Starting next week I'm going to be writing dining and food content for 80108, a just-launched mobile content service. Check it out!
It should be a pretty fun thing, actually. I'll be sending out 3-5 foodie things each week to subscribers of the Seattle Dining channel. Things like chef appearances, wine dinners, happy hour specials, free pizza nights, restaurant openings, etc will be on the docket. And the best part is it's totally free for users! So sign up! I'm getting the Seattle kid stuff and it's been pretty good so far.
The first foodie messages go out next week!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Damn, that was a good time
We had a great time at the housewarming, but man did we have to work our asses off to get the house in shape. Last week I spent about 16 hours priming and painting the downstairs bedroom (wood paneling for days down there), but now it looks incredible. I love it. And it felt great having new and old friends come over, drink Ed's awesome Sangria and just relax on the deck. We even had perfect blue skies. What a nice time.
So I've realized in the last couple of years that I'm kind of a drill sergeant in the kitchen. I started noticing this about myself in Jackson when Ed and I would cook together. I'm telling you, if that man had to feed the world we'd all weigh 16lbs. It's not that he's not a good cook--Eddie honey, I love your cooking--it's that, thanks to all the "fun" he had in college, he gets REALLY EASILY DISTRACTED. So I'll say something like, "could you grab the carrots from the fridge for me?" and a half hour later he's nibbling on a piece of celery, staring off into space, and the carrots are still nowhere to be found. If we ate dinner at midnight on a regular basis, this would be an ideal cooking pace.
I think the bigger issue is my history in kitchens. I know what'll get you yelled at (and I mean along the lines of "get the f*&% out of my way! g%$dammit!") in a professional kitchen and over the years I've learned not to do those things. Also, when I've got a ton of cooking to do I go into "kitchen mode," which means I've got pine nuts toasting, peppers steaming after being roasted, the grill is on getting ready for the chicken, the chicken's marinating, I'm making the cookie dough....you get the idea. Meanwhile, Ed is standing with one leg crossed over the other, sipping a G&T and working his way through half of the summer sausage and swiss cheese that he's supposed to be cutting for our guests. In other words, he's the guy who'd get his butt fired the first day.
This causes some tension for us because, clearly, Ed is having a great time keeping me company while not cooking yet standing near food and knives. I, on the other hand, have to pick up the slack. I actually don't mind doing it--I love having 10 things going and the balancing act that that creates--but working at a million miles an hour is not usually a recipe for a sweet, easy-going, breezy attitude. So we end up on two different ends of the spectrum. One of us is intense and the other is loosey-goosey. But, in this case, the up-side of working my rear off was that, by noon on Saturday, I'd made onion dip,
mango salsa,
panzanella, s'mores bars (recipe below!), herbed cream cheese (for the smoked salmon), and prepped fruit for the sangria. I finished early enough to treat myself to a pre-party pedicure. AWESOME. Those cheesy massage chairs are life savers.
The night before was another cooking story altogether. Ed, Ruby and I had gone over to my parents house to water plants and take a dip in the lake. Since it's only 5 minutes away and Ruby was starting to melt down, I just kept my bathing suit on for the trip home. Anyways, just-like-that we'd put Ruby to bed, opened a bottle of wine and had started the grills going for our smoked salmon. Ed was doing his fish in the Weber using hardwood charcoal and alder chips.
I was smoking my fish on the gas grill also using alder chips. That night we were out on our deck (me, buzzed from the wine, dancing around in my bathing suit, him getting embarrassed, both of us listening to our gay neighbor Rick's "sexy date music" streaming from his stereo) until 10:30pm, smoking fish and chicken. Good times. The salmon and chicken were terrific.
Here's the S'mores Bar Cookie recipe:
1 c. (2 sticks) unsalted butter
3/4 c. brown sugar, packed
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 c. flour
1 c. graham cracker crumbs
1 bag milk chocolate chips, melted (usually there are melting instructions on the bag)
1 bag miniature marshmallows
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Butter the bottom and sides of a 9x13 pan. Beat butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add vanilla and salt, mix in. Add combined flour and crumbs, mix well. Be sure to scrape down sides of mixer.
Press crust mixture onto bottom of greased pan. Bake 15 to 18 minutes or until golden brown. Meanwhile, melt chocolate chips. Spread chocolate over crust. Top with marshmallows. Broil on low 4 inches from heat source, removing pan if marshmallows start to smoke, then putting the pan back under the broiler. Once the top layer of marshmallows has toasted, turn oven off, move pan to lower rack and close the door to let the lower layer of marshmallows melt in the warm oven. Watch very carefully so that marshmallows don't burn. Let cool. Cut into bars using a lightly buttered knife.
Blogroll Me!
So I've realized in the last couple of years that I'm kind of a drill sergeant in the kitchen. I started noticing this about myself in Jackson when Ed and I would cook together. I'm telling you, if that man had to feed the world we'd all weigh 16lbs. It's not that he's not a good cook--Eddie honey, I love your cooking--it's that, thanks to all the "fun" he had in college, he gets REALLY EASILY DISTRACTED. So I'll say something like, "could you grab the carrots from the fridge for me?" and a half hour later he's nibbling on a piece of celery, staring off into space, and the carrots are still nowhere to be found. If we ate dinner at midnight on a regular basis, this would be an ideal cooking pace.
I think the bigger issue is my history in kitchens. I know what'll get you yelled at (and I mean along the lines of "get the f*&% out of my way! g%$dammit!") in a professional kitchen and over the years I've learned not to do those things. Also, when I've got a ton of cooking to do I go into "kitchen mode," which means I've got pine nuts toasting, peppers steaming after being roasted, the grill is on getting ready for the chicken, the chicken's marinating, I'm making the cookie dough....you get the idea. Meanwhile, Ed is standing with one leg crossed over the other, sipping a G&T and working his way through half of the summer sausage and swiss cheese that he's supposed to be cutting for our guests. In other words, he's the guy who'd get his butt fired the first day.
This causes some tension for us because, clearly, Ed is having a great time keeping me company while not cooking yet standing near food and knives. I, on the other hand, have to pick up the slack. I actually don't mind doing it--I love having 10 things going and the balancing act that that creates--but working at a million miles an hour is not usually a recipe for a sweet, easy-going, breezy attitude. So we end up on two different ends of the spectrum. One of us is intense and the other is loosey-goosey. But, in this case, the up-side of working my rear off was that, by noon on Saturday, I'd made onion dip,
mango salsa,
panzanella, s'mores bars (recipe below!), herbed cream cheese (for the smoked salmon), and prepped fruit for the sangria. I finished early enough to treat myself to a pre-party pedicure. AWESOME. Those cheesy massage chairs are life savers. The night before was another cooking story altogether. Ed, Ruby and I had gone over to my parents house to water plants and take a dip in the lake. Since it's only 5 minutes away and Ruby was starting to melt down, I just kept my bathing suit on for the trip home. Anyways, just-like-that we'd put Ruby to bed, opened a bottle of wine and had started the grills going for our smoked salmon. Ed was doing his fish in the Weber using hardwood charcoal and alder chips.
I was smoking my fish on the gas grill also using alder chips. That night we were out on our deck (me, buzzed from the wine, dancing around in my bathing suit, him getting embarrassed, both of us listening to our gay neighbor Rick's "sexy date music" streaming from his stereo) until 10:30pm, smoking fish and chicken. Good times. The salmon and chicken were terrific.
Here's the S'mores Bar Cookie recipe:
1 c. (2 sticks) unsalted butter
3/4 c. brown sugar, packed
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 c. flour
1 c. graham cracker crumbs
1 bag milk chocolate chips, melted (usually there are melting instructions on the bag)
1 bag miniature marshmallows
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Butter the bottom and sides of a 9x13 pan. Beat butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add vanilla and salt, mix in. Add combined flour and crumbs, mix well. Be sure to scrape down sides of mixer.
Press crust mixture onto bottom of greased pan. Bake 15 to 18 minutes or until golden brown. Meanwhile, melt chocolate chips. Spread chocolate over crust. Top with marshmallows. Broil on low 4 inches from heat source, removing pan if marshmallows start to smoke, then putting the pan back under the broiler. Once the top layer of marshmallows has toasted, turn oven off, move pan to lower rack and close the door to let the lower layer of marshmallows melt in the warm oven. Watch very carefully so that marshmallows don't burn. Let cool. Cut into bars using a lightly buttered knife.
Blogroll Me!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Cooking for a crowd
We're having friends and neighbors over for a housewarming party this weekend so I'm busy as hell cleaning and cooking during naps. And let me tell you, I've never been more efficient with my time. EVER.
So I'm brining the salmon I'll be smoking tomorrow. I decided to do two different brines since we have four sides of wild sockeye. The traditional brine is equal parts kosher salt and brown sugar, with several cups of water and sometimes a little worcestershire or soy sauce or both (today I did both, using about a Tbs of each).
The other brine is the "Ol Tyme Whiskey Smoked Northwest Salmon" I found on this site. Ed and I are suckers for anything with Old or Tyme or Whiskey in the title. Good thing I married him, huh?
1 Qt. of distilled water***I used tap water
1 1/2 cup of jim beam Whiskey***I used Canadian Club because Ed didn't want me using the Makers Mark for obv reasons
1/2 cup of brown sugar
4 tsp. of non-iodized salt (canning salt)***I used kosher
1 tsp. of Garlic powder
1 tsp. of fresh ground black pepper
The key thing about smoking salmon--besides very low, slow smoking--is taking the salmon out of the brine after 12 hours (longer if you want, but overnight generally works) and letting it dry in the fridge. What happens is the salmon develops a sort of dense texture. Whereas you could stick you finger right into the flesh of a raw piece of salmon, after it comes out of the brine and dries in the refridgerator for 3-4 hours it gets this resistant texture. I think that it's a pretty key step that I could see skipping if I was in a hurry, but I think the end product would suffer. So you basically need to start brining the day before you want to smoke your fish, then, the morning of, take the fish out of the brine, put it on a platter or plate and stick it (uncovered) into the fridge to dry. By early afternoon you'll be ready to smoke.
So the salmon's in the fridge in the two brines and I'm making my prep list (a habit from my 3 years in catering kitchens). Here's the menu for Saturday:
Smoked Salmon 2 Ways
Ed's BBQ Chicken Thighs
Caramelized Onion Dip ala Ina Garten (LOOOVE this)
Ali's Incredibly Addictive Bean Dip
Summer Panzanella with Tomatoes, Basil, Olives, Garbonzos, Pine Nuts and Rosemary Bread
Assorted cheese and locally made salamis
Jenny's (my sister) Sweet & Spicy Meatballs (which I OD'd on last Christmas they're so good)
Ed's Homemade Sangria
and more. I'll be posting recipes when I have time. Happy almost-Friday.
Blogroll Me!
So I'm brining the salmon I'll be smoking tomorrow. I decided to do two different brines since we have four sides of wild sockeye. The traditional brine is equal parts kosher salt and brown sugar, with several cups of water and sometimes a little worcestershire or soy sauce or both (today I did both, using about a Tbs of each).
The other brine is the "Ol Tyme Whiskey Smoked Northwest Salmon" I found on this site. Ed and I are suckers for anything with Old or Tyme or Whiskey in the title. Good thing I married him, huh?
1 Qt. of distilled water***I used tap water
1 1/2 cup of jim beam Whiskey***I used Canadian Club because Ed didn't want me using the Makers Mark for obv reasons
1/2 cup of brown sugar
4 tsp. of non-iodized salt (canning salt)***I used kosher
1 tsp. of Garlic powder
1 tsp. of fresh ground black pepper
The key thing about smoking salmon--besides very low, slow smoking--is taking the salmon out of the brine after 12 hours (longer if you want, but overnight generally works) and letting it dry in the fridge. What happens is the salmon develops a sort of dense texture. Whereas you could stick you finger right into the flesh of a raw piece of salmon, after it comes out of the brine and dries in the refridgerator for 3-4 hours it gets this resistant texture. I think that it's a pretty key step that I could see skipping if I was in a hurry, but I think the end product would suffer. So you basically need to start brining the day before you want to smoke your fish, then, the morning of, take the fish out of the brine, put it on a platter or plate and stick it (uncovered) into the fridge to dry. By early afternoon you'll be ready to smoke.
So the salmon's in the fridge in the two brines and I'm making my prep list (a habit from my 3 years in catering kitchens). Here's the menu for Saturday:
Smoked Salmon 2 Ways
Ed's BBQ Chicken Thighs
Caramelized Onion Dip ala Ina Garten (LOOOVE this)
Ali's Incredibly Addictive Bean Dip
Summer Panzanella with Tomatoes, Basil, Olives, Garbonzos, Pine Nuts and Rosemary Bread
Assorted cheese and locally made salamis
Jenny's (my sister) Sweet & Spicy Meatballs (which I OD'd on last Christmas they're so good)
Ed's Homemade Sangria
and more. I'll be posting recipes when I have time. Happy almost-Friday.
Blogroll Me!
Jane and Ali's excellent dining adventures part 1
My friend Jane Tunks (a recovering Citysearcher who's made the big-time now: she works for the SF Chronicle!) sent an email today and it reminded me of all of our amazing meals together. Boy, there've been a few.
The first time I met her Jane had just been hired as the first LA Restaurants Editor. The LA site didn't launch when the other major markets did, it launched probably two years later, so Jane had a ton of work on her plate. When I inherited the Seattle site (after sidewalk.com turned into citysearch) I had hundreds of reviews in the coffers. Jane had a big old zero. So the powers that be decided to cart all of the restaurant writers from around the country to come in and write some reviews for her. YAY! Free trip to a sunny place.
My first night in LA I had dinner with Jane and our San Francisco editor, Stephanie Rosenbaum. We were going to some uppity hotel-ish type place. Totally forgettable. I think Jane was in charge of writing the review so it was a nice break for me to not have to think about and remember everything we ate in order to write about it later.
Anyways, on the way there, Stephanie and Jane started talking about the jobs they'd had in the past. Nonchalantly, Jane starts listing them, including her time working for porn king Larry Flynt (apparently doing some copyediting, if I remember correctly). Of course, being the dork I am, I start asking all kinds of, "so you were looking at naked cooters all day long?" questions. Then Stephanie chimes in with her stories of, well, lets just say she'd made some "interesting" films. So here I am, feeling like a first-rate pollyana in the back, saying, "um, welp, I worked in a kitchen store for a while."
That dinner was the beginning of a goofy friendship. Mostly it consisted of us IM-ing each other during dull, hour-long conference calls during which the powers that be would drone on and on about how everyone wanted to use Citysearch to find plumbers and electricians, even though the stats and readership evidence pointed toward everyone using the site to find restaurants, bars, and spas.
For a while there the only thing we wrote each other was, "DO YOU LOVE IT JANE?" "THIS IS A STROKE OF GENIUS, ALI!" "THE FUTURE OF CITYSEARCH IS PLUMBERS! I LOVE IT!" to try to get through the insanity.
The next time I saw Jane was in NYC a year or so later (probably pre- 911 2001?). Brian Miller (yes, that Brian Miller) had been hired on as the Czar of Restaurants for Citysearch. He'd been the restaurant critic at the NY Times for several years so when we met for the first time I was a complete drip. I was star-struck and nervous. Kind of like how I yelled out during a meal with Beth and Doug, "DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS?" (they turn, then turn back shaking their heads) "THAT IS WYLIE DUFRESNE FROM WD-50!" They later said that that's how they'd react if they saw Bono or Oscar de la Renta or something. Anyways, Brian kept telling Jane and me that if we came out to NYC he'd take us to the four-star restaurants. We'd probably heard him say this 10 times. Then finally I got a wild hair and made Jane meet me in NY. And Brian came through! We'd go to three four-star restaurants in four days. God help us all.
We started out with Daniel. In the cab there I was so nervous I was shaking. I was wearing a pretty Banana Republic shirt-dress and black pantyhose and my friend Courtney let me borrow her Prada shoes. Those shoes were the only things that felt at home in Daniel. Anyways, when I arrived the current NY Restaurant Editor at the time, Dan McAlvanah, and Brian were waiting in the bar. Jane and I were supposed to ride together but that got messed up so we arrived separately. Of course, somehow everyone in Daniel knew who Brian was. That rumor about all the smart restaurants in NYC having a picture of the NY Times critic in back is probably true. It's also possible that Brian gave up trying to be annonymous. I don't know. I do know we got the royal treatment.
So we had a Kir Royale or something (can't remember because I was still too excited) and then we were seated right smack-dab in the center of the room. And then the insanity began.
Daniel was in-house and we were told he would be "cooking for us." OK, WOW! He was making four separate dishes for each course.
And I'm just guessing there were 12 courses (before dessert). So slow down and think about that. That's 48 dishes we tasted that night! (of course we passed each plate four times so we'd all get to try everything). Are you kidding me? This was the thrill of a lifetime.
DUN DUN DUUUUNN. And then they wheel the cheese cart over.
I really wish Jane could just take it from here, but I'll do my best to tell the story. However, lets all keep in mind we'd had myriad courses and, naturally, wine to match! So by the time the handsome cheese guy comes slithering my way, I'm feeling no pain. (I'd gotten up to use the restroom towards the end of the meal and prayed the whole way that I wouldn't fall in my fancy heels.) Anyways, legend has it I made it pretty obvious how much I loved cheese! Oh, yes, doesn't that sounds AMAZING! OOOH! AAHHH! The few who haven't seen me tipsy out there simply won't be able to imagine that I might actually hit on the cheese guy at Daniel, but apparently it is so.
Oh, and then we ate dessert! Four courses of it.
Brian Miller must've been so proud.
Next time: Jean-Georges and Le Cirque 2000.
The first time I met her Jane had just been hired as the first LA Restaurants Editor. The LA site didn't launch when the other major markets did, it launched probably two years later, so Jane had a ton of work on her plate. When I inherited the Seattle site (after sidewalk.com turned into citysearch) I had hundreds of reviews in the coffers. Jane had a big old zero. So the powers that be decided to cart all of the restaurant writers from around the country to come in and write some reviews for her. YAY! Free trip to a sunny place.
My first night in LA I had dinner with Jane and our San Francisco editor, Stephanie Rosenbaum. We were going to some uppity hotel-ish type place. Totally forgettable. I think Jane was in charge of writing the review so it was a nice break for me to not have to think about and remember everything we ate in order to write about it later.
Anyways, on the way there, Stephanie and Jane started talking about the jobs they'd had in the past. Nonchalantly, Jane starts listing them, including her time working for porn king Larry Flynt (apparently doing some copyediting, if I remember correctly). Of course, being the dork I am, I start asking all kinds of, "so you were looking at naked cooters all day long?" questions. Then Stephanie chimes in with her stories of, well, lets just say she'd made some "interesting" films. So here I am, feeling like a first-rate pollyana in the back, saying, "um, welp, I worked in a kitchen store for a while."
That dinner was the beginning of a goofy friendship. Mostly it consisted of us IM-ing each other during dull, hour-long conference calls during which the powers that be would drone on and on about how everyone wanted to use Citysearch to find plumbers and electricians, even though the stats and readership evidence pointed toward everyone using the site to find restaurants, bars, and spas.
For a while there the only thing we wrote each other was, "DO YOU LOVE IT JANE?" "THIS IS A STROKE OF GENIUS, ALI!" "THE FUTURE OF CITYSEARCH IS PLUMBERS! I LOVE IT!" to try to get through the insanity.
The next time I saw Jane was in NYC a year or so later (probably pre- 911 2001?). Brian Miller (yes, that Brian Miller) had been hired on as the Czar of Restaurants for Citysearch. He'd been the restaurant critic at the NY Times for several years so when we met for the first time I was a complete drip. I was star-struck and nervous. Kind of like how I yelled out during a meal with Beth and Doug, "DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS?" (they turn, then turn back shaking their heads) "THAT IS WYLIE DUFRESNE FROM WD-50!" They later said that that's how they'd react if they saw Bono or Oscar de la Renta or something. Anyways, Brian kept telling Jane and me that if we came out to NYC he'd take us to the four-star restaurants. We'd probably heard him say this 10 times. Then finally I got a wild hair and made Jane meet me in NY. And Brian came through! We'd go to three four-star restaurants in four days. God help us all.
We started out with Daniel. In the cab there I was so nervous I was shaking. I was wearing a pretty Banana Republic shirt-dress and black pantyhose and my friend Courtney let me borrow her Prada shoes. Those shoes were the only things that felt at home in Daniel. Anyways, when I arrived the current NY Restaurant Editor at the time, Dan McAlvanah, and Brian were waiting in the bar. Jane and I were supposed to ride together but that got messed up so we arrived separately. Of course, somehow everyone in Daniel knew who Brian was. That rumor about all the smart restaurants in NYC having a picture of the NY Times critic in back is probably true. It's also possible that Brian gave up trying to be annonymous. I don't know. I do know we got the royal treatment.
So we had a Kir Royale or something (can't remember because I was still too excited) and then we were seated right smack-dab in the center of the room. And then the insanity began.
Daniel was in-house and we were told he would be "cooking for us." OK, WOW! He was making four separate dishes for each course.
And I'm just guessing there were 12 courses (before dessert). So slow down and think about that. That's 48 dishes we tasted that night! (of course we passed each plate four times so we'd all get to try everything). Are you kidding me? This was the thrill of a lifetime.
DUN DUN DUUUUNN. And then they wheel the cheese cart over.
I really wish Jane could just take it from here, but I'll do my best to tell the story. However, lets all keep in mind we'd had myriad courses and, naturally, wine to match! So by the time the handsome cheese guy comes slithering my way, I'm feeling no pain. (I'd gotten up to use the restroom towards the end of the meal and prayed the whole way that I wouldn't fall in my fancy heels.) Anyways, legend has it I made it pretty obvious how much I loved cheese! Oh, yes, doesn't that sounds AMAZING! OOOH! AAHHH! The few who haven't seen me tipsy out there simply won't be able to imagine that I might actually hit on the cheese guy at Daniel, but apparently it is so.
Oh, and then we ate dessert! Four courses of it.
Brian Miller must've been so proud.
Next time: Jean-Georges and Le Cirque 2000.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Cupcakes in Seattle make me angry
Can someone make the cutesy retro cupcake places stop opening please! Jesus.
It pains me. Maybe it's because I lived about four blocks away from Magnolia in NYC, and watched the lame-o tourists stand in line for a half hour at 10pm for a really-kind-of-dry-and-only-decent-at-best cupcake. Maybe it's because I suffered through the same "old fashion-ish cupcake bakery" explosion four or five years ago in NYC. Or maybe I'm just a bitter old lady. Whatever, this "trend" in Seattle is just killing me.
It reminds me of when I heard Jeffrey Chodorow (read his blog...please. it's so worth it) was opening a "Pacific Northwest Seafood Restaurant" called Wild Salmon in the doomed used-to-be 'Tuscan', used-to-be 'English is Italian' space on a strip in no-man's 3rd Ave. He even went so far as to hire Charlie Ramseyer, who cooked so-so seafood at Ray's Boathouse for a million years. Of course, Chodorow was just going for what (to New Yorkers) would look like the authentic deal: Hire a chef from the PNW, he'll knows his salmon, right? Sure. Then send out press releases on what a salmon expert he is. "Did you know they cook on alder planks out there! So Native!" Yep, folks, even New Yorkers fall for this marketing-driven crap from time-to-time.
Anyways, back to the cupcakes. Long before the first Cupcake Royale opened in Madrona, NY was neck-deep in the "old fashioned bakery" trend. And I guess the reason all of these places opening here in Seattle bothers me--besides the deja vu--is that I just didn't think we Seattlites would be such suckers for what, to me, is such an already-been-there/done-that trend.
Anyways, if you go to the new one in West Seattle, let me know if they have banana pudding. That's another Magnolia fave that I'm sure someone's lining up to "borrow" as the next "it" treat.
Blogroll Me!
It pains me. Maybe it's because I lived about four blocks away from Magnolia in NYC, and watched the lame-o tourists stand in line for a half hour at 10pm for a really-kind-of-dry-and-only-decent-at-best cupcake. Maybe it's because I suffered through the same "old fashion-ish cupcake bakery" explosion four or five years ago in NYC. Or maybe I'm just a bitter old lady. Whatever, this "trend" in Seattle is just killing me.
It reminds me of when I heard Jeffrey Chodorow (read his blog...please. it's so worth it) was opening a "Pacific Northwest Seafood Restaurant" called Wild Salmon in the doomed used-to-be 'Tuscan', used-to-be 'English is Italian' space on a strip in no-man's 3rd Ave. He even went so far as to hire Charlie Ramseyer, who cooked so-so seafood at Ray's Boathouse for a million years. Of course, Chodorow was just going for what (to New Yorkers) would look like the authentic deal: Hire a chef from the PNW, he'll knows his salmon, right? Sure. Then send out press releases on what a salmon expert he is. "Did you know they cook on alder planks out there! So Native!" Yep, folks, even New Yorkers fall for this marketing-driven crap from time-to-time.
Anyways, back to the cupcakes. Long before the first Cupcake Royale opened in Madrona, NY was neck-deep in the "old fashioned bakery" trend. And I guess the reason all of these places opening here in Seattle bothers me--besides the deja vu--is that I just didn't think we Seattlites would be such suckers for what, to me, is such an already-been-there/done-that trend.
Anyways, if you go to the new one in West Seattle, let me know if they have banana pudding. That's another Magnolia fave that I'm sure someone's lining up to "borrow" as the next "it" treat.
Blogroll Me!
Monday, July 23, 2007
Ed's braising beef again
Last night was a drizzly mess so Ed braised a chuck roast in some beer. It's a safe bet that if it's chilly out, we're braising or making chili or something that takes all day to cook.
I love this recipe because we do a lot of red wine braising in winter and this is lighter and tangier.
1 boneless chuck roast, about 3 to 4 pounds
4 slices bacon
8 to 10 small onions, peeled, or 2 medium onions, quartered
1 to 2 tablespoons brown sugar
8 ounces mushrooms, halved or whole
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon allspice
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/4 cup cider vinegar
1 (10 oz) can beef broth, undiluted
1 cup beer
We use our big Le Creuset for this one. Brown the bacon, then add the onions with the brown sugar. Cook for five minutes or until a little brown. Remove from pan. Add the mushrooms to the pan--there should be a little fat left or add a bit of oil--(we use more because we would have to fight over them if we only used 1/2lb) and get a good sear on them. Brown them and then season them with salt and pepper, then remove to dish with onions.
Mix the flour, salt, allspice and pepper in a gallon bag. Then coat the meat with the flour. Add some vegetable oil to the pan and heat up til it's pretty hot. Sear the meat on each side, then top with the vegetables and add the vinegar, broth and beer. We add some fresh herbs --thyme, rosemary-- at this point. Then the lid goes on and into a 275 oven for 304 hours. You can remove the lid towards the end to let the liquid reduce.
We cooked up some mushroom ravioli and just used the pan sauce over it. Then we put a big piece of the falling-apart meat on top.
And Ed rocked the mushroom searing---they still had a bite to them after 3+ hours! Ruby had some pre-made Yukon gold potatoes (I freeze alot of food for her so dinnertime isn't a nightmare) and some bits of the meat. She really liked the meat! YAY Ruby! We love that she likes the savory stuff like we do.
Blogroll Me!
I love this recipe because we do a lot of red wine braising in winter and this is lighter and tangier.
1 boneless chuck roast, about 3 to 4 pounds
4 slices bacon
8 to 10 small onions, peeled, or 2 medium onions, quartered
1 to 2 tablespoons brown sugar
8 ounces mushrooms, halved or whole
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon allspice
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/4 cup cider vinegar
1 (10 oz) can beef broth, undiluted
1 cup beer
We use our big Le Creuset for this one. Brown the bacon, then add the onions with the brown sugar. Cook for five minutes or until a little brown. Remove from pan. Add the mushrooms to the pan--there should be a little fat left or add a bit of oil--(we use more because we would have to fight over them if we only used 1/2lb) and get a good sear on them. Brown them and then season them with salt and pepper, then remove to dish with onions.
Mix the flour, salt, allspice and pepper in a gallon bag. Then coat the meat with the flour. Add some vegetable oil to the pan and heat up til it's pretty hot. Sear the meat on each side, then top with the vegetables and add the vinegar, broth and beer. We add some fresh herbs --thyme, rosemary-- at this point. Then the lid goes on and into a 275 oven for 304 hours. You can remove the lid towards the end to let the liquid reduce.
We cooked up some mushroom ravioli and just used the pan sauce over it. Then we put a big piece of the falling-apart meat on top.
And Ed rocked the mushroom searing---they still had a bite to them after 3+ hours! Ruby had some pre-made Yukon gold potatoes (I freeze alot of food for her so dinnertime isn't a nightmare) and some bits of the meat. She really liked the meat! YAY Ruby! We love that she likes the savory stuff like we do.
Blogroll Me!
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Who's Eating Seattle?
My husband suggested I give a little backstory. Here goes:
I was born in Ballard but my parents moved to Federal Way "for the schools." My sisters and I went to high school at Bellarmine in Tacoma. We'd been in public school before that so it was a little strange to be meeting kids who'd only been to private school. At the time I don't think I understood all the connotations of a private school education, I just knew that my new friends' parents had money. And they drank wine. And made pesto from scratch in the blender! So maybe only Mrs. Branson did that, but I was only 16 the first time I smelled it and it's one of the first food memories that really stands out. It was so aromatic and foreign. It was so "gourmet." My parents didn't and don't cook much. OK, my parents cook sometimes, but there's a difference between cooking because you have to feed the family and cooking because you can't wait to get lost in the chopping and the wonderful aroma of sauteeing mushrooms and onions. Somehow, I became a person who does the latter even though the rest of my family sticks to the former category for the most part.
So I went to UW for college and, though at the time I was crushed and I do mean crushed, the sorority I wanted to join didn't pick me. I became what the geniuses at UW refer to as a "goddamn independent." This was a gift from God. I ended up living in the dorms and then moved in with four other girls my sophomore year in a house off campus that we coined "The Shaft" because that's what we felt we were getting living there. It was a dump, but so much fun. And that's where I really started to cook.
I was horrid. I mean horrid. I had no cookbooks and no computer and no frickin' clue. I made caramelized onions using sugar (because caramel=sugar, right?), boxed macaroni and cheese with the exotic addition of curry powder (doesn't sound as bad as it was), and spaghetti sauce with sausage and vanilla. That last one wasn't throw-it-away-immediately bad. And so I started to cook. I had the idea that the longer you cooked a sauce the better it was, which was true with some and VERY false with others. But before you know it I was considering dropping out of college (psychology wasn't doing it for me) to become a full-time cook. On a whim I called on a pantry cook job for Il Bistro that I'd seen in the newspaper. I remember telling Sherri (Serino, who later opened La Medusa) that I had no experience but that "my roommates keep eating everything I cook." She took a chance on me and changed my life.
I worked for Sherri and her then-partner Lisa for a few years, getting my ass kicked by the guys in the kitchen, listening to the Mexicanos talk about their huevos and whatnot. It was an education. I learned on the fly. I was still really pretty bad for a few years, but then something clicked and I became decent, maybe even good. I cooked for Peter Neal at CaterArts for a few years (some of my dearest cooking memories, actually. what a f*ing fun kitchen that was) and worked retail to make ends meet. And then I got the opportunity of a lifetime.
I'd been bitching a few months earlier to my friend Steven about the state of restaurant reviewing in Seattle. At that point the Stranger was letting Riz Rollins (a music writer/DJish type) write about restaurants and it pissed me off more than it should've. To me it was the ultimate job and having him just sort of do it on the side seemed like a waste. I'm sure I'd gone on some classic Ali margarita-fueled diatribe about it to Steven. Anyhoo, the short version is that Steven ended up becoming the EIC of Citysearch in Seattle a few months after said diatribe. And when he was hiring he called me to see if I wanted to put my money where my (big, loud) mouth was.
Shit. I had to try to write a restaurant review. Actually, shit shit shit, I had to try to write three. So there I was, a broke retailer-slash-catering cook without a computer, trying to write restaurant review clips. I took about three weeks to write my clips (by hand!! seriously. I still have the originals) and then I faxed them to Steven.
Who the hell knows why he hired me but he did. I didn't even ask what the salary was when he offered me the job, I just said "YES!" as quickly as I could. And at the age of 24 I began writing about restaurants professionally.
OK, so what does a 24 year old know about food or restaurant criticism? Especially a broke one? Good point, so in the beginning I read entire books on, say, sushi or Spanish regional cuisines before my reviews. I remember reading Jeffrey Steingarten for the first time and just loving him. And of course Ruth Reichl, who gave me hope. She didn't seem elitist or snobbish...I could relate to her. I've read everyone from Calvin Trillin to Pat Conroy to Jim Harrison (thanks to my husband) on food since then. And I never get tired of it. Restaurants make me happy. The bad ones don't, but the really good ones more than make up for it.
I spent three years writing reviews here in Seattle. I sat across from my dad, kind of loving the fact that he rolled his eyes at the rose foam he was served at the Herbfarm. I got upgraded to the private room at Salish one night because I think they thought my boyfriend and I were getting engaged (we weren't, but that was REALLY fun, and no, they didn't make me for a reviewer. On the second visit my table got treated like complete shit. We didn't see our waiter for 45 minutes). I got to take my three favorite people to the Space Needle for $14 strawberry shortcake "cocktails" and horrible shredded Safeway-grade parmesan-encrusted steak. It was one of the worst meals I ate during my tenure, but also one of the most fun.
And then I convinced the powers that be to hire me as the restaurant editor in NYC. I'd spent some time there since many of my friends lived there, but this was a whole new ballgame. I took my parents to Il Mulino, an old-line (I mean, they opened like 30 years ago or something) Italian restaurant where the pork chop "special" was $75 and my dad waited in line for the bathroom behind Phil Donahue. I took my three favorite housemates to dinner at Tavern on the Green (they owed me...I'd taken them to AWESOME places so...they owed me) where my friend Beth had a roach in her drink (SERIOUSLY) and my friend Doug got our entire (very unfortunate) meal comped. I treated my then-boyfriend, now-husband to Le Bernardin (overrated and stiff), The Modern (one of my favorite meals in NYC) and Yasuda (good but we were not transported, which should happen for $700 for two). I enjoyed a three hour meal by myself at Masa. I spent $440 that night and I wouldn't change a thing about it. It was heaven.
I probably would've been in NYC longer than 2 1/2 years if it hadn't been for Ed. We met at a party. He'd been set up, so when we met he actually had another girl's feet on his lap. Ed lived in Jackson Hole and I had been trying to convince two friends to make a trip out there.
I eventually convinced the powers that be that Jackson would be a great destination to cover for work, and therefore got the go-ahead to head out to Wyoming to eat and write about it. Seriously, it never gets easier to believe that that was my job. So I went, we ate, we drank, we laughed, we hiked (on our first afternoon we saw a 6-point elk from about 40 meters. my heart stopped) and we kind of liked each other. We weren't tired of each other, even after four days. I moved out to Jackson to be with him eight months later.
We got married 5 months after that, and now we're the proud parents of a very adorable baby named Ruby Mabel. So I'm back, to live, play and eat Seattle.
Technorati Profile
I was born in Ballard but my parents moved to Federal Way "for the schools." My sisters and I went to high school at Bellarmine in Tacoma. We'd been in public school before that so it was a little strange to be meeting kids who'd only been to private school. At the time I don't think I understood all the connotations of a private school education, I just knew that my new friends' parents had money. And they drank wine. And made pesto from scratch in the blender! So maybe only Mrs. Branson did that, but I was only 16 the first time I smelled it and it's one of the first food memories that really stands out. It was so aromatic and foreign. It was so "gourmet." My parents didn't and don't cook much. OK, my parents cook sometimes, but there's a difference between cooking because you have to feed the family and cooking because you can't wait to get lost in the chopping and the wonderful aroma of sauteeing mushrooms and onions. Somehow, I became a person who does the latter even though the rest of my family sticks to the former category for the most part.
So I went to UW for college and, though at the time I was crushed and I do mean crushed, the sorority I wanted to join didn't pick me. I became what the geniuses at UW refer to as a "goddamn independent." This was a gift from God. I ended up living in the dorms and then moved in with four other girls my sophomore year in a house off campus that we coined "The Shaft" because that's what we felt we were getting living there. It was a dump, but so much fun. And that's where I really started to cook.
I was horrid. I mean horrid. I had no cookbooks and no computer and no frickin' clue. I made caramelized onions using sugar (because caramel=sugar, right?), boxed macaroni and cheese with the exotic addition of curry powder (doesn't sound as bad as it was), and spaghetti sauce with sausage and vanilla. That last one wasn't throw-it-away-immediately bad. And so I started to cook. I had the idea that the longer you cooked a sauce the better it was, which was true with some and VERY false with others. But before you know it I was considering dropping out of college (psychology wasn't doing it for me) to become a full-time cook. On a whim I called on a pantry cook job for Il Bistro that I'd seen in the newspaper. I remember telling Sherri (Serino, who later opened La Medusa) that I had no experience but that "my roommates keep eating everything I cook." She took a chance on me and changed my life.
I worked for Sherri and her then-partner Lisa for a few years, getting my ass kicked by the guys in the kitchen, listening to the Mexicanos talk about their huevos and whatnot. It was an education. I learned on the fly. I was still really pretty bad for a few years, but then something clicked and I became decent, maybe even good. I cooked for Peter Neal at CaterArts for a few years (some of my dearest cooking memories, actually. what a f*ing fun kitchen that was) and worked retail to make ends meet. And then I got the opportunity of a lifetime.
I'd been bitching a few months earlier to my friend Steven about the state of restaurant reviewing in Seattle. At that point the Stranger was letting Riz Rollins (a music writer/DJish type) write about restaurants and it pissed me off more than it should've. To me it was the ultimate job and having him just sort of do it on the side seemed like a waste. I'm sure I'd gone on some classic Ali margarita-fueled diatribe about it to Steven. Anyhoo, the short version is that Steven ended up becoming the EIC of Citysearch in Seattle a few months after said diatribe. And when he was hiring he called me to see if I wanted to put my money where my (big, loud) mouth was.
Shit. I had to try to write a restaurant review. Actually, shit shit shit, I had to try to write three. So there I was, a broke retailer-slash-catering cook without a computer, trying to write restaurant review clips. I took about three weeks to write my clips (by hand!! seriously. I still have the originals) and then I faxed them to Steven.
Who the hell knows why he hired me but he did. I didn't even ask what the salary was when he offered me the job, I just said "YES!" as quickly as I could. And at the age of 24 I began writing about restaurants professionally.
OK, so what does a 24 year old know about food or restaurant criticism? Especially a broke one? Good point, so in the beginning I read entire books on, say, sushi or Spanish regional cuisines before my reviews. I remember reading Jeffrey Steingarten for the first time and just loving him. And of course Ruth Reichl, who gave me hope. She didn't seem elitist or snobbish...I could relate to her. I've read everyone from Calvin Trillin to Pat Conroy to Jim Harrison (thanks to my husband) on food since then. And I never get tired of it. Restaurants make me happy. The bad ones don't, but the really good ones more than make up for it.
I spent three years writing reviews here in Seattle. I sat across from my dad, kind of loving the fact that he rolled his eyes at the rose foam he was served at the Herbfarm. I got upgraded to the private room at Salish one night because I think they thought my boyfriend and I were getting engaged (we weren't, but that was REALLY fun, and no, they didn't make me for a reviewer. On the second visit my table got treated like complete shit. We didn't see our waiter for 45 minutes). I got to take my three favorite people to the Space Needle for $14 strawberry shortcake "cocktails" and horrible shredded Safeway-grade parmesan-encrusted steak. It was one of the worst meals I ate during my tenure, but also one of the most fun.
And then I convinced the powers that be to hire me as the restaurant editor in NYC. I'd spent some time there since many of my friends lived there, but this was a whole new ballgame. I took my parents to Il Mulino, an old-line (I mean, they opened like 30 years ago or something) Italian restaurant where the pork chop "special" was $75 and my dad waited in line for the bathroom behind Phil Donahue. I took my three favorite housemates to dinner at Tavern on the Green (they owed me...I'd taken them to AWESOME places so...they owed me) where my friend Beth had a roach in her drink (SERIOUSLY) and my friend Doug got our entire (very unfortunate) meal comped. I treated my then-boyfriend, now-husband to Le Bernardin (overrated and stiff), The Modern (one of my favorite meals in NYC) and Yasuda (good but we were not transported, which should happen for $700 for two). I enjoyed a three hour meal by myself at Masa. I spent $440 that night and I wouldn't change a thing about it. It was heaven.
I probably would've been in NYC longer than 2 1/2 years if it hadn't been for Ed. We met at a party. He'd been set up, so when we met he actually had another girl's feet on his lap. Ed lived in Jackson Hole and I had been trying to convince two friends to make a trip out there.
I eventually convinced the powers that be that Jackson would be a great destination to cover for work, and therefore got the go-ahead to head out to Wyoming to eat and write about it. Seriously, it never gets easier to believe that that was my job. So I went, we ate, we drank, we laughed, we hiked (on our first afternoon we saw a 6-point elk from about 40 meters. my heart stopped) and we kind of liked each other. We weren't tired of each other, even after four days. I moved out to Jackson to be with him eight months later.
We got married 5 months after that, and now we're the proud parents of a very adorable baby named Ruby Mabel. So I'm back, to live, play and eat Seattle.
Technorati Profile
Walking to Columbia City Bakery
We are so lucky to be within walking distance of Columbia City Bakery (link ala Orangette) (what? no website?). Every weekend we pack Ruby into her jogging stroller or the backpack and head out for coffee and treats. Ed's been loving the pistachio roll--hard to blame him since it is the exact flavor of pistachio, plus yummy butter pastry. We picked up the walnut loaf and I nibbled on that with some butter and jam (they had strawberry freezer jam which made me totally regret not making some when the strawberries were in season.) We're looking forward to the days when we're not on the clock for Ruby's morning nap; we have about a 2 to 2 1/2 hour window from wake-up to nap, and it flies by. It's such a great way to start a weekend day though.
Friday, July 20, 2007
All-Purpose Pizza rocks
Tonight we're having leftover pizza from All Purpose, a new(ish) pizza place sort-of in our neighborhood. We're just happy we have a place that delivers since before AP opened it was Domino's or Pizza Hut. Anyways, the pizza is great. We ordered the Hullaballoo which has bacon, fontina, mushrooms, sweet onions, meatballs (but they put sausage on ours unless their meatballs are made of sausage) and an olive oil-garlic sauce. This pizza is the stuff that addictions are made of. We gave Ruby a crust to gum and she made her "I love this" noises.
Ruby's getting fun food-wise. I'm not interested in or probably even capable of being the anal mom who feeds one food every 4 days or whatever. Plus, I figure if my mom raised me by giving me gatorade until my teeth were green, chewing a piece of Columbia City Campagne won't kill her. So we've been feeding her lots of new, fun, tasty bites. So far she's had my house-smoked salmon, broccoli, sweet potatoes, mozzarella, pizza crust, various yummy crumbs of whatever Ed and I'm eating (the fave being the ricotta pancakes I had at Geraldine's last weekend. Those things were incredible!) and so much more. Today I made scrambled eggs. Can't say it was a HUGE hit, but she ate them. She likes things she can pick up and get into her own mouth, except she seems to let go too quickly and the pieces seem to end up on her lap or in Callie's mouth. So tonight she'll be getting some more mashed banana and pizza crust, plus probably some of the frozen Yukon golds I made last week. Not too shabby for a 6 month old, right?
Ruby's getting fun food-wise. I'm not interested in or probably even capable of being the anal mom who feeds one food every 4 days or whatever. Plus, I figure if my mom raised me by giving me gatorade until my teeth were green, chewing a piece of Columbia City Campagne won't kill her. So we've been feeding her lots of new, fun, tasty bites. So far she's had my house-smoked salmon, broccoli, sweet potatoes, mozzarella, pizza crust, various yummy crumbs of whatever Ed and I'm eating (the fave being the ricotta pancakes I had at Geraldine's last weekend. Those things were incredible!) and so much more. Today I made scrambled eggs. Can't say it was a HUGE hit, but she ate them. She likes things she can pick up and get into her own mouth, except she seems to let go too quickly and the pieces seem to end up on her lap or in Callie's mouth. So tonight she'll be getting some more mashed banana and pizza crust, plus probably some of the frozen Yukon golds I made last week. Not too shabby for a 6 month old, right?
So what exactly is this "blog" you speak of?
I actually can't believe I didn't do this about 4 or 5 years ago. But then I am the girl who finally buys an I-Pod 6 years after they're cool. Actually, I don't even have one yet. So what the hell. Today we enter the world of blogs.
Ruby and I went to Sweet & Savory this morning because I couldn't figure out what I was going to do for the 2 hours between her waking up and taking her nap. Apparently you can only play in your exersaucer for so long when you're 6 1/2 months old. I had the nectarine coffee cake and it was excellent. I've had a few things there before--a muffin that needed a touch of salt--and this was the best. There were three 19- or 20-year olds at the counter talking to the owner about how one of them had puked on an airplane on his way to Cabo. Let me just say this is about the weirdest convo to overhear in such a charming place.
Other than that, I'm playing phone tag with the guy from 80108. Off to pick up the little muffin....she's making "I'm awake" noises.
Ruby and I went to Sweet & Savory this morning because I couldn't figure out what I was going to do for the 2 hours between her waking up and taking her nap. Apparently you can only play in your exersaucer for so long when you're 6 1/2 months old. I had the nectarine coffee cake and it was excellent. I've had a few things there before--a muffin that needed a touch of salt--and this was the best. There were three 19- or 20-year olds at the counter talking to the owner about how one of them had puked on an airplane on his way to Cabo. Let me just say this is about the weirdest convo to overhear in such a charming place.
Other than that, I'm playing phone tag with the guy from 80108. Off to pick up the little muffin....she's making "I'm awake" noises.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
