Ch-ch-chili

It’s a fact that chili tastes better in cold weather so I made some last night to give my stomach some holiday cheer. Wanting to make sure it tasted good, I marched into the kitchen with a solid recipe in hand. However, I quickly fell prey to my old habit of adding a dash of this and and splash of that and the next thing I know, my dish is just a shell of the recipe I fully intended to follow. The base was ground beef, onions, carrots, crushed tomatoes, and tomato paste; for seasoning I added some beer, dijon mustard, chili powder, and dried herbs. Against the recipe’s express instructions I added a can of beans, and I also threw in a can of pumpkin at the end, which provided an appealing viscous texture and imperceptible vitamin boost. So, no recipe but a few evenings worth of chili to show which makes me a happy camper.

Stupid me

Why did I not google “food writing” earlier? I did this during a lunch break last week and found two blogs I wish I had known about long before now. The first is Michael Ruhlman’s blog, Notes from the Food World. Maybe you haven’t heard of Ruhlman; neither had I. But you and I, presuming we care about food and by extension the people influencing this subject in important ways, would do well to familiarize ourselves with his writing. One could learn, for example, how to get into the CIA without going to it; how to secure a lifelong friendship with Anthony Bourdain (and a special appearance on No Reservations); and how to ascend to the judges throne on “The Next Iron Chef” (panel is euphemistic considering how much power those guys wield).  Those three things alone make his a life I could envy, if I don’t already.

In addition, he’s co-authored cookbooks with baller chefs Thomas Keller and Eric Ripert and written several notable books of his own, both food-related and not. His most recent is Ratio: The Simple Codes Behind the Craft of Everyday Cooking, which I’ve just ordered online, and which deftly challenges and reinforces the notion of cooking as art (versus baking as the science).  He strikes me as a happy threesome between writer, sociologist, and gastronome, the proportions naturally varying by project; but while his interests are diverse all seem to emanate from a similar sense of commitment to understanding and elucidating an aspect of his world, be it a dish, a community, or an experience.  I think this provides his body of work a coherence that isn’t apparent from the variety of subjects he’s written on.

The second is Eat Me Daily: Food is Culture.  The content on this site is spectacularly unpredictable, spanning current events at the intersection of food and anything else remotely cultural, with the occasional longer feature.  The strength of this site is the links, many of which are irresistable (this from a person who thinks most links as useless).  It’s the alluring alternations of witty, bold, pithy, playful, informative, thought-provoking stuff, always always with the self-described “with teeth” -ness, that has me by the horns.  Check it out, and lunch is on me if you don’t find something on the front page that makes you raise an eyebrow or go hm or haha.

Warning: inappropriate garlic content

For dinner I roasted some baby bella mushrooms seasoned with salt, pepper, olive oil, and garlic.  Like a shitton of garlic, I am not kidding.  I had 9 or 10 mushrooms and used 5 garlic cloves.  None of those puny half cloves but the full shapely ones, lest you think I was punking out.  As I told my roommate, whose pupils shivered when she saw my mushrooms, “This is why I’m single.  And I love it.”  I added some leftover scrambled eggs with feta and scallions to a few of the mushrooms and finished them all with a dash of balsamic vinegar, which provided a harmonious counterpoint to the shrooms’ smoky earthiness.  In bed, the vinegar and mushroom juices made sweet love.  I adore mushrooms because they so rarely disappoint; raw, roasted, sauteed, stewed, in salad or sauce or on pizza.  I can’t recall eating a dish with mushrooms where fungi made me like the dish less.  The variety of shapes and textures, and their versatility, make them a joy to prepare and eat.  Truly one of nature’s finest gifts, alongside fruits, nuts, pigs, and a hundred others.

When dreams come true: banana granola pancakes

A lazy Sunday of cardigan weather, good food, and stimulating conversation. After securing the desired companionship, my imaginary pancakes of yesterday materialized today, imperfect but alive. I felt such delight in making them – an element of delayed gratification at play, methinks. These pancakes are hearty and playful, with the crunchy bits of almonds and oats lurking about. Great for a nippy fall or winter morning, especially with a dollop of cranberry sauce slathered on.

A double-edged morning

This morning I was on the prowl for a breakfast sandwich and briefly considered the egg and cheese biscuit I could economically procure with my $0.99 Dunkin Donuts coupon.  Another option was a personalized breakfast sandwich from a local deli for a very affordable $2.99, coffee included.  But as the saying goes, there are breakfast sandwiches and there are breakfast sandwiches, and having absented myself of one for some time, my inclinations leaned toward the latter.  That, in addition to its proximity, wireless, and faded brick walls, was how I wound up at Darwin’s (see previous post).  Thankfully, thankfully, my sandwich was achingly good — eggs over medium, with perky, intensely bright yolks, crunchy grassy asparagus, fresh tomato, and savory brie oozing between toasted sourdough.  The bread crust shattered on contact, its chewy innards yielding to such a heady flavor that I put down my book and succumbed to its absolute godliness.  And this was a good book.  Someone recently told me that good art is painful, and I would argue that the experience of eating really great food can be painful too.  It makes you wince, if not physically then in other ways.

The original subject for today’s post was not the breakfast sandwich I just described but something less delicious, less delicious because sadly it never existed.  Before my pursuit of a breakfast sandwich I woke up itching to make banana and granola pancakes with cranberry compote.  To be honest, the thought started the night before, as I was storing away a fresh batch of granola.  I had some bananas in the freezer, milk and fresh cranberries in the fridge – the stars seemed aligned.  The only thing missing, but the limiting ingredient, was someone to share my pancakes with.  I wanted someone to share my pancakes with, in both senses of the word.  My breakfast sandwich was outstanding but it didn’t entirely erase the image in my head of what could have been.

Darwin’s Ltd.
1629 Cambridge Street
Cambridge MA 02138

Homemade granola: victory is sweet

I attempted to make granola a number of times last year but never met with success. I would typically just forget about tending to it until the telltale scent of overcaramelization sent me scurrying to the oven, inevitably minutes too late. Since granola needs a stir every 10 or 15 minutes to ensure an even toast, there’s not much room for absentmindedness.  Dismayed, disheartened, discouraged, I had all but given up on that elusive batch of homemade granola until a recent post by David Lebovitz inspired me to give it one more go. I am thankful I did.

In review: Don Ricardo’s

Don Ricardo’s is a family-run Brazilian/Peruvian restaurant in the South End. When I went there on Thursday night, my dining companions and I were greeted by Don himself. We got there around 7:30 and the restaurant was completely empty, which gave me pause. Don was friendly enough and patiently addressed our queries about the food, but still, only one other couple patronized the restaurant that night, making me wonder how Don’s stays in the game in a really strong restaurant neighborhood. My conclusion by the end of the night: the apps and the sangria.

Unable to decide between the sweet and green plaintains (Don prefers the former and I the latter), we naturally ordered both. The maduros (fried sweet plaintains) with “carrot sauce”:

Homemade tomato soup

Dusk continues to encroach on the afternoon hours and as warmth becomes increasingly precious, more is more. Sandwiches, salads, things petite and dainty are out; chunky stews, steaming vats of soup, creamy curries, heaps of pasta, pho, and potatoes are where it’s at. But all in due time. This past weekend I made tomato soup, not quite in the “cream of” category but with a balanced mouth-filling richness to neutralize the potent acidity of the tomatoes.

The soup base incorporated roasted cherry tomatoes, tomato puree, onion puree, butter, milk, and garlic, to which I added a melange of other ingredients including salsa, balsamic vinegar, mustard, basil, oregano, and brown sugar. Part sweet, part tart, intense tomato flavor, though the recipe still needs tinkering with. But paired with a couple thick hunks of good bread (and if Cambridge knows one thing, it’s good bread), this soup satisfied my needy stomach this time around.  There’s really no problem that good bread can’t solve, no heart it can’t win over except the devil’s and the carbophobe’s (one and the same), and that’s why I love it so.

Operation Olecito: success

I was planning to cook dinner for J last night, but a tiring afternoon at work combined with an uninspired peek inside the supermarket left me thinking “takeout.”  Call it laziness or call it luck, but Olecito is irresistably close. Since the first night I moved here and had a fantastic meal at its more upscale sister restaurant, Ole, Olecito has been at the top of my takeout list. For a smidgen under $6, you leave this joint with complimentary chips and salsa, both homemade, and an ample, high-quality burrito impregnated with rice (I refrained), creamy black beans, and the usual fixings (including a killer pico de gallo), along with your choice of steak, pork, chicken, or grilled vegetables. For dinner in Cambridge, that is an absolute steal.  The burrito tortilla was smooth, chewy and pliant, no doubt made in-house; the meat tender with welcomed nibbles of flavorful fat; the pico de gallo valiantly standing up against the richness of the other ingredients, a curmudgeon cutting through a sea of philanthropists, with great effect.  I also emphasize the fresh, crisp tortilla chips and drinkably delicious salsa that are clearly several cuts above your everyday Tostitos and Garden of Eden variety, and manifest the restaurant’s commitment to getting even the small things right.  To me, that reflects devotion both to one’s craft and customer, and I am more than happy to reward them with my continued patronage.  I am adding Olecito to my “bang for buck” list of worthy neighborhood takeout joints, alongside Pinocchio’s and Oggi’s $5 Monday night pizzas.

Olecito
12 Springfield Street
Cambridge, MA 02139
(617) 876-1374

Thumbs up for Tamarind House

About a week ago I lamented to a friend the apparent lack of quality Asian restaurants in the Cambridge/Somerville area.  Not that I’m an expert on Asian food here after a month, but up to that point I’d been decidedly unimpressed with the Asian places I had been to (and inquired about): an inconsistent Cantonese meal in Chinatown (which my dad suffered a parking ticket for), a mediocre Americanized buffet lunch, and some unmentionable takeout.  I was starting to wonder what the deal was for a place overrun with Asians.  But recently, things have been looking up.  Last weekend I had really beefy pho at Pho ‘n Rice and today my coworkers introduced me to a Thai place a short walk away from the Press.  I ordered the Gai Gaprow and was very pleased with my dish.  Minced white meat chicken and plentiful, expertly sauteed bites of peppers and onions in a fragrant chili-basil sauce.  I especially appreciated how uniformly my vegetables were cut, an overlooked art in the age of Asian-style fast food.  The sauce was spicy and flavorful without being overwhelming, lending itself magnificently to being sopped by the well-cooked rice that accompanied it.  We also ordered some fresh and fried spring rolls, which were solid, though I’m generally not a huge fan of either.  The pad see ew earned praise, as did a tofu dish bearing the title “tofu extreme” or something equally awesome.  I’m sensing that the place isn’t aiming to be exquisitely authentic, considering it carries dishes with names like “exciting tofu” and “ocean madness.”  Still, it was evident to me that at least today, the food was made with attention and care.  Add to that some fish sauce and garlic, and tasty Thai-inspired food can’t be far away.

Tamarind House
1790 Massachusetts Ave
Cambridge, MA 02140