BingoFest

17 October Monday

I want to share another short favorite which is good for one and many more, just increase the quantities. As the bacon releases more and more of its loving grease, it will need to be poured off. However, I find the amount of fat that three slices give off is enough for the other components without getting greasy and upsetting. It´s great when a family wants to do breakfast for dinner because it is a one pan wonder. It´s great to take camping for the same reason, and it doesn´t use any butter.

Three slices of bacon. Cold, in a cold pan. Put that pan over heat so light that the pan heats evenly under the bacon, cooking it all with no hot spots. It should take at least fifteen minutes for the bacon to gently sizzle and render and brown and crisp. While this is happening (you can basically ignore it, flip it once halfway through) take a big potato and shred it on a cheese grater, salt it and let it sit on a paper towel for ten or so minutes. Then, pick up the shreds of potato, squeeze them into a baseball shape and squeeze with all your might, and I mean it. There is something wonderful about these types of activity, using physical strength, deep seated anger, and some primordial impulse, like a hyper active toddler mercilessly squeezes Play-Doh through their fingers, to create something wonderfully edible.

Once the potatoes are dry as can be and the bacon has been removed from the fat, set the potatoes pressed into a disk in the pan and fry on both sides, at this heat about six minutes a side, until it is as crisp as a winter morn. Then remove it. Now this is best with fried eggs. Take two of them, already cracked into a small bowl and pour them on at a time into the pan. They will sizzle but not too bad. Remember, one pan at a consistent heat. Another thing- do not, repeat, do not season the eggs with salt before you cook them. You want the yolks to remain intact during cooking , and salt causes the eggs to break down. You should hit the toaster button right before the eggs go in the pan. I like the eggs two minutes a side, the yolk should ooze out generously, but not flow all over the plate.

Many good folk struggle with getting the breakfast elements ready to eat at the same time. I notice many begin with toast, which is a serious misstep. You must always begin with things that can be kept warm without negative effects. Therefore, meat can be kept warm for thirty, pancakes/french toast can warm for twenty, hash browns for ten, begin toast before eggs UNLESS the eggs are scrambled which should be a slower process. You´ll find they are done at the same time. Be a good American, eat your toast while it´s nice and hot.

16 October Sunday

Give me a V-I-C-T-O-R-Y. What does it spell? WIN!!!

There are several significant associations I have with beef stew. One is my paternal grandfather who made beef stew in a strange sort of vessel which was very lightweight and had grooves or dents in it. I don´t remember exactly. Beef, potatoes, carrots, onions, water, salt, pepper. He loved it, I loved it, we loved it.

One bitterly cold winter night when might brother lived on Noble St. I think in Chicago, we decided to make beef stew and drink Greyhounds whilst watching the academy awards. I don´t remember who won what, but the stew filled the apartment with stew smells, and it was really delicious. Even though it was nearly a decade ago, I still recall that we added orange zest to the beef, which was especially good.

Another was a Christmas, I´d say 2015, when my folks visited, and I didn´t really have any food. My mom suggested we get a pot roast at the corner store, which was open, and we made a slow cooked pot roast. It was amazing. Clovey.

There are several others, including today. I would have added a photo, but we were so hungry. Then I thought I would take a picture of the leftovers, but there were´nt any.

I went to the church and led the choir rehearsal, I played the service, I went to the coffee hour and chatted with the people. I gathered my belongings and said goodbye and went on my merry way. I went to the local grocery store, bought all the aforementioned items at a discounted price, hopped on the local train that whisked me away to my two room apartment in the Mission District.

I seared the beef pieces then removed them and laid a bed of onion quarters, carrot branches, bay leaf, and thyme. Then, a flash flood of pinot noir, submerging the bouquet. Once the whole thing came to boiling point, the beef was dropped like smother blankets to calm and quell the whole situation. A treaty is signed on a piece of parchment paper, which is then laid on top of the stew to dry and embolden the beef with truth. It then goes into a moderate oven for four hours. Three hours in, we remove the casserole from the oven and take out the bouquet garni. We replace with fresh chopped carrots and quartered mushrooms that have been sauteéd in butter beforehand. See how I did that devilish move?

I told you to make something with something that had already been made. Have you come across this in a cookbook? Many fools, fools, think that a short recipe will result in shorter cooking and prep time. Fools. Don´t fall for this. Some short recipes call for several ingredients which are in themselves recipes. If it says 2 tbsp. tomato raspberry coulis (pg. 47) and a dash of spicy-spring splendor seasoning (pg. 488) well, that sounds like a bit much.

The stew was so delicious, there was none left over for leftovers. I am usually bummed to have leftovers, but with stew, it´s a whole nother ball game. Stew will generally improve with a few days age. Sadly, this general stew has no days of age with which to improve.

Now, you´ll forgive me this last memory I have with beef stew, and it pertains to the title and first line of this post. If you are of a certain vintage, you may remember the TV show Strangers with Candy. If you are not familiar, watch it. In the show the family´s local butcher is named Stu, and the puns abounded. Every time I make stew, I announce to no one, ¨That´s a lot of beef, Stu!¨ Also, Jerri Blank.

15 October Saturday

As all the fresh produce ages at a rate that outpaces my eating it, it goes where all such things go- into the minestrone pot. That´s where the remaining farmer´s market produce went earlier this week, and seemingly on cue, the fog rolled in, the air got cold, and the summer produce was over.

Last night a few friends came by, and I hadn´t really planned anything for food, so when folk got hungry, out came the soup pot. I broke up some spaghetti noodles, dropped them in water, got out the bag of shredded cheese, and dinner was served. It was a delicious requiem for the passed season. It was a pantry clearer, as I call it, where several items are completely used up. Now, the fridge is basically empty, a blank canvas. I was offered, for the first time this year, a pumpkin item. It´s time. Time to pumpkin.

I´ve made a list of things on sale at the market, including squash and pears, and chuck roast. I haven´t made a beef stew in a while, maybe even a couple of years. Wait a moment. Silently waiting in the fridge, a package of boneless, skinless, chicken breasts I had intended to put in the soup before I decided to go veg with it. So, before I do the pot roast, I´m going to make Makhani Murgh with Naan and dal. Now that´s a surprise turn.

It´s a cold and grey day, and I´m watching a movie about gigantic ants laying siege to Los Angeles. The city is under martial law as the ants march toward the city. On the stove top, a braiser filled with thick deep orange liquid giving up a heavenly scent of cumin and Garam Masala. If you keep an active pantry, and you should, you will know that buying spices in smaller quantities means ya go through them more quickly, means they are fresher, means the dish tastes much brighter and more vibrant than their curry house counterparts.

This beautiful sauce is tangier, more flavorful, and less bland-creamy than a restaurant sauce. It improves with a little rest after the trauma of being cooked. While it rests, I´ll make some yellow dal and Naan to go with it. It is more sauce than anything, there´s not much chicken, so maybe some basmati rice would be good.

Well, the ants were eventually burned and the good people of Los Angeles were spared a gruesome end, this time. Now, Spencer Tracey will play Dr. Jekyll AND Mr. Hyde. The couplet caption beneath the photo was sung by Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd. This role was originally played by Angela Lansbury, the great actress who died earlier this week. So, this Indian dinner will be eaten in her memory.

Now the yellow dal is cooking, and the rich scent of turmeric and ginger fills the air. I must say where the last movie was unbelievably stupid, this Jekyll and Hyde is amazing. This movie is being shown on one of those channels that has really long commercials that include an elderly woman laying at the bottom of the staircase near an overturned laundry basket. Absolutely hilarious!!

Now naan is possible in your oven, even a Magic Chef. That beautiful baby, the Magic Chef, has really worked her magic over the last thirteen years. When you bring the temperature to the highest, and you let the baking stone get hotter and hotter, the raw dough hits with a sear, and in three minutes, crisp, thin, tangy, tandoori simulated bread comes out of the oven, as above. So then, the whole meal:

The full meal. The Makhani Murgh, the Dal with cumin, red chili flake, and garlic, the Basmati rice, the naan. As predicted, the spice level was higher and more vibrant and well, a little spicier. It didn´t blow my brains out, but there was a lingering and satisfying effect in both the chicken and the dal. The dal in particular was really good. When the lentils were completely cooked, I added melted butter infused with crushed garlic, red chili pepper, and whole cumin seeds to toast. Then, I stirred this mixture into the lentils, transforming both them and myself.

I also want to clarify something-

The reason I made this meal is that I had all the ingredients already in my house. It was cold, it was foggy, there were great old horror movies on TV, I wanted a fun, festive meal that didn´t require me to leave the house or spend money that I hadn´t already spent. Now, friends, this is the real power of a well stocked pantry. There are spices, herbs, seeds, blends, and all sorts of flavorings right at your little finger tips. Now, I am out of cumin, out of rice, and nearly out of curry spice. Well, no there are plenty of curry blends leftover. But there are not many joys that equal using the food you already purchased to make something new.

I put some of the dough into the fridge. It has been a long day, what is done, is done. What is not done, is not done. Let it be. There will be fresh Naan tomorrow, when I try some new dishes. I´ll buy the roast and make stew on Monday. Good night!

Everything was delicious.

9 October Sunday

A friend of mine that works events that involve catering frequently brings over the booty afterwords. This week, a large box of various cheeses-Gouda, Manchego, Cheddar, Edam. I shred it into a savory and complex pile of cheesy complexity yum yum. There´s probably thirty five dollars worth of cheese in a ziploc bag in my fridge, none of which I would have bought, all of which would have ended up in the trash.

Then, there are all those beautiful tomatoes, bell peppers, zucchini, and onions I purchased at the Farmer´s Market. First, the great blessing. The grilled cheese with tomato slices on it. Don´t be glib with your grilled cheese, young man. There is a way to make it, and a way to make it. The grilled cheese sandwich is one of the great things of life. Here´s how I make mine.

A pan sits alone on the stove top. The knob is turned, the gas comes on and the tick tick tick of the whatever the hell that is. Then, a flame. Low, low and gentle, friend. The pan and the flame are lovers. Let the gentle blue flame gently kiss the bottom of the pan, no more. We must not spoil the moment. While this happens, take two sturdy slices of sourdough bread. Go to the fridge and get out your million dollar bag of cheese and a tablespoon of butter.

Set the tablespoon of butter into the the warm pan. It should just begin to wilt, to fall in on itself, and if your butter is shy, it might try to be a wallflower and retreat to a corner of the pan. No! Bring her forward, into the center. Let her swirl around the pan, like an ice skater leaves a trail behind. Let the butter relinquish her white fluffy down like a bridal train.

As the butter gets warmer, the white milk solids separate from the yellow fat, and then the solids begin to caramelize in the fat. This is exactly the moment that you put the two pieces of bread into the pan and swirl them around until the butter is absorbed in the bread. This will ensure that the bread toasts at the same time the butter is browning. As soon as the butter is absorbed, place a few handfuls of cheese on top of one of the slices. Take the cheese all the way to the edge of the bread, allowing some to spill over directly onto the pan. Let it do the things, slowly, gently. You should hear it sizzling, but careful the butter doesn´t burn.

Once the cheese looks like it is preparing for a nap, blanket it in tomato slices and check the other piece of bread for toastiness. If it´s yellow, let it mellow. If it´s browned, flip it over on top of the tomatoes, spank it with a spatula a couple times, and immediately flip the whole sandwich over. Keep toasting until the cheese begins to weep over the tomatoes. Flip the whole thing over again and turn off the heat. Place the plate on which you intend to serve it on top of the sandwich still in the pan. This will press the sandwich down, helping the cheese to seal the deal, and will warm up the plate. Two minutes.

Now, this is a good thing in and of itself, but what if we served it along side a bowl of Cream of Bell Pepper soup? It´s too good to be true in some ways. The City is cold and somewhat subdued today. The sun is setting, the fog is in, and it´s just six.

5 October Wednesday

At the behest of several busy friends, I will try only to post once a day. So, if I have remembered to do it correctly, you´ll be seeing this tomorrow. Unless I forget and you see it today. It´s hard to hold all this prose inside! So, continuing on the adventure voyage of wonder and discovery, the Civic Center Farmer´s Market.

Getting off the 49 Bus in front of the Opera House and walking across the green to the market: A typical San Francisco cacophony of live music, aerobics classes, pigeons swooping low from every direction, school children on field trips screaming, and the many folks who live on the green, looking for a little peace.

The market itself is genius. Swipe your card, get some tokens, trade the tokens for food. The tokens never expire, so I brought a few home for next time. There must have been thirty stalls, and judging by the produce on offer, it is still late summer here. I bought some really beautiful tomatoes, cucumbers, chard, lettuce, cilantro, ginger, limes, zucchini, and some amazing bell peppers. There are many great things to do with bell peppers. Stuffed peppers, either with meat or rice, a multi-colored bell pepper risotto courtesy of Marcella Hazan herself.

But my favorite is ¨cream¨ of red bell pepper soup. It has no dairy products in it. Boil a few tablespoon of rice until soft, put it in the soup right before you pureé it, sprinkle with finely minced thyme, and place a beautifully poached egg right in the center. Drizzle with olive oil. It can be made with stock, but water leaves the pepper flavor pure.

I left having spent twenty bucks on a week´s worth of vegetables. Tonight, a nice big salad, Seinfeld style.

A salad for dinner- one head of butter lettuce, one yellow bell pepper sliced paper thin, one large perfectly red tomato, one sweet cucumber, with a little shallot dressing. It was like tasting the sun, I imagine. Fresh tomatoes, and I have enjoyed many, are the best.

5 October Wednesday

Many are surprised/intrigued/disgusted by my love of buying used cookbooks. The experience is the complete opposite of a) finding the brand-new book online, b) ordering it, c) having it go missing from the front porch and re-ordering it d) getting exactly what you expected, pristine with color glossy photographs. It’s all fine and good, but cookbooks generally have changed in purpose to be more books one looks at, rather than a book that gets a real workout in a kitchen. I want a book that has been looked over, cooked with. I love other owner’s comments and corrections. The batter and sauce spattered pages directing us to winning recipes. The browned edges of the paper. Mostly, I like that they are smaller and weigh less, like a regular old book.

Thrift stores and used book stores can be treasure troves of old cookbooks. There are classics like Joy, and everything Julia, with inscriptions inside the front cover- Christmas 1972, To Doug and Judy, all best wishes for the first Christmas in a new home, Love Nan. There are the crazy, trend based cookbooks of the 80s, like Weeknight Almost-Gourmet Microwave Cooking for the Single Pescatarian. Of course, spiral-bound church and community cookbooks by the dozens. Sometimes, I find some ancient gem among the dusty tomes, a book so fascinating and unusual to me that I buy it, read it, put it on the shelf, decide to give it away, pull it off the shelf and read it again, decide that I cannot give it away because some day, some day, I am going to translate those recipes into food that I will eat. Will the food be as pleasurable to eat as this book is to look at?

At least ten years ago, I came across Roy Andries de Groot’s Feasts for All Seasons. Now Roy (henceforth known), was a great international brat, cooking and wine enthusiast, and writer. This book is filled with really interesting-sounding recipes from all over the world. It is a menu cookbook with wine pairings, varying in complexity and seasonal, including which fish are off which waters when. I have always found it a bit intimidating. I resisted cooking anything from it because he calls for some hard to find ingredients (veal knuckles are popular with Roy) and a number of preparations take several days. I will write more about Roy, a very interesting figure, later on.

A few years ago, I decided to make one recipe from this book, and it has become one of my more legendary and oft requested offerings. And so, his Cream of Pumpkin Soup, served in the pumpkin, will commence an entire menu from Roy’s book. It is a mild mix of slightly pureéd pumpkin (the pieces of pumpkin in the creamy soup is part of the magic), stock and milk. It is more savory then you might imagine, there is no sweetening at all. It is topped with paprika toasted pumpkin seeds and finely chopped parsley.

After that, a pyramid of Algerian Chicken Couscous, with plenty of spices and vegetables. We´ll finish off with pan-fried apple dumplings. Chopped apples, butter, and cinnamon wrapped in biscuit dough and fried in the pan. Dear Roy encourages the use of pre-made biscuit dough in a tube, and that is what I will do. Now you know I´m always a little leery about sharing the menus before I make them. You know, things change, people change. We´re all flexible in today´s crazy world. OK, wine pairings to come.

One more thing- It is October, and I have it on good authority that a later season glut of tomatoes is coming into the Farmer´s Markets this week. I´ve also heard there is a market that sells them a dollar a pound. I am going this afternoon to see whether or not this is true. I will report back.

28 September Wednesday

I have a little day dream to share. Whenever I want, I imagine that I have been elected President of the United States. For no reason of helping humanity or leading a nation or knowing the codes, I want to be president because I would get to choose a kitchen staff to prepare my food, I’d get to choose menus and tell people what I want to eat and serve. I think it must be one of few things over which the Office has complete control.

I would sit patiently, thinking very carefully what is best to eat when leading the free world. I would impress the chefs with my sophisticated palate, my knowledge of nutrition, my desire to set an example of good eating, and my eccentric loves and hates (no cheese in my pepperoni roll!). One of my secret service retinue would know “the code” (my order at Taco Bell).

When asked what I’d like for breakfast on a typical morning, I’d say Chicken Noodle Soup. My team would look at one another and think, well, he’s the President, and then they would keep their mouths shut. I think soup is highly underrated as a breakfast food. My Korean friends often enjoy kimchi soup for breakfast, and the Chinese like Congee, why not Chicken Noodle for America? It is restorative, filling but not rich, warm and full of vegetables, and it’s not too flavorful a food for early in the morning. It’s actually great for people who don’t really like to eat anything when they first wake up, like me. I’m gonna have some early mornings when I’m President, that’s for sure.

There’s another reason I like this fantasy. It seems whenever a POTUS leaves office, there is a special camaraderie between them and the chefs. It’s like, you’re the only people that ever treated me. We never had to argue. You made this more pleasant, more fun. Remember that failed peace accord? That Senate no vote? Who brought me that Peanut Butter Ice Cream Sundae with Caramel and Fudge sauce?

I made a pot of this magic elixir today. Chicken Noodle Soup, that is. I always, always keep frozen homemade chicken stock in the freezer. It should be well-skimmed, so that when you reheat it, it is golden colored but completely clear. I am also a fan of under seasoned stock, because you get a better flavor when you salt the soup as you’re making with it. I was at home today, so I put the stock on very low heat. I added finely chopped celery, carrot, and thyme and cooked it slow for ninety minutes or so. Then, I added diced raw chicken breast, cooked for twenty minutes (the low heat keeps the chicken from getting chewy). Then, I ate some. It is very good, thyme only, don’t gunk it up with rosemary, or worse, sage. It was so good, I forgot about the noodles. But if you do want them, remember little bopkins, to cook the noodles in a separate vessel and only as many as you are going to eat NOW.

No word from Bevelyn.

26 September Monday

A friend wrote and asked for a recipe. Strawberry Meringue Cake by Ms. Bevelyn Blair of Columbus, Georgia. I was more than happy to oblige, and shared my slightly revised recipe which doubled the amount of milk in the original recipe. When I made the confection in a much celebrated installment of this serial, I announced that it was wonderful, and I went ballistic for it, declared her to be a great genius of the kitchen, and that was that. When I asked how it turned out, my friend said it was good, but the crust (not cake) was chewy and maybe too dense.

So, I think it might be time to revisit the recipe and perhaps concede that there is errata in her work, which doesn’t make her a bad baker and certainly not a bad person. A bad editor, maybe. It clearly says tested cake recipes on the front cover. I wonder if anyone down there in Columbus, Georgia helped her test the recipes, poor thing. A book like this is a lot of work. Well I’d sat here and stewed long enough. I decided to contact Ms. Bevelyn Blair of Columbus, Georgia.

I was a little surprised to see that she had a Twitter account, less so to see that she has two followers and has never sent a Tweet. It is apparently the only way to contact and nag her with annoying questions about how much milk goes in things. But gosh dern it, I’m gonna try! At its core, the dilemma is this- Is there something wrong with the Strawberry Meringue Cake recipe, or should it really be called Strawberry Meringue Bars? Fearing she may not check her social media all day, I had to have another method of figuring out the answer to this question. So, like the great scholars of old, I went back to the source, the manuscript, the scroll, the cave etchings to look for clues. Sift for them, if I may. Get it?

I thought it best considering the season, to start with her selection of pumpkin recipes. What I am looking for is a recipe that is similar to the strawberry one in terms of proportions of ingredients.

Ah, the pumpkin. The strawberry’s oafish cousin. The sweet delicate berries of summer have been crushed by the stubborn and withholding gourd. Hmm, I was just thinking that the pumpkin is often portrayed as empty headed or angry or as a goofy tag-a-long in literature or whatever, media, whereas the strawberry isn’t portrayed at all. Could you imagine the Headless Horseman launching a strawberry at Professor Crane? Where’s the drama in that?

I launch myself back into Country Cakes. Looking for recipes similar to Strawberry Meringue Cake starring pumpkin. There is a Pumpkin Cake recipe which looks very traditional, with whole eggs, oil, sifted flour, the regular cast. Not what we’re looking for. And that’s it. A pumpkin bread. Other than those, it seems she may not have been fond of pumpkin.

Then, a raisin cake, same sort of deal, only with hot water instead of milk. That one looks good actually. The next recipe, Raspberry Cake. OK, ok, it looks similar in that the eggs are separated, the ratio of dry to liquid is the same as the other cake (which in this case could be ruinous). With a batter that is really a dough, I mean, ya can’t fold egg whites into that. One can’t fold egg whites into a dough. Anyway, the whole concept of the cake sounds absolutely amazing, not the least reason being that the entire cake, after being covered in deep red raspberry whipped cream, is showered in finely shaved sun yellow citron, an ingredient I have a really hard time finding, in fact I’ve never found it here in San Francisco. Blair does that sometimes, uses an ingredient that seems really far away from me. Like a product called Vanilla, Butter, and Nut baking flavoring. Ever use that? My new Twitter friend, Bevelyn Blair of Columbus, Georgia certainly has.

Will I try the Raspberry Cake? Yes. Will I wait to see if I hear that she reached out to touch me? Hmm maybe a few days. How thrilling, another mystery!

25 September Sunday

Away with strawberries, raspberries, and the like. On the feast of St. Michael and All Angels (September 29) it is said, the devil pisses on the berry bushes, making them sour until Easter. A strange little tale, sure, and maybe lacking in empirical backup, but it is true that the price goes up. Time for apples, pears, persimmons, and the elusive quince.

It was several years ago that my local corner grocery was carrying fresh quince. October-November, fresh quince time. Now, I had never handled quince before, and I was determined to not make the same ridiculous mistake I had made with the kumquat (another post, forthcoming). Quinces really can’t be eaten out of hand. They need to be cooked slowly and with lots of sweet added. The flavor is ambrosial. There is citrus, apple/pear, rose and other floral do dads. You can make a crisp with it, the same as apples. I am looking for some now. Quince crisp is quite amazing. Recipe ahead.

In fact, I have a really interesting story from whence the quince crisp recipe cometh. I won’t tell you now, but it has something to do with George Balanchine. Does that wet your appetite?

21 September Wednesday

If you are a cooking enthusiast and live near full service, international grocery stores, you may have a pantry filled with spices, dried herbs, and sauces which come from cuisines other than American-Euro type, whatever that is. When I first moved to San Francisco, I wanted to learn to make all of my favorite international dishes. I made my own garam masala, I learned to stir fry and use Sichuan peppercorns, I’ve made Thai and Japanese curries. But then, what? You make that amazing curry, once, twice, and you still have enough pantry items to last through the next couple years. During the pandemic, on a night when unlimited tacos were called for, my friend went out to find some essential cumin. He returned with the largest single container of spice I’ve ever seen. We must make use. It has come to that time of year, when we need to review what we have, where we are, and whatever.

Yes, indeed, if you are not hopelessly optimistic, you are experiencing the whatever days. Yes, the end of September. I hear everyone saying they are a little tired, and why not? Everything around us is changing. I know I talk a lot about the seasons, but they are important. There are times when it is OK to go with it, and if you are a little tired, well then, take a nap. Back to school, back to the rhythm of work and routine. It’s good, it has its place. Time to plan breakfasts, lay outfits, and pack a lunch.

OK, so back on track. Several weeks ago, I made those lovely roast pork hoagies, then I followed up with some enchiladas. They were delicious, and I find myself strangely uninspired to write about them. I researched the history of enchiladas, and even I can’t come up with an exciting story. Except this, friends. Enchilada means to add chiles. And I think it’s time. It’s time to add chiles. They’re old, they’ve been around for thousands and thousands of years, and they still find their way onto many a North Dakota dinner table. You know the rest. Colonists. Appropriation. Assimilation. Bon appetit.