in overlapping circles. Lightly drizzle with the
honey and sprinkle with lavender buds.

With cool hands, fold the dough border up over the figs and form
pleats. (Don't worry about making it perfect; galettes are meant to be
free-form.) Brush dough with melted butter and lightly sprinkle with
sugar.

Bake until crust is golden and filling is bubbling, about 40 minutes.
Transfer galettes to a wire rack to cool. Serve warm or at room
temperature.

*To make lavender goat cheese:
Mix up to 1 teaspoon dried lavender buds into 8 ounces softened goat
cheese. The potency of lavender buds can vary, so add 1/4 teaspoon at
a time and taste; it should be fragrant, but not overpowering.

Submit your farm photos to win tickets to Farm Aid

2009-08-21T09:25:00.001-07:00

Striations
Originally uploaded by Nicholas_T

Farm Aid recently launched an online photo contest (www.farmfreshpics.org) with a grand prize that includes a free trip and front row tickets to Farm Aid 2009.

I'm told they're looking for photos of farms, farmers and farm families, farming equipment and barns, farmer's markets and farm animals — anything and everything that shows the vibrancy and beauty of the American family farm.

The contest will run through Sept. 20, 2009 and winners will be selected on Sept. 22, 2009. Farm Aid president Willie Nelson, Elaine Irwin Mellencamp, singer/songwriter Jason Mraz, rock photographer Paul Natkin and Farm Aid executive director Carolyn Mugar will serve on a panel of judges who will select one of the contest winners.

Julie & Julia's better half

2009-08-13T19:19:00.000-07:00

Much has already been said about the best and worst parts of Julie & Julia--and about the charm and richness of the Julia-in-Paris storyline versus the comparatively meager Julie Powell narrative. So I won't rehash that critique here. Instead I'd like to focus on the biography/memoir from which half this film was drawn: My Life in France.

The vibrant voice of Julia Child comes through remarkably via Meryl Streep, but the book (co-written with her grandnephew, Alex Prud'homme) is, obviously, even closer to the bone. Julia spent the last years of her life working on it, and a tone of wistful nostalgia for the period she spent in France, from her first taste of sole meuniere through her exam at the Cordon Bleu and beyond, is clear.

My favorite part, though, is that in which she describes her kitchen at 103 Irving Street (the street on which I happen to live) and her life in Cambridge. By then, Mastering the Art of French Cooking had been published, and she was no longer the "loud and unserious Californian" she had been at the beginning of her time in Paris. Which is not to say that she couldn't still be loud and unserious.

Par exemple, this remembrance from the Cambridge era:

"With our first royalty check [from Mastering the Art of French Cooking], we bought a book on how not to let plants die (for me), a dry-mount press (for Paul), and the latest edition of Webster's dictionary (for both of us), which led us to scream at each other about the proper use of language. He was a language-by-use type, while I was an against-the-prostitution-of-language type. We also bought our first television set...that was so ugly we hid it in an unused fireplace."

This passage is typical of the gung-ho, conversational style in which she recounts the details of her life and her marriage to Paul. For me, it's almost like sitting across from her at the table--perhaps in the Irving St kitchen she describes as "the soul of our house...and a real wowzer."

If you have seen the film and been enchanted, you should, as they say, read the book. As Julia writes, it is "about some of the things I have loved most in my life: my husband, Paul Child; la belle France; and the many pleasures of cooking and eating." And on these three points, she could never be said to hide her enthusiasm.

Photographs are from Savenor's on Kirkland St. in Cambridge--one of Julia's favorite places to shop. Her signature phrase, signed "JC," remains in the sidewalk outside.

Soup dumplings for the soul

2009-08-11T16:25:00.000-07:00

I'd been hearing about soup dumplings from my dad for at least a year before I tried them. If you've never had one, a soup dumpling (or Shanghai steamed bun, as it's often called on menus) is an approximately golf ball-sized dumpling that's been filled with soup and a round ball of meat and twisted closed. That's right--the soup is on the inside. Which requires a certain finesse in the consumption.

Craig Laban, a Philadelphia food critic, favors biting the top off the dumpling and slurping the soup out. It was he who recommended Dim Sum Garden, a nondescript little place near the Reading Terminal Market that makes the exquisite soup dumplings I tried for the first time just a week ago.

My dad taught me to do it like this:
1. Grab a dumpling out of the steamer with your chopsticks
2. Place said dumpling into your soup spoon
3. Use a chopstick to poke a hole in the side of your dumpling, and let the soup run out
4. Drink the soup from your spoon, sucking more liquid from the dumpling as you see fit
5. Bite the dumpling to finish the remaining meat and dough
(6. If you are my dad, you will require the extra step of discarding the twisted top of the dumpling, which he regards as excessive)

It may not sound like much, but the soup dumpling is an exquisite little package. As I slurped the rich broth contained within, I immediately thought of the flavor known as umami, and of Jonah Lehrer's chapter on Auguste Escoffier in Proust Was a Neuroscientist:

The year was 1907 and Japanese chemist Kikunae Ikeda asked himself a simple question: what does dashi taste like? Dashi is a classic Japanese broth made from kombo, a dried form of kelp. Since at least 797 A.D., dashi has been used in Japanese cooking like Escoffier used stock, as a universal solvent, a base for every dish. But to Ikeda, the dashi his wife cooked for him every night didn't taste like any of the four classic tastes or even like some unique combination of them. It was simply delicious. Or, as the Japanese would say, it was umai.
And so Ikeda began his quixotic quest for this unknown taste. He distilled fields of seaweed, searching for the essence that might trigger the same mysterious sensation as a steaming bowl of seaweed broth. He also explored other cuisines. "There is," Ikeda declared, "a taste which is common to asparagus, tomatoes, cheese and meat but which is not one of the four well known tastes." Finally, after patient years of lonely chemistry, in which he tried to distill the secret ingredient that dashi and veal stock had in common, Ikeda found his secret molecule. He announced his discovery in the Journal of the Chemical Society of Tokyo.

I'm told Gourmet Dumpling House in Boston's Chinatown makes a good soup dumpling. And given my fondness for that rich, earthy flavor of umami--whether it's seeping out of a doughy steamed bun or an expertly cooked steak--I'm ready to give them a try.

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia.

A foodie dilemma

2009-07-27T10:38:00.001-07:00

UPDATE: A happy ending for our Food Network fans!

They write:

We saw it at the Cambridge Brewing Company. Bartender Betsy was terrifically accommodating. We had fun and the food and beer there is GREAT! We went for a late lunch -- made the arrangements -- and then returned for dessert and the show! Thanks for your help. We have found very friendly people everywhere here.

7/27/09:

I received an interesting plea today from an out-of-town reader. As a person who barely owns a functioning TV (and has no "cable offerings" at all), I am at a loss for what to suggest. Can anyone help this desperate fan of The Food Network?

We’re spending a week in Boston/Cambridge next week and are hungry for the best food ideas. Also, we are a little desperate. We want to watch the final episode of the Next Food Network Star, but our hotel does not have it on their cable offerings. Do you have any suggestions?? I would very much appreciate it. We can’t wait a week to see it on DVR.