This is like how David Denby and Anthony Lane can't write one New Yorker best films of the year column...
These are the real things you need. And, these are, for all intents and purposes, single items instead of single categories like "knives" or "utensils."
1) small chef's knife (less than 8" so it can double as a paring knife without risking a major injury).
2) serrated knife (imagine slicing bread or tomatoes with anything else...disastre!)
3) large skillet (preferably non-stick but good quality non-stick so you don't wind up sterile).
4) dutch oven. (what she said).
5) colander (unless you want to remove pasta from boiling water with your bare hands)
6) baking pan (she called this a jelly roll pan, because she is pretentious...like david denby)
7) prep bowl (plastic with a spout so you can pour stuff out of it; you don't need three. you need one)
8) silicone spatula
9) measuring cups (spoons are good too but you can use normal spoons in a pinch or to measure a pinch...)
10) cutting board. big. bamboo. no plastic crap because it dulls knives and harbors germs unless you want to use bleach on a regular basis, which you don't (unless you're vp who once bleached everything in her house, including her cat).
see, ten things. just ten. if you want eleven, buy a good pepper grinder. pre-ground pepper is basically dirt that comes in a metal tin.
31 January 2010
10 items or less
VP's query about the must-have equipment to keep in a small kitchen prompted lots of conversation. J and I have really thought about it and we're finally prepared to share our MUST-HAVE list.
1. Le Creuset 5 QT+ Dutch Oven. On low heat in the oven, this turns into a crock pot. And you can bake incredibly good no-knead bread in it. So, this is pretty much my desert island cookware. (Incidentally, Cook's Illustrated just rated the Tramontina pot here as a good budget alternative to LC, but, seriously, fraus, a LC dutch oven is something you owe yourself).
2. Ideally, you'd want saute pan AND a cast-iron skillet. If you were really pressed for space, I'd say you should go with the saute alone. Get a Lodge cast iron skillet and just season that thing well enough to cook eggs in. (Not hard to do as we've discussed).The saute pan is perfect for pasta dinners for two as well as any kind of roast or braise you might want to make.
3. Obviously, unless you really ARE on a desert island, you'd want some sauce pots. We have a variety of stainless steel and copper pots. As you weed out your collection, keep in mind these three requirements: 1) make sure they nest for easy storage; 2) make sure the lids exist and fit properly; 3) make they don't have burn spots that you can't get off no matter how much elbow grease and steel wool you use.
4. Knives. I can hardly keep this list to 10 items if I include knives, but I'll try. You absolutely MUST HAVE GOOD QUALITY KNIVES if you really want to be frau. I tried, for years, to avoid spending $$$ on knives and it was all folly. Now, that I've dropped a few hundred bucks on a coupld of excellent knives and now that someone in my house keeps them sharp, I am happier, shinier, thinner, and have tons more energy! So, which ones do you need to invest in: 1) chef's knife or santoku; 2) serrated bread knife; 3) paring knife. These are the knives I simply could not live without. We have a GORGEOUS Mac chef's knife (what a gift, thank you, Tom!!!!), a relatively good serrated knife whose brand I can't remember, a Wustof santoku, and a Sabatier paring knife. Here is the best knife store on the web. Of these, here is my favorite. I use this little guy so often, he is so perfectly suited to my hand, we love each other, etc. Here is an excellent guide to knives from Cook's Illustrated, for those who need a little advice on what knife does what in the kitchen. The big thing with knives is 1) use your sharpening steel often (every couple of uses); and, 2) take high-quality knives to a professional sharpener at least once a year if not twice a year. We have someone here in Lawrence who does this for $2 a knife. Brilliant. If you have trouble finding someone, you can generally ask the manager at your local Williams & Sonoma or somesuch for advice. But dull knives are useless and dangerous. A bad combination.
5. Assorted utensils. Again, keeping this meta-list to 10 items is obviously impossible so I'm collapsing utensils into one category. I'd say, a strong wooden spoon, a fish turner (great for flipping eggs and anything else delicate--this is my favorite utensil), a silicone spatula, and a whisk are pretty essential in my book. The whisk can, in a pinch, be replaced by a fork. Just like this:
can be replaced with this:
In short, find a place to put a damn whisk.
6. Bowls. You need bowls. One big one that you can use for salad and for baking. And, a few smaller ones. Buy stainless steel. It isn't pretty but in terms of versatility, you cannot go wrong. For example, a stainless steel bowl put over a simmering pot of water is a double-boiler. You could technically do that with pyrex but stainless steel is lighter, easier, and won't ever break.
7. A pizza stone. I know. This is thinking outside the box. But, if you are doing any serious baking at all, you want a pizza stone. Hands down. And they are cheap. Here is ours.
8. Jelly roll pan. This is the most important pan in your cupboard. Obviously, you can use it for cookies. You can also use it to make delicious Sicilian style pizza (recipe on frau from last year). But, flip it over, toss some cornmeal on top, and you have yourself a pizza peel, which you will need if you ever want to bake naan, thin crust pizza, pita breads, etc.
9. Food processor. Get a good one. Don't fuck around with a mini-food processor just because you have a small kitchen. Seriously, if you own a mini-food processor, you are that:
The mighty food processor is the kitchen device that most separates the fraus from the rest. You can do almost anything in it. It will take up space but it's worth it. This thing can stand in for a mixer, a blender, a grater, a salad shooter, whatever. It will mix bread dough, pasta dough, cookie dough, etc. Get it with all the blades. Buy yourself a plastic tub with a lid. Put the accessories in the tub. Wipe the machine down with a moist sponge after each use. Love it. Care for it. You need this. Really, you do.
10. Finally, we could not live without our kitchen scale. Michael Ruhlman is an evangelist about this and if you have read his new book "Ratio," you will understand why. Here is his rationale. We believe it. We have a scale and use it for everything from baking to portion control.
And that rounds out the list. I am sure I left things out and this really is painful because my kitchen is the best-furnished room in my house. I have pretty much everything you could need to start a five-star restaurant on that desert island. I do have a few rules though, and perhaps these can guide you even if you inch up past the 10 essentials...
The first rule is: don't buy something that only has one use unless you really do a lot of that thing. Our ice cream maker, for example.
The second rule is: don't buy anything sold through an infomercial. No matter how useful it may seem, believe me, it won't be. You do not need a pan full of edge brownies. That's not how God intended brownies to be and deep down in your heart, you know that.
The third rule is: don't buy cheap shit. Buy things that you intend to care for and keep well into the future.
With that, dear fraulets, I bid you adieu for another week. Next time: reader questions.
1. Le Creuset 5 QT+ Dutch Oven. On low heat in the oven, this turns into a crock pot. And you can bake incredibly good no-knead bread in it. So, this is pretty much my desert island cookware. (Incidentally, Cook's Illustrated just rated the Tramontina pot here as a good budget alternative to LC, but, seriously, fraus, a LC dutch oven is something you owe yourself).
2. Ideally, you'd want saute pan AND a cast-iron skillet. If you were really pressed for space, I'd say you should go with the saute alone. Get a Lodge cast iron skillet and just season that thing well enough to cook eggs in. (Not hard to do as we've discussed).The saute pan is perfect for pasta dinners for two as well as any kind of roast or braise you might want to make.
3. Obviously, unless you really ARE on a desert island, you'd want some sauce pots. We have a variety of stainless steel and copper pots. As you weed out your collection, keep in mind these three requirements: 1) make sure they nest for easy storage; 2) make sure the lids exist and fit properly; 3) make they don't have burn spots that you can't get off no matter how much elbow grease and steel wool you use.
4. Knives. I can hardly keep this list to 10 items if I include knives, but I'll try. You absolutely MUST HAVE GOOD QUALITY KNIVES if you really want to be frau. I tried, for years, to avoid spending $$$ on knives and it was all folly. Now, that I've dropped a few hundred bucks on a coupld of excellent knives and now that someone in my house keeps them sharp, I am happier, shinier, thinner, and have tons more energy! So, which ones do you need to invest in: 1) chef's knife or santoku; 2) serrated bread knife; 3) paring knife. These are the knives I simply could not live without. We have a GORGEOUS Mac chef's knife (what a gift, thank you, Tom!!!!), a relatively good serrated knife whose brand I can't remember, a Wustof santoku, and a Sabatier paring knife. Here is the best knife store on the web. Of these, here is my favorite. I use this little guy so often, he is so perfectly suited to my hand, we love each other, etc. Here is an excellent guide to knives from Cook's Illustrated, for those who need a little advice on what knife does what in the kitchen. The big thing with knives is 1) use your sharpening steel often (every couple of uses); and, 2) take high-quality knives to a professional sharpener at least once a year if not twice a year. We have someone here in Lawrence who does this for $2 a knife. Brilliant. If you have trouble finding someone, you can generally ask the manager at your local Williams & Sonoma or somesuch for advice. But dull knives are useless and dangerous. A bad combination.
5. Assorted utensils. Again, keeping this meta-list to 10 items is obviously impossible so I'm collapsing utensils into one category. I'd say, a strong wooden spoon, a fish turner (great for flipping eggs and anything else delicate--this is my favorite utensil), a silicone spatula, and a whisk are pretty essential in my book. The whisk can, in a pinch, be replaced by a fork. Just like this:
can be replaced with this:
In short, find a place to put a damn whisk.
6. Bowls. You need bowls. One big one that you can use for salad and for baking. And, a few smaller ones. Buy stainless steel. It isn't pretty but in terms of versatility, you cannot go wrong. For example, a stainless steel bowl put over a simmering pot of water is a double-boiler. You could technically do that with pyrex but stainless steel is lighter, easier, and won't ever break.
7. A pizza stone. I know. This is thinking outside the box. But, if you are doing any serious baking at all, you want a pizza stone. Hands down. And they are cheap. Here is ours.
8. Jelly roll pan. This is the most important pan in your cupboard. Obviously, you can use it for cookies. You can also use it to make delicious Sicilian style pizza (recipe on frau from last year). But, flip it over, toss some cornmeal on top, and you have yourself a pizza peel, which you will need if you ever want to bake naan, thin crust pizza, pita breads, etc.
9. Food processor. Get a good one. Don't fuck around with a mini-food processor just because you have a small kitchen. Seriously, if you own a mini-food processor, you are that:
The mighty food processor is the kitchen device that most separates the fraus from the rest. You can do almost anything in it. It will take up space but it's worth it. This thing can stand in for a mixer, a blender, a grater, a salad shooter, whatever. It will mix bread dough, pasta dough, cookie dough, etc. Get it with all the blades. Buy yourself a plastic tub with a lid. Put the accessories in the tub. Wipe the machine down with a moist sponge after each use. Love it. Care for it. You need this. Really, you do.
10. Finally, we could not live without our kitchen scale. Michael Ruhlman is an evangelist about this and if you have read his new book "Ratio," you will understand why. Here is his rationale. We believe it. We have a scale and use it for everything from baking to portion control.
And that rounds out the list. I am sure I left things out and this really is painful because my kitchen is the best-furnished room in my house. I have pretty much everything you could need to start a five-star restaurant on that desert island. I do have a few rules though, and perhaps these can guide you even if you inch up past the 10 essentials...
The first rule is: don't buy something that only has one use unless you really do a lot of that thing. Our ice cream maker, for example.
The second rule is: don't buy anything sold through an infomercial. No matter how useful it may seem, believe me, it won't be. You do not need a pan full of edge brownies. That's not how God intended brownies to be and deep down in your heart, you know that.
The third rule is: don't buy cheap shit. Buy things that you intend to care for and keep well into the future.
With that, dear fraulets, I bid you adieu for another week. Next time: reader questions.
30 January 2010
chicken little
I have a lot of vegetarian friends as of late... I don't know how this is humanly possible considering the fact that I believe foie gras is a reasonable substitute for butter. But nonetheless it is the case.
I have a lot of great recipes that could be veggie friendly if only they didn't call for chicken broth. I need a savory substitute for chicken broth...none of this veggie/mushroom broth crap that has zero fat and even less flavor. the key here is tasty not just veggie.
anyone got a vegetarian broth recipe approaching that naturally salty, fatty and golden flavor from our friend the chicken?
I have a lot of great recipes that could be veggie friendly if only they didn't call for chicken broth. I need a savory substitute for chicken broth...none of this veggie/mushroom broth crap that has zero fat and even less flavor. the key here is tasty not just veggie.
anyone got a vegetarian broth recipe approaching that naturally salty, fatty and golden flavor from our friend the chicken?
21 January 2010
layering for warmth
It has been cold here. Really cold. Unbearably cold. Freeze the balls off a brass monkey cold. And, after returning from an all-too-brief trip to southern California during which I basked under a bright sun, I have not been particularly good about putting up with this winter chill. I have mumbled complaints. I have whinged loudly. I have screamed bloody murder waiting for my car to heat up (try it; it helps). I have even cried while walking from my car to the supermarket door (though the tears froze immediately upon falling from my eyes). In a word, I have been insufferable. So, to soothe my malcontent, my beloved suggested that we do a little hearty cooking. Nothing fancy. Just a vegetable lasagna, a crisp salad, and some “American-style” garlic bread. But, stick-to-your-ribs cooking nonetheless.
Lasagna is, of course, nothing more than a template. It is a casserole, a baked dish of infinite variability as long as you have some kind of starch and some kind of sticky stuff to hold the layers together. There is the classic American version, with which most of you are no doubt familiar from your desperate visits to the Olive Garden/Macaroni Grill/Vinny T’s/insert generic Italian-American restaurant name here. This is most often made with a tomato/meat sauce, dried noodles that have been par-boiled, a usually rather dull ricotta/spinach mixture, and oodles of part-skim mozzarella cheese. There are the many versions from Martha Stewart, who almost always insists on including butternut squash (something about the color palette, I’m sure). There is the classic Italian version, too. Usually made with sheets of fresh spinach pasta, a long-simmered meat ragu, a bit of parm, and, glory of all glories, a béchamel sauce. This last ingredient is the subject of my post today.
Béchamel sauce. It sounds difficult, not least because it has a haughty little accent above the first “e.” It is not. Indeed, learning how to make a béchamel sauce (less intimidatingly called a “white sauce”) is one of those tricks that, once learned, opens myriad culinary doors for you. One of those doors leads to consistent lasagna success, no matter what kind of lasagna you make, even a totally classic American style lasagna, which is basically what I made.
The classic béchamel starts with a roux. That’s the most difficult part. A roux is nothing more than a flour paste. You cook it a little to take the edge off the flour (later in life, Julia Child became totally and unhealthily obsessed with this issue…apparently she had been offended by the scourge of floury roux one too many times). Then, you pour in milk, (whole milk, as if you had to ask), slowly at first, until this frothy thing bubbles up and all the liquid is magically absorbed into the roux. This paste will thicken the milk as you continue to add it (and you want to do this carefully, stirring to incorporate the milk into the roux before adding more). Within about five minutes, you have a gorgeous, creamy white sauce. You throw in a little salt, a little freshly ground pepper (white pepper if black flecks in your white food seem disconcerting to you), maybe a wisp of freshly grated nutmeg, and you’re done. You have the mortar of one great lasagna, to use an unappetizing metaphor.
Yes, you can still use your ricotta cheese or whatever else floats your lasagna boat. You could even ditch the lasagna and use barely cooked penne or other pasta. The béchamel makes the dish. If you want to do a traditional tomato/veg lasagna, do it. Just pour a thin layer of béchamel over each layer of tomato sauce and finish with pasta+sauce+béchamel+parm. You think that bubbly mozzarella is good? Bubbly, crunchy, tomato-ey béchamel is better.
And there are so many other things you can do with béchamel. You want classy mac and cheese? Stir a cup of extra sharp cheddar into your sauce and pour over pasta. Or smoked gouda? Or Point Reyes blue? Add some crumbled bacon, maybe some caramelized shallots, a pinch of Smoked Spanish paprika and you’ve really got something good on your hands. Top it off with some chunks of buttered bread and you will find crunchy, buttery bliss. You can even use the same cheese sauce to make a Welsh Rarebit, spreading a bit of the thick cheese sauce on toast and broiling. Are you convinced yet that this is the little black dress of sauces? I feel like I’m selling something…
In sum, make a béchamel sauce tonight, people. With a few minutes, some ingredients you already have (or should have…), and a little attention to the process, you too could be a warm and happy frau with a full belly.
Hardly a Recipe for Classic Bechamel Sauce
4 tbsp butter
Lasagna is, of course, nothing more than a template. It is a casserole, a baked dish of infinite variability as long as you have some kind of starch and some kind of sticky stuff to hold the layers together. There is the classic American version, with which most of you are no doubt familiar from your desperate visits to the Olive Garden/Macaroni Grill/Vinny T’s/insert generic Italian-American restaurant name here. This is most often made with a tomato/meat sauce, dried noodles that have been par-boiled, a usually rather dull ricotta/spinach mixture, and oodles of part-skim mozzarella cheese. There are the many versions from Martha Stewart, who almost always insists on including butternut squash (something about the color palette, I’m sure). There is the classic Italian version, too. Usually made with sheets of fresh spinach pasta, a long-simmered meat ragu, a bit of parm, and, glory of all glories, a béchamel sauce. This last ingredient is the subject of my post today.
Béchamel sauce. It sounds difficult, not least because it has a haughty little accent above the first “e.” It is not. Indeed, learning how to make a béchamel sauce (less intimidatingly called a “white sauce”) is one of those tricks that, once learned, opens myriad culinary doors for you. One of those doors leads to consistent lasagna success, no matter what kind of lasagna you make, even a totally classic American style lasagna, which is basically what I made.
The classic béchamel starts with a roux. That’s the most difficult part. A roux is nothing more than a flour paste. You cook it a little to take the edge off the flour (later in life, Julia Child became totally and unhealthily obsessed with this issue…apparently she had been offended by the scourge of floury roux one too many times). Then, you pour in milk, (whole milk, as if you had to ask), slowly at first, until this frothy thing bubbles up and all the liquid is magically absorbed into the roux. This paste will thicken the milk as you continue to add it (and you want to do this carefully, stirring to incorporate the milk into the roux before adding more). Within about five minutes, you have a gorgeous, creamy white sauce. You throw in a little salt, a little freshly ground pepper (white pepper if black flecks in your white food seem disconcerting to you), maybe a wisp of freshly grated nutmeg, and you’re done. You have the mortar of one great lasagna, to use an unappetizing metaphor.
Yes, you can still use your ricotta cheese or whatever else floats your lasagna boat. You could even ditch the lasagna and use barely cooked penne or other pasta. The béchamel makes the dish. If you want to do a traditional tomato/veg lasagna, do it. Just pour a thin layer of béchamel over each layer of tomato sauce and finish with pasta+sauce+béchamel+parm. You think that bubbly mozzarella is good? Bubbly, crunchy, tomato-ey béchamel is better.
And there are so many other things you can do with béchamel. You want classy mac and cheese? Stir a cup of extra sharp cheddar into your sauce and pour over pasta. Or smoked gouda? Or Point Reyes blue? Add some crumbled bacon, maybe some caramelized shallots, a pinch of Smoked Spanish paprika and you’ve really got something good on your hands. Top it off with some chunks of buttered bread and you will find crunchy, buttery bliss. You can even use the same cheese sauce to make a Welsh Rarebit, spreading a bit of the thick cheese sauce on toast and broiling. Are you convinced yet that this is the little black dress of sauces? I feel like I’m selling something…
In sum, make a béchamel sauce tonight, people. With a few minutes, some ingredients you already have (or should have…), and a little attention to the process, you too could be a warm and happy frau with a full belly.
Hardly a Recipe for Classic Bechamel Sauce
4 tbsp butter
4 tbsp AP flour
3-4 cups of milk depending on how think you want it
salt to taste
pepper to taste
nutmeg, freshly grated (fussy, I know, but it really is better)
- Melt butter over medium heat in heavy-bottomed saucepan.
- Add flour and stir (with a wooden spoon, preferably) until paste forms.
- Cook for about two minutes, until golden. It will bubble. Just watch that it doesn’t burn (you’ll notice the smell changing as well as the color; the fragrance should be nutty but still retain a whiff of flour).
- Add ½ cup of the milk and stir. Milk will evaporate. Slowly add the milk in cupfuls. You might want to transition to whisk here. Don’t worry if you see little tiny lumps of flour. Just keep whisking and they’ll eventually melt away.
- Sauce will continue to thicken and become saucy. You have reached the ideal consistency when you can draw your finger down the back of the wooden spoon and the line doesn’t disappear. (Does that make sense?)
- Okay, the lumps aren’t disappearing. Your sauce is a little lumpy. Add some cheese. It’ll still be good. Next time, add the milk more slowly and take care to fully incorporate each batch of milk before adding more. Also, if you are really hopeless at this technique, heat the milk before you add it. And be heartened that you are "mastering" something.
15 January 2010
kitchen essentials
listen most submarines have larger kitchens than mine. frau sheyda knows this. We must pare down some of our kitchen pots, pans, appliances etc. I would appreciate a frau endorsed list of ten must have items above and beyond the obvious dishes, tupperware and pot for boiling water. everything else must go.
10 January 2010
on bagels
can frau youtube videos be far behind?
here, re: bagels, is a nice tutorial from ezra klein.
http://voices.washingtonpost.com/ezra-klein/2010/01/lunch_break_97.html
here, re: bagels, is a nice tutorial from ezra klein.
http://voices.washingtonpost.com/ezra-klein/2010/01/lunch_break_97.html
03 January 2010
Reader's Questions
NKB makes an excellent suggestion. Readers, ask frau-y questions. Once a month, I'll do a massive answerfest.
As a tease, I will say, cleaning cast iron isn't all that difficult. And, I'm with you about soap & water. In my book, something isn't clean unless soap has touched it. So, here's what I do. I scrape off food detritus/fat. Then, I use a gentle dish soap (I like the 7th Generation stuff) and sometimes a little squeeze of lemon juice to wash it out. I use a brush (no steel wool!!!) and some warm water. Then, I rinse it out immediately. Put it on the stove and turn heat to med. Let the water remaining on the skillet evaporate. Finally, give it a little brush of neutral oil with a paper towel.
The only real no-no with cast iron is letting it soak for long periods of time and putting it away wet.
See an early frau post, "she's so heavy" for more cast iron trivia.
As a tease, I will say, cleaning cast iron isn't all that difficult. And, I'm with you about soap & water. In my book, something isn't clean unless soap has touched it. So, here's what I do. I scrape off food detritus/fat. Then, I use a gentle dish soap (I like the 7th Generation stuff) and sometimes a little squeeze of lemon juice to wash it out. I use a brush (no steel wool!!!) and some warm water. Then, I rinse it out immediately. Put it on the stove and turn heat to med. Let the water remaining on the skillet evaporate. Finally, give it a little brush of neutral oil with a paper towel.
The only real no-no with cast iron is letting it soak for long periods of time and putting it away wet.
See an early frau post, "she's so heavy" for more cast iron trivia.
I Need Frau Guidance!
I would like to encourage a monthly section to ALL THINGS FRAU to allow readers to offer suggestions for future Frau posts. I am not even a Fraulein as I find the kitchen an ominous and dangerous place. Here are some pressing Frau-y questions I have:
1. Removing common stains when you are NOT at home. e.g. - I spilled oil based salad dressing on my dry clean only trousers at work. I attempted to dab them clean with cold water but I couldn't go home and change nor did I have much in the way of cleaning products at my disposal at work. The trousers are ruined. The oil stain simply wouldn't go away. I think a good post would be 'dealing with stains in non-ideal situations'.
2. Curing and Cleaning Cast Iron - I know you're not supposed to scrub a cast iron pan. But I don't feel like it's clean if I just wipe it with a paper towel after frying meat; also, sometimes if you add things like eggs or cheese they stick to the pan and wiping doesn't cut it. What is the proper away to clean a cast iron pan and still retain all of the yummy flavors in it?
3. Main courses featuring green veggies - I'm looking for some relatively easy to make signature entrees that are heavy on green veggies like beans, broccoli, spinach, and/or brussel sprouts. I don't think I'm eating enough veggies these days and it's one of my resolutions to eat more nutritiously. These dishes don't need to be vegetarian or super low on fat or calories but that would be preferable.
02 January 2010
It’s a new day, it’s a new dawn, it’s a new year, and I’m feeling full…
Well, patient readers, resolutions have been made and, as it turns out, giving my ever-faithful Frau followers more content (any content at all…) wound up high on the list (especially after NKB told me to put it there in 140 characters or less sometime a few minutes before the ball dropped).
And really, it’s not that I haven’t thought about you. (I have). And, it isn’t as if I haven’t cooked. (I have). In fact, as my groaning hard drive can attest, I’ve even taken lots and lots of pictures of the makings of many a sumptuous repast. I don’t know…I’ve been busy? Let’s just agree to put it behind us and see if things don’t look up in this shiny new decade.
To that end, I’ll begin where I began on the morning of 1 January 2010. To welcome the new year, I awoke early to make bagels. I know, I know. Why didn’t I just run out and get bagels? Mainly because while we live in a region of country that is, for most of the year, a veritable cornucopia of delicious food, this is also a bagel desert. Not just a bagel desert, actually. The Sahara of bagel deserts. Lawrencians reading this will scoff. “There is an Einstein Bros. on Mass Street,” they will exclaim. “And a Panera!” Indeed. But, although those establishments may purvey circular bread-stuffs with holes in the middle, neither Einstein Bros. nor Panera produce anything that can be accurately called a “bagel.” I’m really not actually trying to be a typical, New York Times reading, latte-drinking, elitist, East Coast bagel snob; I’m just saying that if you can put cinnamon chips (whatever those are…) and bananas in it, it may be bagel-like, but be assured that it is merely a simulacrum.
So, having grown accustomed to the pleasures of consuming a chewy, savory treat every Saturday morning during our many years back east, I find myself feeling a kind of emptiness, an incompleteness, when I go too long without a proper bagel. And so, I learned how to make them. Several years ago. Like, when we first moved here. Since then, I have made them…thrice. I don’t know why I haven’t done it more often. It is ridiculously easy to do. Therefore, in addition to food blogging, I have resolved to remember how easy bagels are to make and to make them regularly in 2010. I thought that this might be a fitting way to resurrect All Things Frau.
Thus, without further ado, I bring you bagels, demystified. If you, too, live in a bagel desert, really, nothing should stop you from going into your kitchen right now and making these. The recipe upon which I have relied is, strangely enough, from an old issue of Cooking Light magazine. Go figure. Still, I have compared this recipe to several others and I still think it rises above the rest, if you’ll pardon the pun. It yields the perfect ratio of crustiness to chewiness and produces a nice, mildly yeasty flavor. I’ve altered the recipe a little, so find the improved version posted below. Use any beer you have in the fridge, except for a pilsner. Unless it has some real body, you’re not going to get much flavor from it. Having said that, I’ve used anything from Belgian white to oatmeal stout. (Generally, I use the fancy microbrew stuff that people kindly bring to the house for parties and that no one drinks because it tastes weird). So, friends, go forth and make bagels. They are INCREDIBLE right out of the oven, but keep well too. I imagine you could freeze them, if you should find yourself with any left over. The only thing you CANNOT do, under ANY circumstances, is put cinnamon chips and bananas in them. When you’re craving whatever that is, head out to Einstein Bros.
EVERYTHING BAGELS
Yield: 10 bagels
- 2 (12-ounce) cans/bottles brown beer (some kind of brown ale is ideal), divided
- 1 cup water
- 2 ¼ teaspoons instant yeast (this is the stuff that says “Rapid Rise” or “Bread Machine” yeast on the label and comes in a little glass jar)
- 1 large egg white, lightly beaten (mix yolk and 1 teaspoon of water in separate bowl and set aside)
- 4 ½ cups bread flour, divided (Alas, you really must use bread flour. You need the higher gluten content here for chew. I swear by King Arthur Flour for all things floury)
- 1 ½ teaspoons kosher salt
- Cooking spray or neutral oil
- 4 cups water
- 1 teaspoon brown sugar
- 1 teaspoon stone-ground yellow cornmeal
- Sesame seeds
- Poppy seeds
- Dried onion
- Kosher or coarse sea salt
- Dried Garlic bits
Directions:
1. Heat ½ cup beer and 1 cup water over low heat in a small, heavy saucepan to between 100° and 110°.
A digital kitchen thermometer really helps here (scroll down for my cheap equipment suggestions) but if you don’t have one and if you do have experience with baby bottles, bring the water to the temp to which you’d bring a milk bottle (test on the inside of your wrist). If you are not experienced with babies or their bottles, there is apparently an old trick that works just as well. Bring a spoonful of water up to your chin. If it feels hot, it’s there.
2. Combine beer mixture and yeast in a large bowl, stirring until yeast dissolves. Let stand 5 minutes. Stir in egg white.
3. While the yeast is resting, lightly spoon flour into dry measuring cups; level with a knife. Keep ¼ cup of the flour in a separate bowl.
4. Add 4 ¼ cups flour and salt to beer mixture; stir until a soft dough forms. Turn dough out onto a floured surface.
5. Knead until smooth and elastic (about 8 minutes); add enough of remaining ¼ cup flour, 1 tablespoon at a time, to prevent dough from sticking to hands. The finished dough will still feel a little sticky—tacky is the perfect word, I think—but it will be pretty elastic and will form a generally smooth ball.
6. Place dough in a large bowl coated with cooking spray or oil, turning the dough ball to coat top.
This step is important because you want to prevent a crust from forming on the dough. The crust will inhibit rising. So, be sure to coat the entire thing with a thin film of oil.
7. Cover and let rise in a warm place, free from drafts for 1 hour and 15 minutes or until doubled in size. (Gently press two fingers into dough. If an indentation remains, the dough has risen enough.)
8. Preheat oven to 400° an hour before baking. I go ahead and throw the pizza stone in the bottom of the oven but don’t fret if you don’t have one.
9. Punch dough down; cover and let rest 5 minutes.
10. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Divide dough into 10 equal portions.
11. Working with one portion at a time (cover remaining dough to prevent drying), shape each portion into a ball. Make a hole in the center of each ball using your index finger. Using fingers of both hands, gently pull dough away from center to make a 1 ½-inch hole. With the bagel on the board, move your fingers around in a circle until the ring of dough is kind of rolling around. This will stretch the dough out with minimal hassle and make a nice looking finished product.
You can also roll your dough pieces out like a breadstick (think about how you made play-doh snakes as a kid…) and then, looping them around, pinch the two ends together.
12. Place bagels on a baking sheet coated with cooking spray and cover with plastic wrap. Let rise for 10 minutes (bagels will rise only slightly).
3. While the yeast is resting, lightly spoon flour into dry measuring cups; level with a knife. Keep ¼ cup of the flour in a separate bowl.
4. Add 4 ¼ cups flour and salt to beer mixture; stir until a soft dough forms. Turn dough out onto a floured surface.
5. Knead until smooth and elastic (about 8 minutes); add enough of remaining ¼ cup flour, 1 tablespoon at a time, to prevent dough from sticking to hands. The finished dough will still feel a little sticky—tacky is the perfect word, I think—but it will be pretty elastic and will form a generally smooth ball.
6. Place dough in a large bowl coated with cooking spray or oil, turning the dough ball to coat top.
This step is important because you want to prevent a crust from forming on the dough. The crust will inhibit rising. So, be sure to coat the entire thing with a thin film of oil.
7. Cover and let rise in a warm place, free from drafts for 1 hour and 15 minutes or until doubled in size. (Gently press two fingers into dough. If an indentation remains, the dough has risen enough.)
8. Preheat oven to 400° an hour before baking. I go ahead and throw the pizza stone in the bottom of the oven but don’t fret if you don’t have one.
9. Punch dough down; cover and let rest 5 minutes.
10. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Divide dough into 10 equal portions.
11. Working with one portion at a time (cover remaining dough to prevent drying), shape each portion into a ball. Make a hole in the center of each ball using your index finger. Using fingers of both hands, gently pull dough away from center to make a 1 ½-inch hole. With the bagel on the board, move your fingers around in a circle until the ring of dough is kind of rolling around. This will stretch the dough out with minimal hassle and make a nice looking finished product.
You can also roll your dough pieces out like a breadstick (think about how you made play-doh snakes as a kid…) and then, looping them around, pinch the two ends together.
12. Place bagels on a baking sheet coated with cooking spray and cover with plastic wrap. Let rise for 10 minutes (bagels will rise only slightly).
13. Meanwhile, combine remaining beer, 4 cups water, and brown sugar in a Dutch oven or stock pot. Bring to a boil; reduce heat to a simmer (180 degrees if you have a thermometer).
14. After the bagels have risen for 10 minutes, gently lower bagels (I put in no more than 3 at a time to keep the water up to temperature) into simmering beer mixture. Cook 45 seconds. Turn each bagel with a slotted spoon; cook an additional 45 seconds.
Don’t worry if you cook them a little longer. The goal here is to boil them enough to seal in moisture without fully cooking them, so just keep it to under a minute on each side.
15. Transfer bagel to a wire rack lightly coated with cooking spray. Repeat procedure with remaining bagels.
If you don’t have a rack, try to find some way to get the bagels laid out so they are not sitting in their own water. Maybe an inverted cookie sheet with something under one corner so the water rolls off?
16. Now…to flavor. At this point, if you are a purist, or cooking with boring eaters in mind, you could just brush with the egg wash you made by mixing the yolk and a bit of water together. Or, if you are really making bagels, you can set up a nice little assembly line by putting the toppings in little bowls or plates. Brush the bagels with egg wash and then, sprinkle or dip or whatever you like with as much flavor as you want in whatever ratios you prefer. Just remember to finish off with a sprinkling of salt.
17. Place bagels on a baking sheet coated lightly with cooking spray or oil and then sprinkled with cornmeal.
18. Bake at 400° for 17-20 minutes or until golden.
19. You can either cool these on a wire rack or you can hastily tear into them, which I suggest.
14. After the bagels have risen for 10 minutes, gently lower bagels (I put in no more than 3 at a time to keep the water up to temperature) into simmering beer mixture. Cook 45 seconds. Turn each bagel with a slotted spoon; cook an additional 45 seconds.
Don’t worry if you cook them a little longer. The goal here is to boil them enough to seal in moisture without fully cooking them, so just keep it to under a minute on each side.
15. Transfer bagel to a wire rack lightly coated with cooking spray. Repeat procedure with remaining bagels.
If you don’t have a rack, try to find some way to get the bagels laid out so they are not sitting in their own water. Maybe an inverted cookie sheet with something under one corner so the water rolls off?
16. Now…to flavor. At this point, if you are a purist, or cooking with boring eaters in mind, you could just brush with the egg wash you made by mixing the yolk and a bit of water together. Or, if you are really making bagels, you can set up a nice little assembly line by putting the toppings in little bowls or plates. Brush the bagels with egg wash and then, sprinkle or dip or whatever you like with as much flavor as you want in whatever ratios you prefer. Just remember to finish off with a sprinkling of salt.
17. Place bagels on a baking sheet coated lightly with cooking spray or oil and then sprinkled with cornmeal.
18. Bake at 400° for 17-20 minutes or until golden.
19. You can either cool these on a wire rack or you can hastily tear into them, which I suggest.
Okay, see how easy that was. “18 steps easy,” you retort. I know, there are some 18 steps, but that’s because I broke each little thing down into its own step so you could see exactly how easy it is. Really, the whole thing takes about 45 minutes of active preparation. The rest of the time, you’re just waiting on things to rise and rest, during which time you can be doing your own rising and resting.
If the thought of this much activity before brunch gives you the shivers, you could do much of this work the night before. You’d then put the dough in the fridge after the main rise and let it stay in overnight. This process arrests the development of the yeast, and while I haven’t done it yet with this dough, I have used this method to great success with cinnamon roll dough. So, I set my alarm, stagger out of bed long enough to turn the heat on in the house and get the dough out of the fridge to warm up, and go back to bed. An hour later, the dough will be ready to proceed with remaining steps.
Finally, I promised some advice about equipment. A good digital thermometer and a cooling rack are invaluable tools for the home baker. Happily, both can be purchased at reasonable prices. The anal-retentive “product testers” at Cooks Illustrated give major props to this Polder digital thermometer. (Okay, so the words “anal” and “thermometer” have no place in the same sentence on a cooking blog…). Anyhow, we use one very much like it from CDN because I was impatient and couldn’t wait for Amazon to send me a package when I was in my cheese-making phase last year (that’ll have to be a retroactive post). As for a wire rack, they are super-cheap. My only preference is size (big) and nonstick. Here’s what we have.
And with that, post #1 of the ‘Tweens comes to a close. I hope that 2010 brings us many opportunities to gather around tables, both virtual and real. In the meantime, eat hot bagels with abandon. It’s cold outside and you need the carbs.
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