Saving Squash.....and meditations on being, potato-edition

So I like Squash. I never did when I was a kid, in part because I only was ever treated to the ethnic-family-boil-it-till-its-gooey-enough-to-be-soup-cause-soup-is-how-we-had-enough-to-get-to-this-country-and-you-are-so-ungrateful variety. It was only thanks to an otherwise charmless Australian boyfriend who introduced me to pumpkin as something other than a goofy once-a-year decoration filled with tasty seeds that I came to see this entire vegetable type as potentially appetizing. Add to that a few Chinese meals during which squash was a God-send amid plate after plate of things that were staring back, still flopping, or resembled the un-potato pieces of Mr. Potato Head, and squash became ok in my book

<< Linguistic aside: are Mr. Potato head feet actually potato, since they are by definition part of him, or does attaching them cause them to undergo some sort of transubstantiation by which they become 'potato' or are they just feet? British courts recently ruled, wisely that 'A Pringle is “made from potato flour in the sense that one cannot say that it is not made from potato flour"'..perhaps this applies in the abstract to representations of potato?>>

Anyway, now that I am safely back in the land of bread and cheese, squash has slowly but surely lost its appeal. However, I am a regular recipient of it in my boxes from Washington's Green Grocer, and have as of late had a harder and harder time not just letting it turn into a research project in the veggie drawer that conveniently takes out the potatoes and lettuce, of which I am equally enamored.

Last box, however, Washington's Green Grocer Came through- they published a post on facebook with a little recipe (they, and their followers, have been doing this more and more, its really a great use of the social media space for them). I tried it out today, and it was perfect. Nothing revelatory in the ingredients, nothing shocking or unexpected, but just the perfect balance of flavors, which I often seem to get not quite right, as I am distracted by the main affair (dessert) or the secondary affair (the main) and throw together vegetables as an afterthought. With a little thoughtfulness, this becomes a nice main course. Now I am not going to go all vegan or anything any time soon, but this was pretty good!

One note, use fresh cheese, and big lumps of Buffalo Mozzarella- it makes all the difference....

From Washington's Green Grocer, who adapted it from: Food to Live By: The Earthbound Farm Organic Cookbook (Earthbound Farm Organic Cookbk)

2-3 small zucchini, cut into 1/2 inch thick slices (if zucchini are large, cut in half or fourths lengthwise, then slice)
1 T olive oil
4-6 large garlic cloves, thinly sliced
pinch sea salt
2 T chopped flat parsley
2 T grated parmesan
1/4 cup grated mozzarella

With stove set to medium, heat the olive oil in a large frying pan with a lid. Add sliced garlic and saute about 1 minute, until you start to smell garlic. Add squash and stir to coat with oil, then cover and cook 4 minutes, stirring once or twice. After 4 minutes, check to see if there is a lot of liquid and whether squash is tender. Cook 1-2 more minutes, uncovered until zucchini is tender-crisp and liquid is evaporated.

Sprinkle squash with salt and chopped parsley and stir to wilt parsley. Add parmesan and stir until it melts, about 1 minute. Sprinkle mozzarella cheese over the squash, cover pan again and turn off the heat. Let sit 1-2 minutes until cheese is melted and serve hot.

Meditations on Trampling: This Week's Garden Report, Early June 2009

Significant progress has been achieved this week in the garden. Exiling the Gang of Four Burning Bushes was a stroke of genius, the treacherous bastards had more Creeping Charlie hiding out under them than I could have possibly imagined. A deal was struck with the new neighbors; they could have the bushes as long as they do not plant them close enough to each other that they could start a new conspiracy. Sod has been installed in that newly pacified corner of the yard. Hostas have been recruited to keep an eye on things along the fence. Peace reigns.

The Hostas repositioned along the southern frontier have taken to the task like a bunch of fat, drunken, middle age, Minutemen sitting along the Mexican border in lawn chairs. They seem to actually enjoy their new station in life. Their effectiveness is not yet up to their full potential yet because there are still gaps in the line. A recruiting campaign is in the works and walk-ons are welcome. Also my bank has the right kind of Hostas planted around their parking lot, a midnight dig-n-dash is being considered.

The Daylilies were trampled but not mowed to the ground. Lightnin never did learn how to work the lawnmower, he could never figure out how to hold down the dead man’s switch while he pulled the starter cord, so I’m not sure mowing them down after trampling is really what he would have wanted. I got to thinking about Lightning’s problem with daylilies. We never discussed why he took such joy in trampling them all the time. It’s funny how you can be so close to someone for so many years and never really know what’s going on in his head. We would sit around and talk for hours and never really say anything, down, sit, stay, speak, kill. The daylilies do make a neat crunchy-squishy feeling as you trample them. It might have just felt cool under his feet. Within a week the daylilies are coming back stronger than before. Maybe he knew some secret to growing daylilies that I didn’t. It's like those olive growers in Spain that go out and beat their olive trees with chains. It actually improves their growth.

A new bright spot in the future, Bill and Harriet are now to old and feeble to maintain their yard so they hired some landscapers to do it. The first thing they did was to douse it with weed and feed. That should slow down the infiltration of Charlie from that direction.

Next week the cowardly Arborvitae will be dealt with.

The Miracle of Soft Eggs- Brunch at Creme

I can make complex meringues, reduce a delicate sauce, and cut a pie crust together until the exact moment when it is mixed and not a moment after. I can't paint, sing, pretend I care about things I don't, choose flattering makeup, run 10 miles, or any number of other talents that the young yuppie often has, but I can cook. I don't know how or why, but I get it. Which is why the seeming miracle of a poached egg is so perplexing to me. Every time I try this, I end up with some nasty form of flavorless egg drop soup, crunchy with egg shells that got away and littered with bits of egg that are more boiled to death than poached. I have some sort of neuro-block it would seem against paying attention to a cooking egg. I can't soft-boil either, for much the same reason. My inflated sense of self importance almost makes me believe that there is some sort of cosmic conspiracy that will insert something shiny into my field of vision within 3 minutes of touching an egg. And I do so ever love shiny things :-)

All of this is quite tragic given the delicious uses of half-cooked eggs. Soft cooked eggs are delicious in salads, with vegetables, and even as a meal themselves. Of course their most common incarnation amongst DC food lovers is as the critical component of Eggs Benedict. At summer brunches throughout DC, deals are cut, relationships blossom, marriages falter, houses hypothetically decorated, clothing evaluated, hippies scorned, and babies longed for. Brunch is where the young yuppie cuts their teeth on the DC restaurant scene. Is the food often second-rate to that of normal meals? You betcha. Does that make it any less appealing to linger for a long meal with friends with nothing else to do all day after sleeping off the previous night? Not a bit.

With an old friend in from out of town and a new one just arrived for her first big-kid DC job, brunch was calling. Thanks to the recommendations of DC Concierge, I chose Creme in U Street to inaugurate the season. I couldn't believe that despite a good friend living across the street, I had never noticed the place! It was tiny, and didn't take reservations for brunch, so our group of 6 had to wait about a half hour for a table, which isn't bad, especially since the same cosmic forces that interfere with my egg preparation seem to affect the ability of anyone I care about to be on time to anything, while driving my own paranoia about being late to such a degree that I am chronically 15 min early. All in all, this means that no matter what, there is a half-hour wait, so no problem.

I saw two things on the menu that intrigued- Chicken and Waffles, that Clydes favorite that is oh so good after a night of beer tasting (and facilitates the brunch attendance of any self-respecting dude who is not trying to sleep with you), and the Eggs Benedict with wild mushrooms. Our table had both. The Mushroom Bene, as the Eggs Benedict was called, was fabulous. The mushrooms were fresh and tasty, the Hollandaise rich and not too salty, and the poached egg in that perfect miraculous form that so eludes me, with a runny yolk and firm solid white that requires rapt attention by a chef who is swamped with a brunch crowd. So simple, but in may of the brunch factories of DC, the details are lost, and you get either a protein shake of raw eggs fit for a dude trying to 'get huge' or chewy hard-boiled eggs reminiscent of the less delicious parts of a polish deli. The chicken (white and dark) was proclaimed better than Clydes (bonus, since Clydes doesn't even offer white meat with their Chicken and Waffles- well, they do, but its sans the spices which make the chicken worth eating). The waffles were thick and fresh and the salad a little salty though better than your average garnish. I also had the bacon which was thicker than I like, but I imagine perfect for most people's preference. Roasted potatoes and an Eggs Benedict with crab rounded out our selections, and all was delicious. Portions were sizable without being ridiculous, and all were happy.



I also sprung for the expensive Hibiscus Mimosa. While too expensive at $12 for a flute, it was just delicious enough that I will probably continue to be annoyed at the price, but order it anyway.



The atmosphere was loud, but conversation wasn't too hard, as the tables were small and intimate. Hard to hear the servers, but tolerable. The interior is tidy and modern.

The best part? The prices were super affordable- $10-14 for most mains, with an option for a $16 unlimited mimosa (not the hibiscus kind however). This makes a $20 brunch a real option.

What do I take away from all of this? Poached eggs and mushrooms are inspired. And I now have a source of them for a reasonable price that will keep me from initiating any more egg disasters, and do wonders for my self-esteem :-) Yea Creme!

Resurrection! This Week's Garden Report, May 2009

Years ago, when I was living abroad, my dad sent me a weekly garden report detailing events back home in Chicago, to help me stay connected. They were hilarious. At my prompting, he has restarted this tradition, and I will be publishing them here. Look for archived posts soon!

This Weeks Garden Report.

The garden has been in a terrible state of neglect for well over a year now. I have always suspected that the garden was incapable of self-governance and I have been proven correct. The various factions are fighting amongst themselves while the weeds are multiplying from within and infiltrating from the perimeters. The situation demands a strong leader. Because of the chaos out there I have decided to once again come to the rescue. Memorial Day weekend will see the change of a lot of policies out there.
First off, in memory of the passing of my little fuzzy friend, Lightning, all Day Lilies will be trampled and mowed to the ground. He had a special love of trampling Day Lilies and I feel he would wholeheartedly approve of this action.
The lawn is in a terrible state, although a big part of the problem is a female dog. Male dogs at least have the manners to go pee in a corner, they don't feel the need to pee in the middle of the lawn and create dead spots. I know she does this on purpose, just to piss me off! Another problem with the lawn has been the execution of the Honey-locust tree. It left a huge scar on the lawn and the chips from the stump grinding seem to be everywhere. This action was taken because that overgrown primadonna could not take instruction and grow right. The uncooperative attitude of that stupid tree was endangering the house. I had a long talk with it but it still refused to cooperate, so now it is part of someone’s firewood pile. Harsh, maybe but an example had to be set! All that aside, a reseeding program has been initiated. With the help of some timely rain, obscene and probably illegal, amounts of chemicals, recovery is expected.
As always, Creeping Charlie is a problem. Charlie seems to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Although it has been eliminated from the lawn for the most part, it still creeps in from the perimeter. In an effort to control this problem, several radical measures are being taken. First, all Hostas are being shifted to the southern frontier. They will be planted along the fence line. This should help control that border once the present infiltration of Charlie is dealt with. It will also cut down on the amount of weedwacking, a huge side benefit since I’m too cheap to replace my broken weedwacker. Also along this border the Burning Bushes have been caught hiding the creeping Charlie, in retaliation the Burning Bushes will be sent into exile to the yard next door. They brought in on themselves!
On the northern frontier the two scraggly Pines are to be transplanted to the side of the house. Looking thru my neighbors windows no longer holds any fascination for me so I’m blotti’n ‘em out. On hold for now, but a possibility before the end of the year, is the elimination of the Forsythia bushes. No fault of their own, but the dog has taken a likin’ to digging under them. She gets all muddy, tracks it inside and somehow it is my fault. It’s a shame, they have been troopers since planted almost 20 years ago, but some sacrifices must be made.
Along the western frontier, good progress has been made in the civilizing of Wayne’s world (yard). My guerrilla gardening efforts are paying off. Ferns have replaced most of the weeds from his edge. That campaign should be over by the end of this growing season. The other edge of the western border is totally out of control. Charlie is doing a re-enactment of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. I have a massive attack planned for this very afternoon, unless I find something better to do. Temporarily the Russian Sage and Winter Creeper have been replanted in hopes of slowing Charlie down.
The shed tear down project is going slow. There are too many tough decisions to make as to what to throw out and what to make room for in the garage. An additional complication is that some of my best performing and loyalist plants are around it. I refuse to sacrifice them. A relocation program must be initiated first.
Work to be done. I gotta get to it.
Forget it the Cubs game just started, I just found something better to do, oh well!

Embarassing Things I Ate that Sucked: Part 1

So sometimes I am lazy. Now that Mott's Mart, the local mini-mart, takes credit cards, I am doomed on these lazy days. Today, as I, the big fancy food blogger, checked out with an armload of ramen noodles and Diet Dr. Pepper, I won't lie, there was shame.

At the same time, I vowed to dig deep, and do what my dad did when I was growing up- turn Ramen delicious with all sorts of yummy stuff from the fridge. Upon opening the fridge, I discovered all that was in there was some squishy tomatoes with which I plan to make sauce this weekend, and some left over egg whites from the 4 egg yolks I used to make Thin Mint Ice Cream earlier this week. I figured, hey this will be good, I will make egg-drop noodle soup.

Well, suffice it to say, curdled egg yolks, slimy noodles, and enough MSG to kill all the rats in the kitchen of a giant-slice pizza shop at 1 am (look for a review of this in Embarassing Things I Love- Part 5) were not enough to convince anyone that I was a culinary genius. Or that its even safe to let me near the stove unsupervised.

Yuk. Well, at least I have a whole sleeve of Hit cookies to dull the pain.

Thin Mint Ice Cream- Go Girl Scouts!

I hate being sold to. I walk out of stores as soon as someone asks if there is anything they can help me with, and I never ever ever ever buy anything from someone who is selling door to door. Or at work.

With one critical exception- Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies. There is no substance on earth quite as divine. This year, when someone at work was selling (well, mentioning loudly in the hall he had girl scout cookies on offer, since we work in a gov't building that doesn't allow any charities but its own), I pounced. I had previously actually ordered Thin Mints on the internet and had them shipped to Singapore when I lived there. I expected to convert the population. Instead I spent four hours explaining the different between scouting and the Hitler Youth. The best I came up with was "well, I think they let Catholics in".

Anyway, I have three boxes in my freezer, and had been patiently waiting for the mint in my garden to get big enough to use my brand spanking new ice cream maker to make what I was sure would be the seminal dessert of our time.

I found a what looked like a great recipe for mint chocolate chip ice cream. I figured, shouldn't be a problem to replace the chips with the far more delicious Thin Mints. A whole tube of them. Maybe two tubes. Well, maybe 1 1/2 because someone ate 5 or 6 spoonfuls of the cookie crumbs on the way from the food processor to the ice cream maker.

I used half as much mint, as I didn't want to do in the poor little mint plant. Basically you seep the mint in the milk/cream (make mint milk tea in effect). Then make a custard with 4 egg yolks. Yep, 4. Good stuff, mix in the remaining cream, and throw it in the mixer.

Well, I was disappointed when I took it out of the machine to put it in the freezer to get nice and hard. It was too eggy- for some reason I never like frozen custards as much as I think I will, given the preponderance of ingredients I love (eggs, milk,, sugar). I am curious how different types of egg would taste- maybe free range organic would have a different character since they are not all corn fed and white-y. For more on why this would make a difference, and my the reason I am thinking of driving 4 hours to get eggs like the fancy chefs, check out: The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals

Anyway, I didn't hold high hopes for the ice cream when I dug it out tonight after a long day running around and scooped it out of the 20yr old Ricotta tub that my mom has been using to send me pasta sauce for ages in. Last night's disappointing taste after 30 min of eager waiting for the ice cream machine got the ice cream relegated to a crummy container so it could think about what it had done. This strategy seems to have been effective, quite to the surprise of the shred of rational me left in matters of ice cream. A night in the freezer did the ice cream a world of good. Its as though the mint came into its own over night, the cookies softened just enough to make pretty marbling, and the eggy taste dissipated into the freezer vent (or the ice cube tray, yuk). The flavor was a delicate spearmint, with rich dark chocolate cookie undertones. It scooped like a Baskin-Robbin's ad (did you know that they actually use mashed potatoes for ice cream pics, or so says a food stylist friend of mine).

It was awesome!! And so pretty. I now want to make it last to show it off, but the likelihood of that is about nil. Guess I will just have to convince myself all that slow churning the machine did burned off the calories!

A Serious Sushi Addiction- Time for a 12 Step Program?

The need seemingly came out of nowhere. I had tried the stuff here and there before, enjoyed it, and been fine. Others claimed they couldn't live without it, but I never got what the big deal was about.

And then, on a wild weekend in California not too long ago, I thought I would just have a little taste, it had been months, and what was the harm. And then, poof, like that, it consumed me. I think about it all the time. I dream about it. I have spent every last dime of disposable income on it in the last month, and a bit on the credit cards. As soon as I get it, I think, 'whew, that's the last time', and then two days later there I am again, in dark street in Chinatown looking for it without even realizing it. Friends I have known for years, who I never knew had a problem, crawl out of the woodwork looking for company to score now they know I am one of them. It starts with thinking I'll just have one little roll, what could the harm in that be, and then, $150 and two hours later I am looking at the scattered remnants of 4 giant rolls that were overflowing with the good-stuff.

Yea, I have a sushi problem. I went years being fairly indifferent to the stuff, and woke up one day and can't get enough. I love tempura, teppanaki, udon, miso, all sorts of what should be gateway Japanese food. Somehow, they never sucked me in. And then, boom, a taste of sushi out West, nothing extraordinary about it, and I can't get enough.

The result? I have been trying sushi places all over town, and you, dear readers, will benefit from the reviews as I begin to post. I have even had a recent adventure with making it myself, which turned out better than I thought. Unlike most addictions that inspire this sort of craving, the home fix was delightfully explosion and felony free. More on that tomorrow.

So what am I comparing? Well, ask 10 sushi lovers what the ideal measure of the craft is, and you will have 10 different answers. As a fresh food advocate, and flavor purist (lets pretend I didn't just post about a love of Ikea meatballs), I am supposed to like the simple, fresh, perfect sashimi or nigiri best of all. I do like them. But they are not what creeps obsessively into my thoughts. In fact, its not even the simple elegant maki that get me. Its the big, expensive, ridiculous rolls with names out of a disaster preparation public announcement: volcano roll, dynamite roll, typhoon roll. Yea, I'm an American. No subtlety here.

Consistently my favorite? The Rainbow Roll. Like a california roll, with the added bonus of a wide variety of fresh sashimi toppings, it showcases a range of the core fishes in a sushi chef's arsenal, and leaves plenty of room for creativity. So at each place I review, you will see a little note about the rainbow roll. For better or worse, its the place the comparisons begin.



Enjoy! And if you hate sushi (and read this far anyway for some reason), hang in there. This addiction is not sustainable in the long term, and I will eventually have to find my way back into the light :-)

Until then, YATA!