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...

Pawpaw Season 2: Admitting Failure.

Kaleidoscope Farms Mt. Cory, Ohio. Another season of pawpaw hunting with the ever-generous tree farmer Dave Reese.

Dave planted new pawpaw trees, but the deer munched on most of them.

Pawpaws: Season 2.

Haven't lost my gatherer instinct.

In the bag.

For pawpaw bread.

Scrapping the membrane--which contains a lot of flavor--from each and every seed.

 Finally a perfect loaf of pawpaw bread.

Failure.

I Can Sweat Duck Fat

This past weekend I visited my friend Jeannie in Hudson. It's kind of like our annual girls weekend. We go the Grey Colt Sidewalk Sale, then out to really AWESOME dinner. This year I threw on a brand new Odd Molly top and funky Free People skirt I got at the sale and Jeannie threw on her best pair of green heels and a sweet summer dress and we headed to Greenhouse Tavern on East 4th in Cleveland.

This post isn't going to review Greenhouse Tavern. That review, in addition to one about Lucky's Cafe, will be live in the BG News this coming Wednesday.

This post is an account of my sweating duck fat during a yoga class. (And, yes, it smelled awesome as well as gross.) It's the unedited version of our girls night out.

The ambiance of the Greenhouse Tavern is sophisticatedly "green." From its fancy toilets that offer two flush settings (one for liquid, two for solids) to recycling old un-used menus as fry cones, this restaurant is thoughtful in its sustainability and certified for it too. I felt proud that my eating that evening was totally eco-friendly.

Without a doubt, the best choice on the menu is the 4 Course Chef's Tasting Menu. You get to choose one appetizer, one "second" appetizer, one entree, and either a dessert or a side for $39. Jeannie and I played it smart by each ordering the tasting menu and sharing a side and a dessert. However, as the plates started arriving we realized we should have split the tasting menu.

I ordered the French Buttered Radishes as my first. If you've been keeping up with my BG News articles, I've taken a liking to radishes lately. And these were amazing. Jeannie had the fried hominy, and I had a bit of food envy. Fried should be my middle name; crispy, salty, crunchy--the hominy rocked.

For seconds Jeannie had a lamb patty (sorry I forgot...I was having a food orgasm and wasn't taking notes when I should have been) that was AMAZING. I had the Hand Ground Beef Tartare, which rocked my world. As a kid I would sneak crumbs of raw ground beef before it went into a meatloaf or goulash. I have a raw meat problem, and unfortunately most raw meat is not fit to eat. So when I see tartare, I'm on board. Accompanied with housemade condiments, pickles, crostini, and a two minute egg, it was DIVINE. MINDBLOWING. INSANE.

While waiting for our entrees I realized to my left was a table of douche bags who were clearly there to be seen and maybe score some pu-tang. Maybe they thought they were cute, but truthfully they were obnoxious. So much so--we found out from our totally friendly, attentive waitress after they left--that the older couple sitting at our table before us asked to be moved. Ha! Jeannie and I tuned out all of their degrading comments about every woman in the restaurant simply by discussing each frame of Eclipse in-depth. Quickly, we became some weird, obsessed nerd girls they definitely wouldn't "fuck, marry or kill," which meant they left us alone for the most part. Until Jeannie's Half Roasted Chicken in Brioche Bread arrived at our table.

Dear reader, maybe you imagine shredded chicken in a bowl topped with buttery, rich French bread. If so, you are wrong. Chef Sawyer and his crew serve the half chicken in a HUGE LOAF of Brioche Bread. It's so huge that the runner asks if you'd like to slice it or have the kitchen slice it for you. Of course, any person in their right mind would have the kitchen do it.

So when the chicken returned, the douche bags next to us tried to claim it. Funny and cute? No, we wanted to eat. Patrick Swayze says, "No one puts Baby in a corner." I say, "No one comes between me and my food." After we laughed off their idiocy, Jeannie tried to make a dent in the chicken dish. If my guess is right she's still eating it right now for dinner.

I had the Sea-2-Table Halibut, which was beautiful. But the only reason I got it was so I wouldn't feel so guilty sharing and quite frankly devouring Jeannie's fourth dish: Gravy Frites. I'm not sure I'm prepared to talk about how much I think I'm addicted to these hand-cut potato sticks deep-fried in duck fat and topped with brown gravy and mozzarella curd. I can see why Michael Symon of Lola (a couple doors down on East 4th) calls them his guilty pleasure on the tv show The Best Thing I Ever Ate.

I swore to Jeannie I'd only eat a couple. I ate 3/4 of the plate. Yes, on top of the Halibut, beef tartare, and radishes. Clearly, I have problems. If I lived in Cleveland, I would be there right now eating them. And tomorrow morning I would wake up and be at the gym for 4 hours--I'm not lying--so I could go back and eat them tomorrow night. I'm having Walleye and a Raw Veggie Salad for dinner tonight. I'm not happy, and both are quite good (not to brag). I should have written this post after I ate.

That's how much I love those fries.

And we shared dessert--Carmel Milk Chocolate Pot de Creme. It was salty and sweet and a perfect ending to our fantastic meal. But the whole time I was thinking about the fries in Jeannie's to-go box.

And we got home and attempted to watch Little Ashes, which was horrible, but I got through it because I was thinking about the fries. (I couldn't eat them because I was that full and not that drunk.)

And I went to sleep and would wake up at random times with only the words "duck fat" on my mind and lips.

And in the morning we got up at 7:30 and went to Yoga Lounge where Kevin had us going through all these crazy advanced poses, including side crow and headstand, in a 98 degree room and all the while I'm thinking about duck fat fries. And I'm sweating duck fat all over my yoga mat. Which is a blessing and a curse. Because I can sniff my mat and remember the fries, but I probably should clean my mat after all the sweat that dripped on it.

I can't believe I admitted that for all the world to see...

(Grey Colt picture courtesy of their website.)

If Only I Was the Love Child of Jamie Oliver and Alice Waters...

My obsession with Alice Waters is getting out of hand.

I tried to find her biography on the internet today while thinking to myself, "God, if she was just in Us Weekly and on Perez Hilton, my life would be made."

Alas, the best I have is Waters' recipes, which I am more than grateful for.

And so my obsession with Alice Waters keeps growing and my obsession with Jamie Oliver is as solid as ever. So tonight for dinner, I consummated my "food parents." I planned the meal entirely around what I had on hand and recipes only from Jamie at Home and The Art of Simple Cooking.

No, I'm not that bored, just that crazy.

Oliver's Grilled Lamb Kofta Kebabs with Pistachios and Spicy Salad Wrap are the BOMB! Instead of using the food processor to grind up a neck fillet of lamb, I used ground lamb I had bought from Luginbill Farms at the Perrysburg Farmer's Market two weeks ago. I finely chopped the thyme and pistachios by hand and then mixed, by hand, them with all the spices and lemon zest (in place of sumac) with the lamb. The nutty spicy smell had me under a spell so much so I was considering eating the lamb tar-tare.

Oliver's spicy salad was easy too. I didn't have red onions on hand, but the spring onions that I had just gotten from Homestead Gardens were more than perfect substitutes. And we didn't have flat bread on hand, but we did have tortillas, which worked just as well.

Grilling the kebabs was stressful, though. First of all, watch for flare ups. Lamb is more fatty than most meat. Also, they wanted to slide right off of our metal skewers, so it was sometimes difficult to turn them, and they cook FAST! I was worried when a few of our kebabs (and we got 6, not 4 from a one lb of meat) started blackening. We pulled them off right away with silicone tongs. (Grab them in the middle of the meat. Oven mitts just don't work.) All the kebabs were on the grill for no more than 5 minutes. It was whirlwind well worth it. The charcoal flavor perfectly compliments the game-ness of the meat, the spicy salad, and the cool yogurt. All the stress is forgotten after the first bite, especially if you and/or guests love Middle Eastern food; just be ready to cook FAST.

Knowing I had my Jamie Oliver recipe all ready to go, I needed to pick an Alice Waters' one that would suit the Middle Eastern theme. I knew exactly what recipe I had to try in The Art of Simple Cooking: Lentil Salad.

Waters' Lentil Salad is absurdly easy and beyond flavorful. The red wine vinegar gives it a tang while the onions (I used my green onions from Homestead Gardens) add a little kick. We added diced cucumber to ours because I had one I had to use that I got from the BG Farmer's Market last week.

I made the salad in the morning and served it cold, and it was fantastic. I just added the cuke right before I served it.

What I'm learning to love about lentils is their versatility. They can be the main course. They can be a side. They are crunchy or can be mushy, if the recipes calls for so. They are sweet and sometimes spicy. They remind me of tofu's ability to take on any flavor well, but lentils have their own distinct flavor nutty, grainy flavor and texture.

I've been in a hormonally pissy mood the past two days (thanks to FD for putting up with me!), but I must say after eating this meal all feels right with the world, my body and my hormones again.

I'm sure that's strictly because my "food parents" are always looking after me and providing me with exactly the right food and nutrients I need.

Now if only I could say the same for Bella and Edward or Bella and Jacob.

Snap Peas, Please.

I have a cooking companion.

His name is Bleu.

No matter what I am cooking or baking my furry little friend sprawls out on the linoleum and sleeps with one eye open, always prepared for the moment when a stray snap pea or diced carrot finds its way to the floor.

These snap peas with mint, orange, and a sliver of butter were exceptional, and unfortunately Bleu never got to try one. But you should cook them and try them.

Dinner: A Disaster Saved

My family is furious that I eat tofu because that means FD eats tofu.

I think it's funny.

But interesting.

I like tofu because it's a mystery. What do you do with something that's so wet and bland, something that can take on the property of any flavor it marinades in? And it's a challenge for hardcore meat-eaters. I recognize the environmental impact we can have by eating vegetarian at least once a day. We love meat. We buy local meat. We buy grass-fed. But even our happy grazing cows, chicken, pigs, lamb, turkey, duck, and other animal friends need a break. And I can use a break from them too.

So, I tried this Tofu with Gingered Greens recipe from Moosewood. (Keep in mind I'm an animal advocate. In the most life-cycle of senses...It's the only website that had the original recipe.)

While I've had a lot of success with Moosewood recipes, several friends of mine haven't. I can see why. Seriously. I mean this in the most lovingly way, but a bunch of weed-smoking hippies creating vegetarian recipes? That sounds more like failure more than success, at least to me. High people will eat anything. Right?

From the moment I started this recipe it was a disaster. You know, the kind where your kitchen is smoking and you have the fire extinguisher in hand.

The downsides: I will never again broil tofu in its marinade. (WTF? The smoking pan is still outside on our driveway.) I just decided cilantro wasn't the herb to use. (Again, WTF?)

So here's my revision of Moosewood's Recipe:

Tofu Marinade:
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup dry sherry
1/8 cup rice vinegar
1 1/2 T brown sugar

1 15oz tofu cake--well drained

1/8 cup vegetable oil
2 t grated fresh ginger root
3 cups coarsely shredded bok choy, kale, Chinese cabbage, or Swiss chard (we used turnip greens and kale)
2 T fresh lemon
2 hot peppers, seeded and minced

In a small saucepan, bring the marinade indgredients to a boil. Simmer for 1 minute and remove from heat. Cut the block of tofu into 1/2 inch slices, then cut slices into 1 inch squares. Pour marinade over tofu and let set for 10 minutes.

Get basmati rice started.

Heat skillet to medium-high. Pour in oil. Add tofu. Fry for 10 minutes total or until browned. Put in plate and set aside.

Clean out pan while hot. Set back on stovetop. Pour in oil. Add ginger. Add greens. When greens start looking "bright" add hot peppers. Cook peppers until done and greens until wilted.

Stir tofu into greens until rewarmed.

Serve over rice.

(I thought it needed more of a sauce, but FD liked it as is. I thought it was okay. Like I said, it was a dinner disaster saved.)

While writing this post Dan put on the Oak Ridge Boys. He's very happy.

A Weekend of Cooking, Eating, and Grading

This weekend almost all of my dreams came true.

My all-time favorite poet joined FD and I for brunch at our house. We had bacon, goose, radishes, tomato salad, kale chips, and roasted potatoes. Everything we ate came from Ohio. It was a fantastic little meal, but what made it so fantastic was sharing it with Rachel Zucker. (Thanks, Rachel! I hope we can share another meal together soon!) My only regret: I didn't take any pictures.

[After brunch and before dinner I graded essays.]

For dinner that night, we invited friends over for homemade pizzas: one game pizza and one

pepperoni-onion-mushroom pizza. I served a side salad of bibb lettuce, radishes (clearly, I'm addicted to them), and red onion with the Everyday Food garlic and herb vinaigrette. Again,

great company. My only regret: I didn't take any pictures.

[After dinner I tried grading essays, but that was a futile cause.]

For lunch the next day, my foodie friend Lenz made me Chicken Liver Pate with wine soaked figs, as she promised. I was happy. And I finally remembered to take pictures.

What I loved about the pate was whatever condiment/garnish we added changed the flavor. On its own, the pate was rich, salty, and metallic-y (in a good way). Paired with a radish, the pate took on some heat and the pepperiness of the dish came alive. With yellow mustard, the sweetness moved to the forefront. With a fig, the earthy, gaminess came alive. I loved every bite. And if we hadn't decided to have a 3-course lunch, I would have eaten half the mold pictured above.

Our second course was artichokes with white wine reduction, butter, and Canal Junction's Burr Oak cheese dipping sauce. Lenz boiled the artichokes in salted water for about 45 minutes. In the meantime she made the sauce. We sat down to a feast of leaves and hearts. I was impatient for the third course, so quite frankly, all the peeling wasn't worth it to me. Lenz helped me get the heart, and after that I waited for the main course of game and polenta--my new food addiction.

As a token of appreciation, I'll let Lenz post her own polenta recipe. It's one I'm going to use again and again. As she says, polenta is the grown-up version of Mac 'n' Cheese. I adore it. And this course's was no exception. My only regret was that we didn't bake it right away after serving it. It got hard. I attempted reheating it on the stove later that day with more water and bouillon cubes. It just wasn't the same. Next time I'm baking it right away. Definitely.

Confession: Lenz and I cooked and ate from 11-3. That's food dedication.

[I graded later in the evening--after my wine buzz wore off...]

[The next morning and afternoon I graded like a fiend.]

Sunday was our dear friend Babs' birthday, and I wanted to give her something special. Of course, that gift would be a meal. But not just any meal. A Jamie Oliver meal. If I can't give her the man, I can, at least, give her his food.

For our first course, I served a simple garden salad with mushrooms, radishes, and red onion. Then for dinner I made her the Steak, Guinness and Cheese Pie with Puff Pastry Lid with a side of peas with the artichokes' wine, butter, and cheese dipping sauce. I was quite proud of how

everything turned out. (Though, I'm not sure why my pie filling was lighter and less liquidy than Jamie's...I will need to explore this more...) The taste, though, was spot on. It was the perfect birthday/comfort food I could have made for Babs' October birthday, and I think she was quite happy. My only regret: Babs made her own dessert because I suck at baking. And her cream cheese pound cake with pomegranate and cranberry sauce was a perfect ending to a spectacular meal.

[After dinner I could not grade. I was too full. But I finished this morning. Go, me!]

All in all, this was the best weekend I've ever had with grading.

Food does make everything better.

The Pawpaw Adventure

After eating a lunch of Rocky Mountain Oysters last Friday with my new foodie friend Sarah, she and her hubs celebrated their 4th wedding anniversary dinner that same night at Revolver, my all-time fav restaurant. For dessert, Sarah had pawpaw creme brulee. Then she had a pawpaw meltdown-turned-obsession, which I completely understand and am grateful for because her food "crazies" inspired a wonderful food adventure.

The kind folks at Revolver shared with the Sarah the name and phone number of the farm from

which they acquired their pawpaws. Dave Resse owns Kaleidoscope Farms, a fantastic, glorious, maticulously manicured, award-winning Christmas tree farm. When we arrived in Mount Cory at the farm, he warmly greeted us with a pawpaw infused soft pretzel, which only heightened our enthusiasm for this rare fruit. With our old jeans and ready-for-action boots, we followed a neat trail lined with Christmas trees to a opening of woods. Through the woods we hiked along a beaten path of burrs and thorns until we arrived at the first pawpaw tree. Dave pointed to a little green-ish jellybean dangling from a thin branch: "There's a pawpaw." Using his extension scissors, he cut the fruit from the branch, and Sarah precisely caught it to break its fall.

The pawpaw fruit is very fragile. It bruises easily and seems to burst open even easier. When the fruit is ripe, it has a little give much like the top of ripe pear. Dave told us that he never planted the pawpaw trees; they've just "been here." Meaning, native Ohioians, the original people of the land, Native Americans, probably ate fruit from these same trees. The history-lover in me couldn't contain a sqweal of delight! The meat of the fruit is bright yellow, and it's layered with flavors: citurus, mild nuts, mango, a hint of sweet grape, and earth. It's succulent and wild but also elegant and distinguished.

Because most of the pawpaws trees were extremely tall, Dave abandoned the extension

scissors, and we resorted to gently shaking the

trees, hoping all the ripe pawpaws would fall

lightly. For me, this was the best part of our adventure. I loved spotting those little pawpaws that blended into the green of the woods, gingerly rocking the thin trunk of the tree, alertly watching where the ripe pawpaws fell, and quickly gathering those little tasty treats. My gatherer instinct kicked in, and I was on fire. It was immensely rewarding and satisfying to gather something in the wild that would become a dish I would eat.

But Sarah is going to have to cook the pawpaws; she has the pawpaw cookbook. Dave had just been to an Ohio PawPaw Growers convention where he kindly picked up a copy of The Edible Pawpaw cookbook for Sarah. This isn't a fruit I would wing a recipe for. I don't know much about it, so I'm leaving the cooking to Sarah. But I guarantee I will be a taster as she works through the 7 lbs of pawpaw we gathered. And I guarantee I will be buying the cookbook and buying pawpaws next year when they are in season for the small window of weeks from September through October.

While gathering the last of the 7 lbs, Sarah and I dived to the wood's floor to save several pawpaws and emerged stung by nettles. Resourceful Dave immediately found jewelweed, which he rubbed on our stings, and which healed our minor run-in the nastier side of nature.

After trekking back through the woods and through the tree farm, Dave took us for a ride in his Kubota, one of my all-time favorite vehicles, to show us the rest of the farm. The best part of our ride was watching the sunset over perfectly lined pines. I remember breathing so deeply and feeling purely happy and at peace, at home in my home state.

On our way home, unintentionally coming full-circle but intentionally craving good food, Sarah and I stopped at Revolver for the pawpaw creme brulee. Unfortunately, they were closed for a private party, but ever-awesome chef Michael made us two helpings for take-out. (Thank you, Michael and the whole Revolver gang, espeically Jonah!!!!)

Outside on the dusk-and-candle-lit patio, we gleefully cracked through a perfect sugar coat and celebrated the success of our pawpaw adventure.

While our adventure further strengthened our friendship bond and brought Sarah and I closer to our food-souls, the one thing that really became more clear to me was my love for Ohio. I know a lot of people think our state doesn't have much to offer or they think that there's nothing special about Ohio. But I beg to differ. I'm finding that while living in a rural Ohio community, the more resourceful I am, the better my life here in rural Ohio is. Finding true family farms, like Dave's and Luginbill's, or local cheeses and breads, or taking a driving tour of Wood County to learn its history, or participating in local community projects and activities only further connects me to the land, my land, the state I love. I'm a Cleveland-girl at heart, but I'm learning to appreciate all the communities of Ohio, which in turn only fuels my love of Ohio as a state with lots of something-specials to offer. I'm learning that the appreciation of place helps me live in the present moment, and the present moment helps me build a home for where I am right now in my life. And my heart is at home in Ohio.

***This post owes a special thanks to Dave Reese, Micheal Bulkowski, and Jonah. Without these three good-hearted men, our adventure wouldn't have been as safe and as wonderful as it was. Thank you all!

Canada Goose: It's What's for Dinner

Waterfowl is season approaching, so we're determined to use up the wild game in our deep freezer to make room for this year's prizes. (Go, FD!)

For a long time I haven't been a fan of goose, until FD prepared it with this recipe:

Spice-Rubbed Canada Goose

The Rub: equal parts of coarse sea salt, ground pepper, cumin, chili powder, & garlic powder. (If you feel adventurous consider using coriander, cinnamon or any other spice you like.)

Directions:

1.) Filet breasts horizontally so that you two equal pieces.

2.) Rub goose with spice rub.

3.) Grill in hot pan with EVOO until medium-rare, usually about five minutes a side. It's better to undercook than overcook goose. If it seems undercooked to you, just place it back on the grill and cook it a few more minutes. You don't want to overcook goose; that's when it will taste gamey.

4.) Slice against the grain like London Broil.

5.) Serve on its own, in a sandwich, taco, salad, etc. Spice-rubbed goose is great with a hot mustard or sweet jam.

I know wild goose isn't widely available to folks unless you have a waterfowl hunter in your household, but I wanted to share this recipe with folks we've given goose to and with those who do have it on hand but haven't found a good way to cook it.

If you have a goose recipe you like, please let us know. We're always looking for waterfowl recipes!

Lovin' Luxe Kitchen & Lounge

Sunday Brunch with my sis-in-law Suz, in Cleveland, at Luxe, where dogs are welcomed on the patio=HEAVEN!

Luxe Kitchen & Lounge on Detroit Road in Cleveland, Ohio is open for Sunday brunch from 10am-1pm. And yes, dogs are welcomed and even offered their own Bow-Wow brunch bone-shaped menu with such specialty dishes as Mint Hamburger w/ Carrot & Rice or Fish & Potatoes. For dessert, Chicken Liver Fudgies or Peanut Butter Fudgies. These doggie dishes (literally served in doggie dishes) run $3 for a small, $5 for a medium, and $7.50 for a large.

Suz & I discussed in length brining our BIG dogs to brunch, and we decided it would be a disaster. For purse-size dogs who aren't food-obsessed, people-obsessed, or other-dog-obsessed, I'm sure it's a great time.

But enough of all this doggie talk. Let's get to the heart of the our experience: the FANTASTIC food! Suz and I began our food journey with a bread bowl of homemade muffins and breads. The muffins were to die for: a poppyseed and a cherry-walnut. The breads were good, but not all that special. We devoured them anyways.

For brunch, Suz ordered the cherry-and-cream cheese stuffed french toast ($9), which halted our conversation and continued to halt it until the plate was clean. Suz did manage to tell me that it was divine with the homemade whipped cream but the maple syrup was too overpowering with it. I had food envy until I tasted the hanger steak in my Steak and Eggs with Roasted Potatoes ($14). I could have eaten 4 more portions of the hanger steak; it was cooked to a perfect medium. We got another Steak and Eggs for carryout for Suz's hubby, and the rest of the day he and I obsessed about that steak. It was PERFECT.

The mod atmosphere of Luxe and its completely awesome staff (We love you, Candace!) made our girl time even more special. But the one drawback was no brunch alcohol until 1pm. Candace said this was because of a city of Cleveland law, but Suz and I both remember drinking alcohol in Cleveland at 10 a.m. in times past. Anyone reading know the scoop on this ri-dic-u-lous law? A Bloody Mary with Shrimp for Suz and a blueberry Bellini for me would have heightened our heavenly meal to pure nirvana. I wish Luxe would just take these drinks off the menu if they can't serve them until they close at 1; the torment is too much to bear.

Thankfully, the lemon tart we shared for dessert was divine. However, both of us wanted to taste more of the basil.

At this point, I'm just splitting hairs in the name of unbiased journalism.

If I lived near the Detroit Shoreway in Cleveland, Luxe would be my new hang out. But lucky for me, FD is so jealous of my Steak and Eggs I don't think I'll need to twist his arm to take me there for dinner (served from 5pm-2am every day) during our next visit. And when he sees the reasonable prices, high quality food, and artful atmosphere, I think he'll demand we go there.

Other Cleveland restaurants I'm dying to try: Lucky's Cafe, Lolita, Crop Bistro and Bar, The Greenhouse Tavern, and Three Birds.

It looks like I'll be helping Suz organize her closets and attic about once a month, if she'll have me and feed me. Thanks for a great brunch, mama, and a fun weekend!

I Melt for Melt

Who needs crack* when you can eat at Melt?

Located in Lakewood, Ohio, this bar decorated in kitschy light-up seasonal yard ornaments and stained glass windows with shards of beer bottles and knife blades is heaven to all who love grilled cheese sandwiches--kids and adults.

At least once a week I make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. But mine are no where near as creative and decadent as the ones found on Melt's menu. Take for instance the Big Popper (second photo)--fresh jalapeno peppers, herb cream cheese, cheddar, beer battered and served with a berry preserves dipping sauce. (What the what?!?!?) Like I said, this isn't a grilled cheese I could make at home. It's for big kids who like to eat! It's is the chef-ed-out, grown-up version. While the Big Popper was a bit too rich and spicy for my taste buds, FD polished it off with the happiest of grins.

I had the Hot Italian (third photo)--grilled salami, honey ham, pepperoni, sun-dried tomato pesto, roasted garlic and provolone. I loved this sandwich so much I wanted to make a food baby with it. Seriously, I had it once before during our first visit to Melt, and everyone at the table had food envy. I'm not over-exaggerating when I say it's hands-down the BEST italian sandwich I have ever eaten in my thirty-two years.

But hold up. My mother-in-law had the Chorizo and Potato--spicy Mexican sausage and cheddar--which was divine. The chunks of potatoes and the heat from the sausage were absolutely perfect. So much so I had a moment of food envy. Until I took another bite of my Hot Italian.

Melt has a kid's menu for kids or The Kindergarten--fresh baked bread and your choice of cheese--for those who just want grilled cheese served old school. Or you can go veggie with the Purple Parma--hand breaded eggplant, grilled tomato, sun-dried tomato pesto, and provolone--or vegan. (Yes, they have vegan American cheese!) The choices are endless and inclusive to all dietary lifestyles. I respect that.

Melt is incapable of messing up a grilled cheese. I don't live in the area, but I plan on eating there enough to try every single sandwich on the menu when we come to Cleveland to visit our families. My next trip I'm getting The Lake Erie Monster--beer battered walleye, jalapeno tartar sauce, and American cheese. Oh, and by next time, I'm talking in a matter of weeks, even if it means I have to take a vacation day from work and kennel the dog.

Besides the entertaining, comfortable atmosphere and sandwiches that will leave you craving them them everyday all day, according to FD, "Melt has the best beer menu on the effing planet!" They offer 90% microbrews and have a 100+ beers in bottles. Everything from Bud Light to specialty small batch microbrews, such as a 22 oz Double IPA for $22.50, can be found on their drink menu. It's beer paradise for beer lovers.

If we lived in Cleveland would I eat there every day? Hells yes! Melt is addictive. But unlike crack* I wouldn't ever want to shoot up Melt's food. I want to taste, chew, and swallow every single little morsel on the Fiestaware plate.

5 out of 5 stars.

* Disclaimer: I do not use crack or encourage the use of crack. I use the expression simply as a metaphor.

Revolver: The World's Best 30th Birthday Dinner!

For FD's 30th birthday I wanted to do something really special.

The very rad and ultra-dear-to-my-heart Debi and Michael at Revolver Restaurant made Dan's 30th the best meal of our lives.

I requested Frank Zappa for the revolver and an eight-course meal for our bellies. Michael, Debi, and their team came through with flying colors.

Seriously, if I could I would go back every night for the next year to have that exact same dinner.

I just ate and I'm so hungry just thinking about it after posting these fine pics from the night.

Photos are of the courses I'm still obsessing over. (Too bad Blogger SUCKS at posting pictures; otherwise I would have posted EVERY course. Check out Facebook if you want to see every course.)

Amuse-bouche: cantaloup granita with arugala. Served with Cava.

Heirloom tomato salad with sea salt and balsamic gelato. Served with (and I

quote from our notes) "an Italian varietal we've never heard of before but are in love with."

Tempura-battered zucchini blossom stuffed with zucchini bread, with tomato cinnamon sauce. Served with Sauvignon blanc.

Sweet corn bisque with mascarpone cheese. Served with Chardonnay.

Sweetbreads with creamless corn,

chanterelles, pickled beet, and balasmic black garlic sauce. Served with Riesling. (Hands down the best dish of the night! A mouth orgasm!)

Dickman Farm chicken with crispy skin wafers, potatoes, heirloom beans, olives, and tomato. Served with Cote 'd Rhone.

Foie gras ravioli with shaved leeks, smoked duck breast, and cinnamon. Served with Pinot Noir. (Another mind-blowing dish!)

Aged prime rib with polenta and truffle reduction. Served with Bordeaux. (The best piece of beef I've ever had in my life. And I eat a lot of beef.)

Quatro of ice cream: cherry with bitter chocolate, coffee, blueberry with blueberry jam, and goat cheese with sea salt. Served with Port. (Heaven in my mouth.)

I can't thank Debi and Michael enough for another fantastic meal that was completely perfect. Seriously, I'm considering naming our children after them (if we have kids).

And the whole Revolver team was so completely awesome. Jonah, you're our rock star!

Thank you all for a meal FD and I will obsessing over for years to come.

Revolver, you rock & we love you!

Dinner: Eggplant Parm

I don't normally like to brag.

Fine, if you know me, you know I brag.

And this dish is worth bragging about: Eggplant Parm from the America's Test Kitchen Cooking for 2 2009 magazine.

It was perfect for me and FD. A perfect serving for two.

And it rivaled any restaurant Eggplant Parm.

Who knew I was so awesome? ;)

I firmly believe the tricks to this recipe are:

a.) Follow the instructions on how to make your own sauce. It's perfect for the dish!

b.) Make your own bread crumbs as the recipe instructs.

c.) Layer the eggplant as the recipe directs you to do.

d.) Invest in some good non-stick oven ready cookware. Our Le Creuset is the best cookware investment I have made--ever. And the thought that it will last long enough for my one-day grandchildren to inherit makes me tear up.

For a side we had fresh organic broccoli from our local farmer. I followed her advice to steam the leave of the head of broccoli. (Yes, our broccoli looks like "real" broccoli; I didn't believe it at first either.) The greens were a bit bitter, which I enjoyed but FD did not.

I love how pretty it all looked on the china, though.

Yes, I'm going to brag.

Damn, this meal I made was the bomb. I will make it again when I need an ego boost.

Meals, etc.

Sunday dinner: BLT with maple brushed hormone-free bacon, Homestead Gardens lettuce, Haslinger's Tomato, and garlic roasted Mayo on Zingerman's Brewhouse Bread. On the side: Moosewood Oven Fries.

Confession: The bacon was so good, FD and I put away one pound of it within 6 hours.

Though it sounds gross, it was absolutely divine.

Monday dinner: Biaggi's with our beloved friends Frank and Christine who moved to Delaware today. Breaking bread with them and guzzling two bottles of 14 Hands was the perfect way to send them off. The dessert sampler took the cake though. (Pun intended.) We can't wait to visit them and experience the Delaware food scene. Much love, you two; BG won't be the same without you. You're missed sorely, especially your hotchney, little plaid-clad man.



Tuesday: afternoon snack. Donna and Kelly in GSW got me this "Thank You" Hello Kitty cake for my work as Assistant Director this past Spring and Summer semesters. A very cute tasty chocolate cake treat. Thanks, ladies. I'm excited to step into my new role as Instructional Assistant.




Tuesday night: Happy Badger Food Club Tofu curry with Homestead Gardens fingerling potatoes, onions, and blue spice, chili-ready diced tomatoes, and tons of curry powder from Calico, Sage, and Thyme. Drank Calder's skimmed milk with one to cut the heat.












Tonight: FD-caught Maumee River Walleye with butter, garlic, and white wine reduction; sauteed Homestead Gardens spinach; and Homestead Gardens fingerling potatoes with orange mint, parsley, chives and oregano.

Just want to thank Ben for bringing my veggies to the office today. I can't express how happy it makes me to get local, fresh veggies in the middle of work chaos.

And I have to point out that FD noticed that instead of Hunan at the Falls in my "Out To Eat" links, I have Human at the Falls. (As I've said, I'm the Queen of Typos.) I guess if this blog was McCarthy's The Road, that typo might make some more sense.

More food adventures coming soon! Stay tuned!

Bar Symon: Restaurant Review

Iron Chef Michael Symon does it again--in Cleveland! Staying true to his hometown roots, Bar Symon is in Avon Lake, OH (a Greater Cleveland suburb) is by far one of the best restaurants in Ohio right now. I whole-heartedly appreciate Symon's loyalty to Ohio, especially when, with his celebrity status, he could open exceptionally successful joints in New York, Chicago, Las Vegas, or any other major city.

Upon walking into Bar Symon I immediately felt at home in this very contemporary yet simple one-room tavern. The wood bar to the left is lined with about 20 stools and about 40 classic and artisan beers on tap. One could find PBR next to Delirium Tremens. Two flat screens add symmetry to the western-throw-back behind-the-bar mirror. What was unique was the TVs aren't intrusive or loud; they give a homey, familiar, American vibe to the bar. The dining room is spacious and open with plenty of table seating. What I enjoyed most about the dining room is that it felt like a contemporary barn, and above the 3 back booths are diagrams of livestock with the cuts of meats illustrated, which I found quite humorous given that meat is the menu's staple. The table settings are very clean and uncluttered with flatware wrapped in a rustic dishtowel. Truthfully, since my college hay-days, I haven't felt as comfortable in a bar as I did in Bar Symon.

As for the menu, we got a little sampling of the main entrees. Being that the occasion was my mom's birthday, the whole McGuire clan could order different dishes and try one another's meals. What I need to stress is that my family loves food, but they mostly enjoy straight-forward, mainstream meals. What's fantastic about Bar Symon's menu is that it appeals to eaters of all kinds--those who like comfort food to fans of offal.

My sister ordered the Mac & Cheese ($14), a rich, savory pasta dish with rosemary, goat cheese, and chicken. It was definitely an fine example of sophisticated comfort food you'll crave again and again.

Because I'm allergic to shelled-seafood (trust me, I'm well aware of how dreadful this allergy is for a foodie), I was unable to try to Mussels ($10) that FD, who has been craving seafood all week, ordered. However, he reported that all 30 of them were delicious, yet afterwards he kicked himself for ordering mussels in Ohio, knowing the best ones only come from and are eaten on Prince Edward Island. On our next visit, he's vowed to experience the Smoked and Braised Pork Butt ($15) or two helpings of the Roasted Bone Marrow ($8).

I ordered the Bar Steak (above photo) with pickled chili, mint, and homemade worcestershire sauce. I had reservations about mint on a steak, but after one bite with all of the ingredients, my taste buds were delighted and thankful to have taken the risk. Also, the chefs got the temperature just right--a perfect medium.

Both my dad and brother ordered the Bar Symon Burger ($9). My dad braved it with the fried egg, cheddar, and bacon. Served on an English muffin, my dad praised the burger throughout the meal and claimed the yolk was not overwhelming at all; in fact the yolk was merely a trace that really brought out the flavor of the beef. Before I could request a bit, he was finished, which meant he really enjoyed it. My brother ordered the burger without the egg, and was impressed with the temperature he ordered--medium well.

My step-mom ordered the Walleye ($17), which she declared as being fresh and flavorful with its grilled lemon, oregano and olive oil.

But the real show-stopper was what the birthday girl ordered: Grilled Meatloaf ($12). A mixture of ground pork and sirloin, this meatloaf was as juicy and sturdy as "Mom's" but way more flavorful with a little bit of heat from the pickled banana peppers and Lola ketchup.

The other gems of our meal were two of the sides: Fried Brussels Sprouts (left) and Brown Butter Whipped Potatoes. I could eat both every day until the day I died and be very happy and fully satisfied. FD, who ordered the Garlic Greens as his side, was completely jealous of my Fried Brussels Sprouts. If you love Brussels Sprouts, this side is a must for you. If you don't like Brussels Sprouts, order this side and I promise you will have a whole new love and respect for those little green vegetables.

Knowing full-well there was a Kiedrowski's birthday cake at home for us, we neglected to order a bar snack (prices ranging from $3-4) of PK's Spicy Pork Crackling or Warm Olives; a house-made grilled sausage ($6-7); an appetizer like the Tomato Soup ($4), Pork Belly Croutons ($6), or Duck Confit Sliders ($6 ea.); or a dessert such as homemade Guinness ice cream ($6). Honestly, I think FD and I didn't want to freak out my family with how much we could eat in one setting given the chance, but we vowed the next time we visit Bar Symon that we're going all out, as we call it.

There was only one drawback to our experience at Bar Symon: the service. While Bar Symon clearly has the beginnings of a well-orchestrated team, I wasn't impressed when our server didn't ask my sister what she wanted to drink, when he didn't bring FD the beer he ordered during dinner, or when he didn't return during the middle of our meal to see if we needed anything. Also, I expected that the manager would mingle among tables, checking the food quality and inquiring about customer satisfaction, much like the manager at Lola did when we ate there earlier this summer. However, such was not the case at Bar Symon; the manager stood by the bar and chatted with the wait staff. Because Michael Symon has an outstanding reputation as a restauranteur and chef, I expect that all of his restaurants--from the fine-dining flagship of Lola to the suburban tavern Bar Symon--to have knowledgeable, friendly, and attentive servers who sell the food with a story AND a hands-on manager who upholds Michael Symon's impeccable reputation.

My only suggestion: The one thing this bar needs are some high-end martinis, like those offered at Lola.

Despite this little glitch in the service and martinis, I plan on returning to Bar Symon every chance I get. And if I lived in the Cleveland area, I would easily eat there several times a month, especially during the week for the daily specials. With the fantastic prices for such high-quality, creative food and the numerous not-so-common beers on tap, Bar Symon is definitely a "when pigs fly" dining experience.

Atmosphere: 4 1/2 stars out of 5

Food: 4 1/2 stars out of 5

Service: 3 stars out of 5