Hey Becky-
The title of your last blog makes me want to gag. The idea of sangria and schmaltz mixed together- while completely amusing in your entry- is a visual nightmare. *Shudder*
But yes... I am absolutely pro-sangria. First thing Matt and I did upon landing in Barcelona last year= walk to the beach, plop down at the most touristy cabana out there, and order a clay pitcher of the good stuff. I actually like the variation that's topped off with a splash of club soda or champagne... fizzy drinks are more fun. For my birthday, we went to a place in town that has three kinds of sangria- a white, a red, and a blue. How very American. Anyway, the blue sangria was champagne with curacao and blueberries. Didn't taste much like sangria but that also didn't stop us from downing a whole pitcher in less than an hour. And then consuming the red one in the next hour. Sadly, it is possible to have too much sangria... mmm but still so delicious. Unlike schmaltz.
I did have a food victory over the weekend. After several weeks of failed attempts to make bread, I successfully produced (wait for it)... hamburger rolls. That's right, homemade hamburger roles, thanks to a June 2008 issue of Gourmet. God I miss that magazine. Anyway, the instructions below. Seriously, any bungling bread-maker can successfully pop out a pile of hot, crunchy on the outside/moist and fluffy on the inside hamburger buns with this indestructible recipe:
http://www.gourmet.com/recipes/2000s/2008/06/hamburgerbuns
I've also found a food completely local to Cincinnati- well, apart from Cincinnati style chili. Goetta is a sausage that, according to Wikipedia, is of German origin. Really, it was invented by poor German immigrants to the Cincinnati area in the 19th century. How did I find this goetta? Well, it's sold all over the grocery stores and markets here... but the hell if I'm going to buy a pound of white grainy sausage just to try it. There was an entire festival dedicated to this stuff over the weekend that included the following applications: omelets, burritos, fried balls, sausage patties, pizza, sandwiches, etc. One food made that many different ways- AND I didn't have to cook it? Ech, why not. Wikipedia and most local food blogs describe goetta as: "ground meat combined with pin head or steel cut oats. Usually goetta is made from pork shoulder or "Cali", but occasionally contains equal parts pork and beef. Goetta is typically flavored with bay leaves, rosemary, salt, pepper, and thyme. It contains onions and sometimes other vegetables."
Sounds nice, right? Ok, let me break this down for you. Ground meat with spices, check. Then mix in Irish oatmeal- that's right, the thick, grainy oats (not the flimsy processed oats). End product= goetta. Eating goetta is like consuming a bowl of oatmeal with a little sausage mixed in. Kind of weird- I can see eating a bowl of grits with sausage, but oatmeal- especially Irish oatmeal- is supposed to be sweet, or at least buttermilk-y. Not meaty. It wasn't bad... just strange. I'm not sure why the Germans in Cincinnati were harder up than the Germans in New York, but they sure knew how to stretch a buck by adding the thickest oatmeal known to man in their sausage. What mystifies me is that this sausage stuck around... how many piles of slosh that people invented to get through Depressions ended up becoming local food icons?
Monday, June 21, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Schmaltz and Sangria
Hi Anna,
I must have had schmaltz when you took me to Seder at Cornell during senior year, but I don't remember the taste. However, I can imagine remembering the taste though, and it doesn't seem pleasant. The image reminds me of Depression-era people's Jar o' Random Oil and Fat that bully children dare wimpier children to eat a spoonful of.
On duck fat, I think it sounds great in theory because people imagine the fat and drippings off of a hot Beijing style roast duck (at least I do) or maybe a duck a l'orange for you Frenchy people. =P But the reality must be like the solidified white stuff on your duck and chicken leftovers after a night in the refrigerator. Talk about a morning after, eh? The mascara's smeared, the glitter's off, and it's just what it is. Schmaltz.
If you are out there searching for food epiphanies, I must be in a phase of secular foodieism. It's just too effin' hot to turn on the oven here, and I'm just not as hungry when it's over 100 degrees. I'm having fun with the bounty of summer fruit, though.
My latest thing is making sangria, and I can't remember if you were in the pro or anti sangria. Certainly, I am anti-sangria at Spanish tapas restaurants; $7 for a puny goblet is outrageous. Anyway, since we have a house now, we get to import all the kitchen toys we've been given over the past three years and storing in my parents' house and actually keep them in the same dwelling as us. This includes a pitcher that my brother and his wife had given us 2 years ago.
The following is a recipe from Cook's Illustrated.
1. Add sliced orange, lemon, and sugar to large pitcher; mash gently with wooden spoon until fruit releases some juice, but is not totally crushed, and sugar dissolves. Add in orange juice, Triple Sec, and wine; refrigerate for at least 2, and up to 8, hours.
2. Immediately before serving, add in some ice and stir to redistribute fruit pulp.
Cook's Illustrated says that a cheap merlot works best for this recipe, but whatever you use, the key word is CHEAP. I've used the $5 Lambrusco red table wine with fantastic results, and I figure you can't go wrong with a Spanish wine like a tempranillo for sangria.
I've also thrown in mangoes and peaches into the mix for a fruitier taste.
Also, since I can't be drinking alcohol for all the days that Arizona is hot this summer, I've taken to adding chunks of fruit and mint leaves to my lemonade.
Best,
Becky
I must have had schmaltz when you took me to Seder at Cornell during senior year, but I don't remember the taste. However, I can imagine remembering the taste though, and it doesn't seem pleasant. The image reminds me of Depression-era people's Jar o' Random Oil and Fat that bully children dare wimpier children to eat a spoonful of.
On duck fat, I think it sounds great in theory because people imagine the fat and drippings off of a hot Beijing style roast duck (at least I do) or maybe a duck a l'orange for you Frenchy people. =P But the reality must be like the solidified white stuff on your duck and chicken leftovers after a night in the refrigerator. Talk about a morning after, eh? The mascara's smeared, the glitter's off, and it's just what it is. Schmaltz.
If you are out there searching for food epiphanies, I must be in a phase of secular foodieism. It's just too effin' hot to turn on the oven here, and I'm just not as hungry when it's over 100 degrees. I'm having fun with the bounty of summer fruit, though.
My latest thing is making sangria, and I can't remember if you were in the pro or anti sangria. Certainly, I am anti-sangria at Spanish tapas restaurants; $7 for a puny goblet is outrageous. Anyway, since we have a house now, we get to import all the kitchen toys we've been given over the past three years and storing in my parents' house and actually keep them in the same dwelling as us. This includes a pitcher that my brother and his wife had given us 2 years ago.
The following is a recipe from Cook's Illustrated.
| 2 | large juice oranges , washed; one orange sliced; remaining orange juiced |
| 1 | large lemon , washed and sliced |
| 1/4 | cup granulated sugar |
| 1/4 | cup Triple Sec |
| 1 | bottle inexpensive, fruity, medium-bodied red wine (750 milliliters), chilled |
1. Add sliced orange, lemon, and sugar to large pitcher; mash gently with wooden spoon until fruit releases some juice, but is not totally crushed, and sugar dissolves. Add in orange juice, Triple Sec, and wine; refrigerate for at least 2, and up to 8, hours.
2. Immediately before serving, add in some ice and stir to redistribute fruit pulp.
Cook's Illustrated says that a cheap merlot works best for this recipe, but whatever you use, the key word is CHEAP. I've used the $5 Lambrusco red table wine with fantastic results, and I figure you can't go wrong with a Spanish wine like a tempranillo for sangria.
I've also thrown in mangoes and peaches into the mix for a fruitier taste.
Also, since I can't be drinking alcohol for all the days that Arizona is hot this summer, I've taken to adding chunks of fruit and mint leaves to my lemonade.
Best,
Becky
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Double Dare
You're right, that was totally a Far Side comic, and a fair point. How many times in your life can you say that you've tried a new food, independent of any outside influence (watching someone else eating said food, etc). Probably never...
Speaking of new foods- I've been dying to try duck fat fries and finally had the opportunity tonight at a place called Senate. The way they've been talked up in food articles and blog posts, I was expecting the holy grail of all french fries- some subliminal, crunchy, meaty experience that transcends any possible potato experience on this earth. As a Jew, I should have known better. Have you ever had the pleasure of trying schmaltz? If not... it's the most commonly used ingredient in traditional Jewish cookery. Keeping kosher means no bacon, but butter and oil don't seem to recreate the meaty base in stews and casseroles. Ever wonder why matzah ball soup has that funky, musky aftertaste? That's right- schmaltz. It's actually a little gross to look at in pure form, all clear, giggly, and wibbly (ugh, you can actually buy it in the store).
But- I digress. My point on the schmaltz tirade is that the duck fat fries tasted like my Jewish grandmother's roasted potatoes. Don't get me wrong- they were good... definitely had a mellow aftertaste. But duck fat tastes nearly identical to chicken fat, and I'm plenty familiar with that flavor. So- the "organic," "fresh," "straight from the heart of France," flavor that duck fat imparts upon fries? In reality, it wasn't nearly as impressive as it sounded. Tasty- but not an epiphany.
Speaking of new foods- I've been dying to try duck fat fries and finally had the opportunity tonight at a place called Senate. The way they've been talked up in food articles and blog posts, I was expecting the holy grail of all french fries- some subliminal, crunchy, meaty experience that transcends any possible potato experience on this earth. As a Jew, I should have known better. Have you ever had the pleasure of trying schmaltz? If not... it's the most commonly used ingredient in traditional Jewish cookery. Keeping kosher means no bacon, but butter and oil don't seem to recreate the meaty base in stews and casseroles. Ever wonder why matzah ball soup has that funky, musky aftertaste? That's right- schmaltz. It's actually a little gross to look at in pure form, all clear, giggly, and wibbly (ugh, you can actually buy it in the store).
But- I digress. My point on the schmaltz tirade is that the duck fat fries tasted like my Jewish grandmother's roasted potatoes. Don't get me wrong- they were good... definitely had a mellow aftertaste. But duck fat tastes nearly identical to chicken fat, and I'm plenty familiar with that flavor. So- the "organic," "fresh," "straight from the heart of France," flavor that duck fat imparts upon fries? In reality, it wasn't nearly as impressive as it sounded. Tasty- but not an epiphany.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
On a Dare
Hi Anna,
Your last comment on cheese being made in an animal bladder got me thinking: who was the poor forgotten soul way back when who TRIED [insert odd food here - cheese, beer, etc] for the first time? Think about it - we don't go around scraping our fingernails into crud in the corners of our tupperware, do we?
For some reason, I imagine cavemen fraternity boys were the first, some band of roving testosterone with a penchant for groupthink. There is some mushy white stuff oozing out of one of the packs. One of them pokes it with a grubby finger. "EAT IT, Og!" another hoots, and a chorus rises up (OG! OG! OG!) and echoes over the rocks. Undaunted and spurred on by the dare of his band, Og picks up the mush and gives it a sniff before scooping it into his mouth.
*voila!* We have cheese.
BTW: I've been reading a lot of Far Side comics over summer break.
Becky
Your last comment on cheese being made in an animal bladder got me thinking: who was the poor forgotten soul way back when who TRIED [insert odd food here - cheese, beer, etc] for the first time? Think about it - we don't go around scraping our fingernails into crud in the corners of our tupperware, do we?
For some reason, I imagine cavemen fraternity boys were the first, some band of roving testosterone with a penchant for groupthink. There is some mushy white stuff oozing out of one of the packs. One of them pokes it with a grubby finger. "EAT IT, Og!" another hoots, and a chorus rises up (OG! OG! OG!) and echoes over the rocks. Undaunted and spurred on by the dare of his band, Og picks up the mush and gives it a sniff before scooping it into his mouth.
*voila!* We have cheese.
BTW: I've been reading a lot of Far Side comics over summer break.
Becky
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Rut- Broken!
Hey Becky-
As of this week, it's safe to say that my 8 week cooking rut has been broke... there has been seriously awesome food made in this kitchen. I'll post a few entries describing each, but right now I'm most excited about my home-made ricotta cheese! The recipe was in a Bon Appetit from March, and I just now got around to trying it out. And for how easy it was to make, you'd think all the celebrity chefs on the Food Network would use it as a parlor trick. The end result? Fresh, creamy cheese- I like it best when it's still warm :)
Start with 8 c whole milk and 2 c buttermilk in a big pot on high heat. Stir for 7-8 minutes...when the liquid is nearly at a boil, the curds will separate from the whey. Take it off the heat, skim the curds off the top with a slotted spoon into a layer of cheesecloth over a strainer. Squeeze very gently (or you'll have dry cheese, ew)... then drain 20 mins. Put in a bowl with a dash of salt, chill, and you have home-made ricotta. It takes more time to heat an instant lasagna than to make this cheese.
Curious- ricotta in some form was probably one of the first cheeses. Isn't it urban legend that cheese was discovered when nomads stored sheep's milk in animal bladders. Rennet from the bladders separated the curds from the whey... and now we're using buttermilk as rennet :)
As of this week, it's safe to say that my 8 week cooking rut has been broke... there has been seriously awesome food made in this kitchen. I'll post a few entries describing each, but right now I'm most excited about my home-made ricotta cheese! The recipe was in a Bon Appetit from March, and I just now got around to trying it out. And for how easy it was to make, you'd think all the celebrity chefs on the Food Network would use it as a parlor trick. The end result? Fresh, creamy cheese- I like it best when it's still warm :)
Start with 8 c whole milk and 2 c buttermilk in a big pot on high heat. Stir for 7-8 minutes...when the liquid is nearly at a boil, the curds will separate from the whey. Take it off the heat, skim the curds off the top with a slotted spoon into a layer of cheesecloth over a strainer. Squeeze very gently (or you'll have dry cheese, ew)... then drain 20 mins. Put in a bowl with a dash of salt, chill, and you have home-made ricotta. It takes more time to heat an instant lasagna than to make this cheese.
Curious- ricotta in some form was probably one of the first cheeses. Isn't it urban legend that cheese was discovered when nomads stored sheep's milk in animal bladders. Rennet from the bladders separated the curds from the whey... and now we're using buttermilk as rennet :)
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The Salted Lemon by Anna Fishman and Becky Ong is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
