24 February 2010
egg in my face
I need to know how to make a poached egg well and consistently. mine all explode or end up uneven or the yolk overcooks etc.
31 January 2010
J's REAL 10 item list
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.
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.
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)