It is Sunday night; I’m bundled in my favorite loungewear hoodie, sipping some ice water, and hearing the fire engines roar past. This past week was long (too long), and the weekend felt painfully short after such a hectic spell.

Still, I feel rejuvenated & ready to start my week. I had some gorgeous meals this weekend: brunch at Chow with Courtney, where I had mimosas and fries and a gussied-up peasant sandwich of ham, roast tomato, gouda, aioli, and a fried egg on grilled sourdough; dinner at Nombe with Alex and Willow and Joe, where our table spilled over with food: miso and bacon-wrapped mochi and a delicately gridded grilled eggplant, which was drizzled with miso. A chocolate souffle that really wasn’t, but that was a solid dessert nonetheless. My cutest meal was at Jay’s Cheesesteak 2, the Western Addition cousin to the Mission shop. Friday, I had plans to meet Sabina but no time to run home for food, and I found myself wandering Divis in search of a bite. I considered (briefly) Bus Stop Pizza, but reasoned that any pizzeria named after a bus stop couldn’t provide more than novelty. The brand-x sub shop next door was empty but for a forlorn clerk wielding a baguette. In light of my unwillingness to venture more than a few blocks from the Page, Jay’s became my last chance.

But what a phenomenal chance! I desired only the most basic food; if I’d had my way, I probably would have conjured up a peanut butter sandwich on thick, seed-crusted bread. Jay’s offered a close second: a no-frills BLT served on toasted baguette. It’s tough to tell in the photo above, but the cook made the bacon precisely as I like it: half a step too close toward burned. Nestled in its wreath of shredded lettuce and mayonnaise, crowned by tomatoes, that bacon was crisp salty satisfaction. (Sometimes, all it takes is salt.)

I felt ultimately cozy in that dim-lit shop, alone except for the cook, the clerk, and another diner, reading the Guardian and pausing, now and then, to take a thoughtful bite of fry. I’m already excited to go back — not as the result of a pre-planned trip, mind you, but the next time I find myself in the neighborhood, in want of a fine, simple meal.

]]> http://garkyeats.com/2012/01/30/a-clean-well-lighted-sandwich/feed/ 0 garkyeats BLT jayscheesesteak http://garkyeats.com/2012/01/27/what-i-cant-live-without/ http://garkyeats.com/2012/01/27/what-i-cant-live-without/#comments Fri, 27 Jan 2012 20:27:29 +0000 garkyeats http://garkyeats.com/?p=1799 Continue reading →]]> KRONNNNNNCH! Yep, it’s Crunch Week at my office (read: end of the production cycle), and most everyone is going a little nuts. We’re all of us sleep-deprived, overcaffeinated, a just a tetch cranky; don’t we sound lovely to chill with? Heh heh heh.

As you’ve probably noticed, my increased workload has really cut into my blogging — a tru bummer, but one that will be reversed soon enough. (I swear!)

I haven’t been cooking at all — the one proper dinner I ate this week was lovingly prepared by Alex, and it was the Most Beautiful Meal. Instead, I’ve been getting weird fast-casual food or eating snack dinners: crackers spread with hummus, small hunks of cheese, Korean pears rinsed quickly and sliced. It’s nourishment, right?

Even though my foodlyfe has been mundane, I want to get back in the blogging saddle, and so I present to you the following list of Trader Joe’s food items I could not live without. The next time you find yourself up shit creek without a paddle (or, like, a granola bar), consult this list. I guarantee you’ll have the best no-cook dinner around.

Trader Joe’s Items I Could Not Live Without

1. Tuscan White Bean Hummus I’m prone to getting myself in food ruts — periods of time during which I’ll eat the same thing over and over and over again until one day, I can’t fathom eating one more bite of the previously revered food. I’ve been in a Tuscan white bean hummus rut for months, which is to say there has been no span of time during which I haven’t had some of this in my fridge. Serious shit, this.

Hummus either blows my mind or turns me off completely. Once in a blue moon, I’ll make my own, but my version inevitably ends up far too garlicky for everyday consumption. Most store-bought hummuses are so pale and mediocre that they don’t warrant a second thought, or glance, or even this mention.

The one exception? Trader Joe’s Tuscan white bean hummus. Ooooh, baby! It’s garlicky but NOT so much so that you can’t eat it at work. It’s unbelievably creamy and spreads like a charm. Unlike its cousins, it’s the perfect shade of ecru — a small advantage, but an advantage nonetheless. Finally, this hummus is cheaper than many of its competitors (and the tub is larger, too). Score, score, score!

2. Apricot Stilton

I became a Stilton convert the weekend of October 15th, 2011. In preparation for our trip to Treasure Island, I hit up TJ’s with instructions to purchase beer, scotch, bread, cheese, more beer, cheese, fruit, and salami. Beyond the standard brie and cheddar, I grabbed a wedge of apricot Stilton. Sure, I hoped for the best; little did I know I’d just discovered a soon-to-become-favorite cheese.

Similar in texture (and pungency) to blue cheese, Stilton is best enjoyed as part of another dish. Let me rephrase: it’s hella crumbly, and you can try to eat it in chunks — just know that cheese crumbles will end up all over your table/counter/desk/other surface. For the most part, I add Stilton to salads; I’m sure it would improve any pasta dish, as well.*

3. Corn Tortilla Flat Breads (Multi-seed edition)Do you like everything bagels? How about snacks that are as crunchy as potato chips but not as greasy as potato chips? Do you like things ostensibly made from other things? Well, you’re in luck: these corn tortilla flat breads are crispy, salty, and perfect for making snackwiches: ramshackle little sandwiches of hummus, arugula, cheese, olives — whatever you might have in your fridge or cupboard.

I’m particularly fond of the flat breads’ size, which makes them ideal for topping with goodies, and their seediness, which adds flavor (and a health halo). Bonus: they’re pretty durable, so far as crackers go; this is to say, they rarely smash into millions of tiny pieces, even if I carry them home in my jostly bike bag.

4. Tempeh Here’s the scoop: TJ’s tempeh looks gnarly (like something you might buy at a community college pottery sale), and it tastes a little gnarly, but give it a chance — it’s packed with protein, slow to perish, and inexpensive. I buy a few bricks to keep on hand for quick dinners: stir-fries and pasta dishes, mostly, but I’d like to try tempeh tacos some night.

My favorite way to prepare tempeh is to 1) cube it; 2) simmer it in coconut milk spiked with spices (cumin, curry powder, smoked paprika, pepper); and 3) serve it with veggies over udon. Naturally bitter, the tempeh is sweetened a bit by the coconut milk.

There are other TJ’s products I LOVE — crack chips, sesame-seed-encrusted cashews, mochi — but these are the ones I’d perish without. And, yes: that’s it, for now. Wish me luck as I head into the final few hours of CRONCH…

***

*Any pasta dish that would benefit from a gentle sweetness, that is.

Image Sources: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Kind of an odd, rainy weekend around these parts. Well, it wasn’t kind of rainy — it was entirely rainy — but it was kind of odd. Off and on, I experienced the type of displacement tempered with longing that I felt most acutely in high school and college: the sort of mood whose frequency diminishes as one gets older, but never disappears completely.

Schedule craziness prevented me from cooking anything rad this weekend, but I managed to enjoy some stellar foods + beverages, despite My Hectic Lyfe. Saturday, I spent the morning researching for an article and the afternoon co-hosting an open house. By late afternoon, I was ready for a jaunt. I called Alex to see if he’d like to walk to the Castro to check out a soon-to-be-opened restaurant (more research!). Because he is the sweetest, he accompanied me on my work-related trip. We walked to Dancing Pig BBQ and snapped a few pics, and afterward, we had some walking left in us. We walked right up to The Lookout, about which we’d both been curious but had never visited.

I’m glad we finally visited: the drinks were strong, the view stellar, and the music DANCY! Manhattan in tow, I burrowed deeper into my coat and watched the foot traffic below, feeling cold and alive and five years younger — all one could hope for on a Saturday night.I woke up Sunday morning fully rested and with my stomach a-growl. Rather than hitting Mission Pie for a latte and scone (weekday indulgence), I joined Alex for tea and soup and croissants at Local: Mission Eatery. See that croissant? That was a butter pecan croissant, and it’s maybe the best one I’ve had since I was in Paris. (Note: I never had a butter pecan croissant in France, but I had piles of plain ones. This croissant blows all others out of the water.)

Regular readers and IRL friends know that I’m a pastry fiend — if it has flour and butter, I’m all about it. For a long while, I was smitten with the almond croissants at La Boulange, though I haven’t had one of those in some time. I maintain that Thorough Bread & Pastry has the best chocolate croissants in the city, but this croissant was some seriously next-level shit: with my fork, I pried apart each golden layer of dough, taking tiny bites of the nutty, buttery filling to ration it.

I saved half of my croissant “for later,” by which I mean I ate the second half as soon as I got home. Heh heh heh: that croissant! It was otherworldly. I’d go back tomorrow for a repeat performance, but I feel that such treats should be eaten only occasionally, lest overconsumption diminish their deliciousness.

It’s raining now, and I can hear the slick sounds of tires on the wet road. I didn’t do the best job of cooking this week, but tomorrow begins a new week: one that will be filled, I hope, with polenta and fresh herbs and sandwiches on seed-crusted bread. And coffee: lots of coffee, brewed strong and evened out with almond milk.

Guess what? I’ve been READING! That’s right: reading. Somehow, in the Taz-style whirlwind that is my personal lyfe, I’ve found the time to read. This pleases me greatly.

Last week, I finished Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal, which I received as a gift from my mom (hi, mom!). Unflattering truth: my initial impression of the book was mild dislike. Maybe dislike is too strong a word, even — the feeling was the intellectual equivalent of having the tiniest pebble trapped in your loafer, or making your toast just sliiiiiiightly too dark (not burned enough to toss, but burned enough to prohibit true enjoyment). I felt, reading those first few pages, that the author’s tone was somehow disingenuous — twee pretending not to be.

“Effing Christ,” I thought, “not another person who stores her farro in Weck jars.” BUT, as is often the case when one makes quick judgments, I was wrong. Adler’s work is not twee; in fact, it is resolutely practical. Notably quirky constructions aside, the book is rife with tips for making use of any/all food items, down to carrot greens and parmesan rinds and fish bones (should you have any). It is a book perfect for the collector: for the person whose reluctance to part with things can, at times, present difficulty. It is a book for me.

Adler begins at the beginning, with instructions on how to properly boil water. What at first seems like a no-brainer reveals itself to be a much more complex process. Water must be adequately salted to flavor the ingredients cooked in it; once the cooking is done, the water can be incorporated into sauces or used to water plants. The same goes for fats of all types: cooking oil seasoned with garlic, bacon fat, and so on.

Adler’s reverence for food is infectious; no scrap, it seems, is too lowly. Celery leaves can be used in place of parsley, adding brightness to a  hearty dish; the snub ends of turnips can be used to make vegetable stock. I’ve never been excited at the prospect of cooking dried beans — the soaking seems so involved — but Adler’s description of the process has me eager to browse the bulk bins at Rainbow. The care with which Adler describes each step in the process solidifies the necessity of each step; I’m particularly taken with the idea of using the bean-cooking water as a stew base.

Adler’s efficacy w/r/t cooking makes itself plain in her writing: each chapter is gorgeously descriptive but no longer than it needs to be — no wasted words here. Recipes are nestled among technical explanations and well-chosen anecdotes highlighting the merits of an ingredient or dish. This is the perfect book to read during your morning commute, as you consider what you might like for dinner, or as you’re drifting to sleep, your thoughts murmuring about a baking project for the coming weekend.

You needn’t be a masterful chef to enjoy this book. Adler’s writing addresses home cooks of all skill levels, and the author herself admits to using basic, functional tools: wooden spoons grooved by heavy use, battered pots, a few good knives. The reader must only possess a curiosity about and enthusiasm for good food: how to prepare it well and transform leftovers into equally lovely dishes.

***

Image sources: [1], [2],

Resolution 1: Use More Smoked Paprika

[Image Source]

To date, I’ve used smoked paprika exactly once this year, and that’s only because I spotted the tin in my pantry and immediately remembered my goal. How did I use this wunderspice? I added it to a dish I made yesterday: tempeh and veggies simmered in coconut milk, served over udon. Typically, when I make this dish, I use good amounts of fennel seeds, cumin, black pepper, and curry; the smoked paprika lent the broth a fine orange color and added a bit of kick. I definitely gave myself a pat on the back for adding it.

Cubes of tempeh, waiting to be simmered.

Verdict: Though I’m technically making progress toward the achievement of this goal (that is, though I’ve technically used this spice ONCE), I could stand to take things up a notch.

Resolution 2: Continue Seafood Appreciation Project

Welp, I haven’t eaten any seafood this year, so this one’s not going as planned. BUT (silver lining), I’ve eaten a fair amount of Thai food since January 1st, and that food maybe probably contained fish sauce, so that’s a start?

Resolution 3: Eat Better Candy

Progress on this resolution is so-so. I haven’t bought any hella upscale candy (yet); to be fair, I haven’t been to the Ferry Building this month. But, I have branched out a bit from my Milky Way Minis routine. For example, I bought some soft peanut brittle at Trader Joe’s:Hardly gourmet, but it’s a change of pace, at least. (I am rationalizing: I admit.)

I’ve also purchased these caramel-filled Dove squares that are kind of delicious and sickening all at once (mostly the latter). OK, OK, these were a total Walgreen’s impulse buy, but again, they were something I’d never bought before and I wanted to give them their day in the sun. Help a sister out! Have a little mercy! I WAS BROWSING THE CANDY AISLE WHILE HUNGRY — what was I supposed to do?

In summary, it appears that I’m off to a slow start w/r/t the ole resolutions, but not to worry — I’ve got until March to abandon them completely. I kid! I have a genuine interest in using smoked paprika (and other spices unfamiliar to me), incorporating seafood into my diet, and eating more interesting candy — because lord knows I’m not going to stop eating candy. That, more than a giant asteroid hurtling toward the earth, would be a sign that the end is near.

Later, I continued my Massive Recipe Organization Project, which is one phase away from completion(!) When I needed a break, I headed kitchenward.

Last week, Brett Bara posted a recipe for Savory Rosemary Shortbread on her blog, and I experienced instant fascination. Only five ingredients, four of which I have in my cupboard? A guaranteed crowd-pleaser that can be made with the smallest bit of effort? Sign me the hell up, baby!

This was my inaugural foray into shortbread baking; consequently, I followed the recipe exactly, except for my substitution of lavender salt for regular. (The substitution seemed, to my palate, only natural, and the final product substantiates this impulse.) On the whole, I’m pleased with the end result, though next time I may add just the tiniest smidge more butter — or maybe I won’t. I much prefer the sandy texture of homemade shortbread to the chemical crispness of OTC varieties — the softness hints at the dessert’s sources, which themselves are soft and sandy.

Shortbread represents my favorite type of baking project: one that is straightforward, relies on only a few ingredients, and yields a result that tastes far more complex than its components. Bonus: I hear that shortbread freezes well — a good thing, because it’s very rich. As many pieces as I’ll likely nibble today, it’s good to have a backup stash in case of dessert emergency.

If you have a free hour today or tomorrow, do yourself a favor and make this shortbread. Come teatime/snacktime/desserttime, you will thank yourselves (and maybe me, for the encouragement).

That looks like a proper mid-century meal, right? Be not fooled by the plate’s low-profile appearance: this dinner was inarguably beautiful.

I am not typically a “mac and cheese person,” which is to say I only eat cheese & macaroni when it’s prepared by someone else. This has always been the case, from the time I was a tot to the current day. Furthermore, I have limited experience with homemade macaroni and cheese, which (as I discovered this week) is an entirely different animal than its boxed mutation.

When he returned from Amsterdam, Amadeo brought Alex a selection of fabulous cheeses — gouda and pesto-infused varieties among them — from the city’s famed market. What to do with all that cheese? Alex wondered. The answer presented itself, as it often does, in the form of a Mark Bittman recipe. (Note: here is a link to Bittman’s recipe for Baked Macaroni and Cheese.)

Alex making roux: yeah, yeah!

From-scratch macaroni and cheese isn’t as difficult to make as you might think. True, it requires one to boil water, grate cheese, and make roux (a tricky but not impossible task). Even so, it’s totes manageable for a weeknight.As Alex prepared the mac, I took over salad prep. Above, you’ll see the salad (undressed): a simple assemblage of butter lettuce, English cucumber, halved tiny tomatoes, and paper-thin radish slices for pepperiness. In an old jar, I mixed a simple vinaigrette: oil and vinegar and Maldon salt and fresh pepper and lemon juice and a wee bit of fresh maple syrup, for the tiniest hint of sweetness. Fresh vinaigrette — so easy and so satisfying — is one of my current favorite things. In fact, I think I’ll make some this evening, just because.

Note: We didn't have any bread with dinner. In fact, this is Sam's loaf of bread, but Alex also got a loaf from Josey. At any rate, I thought you all would enjoy this photo of a beautiful, craggy loaf.

Macaroni and cheese with a fresh green salad: right now, I can’t think of a pleasanter, more balanced meal. With a dish as rich as the mac, you have to serve the lightest side dish; the tossed salad, with its oh-so-delicate butter lettuce, fit the bill. The relative acidity of the salad was a nice foil to our creamy main. When all was said and done, I didn’t even crave dessert; that’s the sign of a wholly satisfying meal.

I’m definitely coming around to macaroni and cheese — not that I had beef with it before, but it never fully registered in my food consciousness. Now, though, it has taken up permanent residence there, interrupting my daily thoughts with reminders of how good baked pasta and breadcrumbs are together.

I got home late after the longest day at the office, and I was inches away from getting takeout. Yes: Kate getting takeout, one of the rarest naturally occurring phenomena. Papalote beckoned me; Serrano’s suddenly seemed like the tastiest slice in the world. I was about to duck into a bodega for a sleeve of Pop Tarts, but at the last second, I withdrew. I had big plans for a loaf of stale bread.

You see, I’d been saving this bread for bread pudding. I was thinking sweet, initially, but then recalled a Bittman recipe I’d seen for savory. It would be perfect for dinner — the day had been cool, and I envisioned myself all wrapped up in a blanket, listening to Cat Power, eating a bowl of the pudding: Max Coziness. The power of this image was able to destabilize my momentary laziness, and I got to work.

My pudding was a modification of Mark Bittman’s Savory Bread Pudding, the recipe for which can be found here. Curious about the tweaks I made? Read on:

• I reduced the amount of milk from 2 cups to 1.5 cups. BUT, to prevent the pudding from becoming too dry, I added two beaten eggs to the milk mixture.
• I only used parmesan cheese (maybe 3 ounces? I didn’t measure) because I was too lazy to grate any mozzarella. Ooops.
• In addition to sautéed shiitakes, I added garlic powder, minced green onions, and golden raisins to the bread mixture — worked like a charm!

How was the end result? See for yourself:

 My first bite was a timid one: I had small doubts about my willy-nilly inclusion of raisins. My second bite was much larger: the sweet raisins tasted perfect alongside the earthy mushrooms. Bittman, those mushrooms were a good call — without them, this dish would have tasted like, uh, bread soaked in milk and then baked for a bit. With them, the pudding was a real meal.

Next time around, I’m going to add some toasted nuts (toasted pistachios, or maybe pecans) and some additional sautéed veggies, just for healthiness’ sake. I might also bake the pudding for 3 – 5 minutes longer. (Note: The range is 35 – 40 minutes; my pudding baked for 37 and could have been a tetch crisper.)

As I set about my dinner prep last night, my roommate Scott asked if I’m “always in a cooking mood.” The short answer is no, I’m not. Last night, I was especially not in a cooking mood, but overcoming that initial stubbornness made my dinner all the more enjoyable: not only did I sidestep takeout temptation, but I felt good about having achieved something tangible at the end of a crazy day. I felt good about using that stale bread, and I felt good eating a warm meal. So many good things — I’ll remember these things the next time I feel like a cereal dinner.

]]> http://garkyeats.com/2012/01/11/savory-bread-pudding-weeknight-save/feed/ 0 garkyeats uncookedpudding finishedpudding http://garkyeats.com/2012/01/09/weekend-of-delights/ http://garkyeats.com/2012/01/09/weekend-of-delights/#comments Mon, 09 Jan 2012 15:14:04 +0000 garkyeats http://garkyeats.com/?p=1767 Continue reading →]]>

Man: I just wrapped up one of the best weekends in recent memory. Spent most of this morning on a recipe-organization project (which is still underway, if you were wondering), then met up with Alex for an afternoon of record shopping & other adventures. Oh, were there adventures! I got a Barbadian folk guitar album & a few others, and then it was well beyond lunchtime and Alex and I felt as though we both might pass away, so we hit Zeitgeist for refreshments. Bloody Marys, because they are the spiciest — cough & sputter spicy — and because they have the saltiest olives. Burgers with homefries because I recently discovered that I like mayonnaise (WHAT?), and because a burger sounded good. I’ll tell ya, Zeitgeist does homefries right. I don’t know their secret (though I suspect it’s rooted in oil), but their fries are golden-orange-and-crunchy on the outside, pillowy within — a rare find.

Lest you think I subsisted entirely on candy and mayo this weekend, think again! The above photo depicts the veggies — Brussels sprouts, broccoli florets, and fennel — that I roasted with chickpeas and golden raisins and served over quinoa.

The dish was partially inspired by a recipe in this month’s Bon Appetit; my take includes a few random ingredients — ones that make for small, indisputable improvements. It was also inspired by my desire to cook from my pantry, if only partially. The resulting dinner was relatively light and diverse of texture — an 8 of 10, in Garkypoints.

Quinoa with Fennel, Brussels Sprouts, and Golden Raisins (serves 4)

Ingredients

• Six ounces Brussels sprouts, cleaned and halved (or quartered, if you have unusually large sprouts)
• One fennel bulb, sliced into rounds
• Approximately one cup broccoli florets, found near the back of the fridge
• One cup chickpeas, rinsed and drained
• Scant 1/2 cup golden raisins
• Extra-virgin olive oil
• Salt, fresh black pepper
• Red pepper flakes
• One cup (uncooked) quinoa
• One tablespoon lime juice
• Crumbled goat cheese (for serving)

Method

1. Preheat your oven to 400. While the oven heats, prepare your veggies for roasting. Place sprouts, fennel, broccoli, and chickpeas in a bowl; toss with olive oil, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes. Spread on a baking sheet, creating an even layer.
2. To the layer of veggies, add your golden raisins. Bake the veggie/raisin combo for about 35 minutes, flipping once.
3. As the vegetables roast, prepare your quinoa. Fill a saucepan with 2 cups water and your quinoa; bring to a boil; and reduce to a simmer, cooking until the grain has absorbed all the liquid. Remove from heat and transfer quinoa to a large bowl.
4. Once the veggies have cooked, allow them to cool for a moment before transferring them to the quinoa bowl. Blend ingredients well, adding lime juice as you stir.
5. Serve quinoa salad topped with crumbled goat cheese.

I’m especially fond of the flavor combination produced by the fennel and golden raisins (which aren’t as intensely sweet as their cousins). Perhaps I should add to my list of resolutions a plan to eat more fennel…

Happy Sunday, all! I’m gearing up for what promises to be an excellent day: breakfast at the Jelly Donut, a record-shopping adventure, and temperatures in the high 60s (California, I love your winters).

This weekend has already been pretty fabulous: Friday, Alex and I made a leisurely dinner of Tortilla and got a drink at the Phone Booth (where I never fail to feel as old as I am — neither here nor there: just the truth). Yesterday, Nathan and I embarked on a Retailventure, wandering the length of Berkeley’s Solano Avenue, grabbing lunch at a pseduo-Bistro, and getting scoops at iScream — the gingersnap was spicy and rich and studded with the proper amount of cookie bits: an all-around pleasure.

A & I have some exciting, bloggerly news, so STAY TUNED. (A vague statement, I know, but I don’t want to spoil any surprises.)

Finally: toast: man, is that stuff good. I ran out of homemade muesli a few days ago and have been eating Josey’s toast instead, and I’m really digging the change in routine. Not gonna abandon my cereal pattern — no way! — but toast  has been a nice shift in breakfast conduct.

And until later, that’s a wrap.