Delicious Paths

Back from Vacation!

2005-05-30T15:49:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, it's been a while, but CameraMan and I hadn't taken a vacation since we got married last year. So, it was time to get away - we managed to carve away a week from work, the new house, the kitten, friends and family commitments, and the constant call of the kitchen to make our way to the Lighthouse Reef Resort on the Lighthouse Atoll in Belize. Let me tell you, this is just what I needed! One glorious week of scuba diving three times a day, reading, eating, and snuggling with CameraMan! The weather was divine, there were only five other guests, which meant we basically had the entire island to ourselves, the scuba was brilliant, and I got through five (!) books!

A quick review, then, and I promise I'll be back soon to post the results of my first foray into Belizian cooking. The cook, Lucy, gave me her recipe for tortillas, which CameraMan fell in love with while we were there, as well as for stuffed chocho (choyote squash) and for her sizzlin' hot habanero salsa. So once I get my act together (okay, it probably won't be too quick, since I have to go to Chicago this week for work), I'll give them a whirl and share the wealth.

On to the book reviews then, and I think you'll be happy to read about them. I read three books I'd consider relevant to the food blogging world: You: The Owner's Manual by Michael Roizen and Mehmet Oz, It Must Have Been Something I Ate by Jeffrey Steingarten, and Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg.

You: An Owner's Manual: Great book! Exceptionally accessible, even to those of us with little to know science background. The premise is, if you don't understand how your body inherently funtions, how should you know how to best take care of it. I agree with this - it's much like reading On Food and Cooking by Harold McGee to understand the science behind food or Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child to understand the techniques required to achieve French culinary excellence. Without guidance, in readable, comprehensible terminology, how can one expect to perform? You is broken into chapters detailing each area of the body, how it interacts with other areas of the body, what can affect it, what nutrients will help it perform optimally, and how aging changes it. You receive all of this information in a comedic, almost irreverant tone, with physiologically correct diagrams adorned by their internal host, a gnome-looking little guy, pointing out bits of interest. From skin to heart, eyes to gastrointesinal tract, Oz and Roizen help you learn about yourself and how to really treat yourself well. They promote exercise, healthy foods in moderation, moderate drinking (yes - they infact suggest a glass of wine each night with dinner is important to optimal health) and plenty of rest. At the end of the book, there is a ten-day diet to help you try out some of their nutritional guidelines and see whether you feel better - dessert is included three times a week, and there's plenty of variety. I'd recommend reading this to get a better sense for what's going on in there. Afterall, we're spending enough time feeding, watering, and moving our bodies - we may as well know what's going on behind the scenes.

It Must Have Been Something I Ate: I know I'm going to be crucified for this. I do. But I must be honest with you, dear readers, because there is no sense reading a blog if not to understand the writer's true perspective. Jeffrey Steingaten taught me, if nothing else, that this is important, nay, critical, when you are trying to convey your wisdom upon the masses. And so I say unto ye... I hate this man. Hate.

Yes, it's a strong word, but I have never read a book that left me recoiling from the author as much as Steingarten's It Must Have Been Something I Ate. A collection of food musings by Vogue's most notorious food critic, the premise is we are able to journey on with Steingarten as he eats his way across the globe, learning, perfecting, and experiencing food as though it was the only meaning life had to offer. In this, I enjoyed the book. Steingarten reviews foods I would never have considered, from homemade boudin noir to turducken. I loved reading about the gastronomic lengths he went to for his dog, Sky King, in allowing man's best friend to eat at least as well as man himself. I related to his search for the perfect baguette, his mourning the loss of the delicious, mouthwatering delight that French boulangerie turned out years ago. I giggled as I pictured him sitting in a dinghy, waiting for the sea urchin diver to surface with fresh urchins, green as the surrounding kombu. I cannot tell you that I did not enjoy some of the stories, dear reader, so please do not think I am without a sense of humor.

However, I was so repulsed by his article on phen-fen (beginning pp 126 of the soft-cover edition, and including such choice lines as, "My Spanish was not good enough to figure out the problem, but it struck me as sad that drugstores in northern Mexico are so terrified by the Drug Enforcement Administration..." and "Of what conceivable use is a diet drug that may help a poor 350 pound man or woman lose ten pounds once in a lifetime? Everybody knows that diet drugs will inevitably and predominantly be taken over extended periods of time by the borderline obese, whose genes cause them to gain weight much more easily than they can take it off. Nice, normal, average people like me.") that I nearly stopped reading right there. Steingarten had the gaul to mock Americans who believe that consuming MSG gives them headaches and scorned those who claimed food allergies, and in the same book whined like a four year old whose candy fell on the floor when his beloved phen-fen took away his miracle cure to his mammouth girth. He goes so far as to say, "When it comes to phony food allergies and intolerances, I am not an unbiased observer." He's quite correct - he is the most biased, obnoxious example of a hypocrit I've ever read.

In addition to offending me with his duplicity, he managed a second slap in the face with his chauvinism. In the same article describing his lust for phen-fen, he slams one out of the park with the following line, "After two and a half years on fen/phen, my BMI was down to 26.5, well out of the danger zone but still above the optimum, which is 21, though I feel that some girls can be awfully attractive at a BMI of 19, which translates as five feet four inches and 110 pounds or six feet and 140, both of which are still presumably above Kate Moss levels." Let that sink in a moment, won't you? He also exonerates fashion magazines from responsibility for promoting unrealistic physical expectations ("And you cannot blame magazines like Vogue for ingecting us with an exaggerated concern about looking too chubby. Men have it worse than women."), and makes inappropriate comments about underage girls ("Instead of being surrounded by bewitching 16-year-old girls dressed as organic carrots and Japanese cucumbers in really short skirts, as you would see at American trade and agricultural fairs..."). The book is riddled with examples - you can discover them yourself, should you decide to read it. But as for me, I think I will take a pass. I can't, in good conscience, continue to support a man who so completely represents a state of mind and attitude so completely and totally aborhent to me, no matter how interesting his review of coq au vin might be.

Oh, and he's dead wrong on coffee. I'd skip it if I were you.

Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress: This one started off strong. Debra Ginsberg has an easy, relatable writing style that was at once engaging and interesting. The book begins with her first exposure to waiting, starting with experiences shared with her by her father and continuing to her first few jobs - first at a lunchonette, then eventually at a national park, and so on. Her antecedotes are amusing, you get caught up in her feelings, and although some of the dialogue is a little canned, you're interested in what will happen next. This continues through the middle of the book, where she describes her experiences in an upscale dining hall whose patronage is primarily octagenarians, a small Italian cafe, and a larger Italian restaurant. She doesn't hold back, outing restaurant managers, staff, and clients from tale to tale, discussing sex, food, pregnancy, and social standing. It's good fun.

And then it all falls apart with only three chapters to go. At once, she decides to depart from her storytelling and embark on a more academic study on film, feminism, and waitressing. And she totally lost me. I thought it might have just been the fact that I was on vacation, not willing to think as hard as perhaps I normally would, but when CameraMan took his turn at Waiting on the flight home, he stopped at that chapter, turned to me and said, "What the heck? Where'd this come from?" To be honest, we both skipped it after the first few pages, but even returning after the chapter completed, the mood was gone. The rest was dry, wooden, and uninteresting. Disappointing. Unless you're heavily invested not only in finding out about waitressing, but also feminist subculture and women's rights, it's going to happen to you too.

Instead of WaitingI'd recommend Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential or Hotel Babylon by Imagene Edward-Jones for a more entertaining read. I've also heard good things about Ruth Reichl's Garlic and Sapphires, but haven't read it yet, since it's in hardcover and expensive.

The Most Maligned Food in America?

2005-05-11T14:10:00.000-07:00

I picked up the latest Bon Appetit at CVS today on my lunch break, hoping to get a bit of a foodie fix, and I was delighted to find the 2005 edition of 'How America Eats' is included! I really enjoy seeing how I stack up with my region as well as the rest of the country. Some of the articules are available online, but I suggest you go out and grab a copy, because it really is a fun read.

One of the interesting tidbits I picked up was that the country hates caldoons. To be honest with you, I had never even heard of a cardoon, let alone eaten one, so it was surprising to me that it came up on the 'ick-list'...especially since all it seems to be is a cross between artichokes and celery. A textural element to a dish, but hardly something with a flavor to get exercised over.

Equally baffling was our distates for quail eggs. A quail egg tastes just like a normal egg. It's just small. Regular eggs weren't hated upon, so why hate on the quail? It's weird.

There were positives to note, however. Salsa remains America's number one condiment, having knocked out King Ketchup only within the past decade. Artisanal food is still in, which I hope will stay with us for a long time, since it helps with the mundanity in my day-to-day diet (so what if I eat a spinach and tomato salad with greek yogurt every day, if each day I try a different heirloom tomato??). Equally pleasing is the fact that supersizing and fast-food is out - are you listening, McDonalds - in favor of small plates (tapas anyone?) and family dinners. Who knows, soon we may actually become reacquainted with the lost art of conversation.

I won't hold my breath.

I don't know. I guess I'm just weird, even when compared to other people who share my interest in food like the audience reading and writing to Bon Appetit. My personal tastes seem to be more geared toward the South (likes: challenging recipes and food TV, hates: rice cakes and nutrition bars) than Northeast (likes: family dinners and pasta machines, hates: jerky and edamame). Of course the Midwest splurges describe me best: lobster, lobster, and more lobster! It just goes to show you - we might try and regionalize, but when it comes right down to it, we're a global nation, folks!

IMBB#14: Orange You Hungry for Some Chilled Citrus-Melon Soup

2005-04-24T13:43:00.000-07:00

A girl could really get into this - constant feedback in the form of praise for a job well done in the kitchen. After discovering a new and tasty recipe for Molasses Oat-Banana bread, I was flying high and fancy free - figured I could do no wrong, and shoot, why not try out IMBB for size? This week hosted by Food Goat and themed after a color rather than a taste, ingredient, or something equally expected, I figured I was up for any challenge and this was just the one to test me.

This is how egos are made and popped, my friends, for this coming entry in the IMBB contest would take no prizes for taste. Presentation, yes. It's a beautiful soup, the mouthfeel is exquisite, and even the scent as you prepare it is intoxicating - like a walk on a warm day in the orange groves of southern California, a slightly chilled breeze in your hair, the sun on your face.

The taste, however, is lackluster. I'm afraid I'll have to blame it on my own fool-hardiness; buying summer produce too early in the season is always a recipe for disaster. Look at the mealy tomato salads, tasteless strawberry shortcakes, and tough, chewy lobsters you get when you don't buy in the height of spring or summer, during peak seasons.

I tried, dear reader... Lord knows I tried. I marched proudly into my market, went through every cantaloupe/muskmelon with an exacting eye for quality (and in the process making more than one little old woman sigh loudly as I went around her for a potentially winning specimen). I followed my clues... looked for a smooth, even, slightly golden rind - no slick spots, and a slight dent at the 'pick-point'. And yea, I found two melons I felt up to the task of IMBB.

I should have known that my luscious looking melon, with its soft orange blush and its heady fragrance, wouldn't come to full flavor yet. That I needed to wait until June or July to really get the bang for my sweet, silky bite.

Alas. It had me fooled until the bitter end (or bland, as the case may be). I cut up my melons into nice, smallish chunks, my hands covered in sweet, sticky nectar and smelling like spring. The first melon went into the blender, at which point I got out a couple of ripe oranges and juiced them until I had about 3/4 C. juice. That went in, then the juice of a lime. Finally, to add to the sweetness of the fruit and to cut the acid just slightly, a tablespoon of raw honey (CameraMan's contribution. He loves different varietals of honey. Brattleboro's Raw Honey from Vermont. ..very nice). I spun the mixture into a froth in the blender, removed some to allow for more space, then added the remaining melon chunks which I'd cut up while the first batch mixed.

After bringing it all to a smooth consistency, I poured the mix into a large bowl and whisked in 6 oz. of whole milk vanilla yogurt, plus 2 T. of fat-free plain yogurt (which is what I had). When it was evenly combined, I grated some dried ginger over the top, whisked again, and then into the fridge for a couple of hours.
Behold, the lovely ocher smoothness, like sand on a beach when the sky is painfully blue and the clouds piercingly white. I garnished it with a bit of the orange peel and a small dollop of plain yogurt so that the tartness might contrast the sweet of the soup. And it would have... if there was some sweet to be offset. Just a bit too bland.

We were able to salvage it - a little salt brought out the flavours that were there admirably. But I think that the key to this dish (in addition to the salt) is to wait until the fruit is really ready to show its potential. She's a fickle diva, our muskmelon, and she won't reveal herself until she's good and ready.

I don't know about you, but for a real dish, I'm willing to wait.

Chilled Cantaloupe Soup
Serves: 6-8

Ingredients
2 large cantaloupe (muskmelon), cut into chunks
3/4 C. fresh orange juice (if you use store bought, pick one with no added sugar)
1 lime, juiced
1 T. honey
8 oz. whole-milk vanilla yogurt
1 tsp. freshly grated ginger
1/2 tsp. salt, plus more to taste

Directions: Cut one cantaloupe into evenly sized chunks. Add to blender with orange juice, lime juice, and honey. Blend until smooth. Cut second cantaloupe into chunks, then add to mixture and blend until smooth.

Pour mixture into a large mixing bowl. Whisk in 8 oz. yogurt until well blended. Add ginger and salt; whisk again until completely mixed.

Chill for 2 hours. Serve garnished with mint, citrus peel, or even fresh raspberries. Go nuts!

Sugar Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh Friday!

2005-04-22T07:07:00.000-07:00

Sorry, the 'i' got stuck in the sweet, gooey glop that is our key ingredient. Brown and oozing, molasses creates a visceral reaction in me, stemming possibly from afternoons in the kitcken with my Mom making homemade ginger bread or playing Candy Land with my little brother on the living room floor.

Which is why I was a little annoyed that it was picked. Afterall - spring has sprung! Now is the time for light, airy fluffy desserts with nary a calorie in sight, as we shift our minds (and our giths) toward summer, and bathing suit season kicks our will-power alive where our New Year's Eve virtue left it in February. Now is not the time for the thick, rich, lava-like goodness of fall's favorite sugar, molasses.

Or is it?

There's a lot of hullabaloo in dietary news about the importance of fiber, whole grains, fruits, and eating naturally. Diets, once focussed on low carb this and high protein that, seem to have died back down in favor of eating what the Good Lord put on this Earth unabated. The less processing, the better.

So, to temper my desire for Spring time, I decided to take molasses and help it turn a slender ankle in the direction of health and well-being. I decided to take a Cooking Light recipe, a little creativity, and some nutritional knowledge, and create a sugar high Friday to save myself a little guilt without sacrificing my dessert.

Enter: Oatmeal-Molasses Banana Bread with Bananas Foster Topping

I began with this recipe for Molasses-Oat Banana Bread from the September, 2003 CL magazine. I had to use fat free yogurt, because that's all we had in the house, but otherwise I followed the recipe appropriately. The batter came together beautifully, despite my adding the bananas a little late in the game, and was a lovely, mahogany color spiked with little oak pips of banana and oats.

I spatulaed (like the verb? Looks latin.) the batter into an 8 1/2 x 4 1/2-inch loaf pan coated with cooking spray as per the instructions, and popped it into the oven.

My oven runs cold, so my bread was baked at a setting of 375° for 1 hour, at which point I checked it and my left-over wood skewer for making satays came out clean. I love these things. Much more finger friendly than a toothpick when you're dippin' into something hot.

I did let the bread cool 10 minutes in the pan on a wire rack, but when I tried to remove it from the pan, it stuck a bit. Not a lot, but a bit. That's sugar for you. Maybe with the full fat yogurt, I would have been okay, but I doubt it. That's just sugar. Anyway, I removed it from the pan, sat it on the rack, and let it cool the rest of the afternoon so that it could firm up and the moisture would set. After about 30-45 minutes, I did cover it with a towel.

Later that evening, I made the Molasses-Foster topping. It came from a recipe on the Grandma's website - here is the link. The recipe calls for using a microwave, and since I was doing things pretty much by the book, I did it that way. But, in the future, I would do it in a skillet and get a little golden-browning goodness. It also would have helped if I had toasted the nuts. Lessons for next time.

Anyway, I made the cream-molasses caramel as per instructions. It didn't thicken up the way I expected, but the flavor was amazing - full of that savory-sweetness you get from molasses, not corn syrup. I added three sliced bananas to the mix as well as a quarter cup of pecans, since that's what we had, and cooked until it was all gooey. Mmmmm... the smell... I can still smell it. A little rum might not have gone amiss....

The caramel bananas recipe, on its own, was meant to serve four as a dessert, but I decided to use it as a topping on the banana bread to increase moistness and to make a more dessert-like final product. So, I sliced up the bread:

I added 2 T. of caramel, a couple slices of banana, and a few pecans.

Then, as a coup de gras, a tablespoon of Philadelphia-style (eggless) vanilla ice cream. The final product was divine. The molasses notes came out in the bread, the sauce, and were beautifully accented by the vanilla and banana flavors. Nothing tasted too heavy - in fact, the bread, when you took small bites, left with whisps of sugar-molasses thread that gave it an etheral quality I wasn't expecting. The banana flavor wasn't at all overwhelmed, which I feared, by the molasses. And the chewy oats gave the bread a lovely texture that prevented it going all soppy while we were photographing.

CameraMan felt the bread needed a little more salt to bring out the flavor, and that the bread was a little dry. I feel obligated to point this out, but I think neither, because the bread soaked up the sauce to the point where I feel the moisture level was perfect. I do think that, if you wanted to eat the oatmeal bread on its own, you might want to increase the bananas and make sure to use the low-fat (or even full-fat) yogurt to increase moisture.

So, how virtuous did my sugar high Friday turnout? Not too darned bad, especially for the number of real ingredients used - no fat-cuts except the yogurt. The bread, when sliced into 14 pieces, is (maybe a little less fat, since I used FF yogurt):
Calories: 177(23% from fat); Fat 4.6g(sat 2.4g,mono 1.3g,poly 0.4g); Protein 3.5g; Fiber 1.6g; Carbohydrates 31.9g. The sauce? For a 2 T. serving, you add on another 89 calories, 5 g. of fat (2g. saturated), 13 g. carbohydrates. and 1 g. of protein.

A delicious, sweet dessert for 266 calories?

Bring on the bathing suits.

Happy Tax Day!

2005-04-15T03:33:00.000-07:00

There's nothing quite so... impacting... as tax day. We dread it, grumble about it, joke about its inevitability, and every year it returns to hover over us like a nosy co-worker reading your email or that crazy aunt who won't leave you alone until 'she gets her hug'. It's also that time of year when couples tend to fight.

I am a fortunate woman, dear reader, for my CameraMan and I are on our first season of taxes and did not fight one bit. We took our ridiculously complicated bundle to H&R Block where a bizarre little gnome of a man proceeded to tell us that we didn't really need to declare our Iowa revenue, as it was only $300 over the declaring limit and therefore irrelevant. He says this to an auditor. Right. So we had our giggle together at the expense of Gil, and did not feel the need to kill one another over a stray receipt or missing check.

This, sadly, is not the common reaction. And so, to promote world peace and good will toward men, I offer you this inexpensive, delicious appetizer that you can serve when your tax man when he comes a calling. These little gems are courtesy of my Grandmother, by way of a friend from the 1940s/1950s. Food was expensive, but that didn't mean that homemakers could abscond from their responsibilities by not providing drinks and appetizers when friends or co-workers stopped by. Nor did it mean that they had to accept mundane, unpleasant morsels to serve their guests. It simply required a little creativity. Here, then, are Vera's ripe olive hors d'oeuvres:

Vera's Ripe Olive Hors D'Oeurves
1 cup chopped ripe olives- (4 1/2 oz. can)
½ cup chopped green onions
2 cups grated cheddar cheese- sharp
½ cup real mayonaise
½ teaspoon curry powder
½ teaspoon salt
cocktail rye bread

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

2. Mix all above ingredients, and if time allows let stand awhile to marinate flavors. I wouldn't recommend lightening this recipe with no-fat addins or making it chi-chi by buying fresh, greek olives from your local market. That's not the point. It's warfood, and its good like this - I can't vouch for the flavor otherwise. Once mixed, this will look a bit vile, like a ham and cheese salad with little black flecks in palce place of the ham. Have faith, dear friend! This can be made several days in advance if desired and refrigerated, so you can plan for it, if the tax man cometh.

3. Spread mixture on rye rounds. We use about a tablespoon on each, but its never measured. We eyeball these things, in the grand tradition of women before us. Arrange on a cookie sheet (no grease necessary) and bake about 10 - 15 minutes til thoroughly melted and gooey. They can be shoulder to shoulder like soldiers - even if the cheese goozes over onto the next one, it's only going to be delicious.

I will say, we never time them in the oven anymore, because more often than not we didn't have the oven pre-heated. Why? Because we weren't expecting company and needed something quick and on the fly! So times may vary and I recommend waiting around the oven like starved vultures, watching for the little toasts to bubble their way to glory.

4. Serve! Hot! When they get cooler, the cheese starts to congeal and its less pleasant, but hot they are divine!

A few notes from my Grandmother, who would be aghast if I shared Vera's recipe without letting the world know of her changes. The original recipe called for using quartered english muffins in lieu of the rye rounds. We find that the rye rounds are prettier (better contrast in color and flavor) and seem to allow for better nibbling/hand-feel. Medium sharp or sharp cheddar cheese works the best. Also, you can use chopped mushrooms (not cooked) in place of the ripe olives if you wish. She never served it that way to us, so again, can't vouch for its yumminess. Lastly, if you use "hot" curry, you may want to try using a bit less at first.

One of the biggest problem with these appetizers is they never get photographed. They're too good... in fact, they rarely get from pan to plate. We stand around the cookie sheet, spatula in one hand and hors d'oeurve in the other, chatting. I think Vera would have liked it that way.

Too 'Koo' for Words?

2005-04-11T11:46:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, the New York Times decided to one up me in my zest for culinary investigation by sneaking its review of Koo in before I was able to experience it myself. I dislike this for two reasons. First, it taints what I'd normally try. I know, I know... I should be able to work beyond that and judge for myself what would best tickle my palate, but it's the New York Times, afterall... one only has so much self-control. Second, I hate being trumped. Hate it. Especially when we've had this trip planned since last Monday, to celebrate my younger brother's graduation from college. Ah well. If it had to be someone, best be the Times, right?

Having said this, I felt a little smug as my family and I walked into Koo in downtown Ridgefield. For I know the history of the place - it used to be the home for Bully's Tavern, a family owned burger joint and bar which had been around as long as I can remember (at least 10 years). When the town of Ridgefield decided to raise rents to three times over the previous year, the humble pub couldn't manage, and out it went. Which, in turn, provided the perfect opportunity for a New York restranteur to snatch up a cozy corner in the Westchester/Fairfield corridor, where the normal City clientele lives, vacations, and spends the remaining 20% of its time (not to mention money). The homey, almost mid-western feel of Bully's tavern gave way for the Asian-modern-fusion stylings of Koo.

You may think, to this point, that I wasn't too impressed with Koo. It's not that. The food was amazing - some of the absolute best sashimi I've had, bar none. However, the execution, in my mind, was hit and miss. When you enter the restaurant, you're met by the maitre'd and a couple of waitresses, standing at the typical restaurant podium, in front of the bar. They are wearing black - pants and button down shirts on the men, and something similar on the women - and they are clean cut, which is pleasant. The room is open, with light-colored wood floors, asian-style twigs in modern vases, and neon colored lighting lines the bar and the floor in a nod to 70s/80s clubbiness. If you are sitting in a large party, likelihood is that they will take you back into the second room, which is lit dimly and swathed with gold-sheer fabric. It was so dim, in fact, that taking pictures was impossible, so I unfortunately will not be able to tantilize your appetite with CameraMan's artistic vision. That said, it may have been the saving grace needed to pull off the decor. The ceiling swathes, to me, looked fine, but the sheer coverings over the entrance to the kitchen and the glass-ware room looked cheap; like something someone might have gotten from Michael's and put up with a staple gun.

The tables were large and round, with a 'C' shaped booth in the back and three or four chairs in front allowing our party of 6 to sit comfortably. Plywood chopsticks in cheap, paper wrappers sat in front of our plates, propped up by black faux-river rock chopstick holders and bearing the 'koo' logo on the wrap. We were in a back corner, which should have been nice and quiet compared to the open room, but the swathes weren't functioning as the sound-dampeners they were intended to be, so there was a strange echo caused by the bose sound system as brightness bounced off the wood floors and panels. A waitress brought us leather menus and took our drink orders - there was a decent selection of beers, wines, and sakes, however I wasn't drinking and simply ordered a seltzer and a hot tea. The drinks came quickly, however the hot tea was served, tea bag still floating in my cup. These are the sorts of touches you do not expect to have to find in an upscale fusion restaurant, and honestly, they were offsetting.

However, that's where the misses end and the 'hits' started rolling. We purused our menus, long lists of hot and cold appetizers tempting our interests.
Our group ended up ordering two orders of the Calamari Martini, an order of the Toro Tartar with Oesetra Caviar, a Toro Negi roll, and the Mission 05. The Calamari Martini - a lightly battered squid spritzed with a light chili oil, served in a martini glass with a banana leaf to wick moisture, and flanked by two double-shot glasses, each containing a dipping sauce - was lovely, although a bit greasy for my tastes. The portion size was perfect, the exterior was crisp, and the sweet dipping sauce was like a typical sweet and sour, but more nuanced, with subtle chili flavors. The Toro Tartar was decadent, served in a mountain of ice with a golden caviar spoon, the toro tuna so soft and melt-in-our mouthes perfect that it was almost as though it suggested a fresh seaside breeze rather than leaving us feeling as though we'd actually eaten. The Toro Negi roll was good, but to me, it seemed a waste when so many other magnificent options were available. However, my brother loves rolls and he seemed very pleased with his choice. The far and away winner, however, in my book, was the Mission 05 - layers of spicy tuna, fluke, and domestic caviar, shaped like a flower and topped with a raw quail egg. The caviar burst in my mouth with little salty pops, perfectly complimenting the smooth tuna, the slight chewiness of the fluke, and the creamy quail egg. I absolutely recommend trying this if you visit.

After our first course was cleared away, our main meal was brought quickly. Four of us ordered the omakase sashimi platter, which includes roughly 25 pieces of sashimi of the chef's choosing, while one ordered the omakase sushi platter, about 10-12 pieces of sushi, and one the broiled black cod in saikyo miso sauce. The clear winner was the sashimi, which came served in a white, ocean-wave style serving bowl, filled with a mountain of ice, topped with cellophane noodles, and clean, beautiful, bright pieces of fish fanned over the entire thing like jewels being presented to a queen. My dish came with an orchid and some japanese twigs (looking rather like rosemary decoration) while the men's dishes came with bamboo leaves and twigs. Although the sashimi changes based on the quality of the fish each day (the chef chooses what he thinks will be the best each night), we were treated to a fantastic mix: a botan ebi (sweet shrimp), which is my absolute favorite variety of sashimi, toro (tuna belly), shuro maguro (albacore), kanpachi (amberjack), sake (fresh salmon), hirame (fluke), hamachi (yellow tail) and tako (octopus). Each cut was perfect, creating a smooth mouthfeel that complimented the freshness of the seafood and the bright color amazingly well. The sweet shrimp and fluke was rolled in flying fish roe as contrasting texture, which was surprising but excellent. The albacore tuna was almost like eating fois gras, it was so rich and velvety. And everything tasted light - no strange fishiness or odor offset the experience. At $30/plate, it was an incredible deal.

The sushi was beautiful, and many of the same fish were provided, although it didn't come with sweet shrimp, but instead saba (mackerel) and ebi (shrimp). The rice was slightly sweet, and held together even under our blundering chopsticks. The presentation was more sparse, to the point where someone joked that the individual who'd ordered sushi had been had, but all told he was in a state of bliss from start to finish.

Finally, the broiled cod lived up to its reputation. The portion was small - had my mother not had an appetizer, she likely would have been hungry after finish - but the flavors were delicate, well-balanced, and savory. A slight smokiness was present setting off the lovely umami flavors of the miso, and the presentation, served with a spoon of mashed potatoes alongside the filet of fiash and a sprinkling of delicate purples orchids gracing the plate, was another perfect balance of aesthetic and food.

We had no room for dessert, so instead paid the check (~$340 + tip for a party of 6... not bad for the area and amazing for the quality of the food) and left with full tummies and happy faces. Should you go? Well, if you're put off by the little things - strange service, poor decor, cheap accent pieces or a loud dining experience that precludes you from hearing anyone but your immediate neighbor, then no. Order take-out, which is sure to be stellar, and enjoy your sushi with a bottle of your own wine, a pair of real chopsticks, and in the quiet of your own home. However, if you are in it purely for quality food, gorgeous presentation, and freshness unparalleled in Fairfield county, venture forth! And do not miss the sweet shrimp.

Where: Koo, 470 Main Street, Ridgefield, CT 06877
Hours: 7 days, M-Th: 11:45am - 2:45pm, 5:00pm - 10:00pm;
Friday & Saturday: 11:45am - 2:45pm; 5:00pm - 11:00pm;
Sunday: 5:00pm - 10:00pm;
What: Neo-Japanese fusion cooking, with an emphasis on seafood
Reservations?: Recommended; 203.431.8838
Dress Code: Smart-casual
Must-Tries: Mission 05 appetizer, botan ebi sashimi, shiro maguro sashimi

What Are Little Girls Made Of? SUGAR!

2005-04-01T04:17:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was my birthday, which will probably get a blog entry all on its own on my other site, but in honor of said special event, much sugar was consumed. At least for me. My darling co-workers got me a sheet cake, which I can't post a picture of until Melissa sends me the file, but it was like something out of a Japanese anime, covered with technicolor sprinkles, drizzles of pink, purple, and blue streamer-icing, and my name written in magenta. I was quite pleased, especially when cutting it revealed a thick, dense chocolate cake. It was moist, something I wouldn't have necessarily expected from a 'grocery store' cake, but instead from something homemade, and it reminded me I hadn't made a cake in a while... mmm... cake.... so I think that very easily could be this weekend's project, if I can tear CameraMan away from the auto show, house hunting, and all the other niggling chores that must be done.

In addition to my acid-cake, my co-workers sang me a heartfelt rendition of the Birthday Song, which was all the better surrounded by our clients (I'm an IT auditor, so we work on site at client locations to assess information systems... which means we're a service oriented group, and singing happy birthday is a little unprofessional... I was touched) and their products - massive bottles of wine, beer, and spirits. Very festive. :)

I came home, and on the way stopped to get some groceries to ensure dinner would be available. CameraMan and I decided to go out to eat tomorrow night to celebrate, since I have a big work lunch this afternoon, and I thought it might be overkill. To my surprise, I saw the wonder that half the food-blogging community has been talking about - Dark Chocolate M&Ms! Now, CameraMan *loves* peanut M&Ms, but he's always complained that the chocolate is just 'enh'. He doesn't eat them for the chocolate, he eats them because their the most convienent candy he 'likes'. But at word of Dark Chocolate, his eyes lit up. So, when I found some in our Easter Candy aisle, I had to pick them up to be tried.

All I can say is, I have been converted to the dark side of the force. The little candies are delicious - certainly not gourmet by any stretch of the imagination, but I would say comparable with Dove dark chocolate bites (it's a bit hard to tell with the peanut in the way). The colors are a little bizarre - I had a maroon one that looked as if it'd been tie-dyed, rather than just darkened. But given the choice overall, CameraMan and I would make the switch permanently. The downside to all of this is, if the American public decides they don't agree with us, we may never go back to plain or peanut milk chocolate M&Ms... it's just not the same.

Hopefully if we in the US can't keep 'em here, the Japanese will help. As noted by chika at shewhoeats, there's certainly a different perspective on mass-marketed treats there than we've got around these parts.

Trip to Rhode Island - Off the Beaten Path Once Again

2005-03-27T16:16:00.000-08:00

I expect this will have to be a multi-parter, as I seem to have come down with some sort of flu bug in the process of having my adventure. C'est la vie, n'est pas? CameraMan and I decided, after not taking a vacation together since our honeymoon in May of 2004, that it was time for a long weekend. He wanted to go to our usual haunts in Vermont (usual? We haven't been on vacation in almost a year! But you know what I mean...) however, I put my foot down.

"We've been there!" I protested. "I want to try something new. How about Newport? There are mansions, it isn't far, and there will be seafood to enjoy."

CameraMan knows better than to protest, as I can be more stubborn than a spring cold when I want to be, so he proceeded to jump right into the task of finding us accomodations. Wonderful husband that he is, he settled on The Cliffside Inn, which was AAA 4 Diamond, Frommer's top Newport pick, home of legendary artist Beatrice Turner, and on and on. It's also home to a traditional English-style tea service that CameraMan and I were intrigued by, not to mention a full and varied breakfast. It was a bit pricey, but as we haven't been on vacation in almost a year (can you sense my annoyance at myself for letting this happen?), we decided not to nickel and dime it.

And so, on a cloudy and cool Friday afternoon, we jumped into the Rex (CameraMan's Subaru WRX) and headed north to Newport. We left around 9:30am and drove straight there, no stops except for the bathroom, as we wanted our first meal to be in our 'new home'. And boy were we glad we did!

We pulled into Newport around 1pm and as a result we wanted something quick and tasty, both of us being ravenous. Rather than eat down by the docks, which were lined with chi-chi seafood restaurants and snacky-type stands, we moseyed into Old Town, where I think we could have stayed the entire time, had we wanted to. The roads were lined in red cobble, poorly paved, and the side walks were craggy and buckled, and reminded me of my trip to Valence, as narrow as they got. We walked up into an open square, where a church towered in front of us, staring at us with Puritanical disapproval. On one side, two lovely old theaters sat side by side, one still housing plays while the other plays films, and on the other, two banks, a restaurant and... a coffee house!

I haven't blogged much on it yet, but CameraMan has a passion for coffee which I foolishly encouraged with a Christmas gift of a home roaster, and finding this little microroaster, waiting patiently for us to come and discover it was exactly the opportunity he was hoping for. Ocean Coffee Roasters is a micro-roasting cafe, which means they: 'hand-roast each bean to its peak of flavor in batches as little as 10 pounds each'. Which in plain words means that the coffee is fresher, more nuanced, and definitely more enjoyable.

We entered and were told to sit at any of the open tables. The waitress came promptly to give us menus and take drink orders - we started with teas, as we knew we'd want espresso after eating. CameraMan had Lychee Berry tea, while I had Lemon Ginger.

Both were loose teas and were served in Bodum press pots, which I'd never used for tea before but CameraMan informed me was a common method. The lychee berry tea was much too sweet for me, though CameraMan liked it (he likes tropical fruits - I can't stand their syrupy sweetness). The lemon ginger, though, was perfect - spicy and tart and very warming, which is what we needed coming in out of the wind. It was cloudier than I expected, but I was pleased.

The waitress returned, and we ordered. I, being a little chicken since it was a new place, stuck with something safe - deli turkey and swiss on whole wheat with lettuce, tomato, and honey mustard. CameraMan, however, had no trouble tucking into the menu with gusto, deciding finally on 'the Cuban' - 'delicious Cuban pulled pork with spicy jack cheese, french mustard, pickles, and onion served panini'. Sure - why not??

We waited about 10 minutes, sipping our tea and enjoying the home-like quality of the cafe. It was obviously more of a local joint - older men and women sat in couples over news papers or chatting excitedly about politics, wearing anything from torn jeans and tea shirts to leather vests and sweaters. Not your typical tourist in Newport, and exactly what we were hoping for. Additionally, the architecture in the building was reminicent of an old firehouse - a beaten old bar with stools squatted around the open-air kitchen/coffee area, black and white checked linoleum covered the floors, and the windows, with their arched tops, allowed light to pour into an otherwise industrial feeling space. Local artists were displayed on the walls (we particularly liked a water-colorist they seemed to feature) alongside kid-created masterpieces of crayon and marker. Very fun.

The waitress came with our sandwiches and the conversation ceased in favor of savoring our meals. Mine was exactly what I wanted - soft, homemade wheat bread studded with a sprinkling of sesame seeds acting as a cushion for thin-sliced deli turkey and a pungent, sharp swiss that was obviously aged well. My one complaint was the cook decided to use iceberg lettuce rather than romaine, but no matter - it offered a pleasant crunchy texture to contrast the soft bread and meat. The honey mustard also tasted homemade, and made my eyes water a bit at the sweet-spiciness. All was accompanied with a dill pickle and chips. A proven winner.

CameraMan's Cuban was more interesting. The 'panini' serving method turned out to be an herbed focaccia - dill and salt, we decided, and was not heavily pressed. It was, however, smokey, spicy, and the jack cheese was perfectly melted. Although CameraMan does not typically enjoy onions, he felt that the number on this sandwich was appropriate - not overwhelming, but acting as a pleasant contrast in texture, along with the pickles, neither of which had become mushy or flat in preparation. The pork was well-shredded and not at all dry. Finally, and most interestingly, the bread was not at all greasy. Greasiness in pressed sandwiches is one of the things that prevents us from ordering them more often than not, as it leaves both of us feeling unpleasant after eating, and it gives CameraMan heart burn. This sandwich suffered none of that, making it a perfect remedy for my poor starving husband.

Sated, we turned our attention to the coffee menu. We both wanted espresso - one of the things that unites us in our love of coffee is the joy and satisfaction we get while drinking a good espresso after a meal. We also wanted to try the drip coffee, as it's micro-batches appealed to the snob in us both. We decided to go with the home blend of espresso, described as full bodied house espresso has a suggestion of caramel and a slight smoky aftertaste. We agreed we'd be back the next day for drip coffee.

And so we each ordered a double shot. It came out quickly, hot and fresh, and the flavour was amazing. As promised, there were notes of caramel and raw sugar, with the crema tasting almost like whipped cream itself. The disappointment was the texture. As you may or may not be able to see from the picture, although there are some legs on this coffee (yes, I'm shamelessly stealing from the oenophile's vocabulary... so sue me), it did not climb or coat the side of the cup with any staying power. What that says is that the coffee was a little on the thin side, which meant the mouthfeel was watery and you lost some of the finishing notes. Still, given the choice between this and $tarbucks, it'd be this every time and twice on Sundays.

We left full and happy - unable to try any dessert, despite the siren's call of the quarter pound cookies, espresso macaroons, and homemade tiramisu. Perhaps when we return next time...for now, even the cars outside were trying to tell us something...

If you'd like to visit:
Ocean Coffee Roasters
Newport, Rhode Island
22 Washington Square
Phone: (401)846-6060

Addendum: We did return for coffee, though no sweets as it was too early. I chose the 'Mexican Organic Talon,' described as a Demeter certified organic coffee, grown under partial shade. Medium bodied with snappy acidity and a slight chocolate undertone. I found that it did have the chocolate undertone I craved, but was lighter bodied than I typically enjoy. Still, it was delicious and a far cry from the drip we get around Stamford. CameraMan had the Sumatran Mandheling (earthy tasting, heavy-bodied, and syrupy, for serious coffee drinkers) and really enjoyed it, saying it reminded him of the Pu-Erh teas he enjoys after meals or a good, peaty single malt scotch. Needless to say, I thought it tasted like moss and dust, and although I liked its staying power (the 'syrupy' trait they described was more, to me, like an oiliness), the flavors were not for me. Still better than $tarbucks though.

who wants seconds - autumn comforts from home

2005-03-21T21:58:00.000-08:00

My family is a tight-knit group...the sort of family that embodies cliches and continues to perpetuate the fifties stereotype which otherwise has completely lost relevancy. My father, tall, dark and handsome, goes to work every day in a suit and tie, leaving at dawn and coming home after dusk, reserved and silent - a powerful role model. My mother, small, fair, and lovely, stayed at home with my brother and I throughout our youth, caring for us, cooking for us, cleaning for us, and teaching us right from wrong, as well as that there are a million shades of gray. Doug and I, only two years apart, were best friends and, although we fought as brothers and sisters do, we were always friends first.

Of course, having an idyllic family (and indeed, as the proud member of a living, breathing stereotype, how could it not have been idyllic?) is a pressure cooker - and frankly, the picture of Americana was not as much Norman Rockwell as 'Around the World in 80 Days'. So my friendship with my brother, my love for my parents, while these things were earned and cared for throughout my life, part of their creation and maintenance was due to necessity. Because often, we only really had each other to rely upon - over the course of my life, we moved through five states, two non-US countries, and a territory for a total of more than 10 separate moves.

And so we made friends and memories, shared laughter and tears, and then left them as together as we had come, in search of the next step in our lives as a family. My mother, whose quiet power and internal fortitude are disguised by her petite stature and big, toothy smile, made this work by taking every possible step to ensure continuity in our lives where she could. This meant spending each and every holiday season with my Grandparents in rural Wisconsin, seeing my Nana and Grandpa, Great Nana and Grandaddy, and all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins.

It is no surprise, then, how difficult it is for me to choose one item of comfort, one sight or smell or taste or touch that I can alight upon and identify as my favourite. How can I, when there are so many amazing memories to choose from? Every Christmas or Thanksgiving, Doug and I knew we could count on certain things at Nana and Grandpa's house. There would always be checkers or cribbage with Grandpa in the afternoons, for example, and the candy jar would always be full of long, sticky ropes of black licorice. Great Uncle Paul would always come for Sunday dinner, dressed in a sport coat and tie long after it was required by courtesy, and at 5pm sharp he would always have a martini, gin not vodka, in a tumbler over ice with a dilly bean. Doug and I would fight over who got that bean, not because either of us liked them, but because it was Uncle Paul's. Dinner was marked by the ringing of a small copper bell hung in the entrance between the kitchen and the dining room, only to be rung once the long lace table cloth was out, the silver and china placed, with crystal water glasses full and candles lit. And there was always lefse, wrapped into pale, thin cigars of butter and sugar, as there had been at our family's tables for centuries since before leaving Norway.

How can I choose? Lefse or krumkakes from our holiday feasts? Sticky buns from Sunday brunch or oyster stew from Christmas dinner? The thick, rich, homemade Bloody Mary mix my Nana has made forever and guards as a family treasure, stored on her pantry shelves in rows of canning jars like manna from heaven or the sweet, zingy sweet red pickles that dyed my fingers on more than one occasion when I sought a cinnamony treat between meals? What could sway me - what single experience is more than the sum of these parts?

Hard though it is to believe, there can be only one thing and it is my comfort. It combines the things I loved most about our visits to Nana and Grandpas - the sights, scents, textures, sounds, and everything in between that makes for comfort food. I have carried it through childhood where I can see it in my memories, bright and shining on the family table, often maligned but loved and never retired in favor of a chic new flavor, technique, or en vogue replacement. I brought it with me when I left my parents' home for my own beginnings in college..shared it with my friends, my roommate, my future husband, and always to positive reviews.

When I was sick, even at my sickest, I could turn to this food for comfort. It never waivered from being a safe solace, inviting, healthful, filling, and quieting. I knew where it came from, its history and my own, and it very easily might have kept me alive when I was too scared, hurt, and confused to entertain thoughts of other things. I have never felt turned away from it, I have never felt judged in its company, and whenever I have it, I feel the arms of the other strong, confident women before me holding me close. Even now, healthy and able again, when I need comfort, I turn to it before anything else.

And of course, I love the ritual of its preparation, the feeling of making it the same way my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother have, the smell of it as it wafts through my kitchen, sweet and subtle. It is so satisfying to feel the way the room becomes filled with heat and heavy with an indescribable, fuzzy, soft glow and even the piercing sound of my oven becomes muted and musical. I love the texture in my mouth, smooth on my tongue, thick and rich as cream, and warming from the inside out... a familiar blanket for my tummy. That it is simple and pure and unadulterated, that the recipe has never changed, is comfort all on its own - I cannot fail, for countless generations of women before me have made it fool-proof. But, almost more than anything, its beautiful, bright, joyful color excites me today the same way it always has, whether the bright gemstone on my Nana's side board, shocking contrast against white lace and polished silver, or the faded treasure tucked deftly in my freezer, tupperware armor protecting it as I prepare for the end of another season.

As my great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother before me, I will share this recipe with my children. And, with that, I find great strength and great comfort because, in a simple memory made tangible in food, we will always be connected, supported, and comforted.

My favorite comfort food is my Nana Lynts' Mixed Winter Squash. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed sharing it with you.

Nana Lynts' Mixed Squash
Ingredients:

2 medium acorn squash

2 small butternut squash

2 teaspoons fresh ground white pepper

1 teaspoon kosher salt

2 tablespoons salted butter, plus garnish

milk, as necessary

Directions
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

Grease glass baking dish with a bit of butter. Cut squash in halves and place side-by-side in dish, cut side up.

Bake until very tender, about 50 minutes. Remove from oven and cool slightly. Using large spoon, remove seeds and stringy pulp - throw these away.

Scoop out squash flesh and transfer to large mixing bowl. Add pepper, salt, and butter to squash; mash by hand with potato masher to desired consistency. If the squash is too thick or lumpy, add milk to even and smooth.

Serve in pre-heated terrine and garnish with small pieces of butter on top.

Servings vary by squash size - average about 8.

(image from season by season)

First Planned Stop - Guacamole!

2005-03-18T15:54:00.000-08:00

Okay. So thus far, I've been naughty and not really stuck to my plan. I think that's part of cooking though - you don't always want to cook to a plan, you want to cook to your desires. Food is about filling a need, right? And until today, I didn't feel the need for guacamole... until today.

You see, work has been a bear lately and yesterday, being Saint Patrick's Day, meant that I had green on the brain. But I outgrew vermillion ales in college and frankly, I'm not much on food dye in my food. Still, I wanted something to celebrate - something festive, fun, and tasty. What's more tasty than guac? Serve it with chips, serve it with veggies, serve it with tacos... hell, it's a delicious substitute for salad dressing if you mix it with a little bit of salsa.

Fiesta in mind, then I set to work on my concoction when I got home from work. There's more than one variety of guacamole in canyon ranch, but I decided to go with the one that carries the spa's name in homage to the fact that I've been a little remiss in my goal. The primary ingredient is asparagus rather than avacados, which is nice at this time of year because asparagus is in season and therefore on sale in my local grocery store. I made up for that by picking up a large, heirloom tomato to chop up and throw into the mix.

Talk about easy! I'm embarassed that I haven't made this sooner!

I know that the first question, when we're talking about guac that isn't made with avacados anyway, is how was the texture? Well, I can't tell you yet how it sets up after a good refrigeration, but straight from the blender, it's obvious that it is not real guacamole. The creaminess that you get from a ripe avocado just isn't there. The recipe calls for light sour cream to try and mimic the effect, but it's lost - I don't even really think you'd get that smooth mouthfeel if you used full fat sour cream.

Having said that, the flavour is terrific. Very garlicky (a plus, in my book), despite only having one minced clove for 12 ounces of fresh asparagus, a large tomato, and red onion. While chili powder and tobasco are called for, you really don't get much heat - I used Penzey's hot chili powder and I still didn't feel a burn. I think that's okay, though, because it means that you can use it as a pleasant foil for a super-hot salsa or a stuffing in a baked hot-pepper. You also aren't overwhelmed by 'asparagus' flavor - it's guacamole lite... the Corona of guacamole.

The recipe makes 3 cups of guacamole, plenty for a small party, and it takes about 15 minutes to make, end-to-end, if you have no knife skills (like me). For those of you who can slice and dice like a pro, I'm guessing it'd take 5 minutes. So much better than buying the stuff in a jar at the store.

Another Detour - This Time To India!

2005-03-17T03:43:00.000-08:00

So last night, CameraMan had a night out with the boys and I was alone for dinner. The previous weekend, he was an amazing, loving hubby and he (wait for it ladies) ... made me dinners to eat during the week. This is the first time he's done it (I've always been the one making the soups and fresh foods that go into the freezer for him), but let me tell you, it made my life so very much easier.

And so last night we tried a new dish, not from canyon ranch cooking, but instead from a mix of different places, including (but not limited to) the Internet, Betty Crocker's Indian Home Cooking, CameraMan's brain, and the limitations of our pantry. It's called CameraMan's Saag Murghi.

Saag Murghi (or Murgh Saag - I've seen it both ways) is a boneless chunks of chicken breast, cooked with fresh spinach, onions, tomatoes, and spices. It is a chicken curry first and foremost, which makes me happy because traditionally the texture of curries is rather mushy, and I look for that in comfort food. Additionally, curries can be pretty darn healthy - especially when you enjoy them sans full-fat coconut milk, and eat versions like this one, which include lean proteins, spinach, and traditional Indian spices like turmeric. According to WholeHealthMD, traditional Ayurvedics believe that turmeric is a great natural antibiotic, strengthens digestion, and, for those who struggle with this, helps improve intestinal flora. I'm not sure I'm in need of those effects so much, but since its an anti-inflammatory that could help with carpal tunnel and since I sit in front of a computer all day, I'm not fighting it.

CameraMan's version, as I mentioned, isn't exactly traditional. He used bone-in chicken breasts, having bought them accidentally, and then flaked it with a fork at the end of the whole cooking process, giving it a shredded consistency similar to southern barbeque rather than chunks of meat. He forgot to grind the coriander, so it went in pod-whole, with the other seasonings, along with the whole chicken breasts. The problem with all of this is you've got a lot of ingredients in one pan (albeit a large one), so stirring becomes an issue. He got around this by removing the chicken breasts temporarily, giving the concoction a thorough mixing, and then re-adding the chicken breasts before reducing the heat and allowing the curry to simmer. Finally, he forgot to add the garam marsala at the end with the yogurt.

Having said all of that, the end-result was really very good. We served it over spaghetti squash rather than couscous or rice, and it made a nice, filling, hot meal. The flavours are not what I would necessarily call 'Indian' - you could tell that there was something missing, but the roasted garlic and the ginger came through beautifully and with the spaghetti squash, the whole effect was a lovely contrast of sweets and savories that I really enjoyed.

It did suffer from re-heating, although I think this was more because the chicken was shredded at the end and therefore gave up a lot of its moisture. I would make it again though - much more satisfying (and healthy) than my other comfort-food favorite: macaroni and cheese.

CameraMan's Chicken-Spinach Curry (as made)
Ingredients

1 T canola oil
2 T ginger root, finely chopped
5 medium garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 cup tomato sauce (plain)
1 T coriander seed, whole
1 tsp. cumin seed, ground
1 tsp. cayenne pepper
1 tsp. salt (kosher)
20 ounces frozen chopped spinach, thawed, but not drained
1 pound chicken breast, bone-in
.5 cup nonfat plain yogurt

Directions
1. Heat oil in 3-quart saucepan over medium high heat. Add gingerroot and garlic; stir-fry 1-2 minutes or until garlic is golden brown.

2. Stir in tomato sauce, ground coriander, ground cumin, ground red pepper, and salt; reduce heat. Partially cover and simmer 7-8 minutes until a thin film of oil starts to separate from the sauce.

3. Stir in undrained spinach and chicken. Simmer uncovered 6-8 minutes, stirring occasionally, until spinach is wilted. Cover and simmer 35-40 minutes longer, stirring occasionally, until chicken is tender; remove from heat.

4. Gradually stir in yogurt. Allow to cool to room temperature; remove chicken breasts from mixture. Shred chicken with a fork and re-add meat. Reheat over stove top briefly, about 4-5 minutes, if serving, otherwise pack in freezable containers for easy dinners.

Already a Detour?

2005-03-16T03:42:00.000-08:00

Last night I was planning to make the guac and blinis... I really was. But it had been a long day, and all I really wanted to do was to snuggle into my chair and veg out on the TV. Hardly an adventurer, but then, we can't always be perfect, right?

Well, enter CameraMan to save the day! He suggested we try another one of the recipes in our book, the 'canyon ranch cocktail'.

Key ingredients include sparkling water, bitters, and, optionally, lemon or lime juice.

Who am I to pass up an opportunity, especially since CameraMan was so good as to prod me in the right direction? And especially since this recipe is so incredibly easy - and a really nice replacement for all the soda I tend to drink.

A little background then...According to Angostura's website, it is made from a blend of tropical herbs in 1824 as a cure for stomach ailments. He started exporting the draft in 1830 to England and Trinidad, where it became quite popular. It didn't, however, make the leap to beverage status until his son, Carlos, got in on the action. Carlos showed off the mix in all the posh spots of Europe at the time, mixing it with gin and other alcoholic consumables, to rave reviews.

The Canyon Ranch cookbook calls this non-alcoholic, which is true based on the volume of angostura bitters to other ingredients, but not true in the most literal sense unless you buy 'non-alcoholic' Angostura bitters. Some angostura is alcoholic - Alcohol (ABV): 45.0% (90 proof), in fact. So, if you are sensitive to alcohol, a recovering alcoholic, or simply uncomfortable with the idea, make sure to use non-alcoholic bitters in your recipe. This wasn't a problem for myself or for CameraMan, so we soldiered on.

If you smell Angostura bitters on its own, its bitter pungency is a little overwhelming. Scratch that. It's a lot overwhelming. To me, it smells like bitter orange essense - sort of like what we use to dissuade our cat from get into things. It's not foul, but its a wave of citrus meets bitter, and probably not something I would drink on its own.

However, when a dash (to taste) is added to a tumbler of sparkling water and a splash of lime juice, it becomes a delightful drink! Refreshing but moderated, with the relaxed, summery sense you get when you drink lemonade on a perfect summer evening, the fireflies floating about like stars in the heavens. You want to sip it, not gulp it like traditional soda, and the pretty, pale pink hue isn't at all reminicent of the kiddie-cocktail you might be imagining. It's like cosmo-light, and you could easily serve it in a martini glass at parties for a really nice non-alcoholic alternative without sacrificing style. You can see that CameraMan and I had no such compulsions, serving ours in a traditional tumbler, and sans the perfunctory lime wedge you would see in a bar, nice restaurant, or tiki lounge. If I were to try serving it to guests, I think I'd serve it with a small wedge of blood orange instead of a lime, though, just to be fancy.

Road Map... and Planning the First Stop

2005-03-13T11:30:00.000-08:00

So, you might wonder which cook book will operate as the road map in the first leg of our little adventure? Well, I consulted with CameraMan, who will ultimately be on the receiving end of my experimentations (once tasted, I mean), and he chose 'Canyon Ranch Cooking: Bringing the Spa Home'. Which, as far as I'm concerned, is an excellent choice because:

There are beautiful illustrations for me to compare with - nothing like landmarks to help a gal navigate the trail...
The food is healthy! Big plus for me in terms of tasting everything and big plus for my dear CameraMan, as I want him along for the ride as long as possible
There's a lot of variety! Because it's spa food, they have to get creative with herbs, combinations of cuisines, and so on. So we shouldn't get too bored...
It's unique! While at least a handful of individuals have taken on Julia, Jacques, and Joy, I haven't seen anyone try their hand at spa food. Maybe we can take out some of the mystique?

I'm not holding myself to any specific order through my cooking, though it seems like appetizers would be a nice place to start. Simple, small noshes that should tide us over as we get acclimated and find our stride. The first items on my list are the Blue Corn Blinis and the Canyon Ranch Guacamole. I've gone to our local grocery to pick up the fixings - sadly, no blue corn meal was to be found, but I got a lovely heirloom tomato to make up for it. I'm planning to serve the blinis with the guacamole and diced hot peppers in place of fat free sour cream and caviar, as suggested by the book. I think it's a little more interesting and the whole southwestern fusion thing intrigues me.

A Delicious Beginning

2005-03-13T10:59:00.000-08:00

It seems that lately you can't turn on the television, open a newspaper, or breeze through a magazine without reading about blogging and the impact of blogging on real life. It's almost as though people are inspired to see one another really trying to contribute, so they get out there and do it themselves.

Of late, I've been reading a lot of amazing blogs devoted to food. Recipes, epicurean quests, ethnic experiences... all of these interesting takes on something required, something quintessentially tied to daily life, inspired me to take on a journey of my own. I've decided to be a trailblazer of sorts, and though my journey may not cut new paths for everyone, it is certainly going to impact me and my own life. I think that sort of trueness is sometimes hard to find, so I invite you to come along and watch. Think of this as a bit of the 'Amazing Race', a bit of 'Survivor', and probably more 'America's Funniest Home Videos' than I'd probably care to admit.

For any trip, it is important to have a plan - a trail guide, if you will, that may or may not bear any resemblance to how the trip plays out, but can be used as a point of reference to redirect if we get lost. My plan is this - to cook my way through cookbooks, one by one, all recipes, and to document my experiences along the way. There will be no skipping just because I don't like an ingredient. I have no allergies to worry about, so I have no excuses. As I cook my way through, I vow to taste each and every recipe for you, and to share, through photo and word, my journey. I promise, it will be a bizarre ride.

Before we go much further, it may be of benefit for you to know a little more about me. I won't go through the laundry list here in this entry, but I suggest you click on the background bit, so you know what you're getting yourself into. You might even relate.

And so, here we are, laces tied tight and a pack on our backs, ready to venture forth onto these delicious paths. I have my trusty cameraman in tow (you'll hear more about him later) and I think I'm ready. We'll see soon.