mrneoluddite/cooking

From the page: "Keeping It Simple, Escoffier Style
By Eugenia Chien
Wed, October 22, 2008

If you've been keeping up with the Spark, you'll know that I've had Food Network chefs on my mind. But their loud and brash styles have left me yearning for something more austere; something somber, something like...the French king of chefs, Auguste Escoffier.

The snowy-mustachioed Escoffier modernized and popularized French cooking. Through his books, he simplified the ornate style of haute cuisine and set up a code of conduct for professional kitchens (though it might have a little less shelf life than his cooking style -- just ask the meth-laden, testosterone-driven chefs in Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential.)

Thinking of Escoffier and foraging the measly contents of my fridge, I decided to make the béchamel sauce from one of his most revered books, The Art of Modern Cookery. The béchamel is the base of many other classic French sauces -- and a mainstay of lasagnes and moussaka.

But could I really reproduce Escoffier's version in my humble kitchen? His recipe calls for boiling milk, roux, and small cubes of lean veal fried in butter. (My fridge didn't contain cubes of lean veal of any size.) And Escoffier's refrain, "Above all, keep it simple," probably didn't refer to my apartment's kitchen. I didn't have the "tammy" -- or tamis -- that the maitre calls for to strain the sauce. And my IKEA dining set didn't come with a tureen to hold the sauce. But no matter, Escoffier's other tip on Bechamel sauce was just what I needed to make a smooth, white sauce that doesn't burn: after boiling the milk, "the seasoning and aromatics should be added; the saucepan is then covered and placed on a corner of the stove, so as to ensure a thorough infusion."

My béchamel sauce turned out rich and velvety; a perfect foil for the mustard that I whisked in later to top a roasted pork chop. Maybe not exactly Cordon Bleu, but for my kitchen, it was as haute as it gets."

From the page: "Mario Batali Passes the Test
By Eugenia Chien
Tue, September 9, 2008

Among Food Network chefs, Mario Batali carries the most street cred with me. The pony-tailed Batali owns more than a dozen eateries, including New York's legendary Babbo -- and inspired my favorite writer, Bill Buford, to quit his job to become Batali's "kitchen slave."

The true test of any chef, of course, is his food. Rather than flying to NYC to visit Batali's restaurants, I enlisted my friend Joey to test one of his recipes.

Joey -- officially Joey Francesca Lorenzo Favaloro -- has more Italian and San Francisco roots than you can shake a breadstick at. Her Sicilian-born father was a baker in The City's Italian district for years, and her family's kitchen turns out the best white clam sauce I've ever had.

To test out Batali's chops, we chose a classically southern Italian dish from his repertoire: penne with calamari and Malvasia (a full-bodied red wine made from Mediterranean grapes). On Joey's dad's recommendation, we bought fresh calamari from a Chinese seafood market in San Francisco's Richmond District. Next, we picked up fresh breadcrumbs from the French Italian Baking Company (where her father had worked). For dessert, we chose a semi-frozen rum cake from the Victoria Pastry Company, which baked Joey's parents' wedding cake more than two decades ago.

Once we got back to my apartment, we opened the bottle of Malvasia and started cooking. Thankfully, Batali's recipe impressed us all -- the simple tomato sauce spiked with red pepper flakes, wine, parsley, and sliced onions was the perfect backdrop for the fresh calamari. (And don't skimp on the toasted bread crumbs and Pecorino cheese on top of the pasta - they really make the flavors pop.) I asked Joey what her dad would say about the dish. "He would love it just as it is," she replied. Higher praise can't be found."

From the page: "Mission Possible: Rachael Ray in 30 Minutes?
By Eugenia Chien
Mon, August 25, 2008

Today is TV chef Rachael Ray's 40th birthday, and I, for one, hope it's a happy one. As much as I hate to admit it, I can't stop watching her Food Network show, "30 Minute Meals." I know, I know -- she is impossibly perky, her throaty voice gets on my nerves, and I would never use the word "evoo" (Rachael-speak for "extra virgin olive oil") in mixed company. But I just can't resist the opportunity to become a domestic goddess in just half an hour. After all, if she can manage to have a talk show, a magazine, a series of cookbooks, and cook a meal in 30 minutes, then maybe I can, too!

To test my theory, I invited a group of Yahoo!'s finest to my house for a meal straight out of one of Ray's episodes. But the night before my dinner, I started to get nervous. Sure, I'd entertained at home many times, but could this meal really be made in 30 minutes? Or would my colleagues starve for hours while I sweated in the kitchen?

The next day, three Yahoo! editors sat in my kitchen with cocktails and stopwatches in hand while I busily prepped Ray's Crispy Chicken Cutlets with Basil-Parsley Sauce. Fifteen minutes had already passed by the time I set out the crumb toppings for the chicken. When the cutlets reached their requisite golden brown, I didn't have time to garnish them with chopped Roma tomatoes or the basil sauce. I still had the Cheesy Risi e Bisi to cook.

I'll save you the suspense: My guests will attest that this 30 Minute Meal took 55 minutes to cook. And I suspect that if I hadn't set out the platter of shrimp cocktail that I made the night before, they might have dialed for pizza instead.

My rocky start to Rachael Ray-dom hasn't deterred me, though. Her website now includes a section called "15 Minute Meals," which I think I might be able to make in, say, 30 minutes! Now I just have to convince a few more co-workers to be my guinea pigs."

From the page: "America's Most Famous Dessert
By Richard Stauffacher
Wed, February 13, 2008

Green Jell-O in a glass
(Photo by Gisela Francisco)
A favorite in cupboards and cafeterias since 1897, Jell-O gelatin has lived up to its self-proclaimed title of "America's Most Famous Dessert." With its myriad puddings, pie fillings, pops, and no-bake treats, Jell-O is one of the most enduring -- and endearing -- dessert brands.

But lest you think that Jell-O is only for dessert, consider such savory flavors as celery, Italian salad, mixed vegetable, and seasoned tomato. These "appetizing" but short-lived varieties attempted to capitalize on the congealed salad craze of the 50s, a movement that, thankfully, didn't last long (outside of the Southern states, that is).

Why all this talk of Jell-O? Why, it's Jell-O Week! The annual event started in 2001 when the Utah Senate declared the wiggly gelatin to be Utah's Official State Snack. In fact, Salt Lake City has traditionally been the No. 1 city in per capita Jell-O consumption (although Des Moines briefly took the title in 1999).

With its own museum, such luminary spokespeople as Jack Benny, Ethel Barrymore, Roy Rogers, and Bill Cosby, and even a journey to the Mir Space Station (where astronaut Shannon Lucid proclaimed it to be "the greatest improvement in space... since my first flight"), one might be inclined to wonder who doesn't love a bowl of Jell-O? Vegetarians, that's who."

Site about Jell-O, and links to recipes, what's not to like.

From the page: "This Fruitcake Looks Strangely Familiar...
By Michelle Heimburger
Wed, December 19, 2007

Poor fruitcakes. Once considered winter delicacies, they have become the butt of cruel jokes about doorstops and paperweights. Critics mock their longevity and density, and each year countless cakes are re-gifted or tossed away. Some speculate that the endless ridicule of comedians is to blame for the fruitcake's brick-like fall from grace, but others suspect a decline in the quality of the cakes themselves. For hundreds of years, fruitcakes were tasty concoctions of dried fruit, nuts, and spices -- and often a liberal dose of brandy or whisky. Mass-produced commercial versions left out the booze and the spices and replaced the dried fruit with a candied variety -- super-sweetened bits of garish and artificial goo. But now, hip chefs are reinventing fruitcake for the 21st century with innovative (and more natural) ingredients and presentation. Fruitcake is making a comeback -- and this time, it's edible."

From the page: "By Richard Stauffacher
Mon, December 17, 2007, 12:01 am PST

Tray of peanut butter chocolate Kiss cookies
(Photo by Logan Ingalls)
Few foods evoke such unabashed delight and satisfaction as the cookie. It's the ultimate comfort food, pure gastronomical Prozac. Cookies transcend age, race, and religion; and is it any wonder? The sheer variety in shape, size, theme, and taste overwhelms the imagination. There's a cookie to suit every palate and each culture has its specialty. Consider the biscotti and crisp amaretti of Italy, the beautifully embossed springerle or the spiced lebkuchen of Austria and Germany, the sweet galletas of Spain, the delicious mamoul of the Middle East. And, apple pie notwithstanding, does anything taste more American than a Toll House Cookie?

The holidays are an especially bountiful time, where cookies are concerned. 'Tis the season for Christmas cookie swaps, treasured family recipes, cookies in a jar, and the ubiquitous gingerbread person (whole or otherwise). Since the 1930s, hopeful kids, both naughty and nice, have offered countless platefuls in hopes of buttering up the big guy on Christmas Eve. Even the humble box of Barnum's Animal Crackers, a lunch box staple despite being among the blander of cookie incarnations, was originally marketed as a Christmas tree decoration (hence the string on the box).

No matter the season, who could be blue with a cookie in hand? At best, it's a bite of the divine and at worst, well, it's still a cookie. And that, in the words of the world's foremost cookie expert, is "good enough for me.""