If my life ever became a movie, there would surely be a scene (or maybe just a segment of a montage with a killer song) of Allison and her older sister sitting at the kitchen table, blindfolded, sniffing an opened pickle jar or groping for a red pepper while their father juggles grapefruits or pokes his head in the fridge. For all those geeks who love to point out the subtleties in movies, this scene would be where one film geek elbows his film geek friend and whispers, “They’re foreshadowing. Brilliant!” Yes indeed, that’s exactly what’s happening in the scene, because it’s here that the audience becomes aware of Allison’s passion for food years before even she herself is conscious of it.
After the movie is over, when those same film geeks rehash the scenes of the movie over lattes at Starbucks, the one film geek appears baffled and asks the other, “So what the heck was going on in that scene with the blindfolded kids anyway?” Well, film geek, here’s your answer (warning: spoiler ahead): Oddly enough, one of my fondest memories of my dad as a kid comes from those nights after dinner when my sister and I would remain seated at the kitchen table and play what was commonly referred to in my family as Know Your Refrigerator. What? You've never heard of that game? Well, that's probably because it was created by my father, the staggering genius himself. (Of course after the movie comes out or this blog gets a million hits, which ever comes first, it will likely become a worldwide phenomenon.) The rules of the game are quite simple: the contestants (sister and I) must tie dishtowels around their heads so they can’t see what’s going on, because the game show host (my father) opens the refrigerator and picks out any item he wants to challenge the contestants with – nothing is off-limits, unless Vanna White (my mom) tells him to leave it in the fridge. The contestants may use all senses other than sight to guess what the items are. This game may sound to any outsider, dare I say it, lame, but as far as I’m concerned, this game was the best, and I intend to have it passed down for generations. (Dad, do you think we should play a round of KYR at this summer’s family reunion?)
Now that I’ve shared this sacred childhood memory, I want to turn the attention on you for a second. How well do you know your refrigerator? Have a mushy cucumber hiding in your crispy drawer? An unidentified item in a Rubbermaid container that’s been in there so long you have no idea what it is? Moldy gorgonzola that may or may not actually be moldy? While it’s easy to toss out the nasty items that clearly need to be thrown away because your neighbors have already complained about the stench, all those other random items that are still good and you haven’t the foggiest what to do with really become the challenge. I believe that to truly be a good cook, one must have a penchant for being resourceful with what he/she’s got...which makes me think of “reality” cooking shows. My favorite part of Top Chef are the quick-fire challenges – especially when the chefs are given only a few, specific ingredients that they must use to create something unique and delicious. (Surprisingly enough, I also really enjoy the palate challenge, which I like to think of as a foodie’s version of Know Your Refrigerator). In order to push my limits as a cook, I often challenge myself to do the same thing they do on tv (unfortunately without my celebrity chef crush, Tom Colicchio – yeah, I said it – judging me), because it forces me to use up perishables and think creatively. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail, but as long as I’m not trying to impress anyone, why not try?
So with that dear readers, tonight I only ask this of you: get to know your refrigerator. You’ll be glad you did.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Deep Fried Father's Day
If you’ve learned anything about my family since I started clatter, it could be this: when there’s a holiday, there’s food – plus a lot of dirty dishes. Anyone who knows me notices (and those who don’t quickly learn) that the number one way I show people that I care about and appreciate them is through food, and Father’s Day was no exception. Of course I could have taken my dad out golfing (read: we play golf and he picks up the green fees), but nothing really says “I love you, Dad” like taking a few years off of his life by making some of the most fattening foods a deep pot of hot oil can yield. We’re not big “comfort food” people in my family; we typically stick to fresh produce and the like, but we definitely believe in the importance of occasional indulgence and the moderation theory. After my sister mentioned that her husband had been wanting fried chicken, she and I decided that not only would we make fried chicken on Sunday night, but we would dedicate the entire Father’s Day celebration menu with Southern fare. This plan would lend itself to only one thing: FAT.
I think I can speak for both my sister and me when I say that we were a little apprehensive about deep fat frying. Neither of us had any experience with this kind of volume of oil (to avoid shock, I won’t tell you how much), and with three hungry dads expecting only the top quality food on their special day, the pressure was on. I commenced the fry fest by whipping up some good ol’ Southern hush puppies (all menu items henceforth are to be read with a Southern accent). Even though I had never even eaten a hush puppy before, I put some faith in Food & Wine and used a recipe I had been holding onto for a while. Atypical to my usual style, I followed the recipe exactly (http://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/hush-puppies-with-remoulade), but for the remoulade, I had to improvise a little, since I was out of whole grain mustard and tabasco. My substitutions of dijon and Frank’s hot sauce worked out just fine, and I think all the guests would agree (especially the 14 year old Italian cousin who dipped his fried chicken in it), the remoulade was the best part. As for the “scary” part of preparing this app, I’ve read before that the temperature of the oil is a make-it-or-break-it factor in top-notch fried food, but I didn’t believe it until I did it myself. Little did I know that maintaining the necessary temperature after you throw the food in the oil is the most challenging part - and the key to a successful result. For me, I struggled with the oil being too hot, then after adjustments, was not hot enough, and that stressed me out! I just couldn't tell if the dollops of cornmeal mixture quickly turning to sizzling golden brown were done on the inside. Well, I got my answer when people bit in - turns out some puppies were and some weren’t (no thanks to my not following the “tablespoon” size in the recipe). That said, I think I still had enough good ones overall that our appetizer was a success.
I also attempted to make mint juleps, but there’s a reason I’ve never touted to be a mixologist…
As for the main event, the fried chicken was all my sister. She brined those chicken drumsticks and thighs overnight in buttermilk and hot sauce, and when it was game time, she took on that pot of hot oil like a champion. We decided to use this recipe from food52: http://www.food52.com/recipes/446_classic_southern_buttermilk_bathed_fried_chicken, and if you ever need a fried chicken recipe, this is the one to use. Truly a winner! With sautéed okra with heirloom tomatoes and bacon (http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/sauteed-okra-with-heirloom-tomatoes-and-bacon) and Mama’s famous macaroni salad (I’ve made up that name, but the family recipe is still top secret, even if we aren’t from the South!) on the side, it was quite the Southern feast. But even after “forcing” our patrons to consume thousands of calories in full fatted bliss, there was still one more thing up our sleeves…
Sister and I had different ideas on what we wanted to do for dessert, but ultimately I was put in charge, and I certainly didn’t want to finish this dinner on a light note (does the South even know how to do that?). So, I chose something quite the opposite: Mississippi Mud Pie. After looking over a number of recipes and learning that mud pie doesn’t necessarily contain coffee ice cream like I thought, I decided to go with Martha (when in doubt!): http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/mississippi-mud-pie-everyday-baking. If you click on the link, you’ll find that the picture and the recipe don’t match up, because the recipe calls for a regular pie crust, not a chocolate one. I, however, stuck with the picture (and what I had already envisioned) and used a chocolate wafer crust instead. I really can’t imagine the pie being any better than it tasted – even when eaten with a full belly. Sure I didn’t use a deep pie pan which resulted in an overflow of filling all over the counter when I was making it, but ultimately it didn’t matter, because now when I think about this dessert, only one word comes to mind: delectable.
I think I can speak for both my sister and me when I say that we were a little apprehensive about deep fat frying. Neither of us had any experience with this kind of volume of oil (to avoid shock, I won’t tell you how much), and with three hungry dads expecting only the top quality food on their special day, the pressure was on. I commenced the fry fest by whipping up some good ol’ Southern hush puppies (all menu items henceforth are to be read with a Southern accent). Even though I had never even eaten a hush puppy before, I put some faith in Food & Wine and used a recipe I had been holding onto for a while. Atypical to my usual style, I followed the recipe exactly (http://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/hush-puppies-with-remoulade), but for the remoulade, I had to improvise a little, since I was out of whole grain mustard and tabasco. My substitutions of dijon and Frank’s hot sauce worked out just fine, and I think all the guests would agree (especially the 14 year old Italian cousin who dipped his fried chicken in it), the remoulade was the best part. As for the “scary” part of preparing this app, I’ve read before that the temperature of the oil is a make-it-or-break-it factor in top-notch fried food, but I didn’t believe it until I did it myself. Little did I know that maintaining the necessary temperature after you throw the food in the oil is the most challenging part - and the key to a successful result. For me, I struggled with the oil being too hot, then after adjustments, was not hot enough, and that stressed me out! I just couldn't tell if the dollops of cornmeal mixture quickly turning to sizzling golden brown were done on the inside. Well, I got my answer when people bit in - turns out some puppies were and some weren’t (no thanks to my not following the “tablespoon” size in the recipe). That said, I think I still had enough good ones overall that our appetizer was a success.
I also attempted to make mint juleps, but there’s a reason I’ve never touted to be a mixologist…
As for the main event, the fried chicken was all my sister. She brined those chicken drumsticks and thighs overnight in buttermilk and hot sauce, and when it was game time, she took on that pot of hot oil like a champion. We decided to use this recipe from food52: http://www.food52.com/recipes/446_classic_southern_buttermilk_bathed_fried_chicken, and if you ever need a fried chicken recipe, this is the one to use. Truly a winner! With sautéed okra with heirloom tomatoes and bacon (http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/sauteed-okra-with-heirloom-tomatoes-and-bacon) and Mama’s famous macaroni salad (I’ve made up that name, but the family recipe is still top secret, even if we aren’t from the South!) on the side, it was quite the Southern feast. But even after “forcing” our patrons to consume thousands of calories in full fatted bliss, there was still one more thing up our sleeves…
Sister and I had different ideas on what we wanted to do for dessert, but ultimately I was put in charge, and I certainly didn’t want to finish this dinner on a light note (does the South even know how to do that?). So, I chose something quite the opposite: Mississippi Mud Pie. After looking over a number of recipes and learning that mud pie doesn’t necessarily contain coffee ice cream like I thought, I decided to go with Martha (when in doubt!): http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/mississippi-mud-pie-everyday-baking. If you click on the link, you’ll find that the picture and the recipe don’t match up, because the recipe calls for a regular pie crust, not a chocolate one. I, however, stuck with the picture (and what I had already envisioned) and used a chocolate wafer crust instead. I really can’t imagine the pie being any better than it tasted – even when eaten with a full belly. Sure I didn’t use a deep pie pan which resulted in an overflow of filling all over the counter when I was making it, but ultimately it didn’t matter, because now when I think about this dessert, only one word comes to mind: delectable.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Omnivores have more fun
Does absence really make the heart grow fonder? My two-week hiatus from all animal and dairy products proved to be a challenging one, but surprisingly it was not as terrible as I anticipated (that last post came at a moment of weakness). Even so, after taking every possible precaution not to break the rules (complete with reading the labels of anything questionable), I’m mostly left wondering one thing: WHY. Barring major allergies, aversions, or moral issues, I just don’t understand why someone would willingly deprive his/herself from the very pleasure that comes from eating so many things in life. After walking in their shoes for a while, do I have a newly found respect for vegans? Sure. But I also think they might be just a little bit off their rocker. I could reflect further, but I think I’d rather move on to something more…mouthwatering. I’m sure you won’t mind.
With Portland’s weather finally shaping up this weekend, I decided to ride my bike today to a new cheese shop that opened recently in the Mt. Tabor neighborhood. Appropriately named Cheese Bar, it is the perfect place to get a wedge of unusual cheese to go, or stick around to pair a plate of cheese with local microbrews (apparently they’re very helpful in helping you put them together). After stepping foot in the shop, I as their sole customer (in their defense, the store had only opened a few minutes before I arrived) knew I would be well taken care of. I read their chalkboard of sandwiches, all of which sounded delicious, and started to get some inspiration.
I then gazed adoringly at the cheese case and thought “If I were vegan, I couldn’t even step foot in this place.” Yep, it’s sure nice to be back. The man behind the counter (he must be the owner – I recognized him from his picture in May’s issue of Mix magazine) answered my questions and fed me samples (mmmmm!). More importantly though, he didn’t seem to mind my helmet head and rather sweaty disposition after biking uphill to get there. And so, after spending some quality time enjoying myself in the presence of so many wonderful cheeses and meats, I walked out of the shop with a fresh baguette, a chunk of Fairview Farm Cascadia (raw goat’s cheese from a small dairy in Dallas, OR) and a few slices of jamón serrano (it’s the Spanish version of Italian prosciutto). No big surprise, I’ll certainly be back sometime soon.
With the crusty baguette riding on my back (am I in Portland or Paris?), I hopped back on my bike and headed home to create something delicious. I’ve had a couple of people mention that I haven’t posted a recipe in a while, so I’ll share what I put together.
AR’s “Omnivores have more fun” sandwich
baguette (only use the freshest, crusty-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside you can get your hands on!)
whole grain dijon mustard (I’m slightly obsessed with this condiment, despite its tendency to make my eyes water)
basil aioli
roasted red peppers
jamón serrano
Fairview Farm Cascadia cheese (not sure if it’s the best for this type of sandwich, but it’s still very good)
mixed greens
To make the basil aioli, simply mix mayonnaise with minced garlic, finely chopped basil, and fresh lemon juice. Assemble the sandwich as you would any other, but make sure to take care in stacking the ingredients. After all, there is an art to sandwich-making (I’m known in my family as a “sandwich artist” and I wear the title with pride), so it’s not something that should be taken lightly.
The experience of picking up the ingredients, putting together, as well as eating this not only reaffirmed my love of the sandwich, but also confirmed once again how much I really do love cheese and meat. The only things missing? A picnic blanket, red wine in a plastic cup, and a view of the Notre Dame from a spot along the Seine. A strikingly handsome French man wouldn’t hurt either.
With Portland’s weather finally shaping up this weekend, I decided to ride my bike today to a new cheese shop that opened recently in the Mt. Tabor neighborhood. Appropriately named Cheese Bar, it is the perfect place to get a wedge of unusual cheese to go, or stick around to pair a plate of cheese with local microbrews (apparently they’re very helpful in helping you put them together). After stepping foot in the shop, I as their sole customer (in their defense, the store had only opened a few minutes before I arrived) knew I would be well taken care of. I read their chalkboard of sandwiches, all of which sounded delicious, and started to get some inspiration.
I then gazed adoringly at the cheese case and thought “If I were vegan, I couldn’t even step foot in this place.” Yep, it’s sure nice to be back. The man behind the counter (he must be the owner – I recognized him from his picture in May’s issue of Mix magazine) answered my questions and fed me samples (mmmmm!). More importantly though, he didn’t seem to mind my helmet head and rather sweaty disposition after biking uphill to get there. And so, after spending some quality time enjoying myself in the presence of so many wonderful cheeses and meats, I walked out of the shop with a fresh baguette, a chunk of Fairview Farm Cascadia (raw goat’s cheese from a small dairy in Dallas, OR) and a few slices of jamón serrano (it’s the Spanish version of Italian prosciutto). No big surprise, I’ll certainly be back sometime soon.
With the crusty baguette riding on my back (am I in Portland or Paris?), I hopped back on my bike and headed home to create something delicious. I’ve had a couple of people mention that I haven’t posted a recipe in a while, so I’ll share what I put together.
AR’s “Omnivores have more fun” sandwich
baguette (only use the freshest, crusty-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside you can get your hands on!)
whole grain dijon mustard (I’m slightly obsessed with this condiment, despite its tendency to make my eyes water)
basil aioli
roasted red peppers
jamón serrano
Fairview Farm Cascadia cheese (not sure if it’s the best for this type of sandwich, but it’s still very good)
mixed greens
To make the basil aioli, simply mix mayonnaise with minced garlic, finely chopped basil, and fresh lemon juice. Assemble the sandwich as you would any other, but make sure to take care in stacking the ingredients. After all, there is an art to sandwich-making (I’m known in my family as a “sandwich artist” and I wear the title with pride), so it’s not something that should be taken lightly.
The experience of picking up the ingredients, putting together, as well as eating this not only reaffirmed my love of the sandwich, but also confirmed once again how much I really do love cheese and meat. The only things missing? A picnic blanket, red wine in a plastic cup, and a view of the Notre Dame from a spot along the Seine. A strikingly handsome French man wouldn’t hurt either.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
A love note
My dearest cheese,
I really believed that I was stronger than this. I thought that I could quit you. But the truth is, I’m so lost without you. Even though a part of me feels good for the changes I’ve made and for my decision to walk away from you, I’m still pining for you in a way I never thought possible. It’s only been a week, but my heart/stomach aches for you that leaves me only empty. If ever a cliché rings true, it’s that I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. This week apart has made me realize that I often took you and all of our precious time together for granted. As simple as accompanying a glass of wine or topping off a bowl of pasta, you just made everything more interesting. I mean it when I say you bring flavor – you bring depth – to my life. With you, I can be myself. Without you, I don’t even know who I am.
For the last seven days, it’s like I’ve been walking in a haze. Everything reminds me of you, whether it's catching a glimpse of you on the cover of Bon Appetit or spotting you in a Pizza Hut commercial (and I hate Pizza Hut!). I can’t get you out of my mind. As hard as I try, I just can’t seem to escape the memory of you.
People tell me I have options, that I need to keep an open mind and see what’s out there. But I know better than to believe that there is a substitution - a replacement - for the one true thing.
I miss you. Please come back to me.
Love always,
Allison
I really believed that I was stronger than this. I thought that I could quit you. But the truth is, I’m so lost without you. Even though a part of me feels good for the changes I’ve made and for my decision to walk away from you, I’m still pining for you in a way I never thought possible. It’s only been a week, but my heart/stomach aches for you that leaves me only empty. If ever a cliché rings true, it’s that I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. This week apart has made me realize that I often took you and all of our precious time together for granted. As simple as accompanying a glass of wine or topping off a bowl of pasta, you just made everything more interesting. I mean it when I say you bring flavor – you bring depth – to my life. With you, I can be myself. Without you, I don’t even know who I am.
For the last seven days, it’s like I’ve been walking in a haze. Everything reminds me of you, whether it's catching a glimpse of you on the cover of Bon Appetit or spotting you in a Pizza Hut commercial (and I hate Pizza Hut!). I can’t get you out of my mind. As hard as I try, I just can’t seem to escape the memory of you.
People tell me I have options, that I need to keep an open mind and see what’s out there. But I know better than to believe that there is a substitution - a replacement - for the one true thing.
I miss you. Please come back to me.
Love always,
Allison
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