STIR THE POTS

What's in a name?

One of my staff members is from Chile, and if it were not that once or twice a day that he mentions my soup being "a Carbonada," I wouldn't of taken any notice. His nationalist labeling of virtually every dish I make as distinctly Chilean rings a bit funny, having never been to Chile, or even tried that country's cuisine. So tonight I decided to make my own rendition of his description of a Carbonada. It's a hardy soup, chock-full of vegetables, including potatoes, beans, squash and corn. There is some meat in it too, but I had only a smoked ham hock. It provided a good flavor to the red Colombian beans I had in my pantry.

So here it is, Carbonada alla Chilena for Toti!

 

Goût de terroir à perpétuité (or pastrami)

Last week I had a taste for some hot pastrami. It was cold and windy, and me and my wife found ourselves on New York City's Lower Eastside, historically a bastion of the Jewish deli. Some little voice told me that it may not come up to expectations. But a hankering for "old favorites" won out.  Safe to say, things have changed. The delis aren't, themselves, specifically the famous Katz's, one of my favorites, had changed. Its free pickles on every table are no longer the same. Even its aging, cranky waiters that somehow inspired fondness (if not love) were noticeably gone.

I felt like a tourist visiting a shell of history in food, tradition lost. My old world neighborhood's goût terroir (a French wine term meaning "taste of the soil") has disappeared. And yet there are new places, like the latest wave of artisanal wood oven pizzerias sprouting everywhere in New York. Their new but old approach to making pizza, gives hope for those tired of the standard parked pies pies sold by the slice behind the counter.

I wolfed down a pastrami sandwich, feeling more full than satisfied. So afterward's,  my wife and I meandered over to get some Bialys, another lost ethnic art. Again, it proved different from what I'd remembered. In fact, its basic toppings of onion and poppy seeds were missing! But, then my wife stopped at Doughnut Plant, who had rightfully earned a line of people snaking out the door. They make the most delicious old school - new school (organic) donuts that I love. 

There is still promise and hope in these bright lights of the city. I guess it will take good chefs and bakers to re-visit, re-vamp the old into the new...still a good Deli is in need! Can this new generation of chefs, bakers be the guardians of lost traditions of taste, or am I just an old school nostalgic?

Blowtorched plagiary

Re-interpretation of classic paintings in the art world is the norm; for instance, a Velasquez turned abstract by Picasso.

Today I wasn't re-interpreting a thing. No, today,I was blatantly plagiarizing a soup by Brad Farmerie of Public which I found surfing Google. It's a great soup; sweet, spicy and unctuous carrot with some ginger, cardamom, onions, garlic sweated. Then some coconut milk, water, lemon juice, honey and seasoning. And to give that playful twist and heat -- Aleppo marshmallows, some coriander, a scattering of toasted pepitas and Styrian pumpkin seed oil top off this deal.  

Giving the soup as one of the specials to my maitre'd (who is a real plain-Jane as far as flavors and food are concerned - if it's not Porcini or pasta, for him, it's not on!) he eyed me suspiciously. His concern was amplified when he saw me use a blowtorch to brown the marshmallows on top of the soup, finally drizzling oil and sprinkle the assortment of seeds. But then he  tasted this soup, and all he could say was "mmmgood!"

Sometimes you can change stuff, but in this case it's better just to make it and enjoy it.

Tony eats Istanbul!

Yes, finally Anthony Bourdain does Istanbul!

Torta de yuca

 

When it's as cold and windy as this weekend, it's time for some comfort food. Sure, eggs, bacon, and pancakes are fine. But why not indulge in a griddled starchy tropical tuber filled with mozzarella and scallions instead? Yuca, manioc, cassava... the funny waxed and woody thing found amongst the other odd tubers and fruits in the Latin section of your mega supermarket or local bodega.

It's white flesh is usually sweet, though at times it has a kind of bitter aftertaste, the latter less welcome. It's a indigenous to the Americas and is one of the foods carried by colonial trades across the oceans from Africa to Southeast Asia.

I first had this particular preparation from my wife. This morning she asked me to show her how to shape smaller tortas, as her's were mammoth, not a bad thing if you're hungry!

This is a no-recipe recipe. Basically, find a nice tuber, firm, check for black spots or mushy specimens. Peel the yuca of its waxed skin, then split and cut into two halves. Make smaller pieces about an inch or two, try removing the center vein, as you can't chew on that.

Place into a pot and cover with water, and add a couple pinches of salt. Cook till tender and mash with the back of a fork. Have some grated mozzarella and chopped scallions around. To make a flattened cake of mashed yuca, place a good bit of cheese and onions in the center, fold over the yuca on to itself and flatten to a round sort of pancake. I used a black skillet with about a tablespoon of oil over medium heat. Cook till golden brown and flip over and crisp the other side. Serve hot with some coffee, maybe some  chicharrón would be nice too.

Thanksgiving, façon de le familie Shapiro

 

 

 

Have a healthy and happy one!

Hmmmmmm

 
First, I'm busy. Busy off the charts and that brought me off my blog.

Second, I love meeting bloggers. Excuse me while I shout out to one right now - helloooo, Shuna. Where was I? Oh, yeah, about bloggers. Especially cooking and baking bloggers. Those I have met are always completely different then me. Thank goodness! Yet they all have that love of movement;  levain-tation, yeasty things, measuring, in metric or oz's. Now where am I going? I'm not sure. Oh, yeah, here. It's almost the holidays and I'm sooo soooo busy at work. Maxing out, yet I still want to blog. So what makes writers write and chefs want to be writers????

Third, I want to raise a toast to blogs, blogging and bloggers. This weekend I met another blogger. She's this amazing lady who conjures loaves, dissects methods of bread fabrication, meets and greets all bakers,and she knows so much. It's our first meeting and yet she already met my mom! It's a Francophonic bread meeting, so exciting. We ended up meeting at a resto (aka restaurant, when I'm more patient) who's chef/manager first indoctrinated me with lessons to be learned over the years in kitchens and also lessons of life. What a great thing. Go meet a blogger, yourself. Celebrate.

Fourth, not only is a good time to meet bloggers but it's a great time of year. Maybe this is where I was going at my first point.  My favorite holiday is around the corner. Namely Thanksgiving, a late harvest and a family holiday before the winters freeze and the ho-ho merry whatever you want to celebrate, happens!

Yeah, this is a long toast masquerading as something between a rant and a post. But here goes. As I toil in my workplace galley, and dream of my future place, my nook somewhere, I hope for all the best for all my fellow bloggers and blog readers. I also send out a big hug to my fellow veterans, soldiers, sailors and airmen doing god knows what and where and hope they all return home soon. I am going to be busy and infrequent this next month, but if your interested, stay tuned, and please leave comments and suggestions.

And as Jacques Pepin say's "Happy cooking"

What makes this Alsatian?(tarte aux quetsche)

"What makes this tart Alsatian?"

That's a question posed to me after they sampled my dessert for a dinner party. Hmmm? Quetsche or plums, it reminds me of late summer early fall; almonds, pate sucree a hint of sugar and cinnamon. More specifically, it brings back memories of my childhood in Alsace. We lived in a  town called Wissembourg until my family emigrated to America. Years later serving in the U.S. Army, I traveled to the the border regions of Germany and Switzerland, where similar confections appear in bakeries and in homes. The difference is sometimes they add custard to the plums, or the dough is called murbteig rather then pate sucree. But these are close cousins of quetsches and zwetschge, depending on what part of the Rhine you're standing. Regardless, I love their simplicity, a crust filled with the sweet, sour, and pleasing taste of plums and the delight it gives me when I eat a slice, or two, hmmm or three!

 

 

 

 

Turkish breakfast

Funny thing about breakfast in Turkey; it's like a meal that you could eat all day. Fresh cut tomatoes, cucumbers, yogurt, bread, and the list goes on...and on. It's just delicious and healthy.

Every year you hear that this diet or that diet is good. I think a large part of healthy eating is moderation. That can be hard, especially in Turkey, because once you have tasted what it offers then you desire more!

What with suçuk, a spiced sausage, or fresh feta cheese along side oil covered olives.

Of course you can have coffee, but why not chai, the official all day beverage, something I found myself asking for more repeatedly. This chai is a ceremonial part of Turkish culture and life. No need for a coffee, unless your having your fortune read. That is another story entirely onto it's own!

 

I would be remiss for not picking up the subject of bread. Turks love bread. It goes with all meals, and there are so many variations,to my dismay though, I believe some modernization has brought in bleached white flour and commercial yeast. I wonder if in the Anatolian interior whether natural leavening is still being used?  From each restaurant or table you find a variation and shape, as well as flavor. The names and shapes are varied too, from Lavash, Pogača, gözleme, to name just a few.

 

There is the  traditional simit, often compared to a bagel or even croissant. It's a yeasted and twisted dough ring washed with pekmez (a molasses) and sesame seeds. You can find red simit carts on most streets. Whether eaten plain, with cheese like Dilara did, or grilled with cheese and tomatoes (my featured breakfast sandwich) it's delightful. I will offer a version in sourdough form soon.

Here are some of my favorite breakfasts I enjoyed in Turkey. They were so delicious. I am sure I will start adding some elements of each into my own breakfast back here at home.

Çig kofte fried for breakfast

 

An omelette of suçuk, peppers, tomatoes, pide, and radish simply dressed.

I'm on a rampage!

Nothing like spring feeling like winter. It's April I know, but....puleeeeeeeez! The only positive thing out of all this lousy weather is the fact that ramps, those lucious, odoriferous jewels from the woods all up and down this glorious Eastern sea coast are here at last! I got some slightly battered specimens at work the other day, then married them with some morels and fish. Simple tasty and not one bit sexy!

But tonight I had to pull out my own stash which I picked up Saturday at the Union Square Farmer's Market. These were some perfect clean and fresh picked ramps. I almost sacrificed them in a bread formula, aptly called Münchener Bierkipf, a savory bread moistened with beer, flecked with leeks, (or ramps if you're me), along with barley and wheat. Hardy! This batch were going with a pan roasted rib eye steak, potatoes and a salad. The season for this delicacy is short, but as many times as possible I will endeavor to devour them with relish and total abandon!