Pizza & PJ's

 After a long week of teaching, grading 125 essays, conferencing with students, taking the Volvo to the shop, spending a couple of hundred dollars to fix the Volvo, and dealing with a bunch of other crap, FD and I really needed a pizza and pj night-in.

Clearly, Bleu agreed.

Before our gluten-free days, we used to make killer pizzas on a homemade dough. But, presently, I've been disappointed with almost every pizza baking kit I've come across, and I just don't feel like working with several GF flours that don't rise and never seem to work out. We've started to relying heavily on frozen GF doughs, especially O'Doughs.

This Friday night our pizza journey began when we realized we only had one O'Dough's crust left. I ran to Walt Churchill's in Perrysburg to pick up another box or two, but they were sold out.

I considered making a GF pizza crust from scratch, but quite honestly, I wasn't in the mood for cooking, let alone experimenting with a new recipe.

So we had a GF frozen pizza crust competition between O'Dough's and Udi's, which we found deep in the deep freezer.

Udi's

Same ingredients. Two different crusts. Who would win?

Rather than following the Udi's baking instructions, we warmed up the crust for 5 minutes at 400. Then we put the toppings on and baked it for an additional eight minutes. Udi's crusts are easy to burn, so we watched it closely, especially because our oven is from hell. Literally, it runs 100 degrees hot. (Dear God, thank you for oven thermometers and please help our landlady find a new oven.)

The Udi's crust, while pipping hot, tasted like cardboard. But after letting it sit for a couple of minutes, it mellowed out and tasted like a crunchy cracker. And I am particularly proud of how beautiful the photograph the Udi's pizza turned out. (With my camera's user's manual, I'm teaching myself about photography and my camera.)

O'Doughs

The O'Doughs turned out wonderful as always. But strangely, Dan and I like the Udi's better. Its thin, crunchy crust was really flavorful. Whereas the O'Doughs had that GF-baked-good-after-taste in comparison.

I know I should be homemaking crusts, but really I need a break. And pizza is supposed to be a break from cooking, at least in my opinion. Maybe one of these days I'll make GF pizza dough from scratch. Until then, Udi's and O'Doughs are treating us just fine.

Ketchup: I Like It-----Finallyyyy!!!

Tonight:

Meatloaf with kale. And Umami Paste.

Mashed sweet potatoes with 1/2 and 1/2 infused with sage and roasted garlic.

Braised Greens in Hot Chili Peppers.

During dinner, I finally pledged to make myself a meatloaf sandwich--the first in my life--for lunch tomorrow and taste the heaven that is umami (aka I'll will eating my sandwich with a healthy amount of ketchup.)

Because of a few bad demonstrations during sex ed and a few grossly expired bottles I've had the pleasure of throwing out, ketchup always seemed like a waste of time to me.

But, tonight for the first time, I tried a little dab on my meatloaf, and my tastebuds immediately cheered!

It has a salivating factor. + A sweet disposition. + A little tartness. + A hint of vinegar.

= Full-on umami, one of my favorite flavor profiles.

Who knew?

Apparently, the champion of begging, Bleu Dog, the lab with the world's most accomplished palate, knew.

I'm happy to finally have realized the greatness--of ketchup--too.

Though I still can't fathom putting it on a burger...

Fry 'Em Up

Local Fish photo by AMR

The story starts here. With a family tradition.

Fishing.

FD and his dad go fishing every spring and summer. I went one time last summer. There's not a lot of talking unless it's about the weather and how the fish are biting, which was fine by me. I love weather, and I love talking about bites. And as weird as it sounds I appreciated silence, the quiet rock of the boat. In fact I welcomed it, and when I achieve it with loved ones I hold it like a new kitten, a small gift from above. Sometimes talking clouds the purest truth of the activity, the act that is shared. Truth be told, as much as I'm a hip-hop/dance junkie, I'm happiest cooking when I'm in the kitchen without music and Bleu is at feet.

I pretty sure in our attempt to eat local meats our families decided we should eat what they can't. In addition to what we've procured.

Early this June FD and I realized we had a deep freezer half full of Ohio/Pennsylvania-caught fish. The only way to eat over 100 fillets/5 lbs of fish is to have a fish fry, right?

Other photos by SEKL, FDR, ASC

We like alliteration. We decide a Fish Fry on the 4th.

Sarah L. & I, over several Clover Clubs (okay, really it was over lunch at Naslada, we had water, there's no drama in that) craved Southern. We needed fish, corn on the cob, greens, coleslaw, shredded beef, cucumber salad, sweet potatoes, and pimento cheese.

At 5 Sarah arrived with 5 lbs of greens. We stemmed, we washed, we rendered fat from bacon, we wilted, we simmered, we kept going.

As a hostess, I can tell you a fish fry isn't easy. There's soaking, breading, frying, draining, and several more batches. In addition to getting sides ready, making sure guests are happy, and coordinating timing. I had anticipated easy street. I was wrong.

At any given time, I was stressed, crazy, witty, bossy, meek, pissed, satisfied, jittery, relaxed, humble, loud, quiet, grateful, and, most importantly, thoughtful about food, where it comes from and who we share it with.

~

Sweet potato chips in the fryer

There are few people I am around where we don't talk and are cool. It's a weird thing to be around people in silence. Besides movie theaters and doctor offices when really don't humans speak to each other except when they are alone?

I'm loud.

Many people have told me I remind them of a cartoon character (perhaps because of my love of Hello Kitty???) and that I'm intense, animated, intimidating, etc.


I'm just passionate, honest, and enthusiastic.

Even though fishing is a quiet act, frying is not. There's oohhhing, aaahhhing, yelling for more flour, worrying about bubbling over, etc. etc.

At one point, though, we got in our assembly line rhythm, and the four of us battered and fried the last batch with almost no verbal communication. Our hands dredged fish, shook off the extra batter, placed fillets in the fryer and did it again, as if we all shared one mind.

It reminded me of the rock of the boat, the fishing poles in our hands, and dawn breaking over the lake.

~

All hands on deck

We fried 'em up on the 4th.

Sarah L., G, E.H., and I took charge. It was clear we were the food obsessed.

Or better put: we were devoted to the fish. Others were too. They would be present for start to finish of a batch, such as FD, CC, and AC, which I appreciate whole heartily. In fact, as as Gemini, I welcomed any attention. The other guests looked on like it was a train wreck. People like danger, potential fire, and drama. In a matter of two hours of this fish fry I had cooked several dishes cooked and ready, a fryer that wouldn't heat up and tripped the breaker, a severe mandolin (the knife, not the instrument) injury, and realized I was two hours behind eating time.

As an OCD hostess I was fucked.

But inviting the perfect people dissolved my need to obsess and surrender to defeat.

Several dishes were ready: right on; Jersey helped me figure out my breakers and turn shit off to turn on the fryer; my mom's hospital office job where I became friends with nurses gave me the know-how to aid a cut wound into remission (we thought we needed stitches but really only what we needed was to lay down on the bathroom floor [see being OCD does pay off; the floor was sparkling clean] with the finger in the air, some Solarcaine, a bandage, and some Sherry), and for the most part our friends like to eat between 8-9 p.m.

I was in luck.

~

Fishes in the fryer

My Pops was specific, "Fry away from the house. Put it between the house and the garage on the edge of the patio. And assign one fryer attendant. It should be you. It's our fryer. You'll know how to work it."

I was in bare feet.

That wasn't in the manual, but my Pops said, "Wear shoes."

I followed my Pops' advice. And didn't. We do that as kids. We're allowed.

This was the first meal I made that potentially risked my home, my loved ones, my clothing (which I love a lot), and my bare feet.

And I think others felt that way.

They stood and watched.

What would happen?

For the first time ever I saw concern on Sarah L.'s face. I don't know about this, her expression read in one photo. When she showed me the pic, I thought, That's my look. What are you doing???

Then she said, "That's the look you make every time I make a souffle or marshmallows. I guess I didn't realize how freaked out I was."

Deep frying is scary.

And lots of fun.

~

I had a lot of help, but I was ultimately guardian of the fryer, as my Pops had advised.

I dropped the basket in. We all watched the oil bubble up and engulf the fish, though. And G would give the basket a shake so the fish wouldn't stick too much together while I was running around organizing other things. But when the fishies were fried, it was I who pulled the basket out with its little coat-hanger-pulley-thingy. I put the lid on, let the temperature come back up to 400, assembled the assembly line and started again.

My Pops would have been proud.

~

At 9, the crew went through the buffet line and piled their plates with cuke salads, braised greens, baked beans, grilled corn, crisp coleslaw, shredded beef, and fried fish.

There was one moment of silence at the beginning as folks chewed the first bites. But then there were outbursts over flavors or new conversations.

Dessert (s'mores with homemade marshmallows, chocolate, and pralines) was just as big of a hit.

And while I made future notes to buy more Nut Thins and lemons (thanks L & S for the run to Kroger!), to put butter, salt and pepper on the table for corn, and to put out as many chairs as we have, what sticks with me more is how a family tradition became a gathering.

 There were writers and teachers, a print media-ist, a composer of music, a medical assistant, an archivist, a webmaster, a construction guru/visual artist, a dancer, and a bio-chemist. A talented motley crew with a love of fried food.  What I love about parties is sometimes these talents are brought up and other times we get to escape them for a few moments under the silent canopy of holiday lights.

Weeknight Meals, Comfort Foods, and Perfection (or Not)

 

 

Nom nom nom

It's no surprise that I usually spend a whole day cooking, especially in the summer. Whereas most people hate cooking or "being tied to the kitchen," I feel most peaceful, happy, fulfilled, and sane when I'm in the kitchen.

At the same time, I have writing projects, syllabus planning, organization projects, and lots of reading and writing I want to do this summer.

So some evenings I see what's in the fridge/freezer and cook up what we have. And it's these meals that are probably my favorites. I know the recipes like the back of my hand, and I have the cooking down to a science.

Such as was the pictured meal. I wasn't really anticipating guests, even though we had more than enough, but I was more than happy find out two of our all-time favorite people could stay for dinner: flat iron steaks with chimichurri sauce, ex-wife potatoes roasted in duck fat and smoked on the grill, sauteed greens, grilled asparagus, and Sarah L.'s homemade roasted red pepper sauce I had scored earlier that day.

I'm quite critical of my own cooking. Every meal I figure out what flavor profiles need to be edited, what elements need to be added, and how a recipe should be revised. Most meals I'm only partially happy with the results. But this meal was almost flawless. The only revision: I would have braised the greens instead of sauteing them.

What I'm wondering is why these meals happen. I think about the ones where I cook elaborate dishes that take two to three days, the holiday ones that involve brining, marinating, intense butchering, fine chopping, etc. These meals are delicious but there never perfect. And then here comes this barely-planned, use-what-you-got, throw-it-together-flavor-combos of a meal that was simply divine. Was it the weather, the vibe of the day, the element of surprise, the delightful guests, the boxed wine? It was a meal that I ate slowly, that I savored, that I will remember. Lately these are the meals I live for, that sustain me. They are so few and far between.

Comfort level with the recipe has everything to do with it, though. Later in the week we invited good friends over last minute for dinner. I was trying four new recipes for one meal (totally crazy, I know): grilled chicken thighs, ginger cilantro rice, bok choy with braised Shiite sauce, and sesame broccoli salad. The broccoli salad was great, but I heeded the reviews to cut the dressing portion in half. I charred the thighs because I decided it was time to test out lump hardwood charcoal rather than use Match Light, which I have mastered. Thankfully, our guests were gracious and kind about having to bake the thighs because charring them didn't cook them all the way through. I suck at rice; period (more on that topic soon). And the bok choy was stringy, bitter, and droopy. I wasn't trying to impress our guests; it was a meal I planned to make even if it was just for me and FD. These were recipes I wanted to test and I wanted an Asian them. But I had hoped for more of a magical meal, like the one we had earlier in the week. But no. I think it's because I tried too many new things at one time. And experimented with new methods (new charcoal). I'm an adventurer as a cook, so I have to take it in stride that not every meal is perfect. But even in imperfection, my cooking is usually edible and above par. But I'm a perfectionist with OCD and an overactive palate. I always expect more.

So does it all boil down to the comfort level we have with recipes? And does that comfort level equal comfort foods? I cook and eat ex-wife potatoes almost every night in my dreams (for real); I've grilled asparagus eight million times; I've sauteed greens for all three meals in a day and did it again the very next day; and I can indirect grill with Match Light almost better than any BBQ joint in Ohio. Give me comfort foods and I can crank out an amazing meal.

But...

I feel like my comfort meals wouldn't be comforting if I didn't have nights where I test four new recipes and fail a little (or a lot). I think most people cycle their comfort foods or the foods they think they cook well each and every week. I remember when I was a kid my mom recycled a lot of the same meals: mac and cheese with green beans; burgers and Ore-Ida fries; bubble and squeak; etc. At some point, though, these comfort foods became some of my least favorite meals. "We're having bubble and squeak AGAIN?!?!"

I use true comfort foods sparingly. For those days when I would rather read or write then cook. And trying new recipes (4-6 a week) allows me to console myself with my favorite dishes after a dinner-disaster. But it also allows me to find new favorite recipes, maybe even new comfort foods.

And it keeps my voyage as foodie ever evolving...

And So It Goes...

The semester is drawing to an end.

For some that means graduation is right around the corner. All the excitement of the future is ahead of them. Along with the wonder, frustration, hope, and possibility.

And while I'm excited with them, I'm sad because it means some very good friends will be moving away.

I don't take good-byes well. I never have. I prefer the "see you later" approach. But year after year of friends leaving is making my heart feel just a bit more heavy.

Last year was Babs, and this year is Amy, Chris, Alex, Nikki, and Ian.

The hardest part for me is that I happen to make friends with folks who love food, who love to eat, and who are frequent dinner guests at our house. Come this summer, Sundays will just be a little quieter. Picnics at the quarry will be a little smaller.

I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Right now we're trying to get in as many games of Blokus and rounds of The Game of Things as possible. We're trying to eat as many kale salads and tofu bites as possible. We're spending as much time together as possible. FD's beer cellar is slimming down a bit, and the liquor cabinet is almost empty.

Of course the greater parts of my days are spent grading, presenting, student conferencing, food writing, editing, and cooking because I have to but mostly out of avoidance. I just don't want to see our good friends leave. But so it goes...

In the meantime, there's a polenta tarte in the oven, pork tenderloin to roast, and glasses to clink before the formal good-byes begin.

The Greenhouse Tavern: Revisited

Crispy Hominy

Back in July I visited The Greenhouse Tavern in Cleveland and absolutely LOVED my dining experience. It was one of the most incredible-tastiest, most-satisfying, so-happy-to-eat-in-Cleveland experiences I've had to date.

So I figured when I took FD there for his special birthday dinner it was going to be the same mind-blowing, mouth orgy again. That doesn't seem an unreasonable assumption, does it?

Chef Sawyer is known for his seasonl spin on contemporary comfort food. And I firmly believe in his Green mission and the restaurant's farm-to-table mentality. There's no doubt in my mind that my food values are completely aligned with The Greenhouse Tavern's; we're totally on the same page.

But FD's birthday meal has left me frustrated and reconsidering going to The Greenhouse Tavern again. At least for anything else other than Animal Style Frites.

Chilled Sweet Potato & Cabbage Soup

I want to be clear that the opinions I express are as an honest food critic and paying customer. It is not my intention to slander any restaurant. It is only my intention to share my dining experiences as an average-Jane diner with no strings attached.

Let it be known that I think the good at The Greenhouse Tavern is definitely worth experiencing, but the customer service is something, I feel, needs much improvement.

Let it be known that the intoxicating, primitive experience event of eating Animal Style Frites is something every food lover MUST experience. However, I must warn any diner that the sassy-and-not-in-a-good-way attitude from a few of the servers and runners at The Greenhouse Tavern might disrupt that experience and turn it into something not-so-much-fun.

Animal Style Frites

Because I am a detail-oriented person who believes arguments should have ample credible support, I feel the following examples will illustrate how lack luster the customer service at The Greenhouse Tavern is.  First of all, when we were seated we were not approached immediately, and once the server approached our table, he did not announce the beers on tap or show us the beer and wine menu. For an establishment that has tavern in its title, I feel is imperative that every server share this information before asking diners what drinks they want. It's helpful and it makes diners feel comfortable in additional to a little of booze and a few recommendations mean a bigger tip usually. Also, the The four course chef's tasting menu used to be $39; now it's $44. If you do the math, it's a rip off; you can order food from each section and usually pay less than $44. I understand this doesn't have to do with servers, but it has to do with customer service and not taking customers (who are in a city that is having hard economic times!) for a ride. Next, our first and second courses were served at the same time. Our table ordered the four course chef's tasting menu because we wanted to have a long dinner; serving both courses not only screwed up the timing and our experience, but also it upset the taste of each course. I have no interest eating chilled soup with hominy or even better hominy with lardo speck gnocchi, which is what we did in much of a rage. Our server's response to the matter: "First and second courses are small tonight; we're serving them together." However, all the surrounding tables were receiving them separately and our portions were huge. The runners had to be asked to box leftovers, and during dessert when a decaf cup of coffee served to our table was cold, the runner deliberated aloud the time it would take to make a fresh pot, which was really rude and destroyed the flow of our table's conversation. Finally, the server forgot one of our guest's desserts and overcharged that same guest by two desserts, even though dessert was included in their four course chef's tasting menu. Needless to say, I didn't leave feeling satisfied this time.

Strip Steak with Pomme Frites

Dear reader, I'm not happy to report these examples of rude, unorganized, and sloppy service. It breaks my heart quite frankly. But I feel the need to share because as food lovers and paying customers we expect a meaningful dining experience, and we, as paying customers, are shelling out a lot of hard-earned money to get that experience, especially in times like these. I have a huge problem with celebrity chef restaurants and talked-up restaurants not delivering on customer service. Restaurants are part of the service industry. That means meeting the expectations of customers and making those customers happy. In this case and in other cases, such as Michael Symon's Bar Symon, I feel the servers are hired because they need jobs and look indy enough to work there. But the servers and runners should know about the food, about serving a table, about the etiquette of dining, and about who actually is paying their paycheck, which are the customers, essentially. If I drop $200 at a restaurant, like I did at The Greenhouse Tavern, I expect the server to be respectful, knowledgeable, and competent. That's not much to ask. And as diners that's all we want. I understand some servers are flirty, some friendly, some hands-off-but-aware, or some funny. A little personality is great. But there must be smarts to match it. And that training MUST come from the owner, the manager, and the executive chef. I can't justify spending that amount of money on a meal when half my experience is spent frustrated at a server who looks and acts like he just did ten lines of coke and is saying his allergies are bad today.

Gravy Frites

With that said, the lardo speck gnocchi was to die for. The halibut was absolutely perfectly cooked, even though the garnish was useless. The kick of hit at the end of a taste of the Ratatouille Vegetables Involtini was divine. The texture of the sweet potato and cabbage chilled soup was so silky it was like sexy satin sheets. The strip steak had a flawless sear and was faultlessly cooked to medium. And the Gravy Frites and Animal Style Frites--I live for them. Period.

Alas, I'm sad this review isn't more about the food. But it replicates my turmoil during this meal. I would have one moment of ecstasy which would be clouded by an unnatural desire to throw a punch.

What's the balance of food and service? Which is more important? Or are both equally important? Is a small dining room like at Revolver or Lucky's Cafe--where service is ALWAYS good--the key? I don't have any answers. But I sure wish I did.  

Pure coolness. The Greenhouse Tavern serves Black Label in a can for under $2.

Some Potty Humor for Foodies

Toothpaste for Dinner rocks.

Dinner: Turkey Brats, Roasted Potatoes, & Steamed Green Beans

It's just one of those nights.

The pic I took of dinner tonight deleted itself when I tried to download it.

The sauce for the brats was a little too bitter because we didn't use a cheap enough beer. (You'll never read me write that again.)

The brats were a little dry because we used turkey instead of pork.

What we got right, though, was:

A.) The potatoes. I quartered them and padded them with some butter, freshly sliced garlic, and salt. Those babies roasted right up on the grill to little perfect tender morsels.

B.) The recipe from Cook's Illustrated special edition Summer Grilling was spot on. Great flavor. Just be sure to use cheap beer and pork brats. The turkey cook quick and dry.

C.) The best: To make a meal at home with FD after being on the go and away from my kitchen for several days.

***Be sure to tune in tomorrow through Twitter for pics on FD's birthday feast at Revolver.

Dinner: I Don't Feel Like Eff'ing Making It

Tonight I came home from work and just felt tired, achy, and ready for a meal--out!

But our fridge is packed and we gave up fast food several years ago after reading Fast Food Nation.

And while I sometimes crave Taco Bell so badly that I actually go there and sit in the parking lot, I can never bring myself to order a seven-layer burrito, nachos bell grande and a side of beans with extra cheese. Yes, fast food is easy, convenient and perfect for those nights when you just want to drink wine, watch tv, and veg, but I just can't bring myself to actually order and eat fast food. I haven't eaten fast food in over two years. To break that promise now would be like smoking after quitting for a decade.

In the fridge I have food...and I know where it came from. That food is organic. It's truly nutritious. It has a history, a story. And I paid for that food and it should be eaten so it doesn't spoil.

In a bad mood I began slicing eggplant and zucchini while FD prepared snap peas, chopped onion, and minced garlic.

The teamwork cheered me up a little. FD probably would emphasize "a little."

The end result cheered me up even more. Even more than Taco Bell could have.

Goddamn-It-I-Don't-Feel-Like-Cooking Eggplant Bake (recipe from the British gardener at the BG Farmer's Market with a few revisions)

Ingredients:

2 eggplants (or 1 eggplant and 1 zucchini), peeled and cut into 1/4 in slices

1 lb ground lamb (or beef)

1 small onion

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 8oz can tomato sauce

1 T butter

4 t flour

1/4 t salt

Dash pepper

3/4 c skim milk

3 T grated parm cheese

Preheat oven to 325.

In a large skillet cook the eggplant (if using zucchini, don't cook it now!) in 1/2 in boiling water, covered, about 6 minutes (but less time if only using one eggplant). Drain.

In the same skillet brown the ground lamb, onion, and garlic until no longer pink. Drain. Stir in tomato sauce. Season with salt and pepper. Bring to boil; reduce heat. Simmer, uncovered, about 5 min. Remove from heat. Season with salt and pepper.

Prepare sauce. In a small saucepan melt butter. Stir in flour, salt, and pepper. Stir in skim milk all at once. Bring to boil while stirring consistently until thick and bubbly. Remove from heat; set aside.

Spray a 10x6x2 baking dish with nonstick spray. Arrange half the eggplant in dish (or if using zucchini, arrange raw sliced zucchini in dish first). Spoon meat mixture atop, then top with remaining eggplant. Pour sauce over all ingredients. Sprinkle with parm.

Bake, uncovered in 325 oven for 30 minutes. Optional: before serving sprinkle fresh herbs; basil is perfect, but chives and oregano work well too. Serve.

Playing: Bill Evans and Jim Hall's Undercurrent.