I seriously love baking bread because I get it wrong, all the time. Of course, I also bake bread for the instant gratification of breaking open a warm crusty loaf. My (finally) success in sourdough rekindled the love of bread.
All this bread appreciation got me thinking about how I came to bread baking and why I keep going; the love of bread cookbooks. Sure, the internet is a glorious place int terms of culinary instruction but I have yet to be able to find a resource the way my trusty bread baking library serves me. So in honor of my love of bread and here is my humble bread baker’s library. I believe these selected books provide a great starting point with a wide range of skills and technique covered. I often find myself comparing book-to-book when free-forming a dough or changing a recipe; it’s great to have a strong base of knowledge at your finger tip when tackling bread.
Introductory:
These books are not really introductory, rather, they are the type of bread cookbook that gets you hooked on the craft. Both utilize slow rises and limited kneading which is easy for a beginner to understand but complex enough for someone looking to get more flavor and crumb structure out of their loaves to enjoy. I find the the no-knead approach is the easiest way to introduce bread making because the results are so great, you can’t stop from wanting to bake more.
My Bread, by Jim Lahey: This book is for anyone who has tried the Bittman/Lahey No Knead Bread from the NY Times. The recipes all riff of that same technique of a wet dough plus a slow rise. The walnut/currant recipes is simple but a testament to what slight changes and additions can do to a great no-knead boule.
Kneadlessly Simple, by Nancy Bagget: Nancy Baggett covers almost everything from a no-knead pot boule to no-knead cinnamon swirl bread. Her instructions are thorough. The bread always works.
Moderate:
Artisan Bread Everyday, by Peter Reinhardt: While this Reinhardt book is also based mostly no-knead techniques I have set it apart from the first category because I find Reinhardt’s bread to be more complex. With Reinhardt you will do some kneading, explore complex shapes, hearth baking, and even developing sourdough. No book has improved my bread baking more than this book. Even when I adventure into harder challenges I keep coming back here to replicate tips and techniques.
Intermediate and Beyond:
I place these three books together because they offer traditional techniques, superior explanation of the science behind bread making, and fairly involved formulas for breads. These are not meant for the instant gratification bread baker but I find their complexity of skill/instruction has helped me branch out into artisan quality breads, especially sourdough, while really beginning to understand the science of bread.
Bread Bakers Apprentice, by Peter Reinhardt: What more can be said about Peter Reinhardt than he is a bread baking master? Here you’ll get everything, from baking shaping, preferments, to formulas.
Bread, by Jeffrey Hammelman: This book is a master class is bread baking. That is all. Please run out and purchase it.
Tartine, by Chad Roberston: Tartine is all the rage these days. What I love so much about this book is the desire to teach bread baking not as a route memorization but a skill that is honed by feel and touch. I also love the description of cultivating a wild yeast starter in the beginning; he really instills that capturing yeast is less precise than we think, it’s just water + flour + time.
Local Breads, by Daniel Leader: After visiting Paris in 2011 and trying Eric Kayser’s bread I became instantly fascinated with sourdoughs or pain au levain. Daniel Leader does a great job of relating the process of achieving master European breads.
Have a favorite bread book you think I’m missing? Please do share!
I’ve decided to start reviewing local eats in and around the Boston area. The blog will not become dedicated to reviews though; I’m still interested in cooking, thinking, and writing about food in a recipe sharing kind of way. And no, I will not be reviewing anything that is given to me free. It’s just not my style (not to mention why would someone give me anything for free?)
What lead me to writing reviews here is that I’ve been thinking about how the way I like to cook and think about food is so influenced by all the changing, contradictory tastes of Boston: I’m talking the traditional white fish, old-school New England meets the complicated new Boston of yuppies, hipsters, food trucks, immigrants, and cooks with grand schemes of saving the world (to name a few.) Not to mention it’s just plain fun to recommend the things I seriously enjoy.
The first review had to be Clover Food Lab because it was the first food truck I tried, back before they’d expanded into a brick and mortar Harvard Square restaurant and before the city’s food truck initiative brought more Clover trucks to the street. When I first tried Clover they were just starting to cause a lot of buzz as a popular lunch spot in the M.I.T. area that did healthy-ish fast food. Since I was working in the suburbs at the time it meant I could never make it to the area before they closed up though. But one Friday, when I’d skipped out of work early, I made it my only goal of the day to race home in my twelve year old Ford Taurus (a car of glory) to get to there. When I finally got to the truck, sandwiched in between the modern architecture of Cambridge’s Kendall Square area, I was a giddy fan girl effusively telling the staff how long I’d been waiting to try it all. I ordered what has become my staple: a chickpea fritter sandwich, rosemary fries, and a homemade soda/Italian soda.
I probably ate it on a bench, or on the curb, in a fit of messy one-handed hunger but I know I was delighted because I’ve been going back ever since. Not soon after that first bite the food truck buzz starting getting louder and louder in Boston; I was clearly late to the party but glad I made it all. Then Clover opened in Harvard Square into a modern, light-filled, futuristic fast food restaurant that features no register, ordering by iPhone, all white decor, and plants growing up the back wall.
Clover is a wonderfully strange place that is full of contradictions: it’s a hugely popular but totally meat-free, it was started by a socially-minded entrepreneurial M.I.T. grad but also fueled by an experienced chef, it’s an expanding chain but it’s dedicated to sustainability (everything is composted in the restaurants). Clover has also been called ambivalent to praise from the local media and yet it’s using social media to its fullest. Clover’s menu is a work in-progress, never overly polished or inaccessible but also based on a wide range of world cuisine that brings a healthy version of fast food to the masses (of Boston and Cambridge that is.) All these contradictions make it one of the most interesting, popular food spots in the changing Boston culinary scene.
My love of the Clover chickpea fritter has not waned. I do branch out often–my second favorite is the chickpea fritter plate which is like a deconstructed version of the sandwich, or the soy BLT, or the seasonal salads/sides like this one fabulous salad of roasted carrots/pistachios/mint–but I’m still just in love with idea of a bright and creative version of a falafel packed with sweet pickled vegetables, a cucumber-tomato salad, with hummus AND tahini. You must have both present to achieve that level of chickpea fritter perfection. Don’t be afraid to ask for more tahini, either.
Bottom line? Get the chickpea fritter in any incarnation for the first time (and the 40th time too), do not pass up the rosemary fries which are freshly made and tossed with sprigs of rosemary that I eat one by one even after the fries are gone. If you are in the Harvard Square location try the local beers on tap which are usually 3 or 4 dollars. Oh and Friday is Whoopie pie friday! Not to be missed, trust me.
Clover Food Lab
various locations around Boston/Cambridge
$/budget/vegetarianhttp://www.cloverfoodlab.com/
https://twitter.com/#!/cloverfoodtruck
http://www.cloverpos.com/locations/(locations from http://www.cloverfoodlab.com/ )
Clover HSQ
7 Holyoke St., Cambridge (Near Harvard Square T stop)
7 Days, 7am – Midnight (breakfast, lunch, dinner)Clover MIT
20 Carleton St., Cambridge (Near Kendall T stop)
Weekdays 8am – 8pm (breakfast, lunch, dinner)Clover DWY
Summer St. & Atlantic Ave, Boston (Near South Station T stop)
Weekdays 7:30am – 5pm (breakfast, lunch)Clover BUB (NEW HOURS)
BU Bridge, Westbound side of Commonwealth Ave (St. Paul T stop)
Wednesdays and Thursdays 8am-7pm, Friday, 8am – 3pm.BU East (in front of Morse Auditorium)
Mondays and Tuesdays, 8am – 3pmClover LMA
Longwood Medical Area, on Blackfan St. near Merck
Weekdays, 8am – 7pm (breakfast, lunch, dinner)Clover HUB
1075 Cambridge St., just outside of Inman Square
7 days, 7am – 9pmClover SWA
SoWa Market, 460 Harrison Ave, Boston, MA
Sundays, 8am – 4pmClover GOV
City Hall Plaza
Fridays, 8am-4pmClover CLV
Beacon St and Chestnut Hill Ave
Fridays and Saturdays 4pm-9pm
When I shop for at the grocery store for chicken I feel a pang of guilt. The liberal evangelist in my head is telling me to put down that store brand chicken. I’m talking the 1.99 a pound stuff; the holy grail of eating cheaply. I’ll do the dance of picking up an organic package than a store- brand package, oscillating between my options. To be honest I rarely do buy the organic chicken. Why? The price on that store-brand chicken gets me every time; it’s just that much lower.
When it comes to organic chicken it’s not as cut and dry as the perfect version of me in my head would like it to be. Organic chicken “must come from animals that have never received antibiotics or growth hormones.” which is not often so easy to come by. That is, some higher priced chicken is called “natural” or “vegetarian” in an attempt to woo customers into paying more without actually being organic. The science behind whether organics are demonstrably better for your health is undecided. A 2006 study even concluded their is not a significant difference between organic and non-organic foodstuffs. That’s not to say new evidence won’t come out to contradict this study in the future. Or that we shouldn’t purchase organics if we’d like to. The sale of organics is going very strong, so people are clearly finding their own balance with the issue that includes more organics in their life. My point is that organic chicken isn’t an island, organics can’t be a sole issue. Local, sustainable, seasonable, and so on complicates the debate further because now we are involving people, places, and money alongside those chickens.
In the thick of my organic chicken spiritual dilemma I came across a short video of Mark Bittman talking about his philosophies on food. I was particularly smitten with the title of: Eat a Carrot First, Ask if it’s Organic Later. I take the catchy phrase to mean: let’s have everyone eat and eat better first while figuring out the messy politics of food as we go.
So that’s exactly what I did: I made a healthier version of fast food favorites with oven baked Mark McNuggets and Roasted Carrot fries, the first a direct recipe and the later an improvisation on roasted vegetables. Both are part of the Mark Bittman’s 102 Essentials Challenge I’m holding for myself where I cook my through the 102 essentials at the back of How To Cook Everything. More importantly, both recipes put taste, health and budget first.
Oven baked nuggets are insanely easy. They are enjoyable in a little kid kind of way, the ultimate finger food to be eaten as a grown adult in front of the television. The healthy part comes from the whole grain bread crumbs and the baking, not frying. Easy mixed dipping sauces include mayo + sriracha or honey + dijon mustard making things a bit fancier. The real star, though, are the carrot fries. These little sticks roast up perfectly becoming reminiscent of sweet potato fries rather than your standard veggie. The sugary sweetness of the carrots are enhanced by the roasting while the darkened edges give them some caramelized bite. Salt and dipping sauces make the carrots fries completely addicting. I will admit I stood over the baking sheet finishing each last carrot fry. I have no shame.
Oven Baked Chicken Nuggets
Serves 4
Ingredients:
1 1/2 pounds boneless chicken parts, like tenders, pounded and cut into equal parts
1/2 cup all purpose flour
2 eggs, beaten
2 cups bread crumbs
salt and pepper
1/4- 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
optional: tablespoon grated ParmesanDirections
1. Preheat the oven to 350 °F. Line a baking sheet with foil.
2. Create a chicken nugget making line: raw chicken in a bowl, flour in another bowl, the 2 beaten eggs in another, and the bread crumbs + salt/pepper + chili powder + Parmesan in the last.
3. Dredge chicken in flour then egg. Roll in bread crumbs. Place on baking sheet.
4. Cook until ready which will vary of your chicken parts and their thickness, anywhere from 15-30 minutes. Remember to check the internal temperature of chicken so it 160-165 °F
Oven Baked Carrot Fries
Serves 4
Ingredients:
2 lb of peeled carrots cut into match sticks of your liking.
2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper
optional: spices like ancho power, chili powder, or even curry powder would work wellDirections:
1. Preheat the oven to 400 °F. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil.
2. Toss carrot sticks with olive oil + salt/pepper + optional spices.
3. Roast tossing once or twice for 20 minutes until edges have browned.
Cooking my way through Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Top 102 essentials list (at the back of book or included in his awesome app) is one of my goals for 2012. The challenge is simple: I will cook Bittman’s 102 essentials over the next few months and I will blog about how I combined the recipes. Perhaps the end result will be more complex dishes based on the basics or perhaps it will just be simple meals that taste good. The goal is to just cook and cook well.
I decided on the challenge because I’m increasingly weary of too much fancy food these days but I still find it pleasurable to cook and eat everyday. Cooking Bittman’s essentials is a perfect way to celebrate the deliciousness of everyday food without a lot of fuss. Basically, I’m enrolling myself in the cooking school of Mark Bittman.
Of course, since the essentials are, well, essential, it’s easier than you think to knock off a few in one meal. The inaugural meal of the Mark Bittman Essentials Challenge (new official title, of course!) was salmon baked in a foil (1), white bean puree (2), and a simple green salad (3.)
Fish baked in foil sounds like a 1950′s space age invention but you must overlook any assumed kitcsh because the end result is so moist. White bean puree, something I’d never really taken the time to get velvety and smooth before, is deceptively good not to mention a fantastic base for just about anything. I had some later in the week with a poached egg. I even used it as a base on pizza. Simple greens, are well, what I eat all the time. But it was fun to have a recipe just say: Combine Greens. Eat. Finally, a recipe I know by heart all of the time!
Alas, the whole meal was too good to stage better photographs for the blog before we ate. It didn’t last long, after all. Brian made the fish. I whipped up the beans. We ate quickly and ravenously. When we finished though we both surprised by just how awesome the essentials can be.
Fish Baked in Foil with White Bean Puree and Simple Green Salad
1. Salmon Baked in Foil:
Serves 4
Ingredients:
4 6 ounce thick salmon fillets
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1/4 cup olive oil
salt and pepper
lemon wedgesDirections:
1. Place oven safe baking pan in oven and heat to 400.
2. Lay out 4 tin foil sheets about 18 inches long.
3. Rub the fish fillets with salt, pepper, and olive oil.
4. Place a filet in center of tin foil sheet. Add some garlic. Fold foil over the fish and crimp edges. Repeat for all fillets.
5. Bake on preheated baking pan for 15 minutes. Let sit for a few minutes before removing the fish. Sprinkle with lemon wedges.
2. White Bean Puree:
Serves 4-6
Ingredients:
3 cups cooked white beans (canned or canned)
1 clover of garlic, mashed
1/2-1 cup water
3 tablespoons olive oil
salt and fresh pepper
lemon juice to taste
parsley sprigs to garnish if you are feeling fancyDirections:
1. Using an immersion blender or food processor, blend the beans, garlic, and water until almost smooth.
3. Drizzle in the olive oil slowly while blending until the right velvety smooth texture if achieved.
4. Season to taste with salt and pepper and lemon juice.
5. If serving warm as a base for a meal, heat up in a pan over medium heat or microwave until warm. You can use it cold as a dip and spread.
3. Simple Greens
Serves 4
Ingredients:
6 cups of washed, torn assorted greens
a dressing of choice ( I used lemon juice/olive oil/salt/pepper)Directions:
1. Top greens with dressing. Eat.
Finally creating a sourdough boule (above!) based on my own wild yeast mother starter is a big milestone in my food obsessed life. In fact, I’ve been trying to take a culture to a starter to a risen sourdough loaf for at least two years now. It’s been a long time coming. My past attempts failed due to a combination of impatience and (surprisingly enough) too much orthodoxy to a single recipe.
The former was easy to change: I simply put “Create Sourdough Bread” on my 26-to-do-before-26 list (yes, I am a dork like that) so I knew I’d have to tackle it for real this year. I changed the later by viewing bread baking less as a recipe to be followed and more of a process that involves simple parts (flour,water,yeast.salt) and an intricate science. I began to read The Fresh Loaf forums religiously, figuring out what I did wrong and right with my past attempts before starting anew. I bought several new bread cookbooks too–Tartine and Local Breads– to get my research on.
I started this new attempt with a technique for creating a starter from Local Breads. Everything was great up until about the seventh day when I noticed that although the culture was alive (bubbling and looking frothy, hello wild yeast!) it was not doubling in size. I started panicking. I started thinking I should give up. Instead, I departed from the recipe and did some googling/bread book comparison. Then I magically diagnosed the problem on my own: my yeast needed to be fed more. See, up until that point I was maintaining it at a 100% hydration without throwing any of it away. Basically the yeast kept growing and working it’s magic but it was being underfed. I threw most of it out, fed it some more according to later instructions in Local breads, and it worked! It doubled in size within 12 hours. I fed it more and more, to improve the flavor and have it double in size in 8 hours, then stuck it in the fridge until it would be time to bake a real loaf. I also decided to change it from a liquid to a stiff starter, all by tinkering, not by following a single uniform recipe.
The actual bread recipe came from my tried and true copy of Artisan Breads Everyday. It is a purist (no commercial yeast) pain au levain. The flavor of the loaf was perfect, not too sour but not too mild. I was simply amazed it even rose let alone tasted wonderfully sour. Already I’m thinking of how I can improve the bread next time. The crumb could be more open and holey, but I’m happy with this first attempt. The scoring was perfect which I’m pretty thrilled about. The sourdough waits in a mason jar in the fridge for all the future loaves. For days after making this boule, I kept thinking over and over in my head “I made pain au levain, how cool is that?” It’s been a fun start in the world of wild yeast breads,
So, in the end, I decided that I am not going to write up a recipe for my culture and starter because the process itself is too involved and free-form to relate word for word. Instead, I give the important lessons I learned: start anywhere, with any recipe, by combining water (not tap, always bottled) and organic flours of some ratio . Then wait. If your recipe doesn’t work, research another. Diagnose. The simple truth is that a starter is water + flour. Nothing more.
(Though my recommendation for a recipe, if you are looking, can be found on Wild Yeast, a fantastic bread blog.)
I could easily tell you roasted spaghetti squash tossed with peanut-sesame sauce is vegan, gluten free, healthy, low carb and so on. But I’ve come to realize labels, diets, and nutritional fads more can detract from the diversity of the way people eat and obscure the need for regular people to be eating real food, no matter the kind. What spaghetti squash in peanut-sesame sauce is, though, is delicious food. And delicious food is what I’m after.
The introduction to Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian summarizes it best: people all over the world may practice or eat in manners that we in the United States label as vegetarian but these people never identify or label themselves as such. His point is that celebrating the diversity of food doesn’t mean we must to label the way we eat. Instead, it means we can be flexible in our palates, eat with moderation, and perhaps treat the environment better in the process. Of course how and what we eat is tricky business. Food, inequality and power are intrinsically linked far more than I can explain away with one spaghetti squash. Yet I like to consider the the way I eat even if I don’t have all the answers.
In light of Bittman’s thoughts, I’ve reworked my grocery shopping strategy to eat more real food and save money (yes it can be done!) I do so by mostly shopping on the outside of the store–produce, meat, dairy, deli–with purposeful trips down an aisle for staples like dried beans, canned tomatoes, coffee, pasta, oatmeal, etc. The goal of this new grocery store navigation is three-fold: One, the grocery store I shop at is out of this world crowded so this new plan simplifies the time I spend elbowing my way around the lady with the 12 boxes of macaroni. Two, it saves money. It costs me more when I linger by the jars of pesto, the bags of course ground almond meal, and the bulk sized marshmallows. (I’m not always perfect, I do buy marshmallows sometimes but you get the picture.) Third, this plan has increased the diversity of the vegetables I eat. We come home from the grocery store with a solid base of the good stuff but there is always something new in the rotation, just like spaghetti squash above.
And since I’m eternally searching for simple, comfort dishes incorporating Asian staples such I roasted the 4lb squash and shredded the flesh which becomes delightful tendrils once cooked with the intent of giving it an Asian-pantry spin. I added cubed tofu, carrots, red pepper, scallions all tossed with an adaptation of a simple Bittman peanut sesame sauce. Ta-da! A crunchy spaghetti squash take on sesame-peanut noodles, chock’ful of good things that all together could be labeled healthy-this or vegan-that but that are really just a personal attempt to eat more real food.
A few scoops became dinner. A few more scoops for lunch this week. Perhaps another scoop with a fried egg for dinner sometime?
Roasted Spaghetti Squash in Sesame-Peanut Sauce
Ingredients:
4lb spaghetti squash
2 teaspoons canola oil
1 container of firm tofu, cubed
2 carrots, cut julienne style
1 red pepper, cut julienne style
4 scallions, white and green parts sliced thinly
1/2 cup peanut butter
2 tablespoons sesame oil
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon of honey
1 teaspoon sriracha
1 teaspoon fresh minced ginger
1 tablespoon mirin
1 grind of black pepper
1/2 – 1 cup warm water
1 tablespoon sesame seeds for garnish
Directions:
1. Preheat the oven to 350. Cut the spaghetti squash in half, scoop out the seeds and outer tendrils, and drizzle with 1 teaspoon of canola oil on each half. Cook for 45 minutes or until soft.
2. Shred squash with a fork. Toss the spaghetti shreds with cubed tofu, carrots, red pepper, and scallions.
3. Mix peanut butter, sesame oil, soy sauce, sriracha, ginger, mirin, and black pepper in small bowl. Slowly add up to a cup of warm warm, whisky vigorously, to create an even sauce.
4. Pour peanut-sesame sauce over squash. Garnish with sesame seeds. Serve warm or cold.
Since starting a home bar (aka the bookshelf of booze) we’ve been slowly collecting new bottles and trying new drinks when the weekend comes around. Except, we seriously love gin fizzes. It’s hard to branch out when the simple gin fizz is now second nature. I’m also not the biggest fan of warm winter cocktails. I do love spiced rum and warmed apple cider, or a lemony hot toddy, but I’m more apt for light, fizzy drinks. That’s why I used the winter citrus kumquats to create a seasonal cocktail.
A gin fizz is a deceptively easy drink, so much so that you might not realize what a reward you will have after mixing one up. A standard gin fizz is gin, sugar, lemon, and sparkling water. For a kumquat version of the old standard the sugar is swapped out for simple syrup infused with sliced kumquats. Then more kumquats are muddled with the simple syrup before the gin and sparking water are added. The result is a bubbly, refreshing drink where the botanicals of the gin meet with the bitter-sweet of kumquats. For an interesting flavor try a cucumber-infused gin like Hendrick’s. And remember, kumquats flesh and rind are edible, so don’t miss the floating gin-soaked kumquats when the drink is almost done.
To make this cocktail even easier to whip up, keep the simple syrup in a sealed jar in the refrigerator. Then all you need is gin, a few kumquats, sparkling water, and ice to whip up a quick drink.
Kumquat Gin Fizz
Makes 1 drink
For the syrup:
1 cup of white sugar
1 cup of water
5 kumquats, washed and sliced
For the drink:
a highball glass
3-4 kumquats, washed and sliced
1 ½ ounce of gin (a little more than a shot or one jigger full)
around 8 ounces of sparking water
3 or 4 ice cubes
Directions:
1. To make the syrup add sugar and water in small saucepan over medium heat until the sugar has disappeared. Immediately remove from heat, add in the sliced kumquats, and cover for 10-20 minutes to infuse the flavor. Strain the kumquats when ready and you have your kumquat-infused simple syrup.
2. Add 2 tablespoons of the simple syrup to a highball glass or a tall drinking glass (even a mason jar). Muddle sliced kumquats with the simple syrup with a muddler or the end of a large wooden spoon or spatula. Add the gin, ice, and top with sparkling water. Mix once with a spoon. Top with more kumquat slices if you want.
The Allston neighborhood of Boston–which I happen to live right near though not in–is more often than not ridiculed as a college slum. It is affectionately called Allston Rock City because of its music scene and do it yourself house shows and Allston Rat City, well, because there sure are a lot of rats come trash day.
I will concede that there are more than a lot of college kids in the heart of Allston. Harvard Avenue, the main drag filled with food, bars, and cheap furniture stores, fills up on most nights with college kids in every direction. The trolley or T that runs out to the neighborhood is notoriously slow and glutted with students. Then there’s the crowding into apartments and subsequent waste that accumulates every time a semester or lease ends. On September first it’s even called Allston Christmas since on every corner a mountainous pile of futons, cheap lamps, and discarded couches grows dangerously high in a mere 24-hour period as college kids either move out, move in, or simply start new somewhere else in the city. (Be wary of taking something you find on the street. There are rules to Allston.)
But despite all this, I have to admit it I actually love Allston, because below the surface, there is so much culinary flavor and cheap eats, how could I not come to love the place? There are at least two shabu shabu restaurants, the kind that serve big portions for low prices, blocks away from each other. There is middle eastern, sushi, Korean BBQ and Fried chicken, Salvadorean, VEgan pizza, and Nepalese to name a few and bars with more craft beer than is humanly possible to try (two of which were named by Draft Magazine as part of the 100 best beer bars in America!) I dislike the constant ragging on Allston as a college-this or college-that because it obscures the fact that thriving immigrant communities live and make Allston interesting too. At a point making fun of and trashing the neighborhood as a result of it’s college reputation seems to close to trashing on the other people that live there.
The crowning jewel of my love for Allston is the Super 88 grocery store and food court (or is a Hong Kong supermarket now? The sign still hasn’t changed.) It’s part pan-asian supermarket and part pan-asian food court. Mostly, it is all awesome. In the food court side, you’ve got everything from Hong Kong style dim sum to Northern Indian take out to Koream bimbimbap. My favorite is the Vietnamese counter, where you can get massive bowls of pho bo and pho ga for under 10 dollars. If you feel inspired by the tastes of the food court the grocery store has everything under the sun you may need to recreate the cuisines of Asia. I’ve spent so many lazy sundays in the Super 88, waiting out the harsh Boston winters with bowsl of pho or tracking down that final ingredients for a new recipe. Galangal ginger! Purple basil! Thai chilies! Oh my.
So when I finally decided to a try making a version of pho ga at home, Vietnamese chick noodle soup in my over simplification of this immensely popular national dish, it seemed only right to dedicate the effort to Allston in all it’s rough-and-tumble glory. Firstly, because my love of pho is born of my time at the Super 88, my Allston go-to. Secondly, because I’m always thankful to I can hop on a bus and appreciate the little extras the neighborhood has, experiencing it underneath the empty stereotypes. And lastly because homemade pho seems a perfect way to honor a section of the city where everything comes crashing at once, from college kids to rock shows in basements to hardworking immigrants to cheap eats from all over the world. It’s not about making the most authentic pho, or finding the best in the city, its just about the process.
I like you just the way you are Allston, rats and all. (Okay, maybe fewer rats would be better for everyone…)
Quick Homemade Pho Ga
Adapted from: Steamy Kitchen & Chez Us
Serves 4-6
For the Broth:
1/2 white onion
1 3 inch chunk of ginger, peeled
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
3 star anise pods
fennel seeds, 1 tablespoon
1 cinnamon stick
8 cups of chicken broth
1 small bunch of cilantro, washed
1 1/2 tablespoons fish sauce (or to taste)
2-3 cups of water
Main:
1 whole skinless and boneless chicken breast. Mine was around 1.5 pounds of breast meat.
1 lb of noodles
Toppings:
mint, roughly torn
basil, roughly torn
scallions, sliced
quarters of lime
bean sprouts
thinly sliced red onions
Sriracha
Hoisin sauce
Directions:
1. In a broil safe pan (like a cast iron skillet) brown the peeled ginger and onion until beginning to blacken, around 10 minutes. Peel away any burnt areas.
2. Toast the coriander seeds, the anise pods, fennel seeds, and cinnamon stick in a deep stock pot until just fragrant. Be careful not to burn.
3. Add the chicken broth, onion, ginger, 1 small bunch of cilantro (stem and leaves), and the fish sauce to the stock pot with the toasted spices. Bring to boil. Add the chicken breast. Reduce to just below a boil. Poach the chicken for around 20 minutes until cooked. Remove and shred.
4. While the chicken is poaching cook the rice noodles according to the package.
5. The Pho Ga stock may have reduced now by some. Taste and adjust for taste. You may want to add another 2-3 cups of water. Once ready, remove from heat.
6. Strain the chicken broth in a fine mesh colander. I found lining the colander with a paper towel helped catch any small spices that may have broken down while simmering.
7. Divide the broth into bowls. Add noodles, shredded chicken, and then top to your fancy.
8. Store leftovers in separate containers so you can quickly reassemble for another meal!
Homemade gifts tend to be a theme of my December as I’ve inherited the cheap gene (thanks, Dad.) I’m also inclined to making catastrophic messes in my free time. This year I made around five batches of biscotti, salted caramels, spiced nuts, flour free peanut butter and dark chocolate cookies, and sriracha salt. The former were all on purpose, the latter a surprise impulse last gift but now a personal favorite salt.
Now that the time of homemade gift giving is basically over, I’m able to reflect on the things I made, the burnt chocolate, the scorched sugar, and the wooden spoon that appeared to be permanently stuck to the bottom of the beloved pot. And it’s interesting to see the tricky dance and politics of making it from scratch at the holidays.
I’m speaking directly to an New York Times article from last month titled “‘Store Bought’ Spoils the Potluck Spirit“, which caused a little internet stir about whether it was fair to criticize people who brought store items to holiday potlucks and such. I happened to read this article a few days before I had decided to bake around thirty biscotti cookies for an office cookie swap party I signed up for on impulse. I didn’t think much about the debate-does this author pretend all people (and specificaly women) have the time to cook? Does store bought really ruin tradition?- since I literally had a lot of cookies to make in a few short hours.
But after making a fairly disappointing bunch of cookies (undercooked, flavor all off, etc), I didn’t feel so sure making something from scratch really meant anything more than well, deciding to make something from scratch with my time. I could see exactly the backlash against the an article criticizing those who don’t want to do it themselves or just decide not to.
Let’s be honest: sometime making something can be a disguised judgement of others, trying to say “Look I’m great! I’m skilled!” I admit it, I started out thinking: I Will Bake The Worlds Best Cookies ,Everyone Will Love Me. In the end, I didn’t even like what I made. But I brought them in, swapped cookies, and realized that my personal effort in baking cookies really wasn’t the point. Serving cookies that looked misshapen, kind of like mangled fingers, was an epiphany of sorts. Making things yourself should not be about forcing other people to recognize your skills or about judging the free time of others. It should be about having fun, or not having fun and realizing you aren’t much of a baker, or about watching Home Alone 1 and Home Alone 2 back-to-back while creaming butter and sugar. Food shouldn’t be a judgement of yourself or others, or a responsibilty, since it ignores the privilege some people have in taking the time to cook.
I happened to find out during the cookie swap that my favorite coworker made cookie was based on a store-bought sugar cookie mix, too. They were awesome, spiced with chai tea and glazed with eggnog.
That’s why I’m in love with this sriracha salt because it isn’t stuffy or put-on. It’s easy, not really homemade as it’s based on store-bought ingredients, but still a little crafty. If you are of the rooster sauce persuasion you can sprinkle this salt on anything: eggs, popcorn, shredded meats for tacos, soup. I’ve been keeping it in a little jar by the stove, making everything I eat from breakfast to dinner a little rooster-y.
Sriracha salt, believe it or not, is symbolic of my 2012 theme: don’t take yourself so seriously, Lindsey, but make things count. I’m changing up the meaning of my blog, too. I’m making this blog less serious in a way. That is, I want this blog to be about both food and writing, recipes and thoughts, not just a blog I feel I have to write to be A True Food Blogger. I quit my ad network as a way of rethinking everything here too. The world of food blogging became so serious in 2011, sometimes good and sometimes bad, and I’m not sure what I want out of blogging about food but I do know I want it to be less serious and more fun. I’m lessening the restriction and just freeing this space, to make and write about food in a new way. The emphasis is still on tinkering and D.I.Y., but also about the ideas behind what I’m making and eating.
So I hope 2012 is a full of traveling the US, baking better bread, writing & Sriracha salt.
Sriracha Salt
From The Sriracha Cookbook (accessed from Epicurious)
Makes 1/2 cup of salt
Ingredients:
1/2 cup kosher salt
5 teaspoons Sriracha
Directions:
1. Combine salt and sriracha in a bowl. Mix thoroughly.
2. There are two ways to dry the salt: the first is just leaving the salt out on a parchment lined cookie sheet for a day or two. The second method is to preheat the oven to 200 and turn off immediately before placing the salt on a parchment lined cookie sheet into the oven to dry out slowly over a few hours.
I’ve been thinking about a recent opinion piece in Washington Post “The new domesticity: Fun, empowering or a step back for American women?” for a while now, especially as I made homemade ricotta last week for the first time and while I baked the olive oil granola recipe below. In the peice Emily Matchar argues that there is a degree of feminist dilemma in women returning to the so-called retro domestic arts in real life and in blog communities. She ask’s the reader, does the purported hipness of cooking, canning, knitting, and a blogosphere celebrating these types of activities challenge feminism. Although she is not entirely sure, she does argue their is at least a partial contradiction at play.
Not so fast I thought, after finishing the piece.
What Matcha misses in her opinion piece is twofold: For one thing, it is not just women tinkering in the kitchen after work, blogging about food, canning, or starting sourdough starters. Some men are just as interested in these things–whether you call these activities part of a hip retro domestic wave is an argument for another time– as some women are as is evidence by the many male authors on blogs big and small. I also happen to live with one of those men for what it’s worth. He is just as involved in the content of this blog, mixing up no-knead bread, buying cookbooks, figuring out how we can do more stuff from scratch; it’s just I’m the one who wants to write about it. Secondly, in my own all- purpose version of feminism made simple for blogging purposes, feminism is about women making their own choices and having a society that is structured to enable freedom of women (and all people.) Women choosing to make bread or sew a skirt is no different than women deciding to scuba dive or ride a moped; I see no dilemma at play.
I’d argue wanting to feel connected to the things you make, whether fixing old cars to perfecting a baguette at home is about personal enjoyment and fulfillment. That’s why I made this granola after all, why I played with the flavors, pumped it up with my favorite dried fruits (figs & cherries) and ate it over plain yogurt, drizzled with honey while reading. It wasn’t an obligation. It about the pleasure of the making things not connected to my office life, the hustle of the everyday (harsh at times) world, even the consumerism of everyday.
And that leaves me with the simple facts about olive oil granola: It’s awesome because it’s salty sweet, a blank slate for meshing whatever flavors you desire. Not to mention it’s got that slight floral taste that only a good olive oil imparts. I started with a NY Times recipe, one that’s been around the blogosphere and back. Granola is meant to be improvised every time so I added things my way. My only recipe advice is to watch granola diligently as it cooks. Burnt granola is a bummer. I know from first hand experience.
Olive Oil Granola with Chinese Five Spice & Dried Fruit/Nuts
Makes about 7 cups of granola
Ingredients:
3 cups of rolled old fashioned oats
1 cup raw whole cashews
1 cup of sweetened flaked coconut
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon Chinese five spice power (make your own here or buy at a local Asian grocery store)
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup maple syrup
1-2 cups dried figs, cut into bite sized chunks
1 cup dried cherries
Directions:
1. Preheat the oven to 250.
2. Mix everything except dried fruits together coating thoroughly. Spread on a cookie sheet.
3. Cook for around 40 minutes. Really, I just cook while tossing and turning the granola every 7 minutes or so until the granola is lightly browned and crisp. The time is a framework as ovens vary widely. Just watch yours and taste to know when done.
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