A tip of the hat and a turn of the plate

Today I'm writing to show my love for a few of the classic dishes out there. I'm not talking coq au vin here, just good simple food. Emphasis on the "good" part. Case in point, my first dish.

Grilled Cheese.

Something of an American standby, good on its own or beside a big steamy bowl of tomato soup. Now, if you're going to make a tomato soup that requires more than a can opener and a microwave, shouldn't the sandwich match?
Step one to any great sandwich is great bread. I want something that's going to add a lot of it's own flavor. As much as I love good cheese (and believe me, I do love good cheese) simply cheese does not a great sandwich make. So for this, I'm breaking out the sourdough. A couple of nice big slices, I'd say just under half an inch thick.
Of course, you've got to butter your bread for a grilled cheese, but using plain butter just isn't going to cut it here. Flavor is your friend. I'd suggest a nice garlic-herb compound butter. A little garlic, salt and pepper, a bit of oregano... it's really up to you. If you're one who likes a nice crunchy pickle along side your sandwich, you might consider some dill in there.
Before the cheese hits, we need a spread. Today that spread is mustard. Good mustard. I'm a big fan of a nice dijon myself, and a good stone ground wouldn't go wanting either.
And now the finale... the cheese (thought it'd never come, didn't you?). If I had my way, one side would get fresh mozzarella and the other some good provolone. The middle layer would be some shavings of fresh parmesan (it won't take much, that stuff is pretty potent).

Throw both sides down over medium heat until the cheese is good and melted and the bread is beautiful and brown, then slap them together. Give it just enough time that the two halves start to melt together and make friendly, then move it to a plate and serve.

Next up, a dish that's a bit more fine-dining friendly (not that I wouldn't serve that grilled cheese at a nice place). Caprese salad - traditionally a salad of fresh mozzarella, plum tomatoes, and fresh basil - is an italian classic. Now, hand me a plate of fresh vine-ripened tomatoes, true fresh mozzarella cheese, and good fresh basil that was picked earlier that day and I will say nothing but "thank you". That said, I do like to play with my food... so here's my take on it.

Toasted Caprese (yeah, it's a sandwich).

This round we're starting off with a nice french baguette. Does it seem odd to combine french bread and italian ingredients? Maybe, but it tastes pretty awesome, so I'm not going to stop.
Here again a toasted sandwich means buttered bread, and here again we're not going to settle for just plain butter. A bit simpler this time, I suggest a nice garlic butter (I don't want to take away from the fresh basil by adding a bunch of other herbs).
Different bread, same spread. Give this one a bit of mustard (dijon is great) just like before.
And now the fun begins. Once again we're going to throw both slices of bread down over medium heat. One side gets fresh mozzarella and a nice slice of good ripe tomato. The other gets provolone and some whole pitted olives (I like a mix of black and green).
Same as before let the cheese get melty and the bread get golden-delicious. Just before you bring the two halves together into a beautiful case of culinary matrimony, throw down some fresh basil leaves. As soon as the greenery goes down, you want to get it out of the pan as soon as you can (no one wants wilty herbs). So grab it out, grab a plate, and get ready to enjoy.

Classics can be found anywhere from the finest restaurants to our fondest childhood memories. Some may not be thought of as fine dining fare, but if you give it a little love and some good ingredients, just about anything can be made to grace the best of tables.

But hey, this is coming from someone who eats half of his meals while sitting on his bed and playing on his computer. I may not have the best linens, but that doesn't mean I can't have the best food.

Ask and you shall receive... eventually

Every once in a while I check this little corner of cyberspace for comments... and once in a while I actually get one. As it is, it seems that I've been asked to provide a good animal-friendly tomato soup recipe.

On that note, please feel free to drop a line here and ask questions... whether you're looking for a specific recipe idea, something more general, info on an ingredient or technique, piece of gear, or anything in between (or even to the sides).

On to the goods, though.

The key to good tomato soup (along with just about anything else) is fresh ingredients. This means fresh tomtatoes. Sadly we're coming up on the time of year when the really good stuff just isn't available anymore. Ah well, if we didn't have out of season, we couldn't have in season, and in season really is worth it.

It's still possible to find fresh tomatoes, at least, and that's a start.

First off, a note on guestimeasuring fruits and veggies. If a recipe calls for 1 cup of chopped onion, just how many do you need to chop up? What about green pepper? Things like onions are pretty easy. If the whole vegetable looks like it's about the same size as your measuring cup, it's going to yield about that much. Hollow stuff like the green pepper... go for about half. Not an exact rule, but it'll give you an idea.

Seasoning aside (which will be pretty simple) we're only looking at a handful of ingredients. Fresh tomatoes, butter and flour for a roux, garlic and onion because I almost always use garlic and onion, sugar to cut the acidity of said tomatoes, some good fresh parmesan cheese, and a bit of heavy cream to finish. It may not sound like much, but trust me, it'll be delicious. The following is an admittedly untested version, but hey, I encourage you to put your own spin on it anyway.

4 Tbsp Butter
4 Tbsp Flour
2 clove garlic
1/2 med Onion (about 1/2 c if you prefer)
4 cups worth of whole tomato (a standard 3" globe should be around a cup's worth)
4-5 parsley stems (you bet we use the scraps)
1/4 c grated parmesan
1/4 c heavy cream
2 Tbsp Sugar
Salt & pepper

We've got the what, now for the how.

Start by melting the butter down over low heat. Once it's good and liquified you can turn it up to medium and toss in the diced garlic and onion. Saute for a few minutes until it's good and translucent. Sprinkle the flour over everything and mix it up to form a roux.

Assuming you've quartered the tomatoes, squeezed the liquidy insides out into a container and given the flesh a rough chop already you can now pour in the tomato juice (seeds are fine). You'll want to keep stirring this occasionally (your pan will thank you) and once it starts boiling let it go for a good minute while stirring. This will assure that all the starches have mixed throughout the liquid, giving you all the thickening power possible.

At this point add in the diced tomato pieces, parsley stems, and a bit of salt. All you're looking to do here is cook those tomatoes, which shouldn't take long (of course exact time depends on how large the pieces are). You can also add in the sugar. Be sure to give it a taste and make sure that you've got enough in there to cut the acidity down. Once the tomatoes are good to go, remove the pot from the heat and add the cheese. Once that's stirred in you can go ahead with the cream. Now comes the fun part.

First, take out the parsley stems and toss them in the trash - they've done their job. Now start removing the pieces of tomato from the soup into a food processor (even a blender will work... not as well, granted, but so be it). Pulse the tomatoes until they're good and pureed, adding only as much liquid as necessary (trust me, too much liquid will leave you with little bits that just swim around the bowl). Once you've got a good puree going, start adding liquid and keep going with it. You'll never get it perfectly smooth (and who would want it to be?) but you do want it to be a good uniform consistency.

Add a bit of freshly ground black pepper, and serve it up (you did double-check to make sure all of the seasonins were good, didn't you?). If you care to garnish, a bit of parmesan (in shred or flake form), a leaf or two of fresh parsley, or maybe a couple of fresh croutons will all do quite nicely.

Next time I'm at the store I'll see if I can't find any decent tomatoes to try this out. I'll let you know how it goes.

Gear-love: Know thy pan

Have you ever taken a good look at the pans that you use? Ever wonder why people can go so crazy over cast iron, or why some stores charge hundreds of dollars for a single saute pan? There are reasons for all of these things, of course.

Before we get into the actual materials, let's look at the pots and pans themselves. What do you really need? The answer? Not a lot, really. Here are a few basics that will get you pretty close to anywhere you need to go.

Saute pan: These come in various sizes, and what size you need is dependent on how much you're cooking (food for one generally takes up less room than food for four), how big your stove is (you want something that will easily sit over one burner, not crowd the entire surface), and such things. They've got sides (a couple of inches or so) that generally move out from the base a bit.

Sauce pan: Again, various sizes. This is one that I wouldn't mind you having two of (I have three myself, actually). These are measured by the volume that they hold rather than the diameter of the pan, and should always come with a lid (in fact, a lid for any given pot or pan is not a bad idea... or better yet, one nice universal lid for all those that don't come with them normally). If the sides are flared instead of coming straight up, what you're looking at is a saucier pan. The sides are flared in order to give a larger surface area so that sauces and the like will reduce faster.

Stock pot: Big. Really big. I think mine is about 14" tall. Get the biggest thing that will fit on both your stove and in your sink (for easy washing purposes).

Why am I happy with just three types of pots and pans? You really can do a lot with this list. The saute pan is generally my go-to item. You can cook a steak, a pile of green beans, cabbage, throw together a (small amount of) sauce... in fact there's very little that you can't do with it. Get one that's oven safe and the opportunities are nigh endless. Sauce pans are great for larger batches of sauce, small to moderate batches of soup, and other related liquid endeavors. Add a nice metal bowl that fits on top (you want most of the bowl to actually fit inside the pan) and you've got a double boiler to beat anything you'd buy from a store. A mesh strainer that fits snugly inside (with a lid to fit over) is a great steamer. Stock pots are great for not only stock, but will make enough soup to feed an army, and are the only pot that I ever use for pasta.

That's all well and good, but the right pan is only half of the battle. What the pan is made of is going to determine a lot.

Aluminum: Relatively cheap, durable, and light weight. They're not without flaws, though. Aluminum isn't the most effective conductor, and you'll have hot spots in the pan. Likewise, unless it's iodized (which isn't hard to find) acidic ingredients like tomatoes will mess with the pan (and the pan will mess with the food... and no one wants that).

Copper: Ah copper, how sweet it is. It's pretty much the best conducter available. For quick, even heating it can't be beat. It's not overly weighty... although it's not overly cheap either. More importantly it's a tad bit (and by a tad bit I mean more than just a tad) poisonous if you cook food in it (which is why you'll so often see copper-bottomed pots lined with stainless steel).

Stainless steel: Decent conductor, pretty durable... overall pretty good. Not as cheap as some, and still not completely devoid of hot spots.

Cast iron: Another lovely thing. True they're heavy and brittle (don't drop it, please), but they're solid conductors. Being a very dense metal they hold a lot of heat (this does also mean that it takes a bit longer to heat up), and so when you slap down cold food there's enough heat in the pan already to keep going. Lighter metals (such as aluminum) will lose a lot of their heat to the food, and will need time to come back up to speed to continue cooking.

A special note on non-stick pans. What are they good for? Eggs. What else, you ask? Nothing, really. If no bit of that steak sticks, no fond is left in the pan (those tasty little black bits just bursting with good flavor). This means that you won't be making any pan sauces (at least not as good as they could be). You've got to be incredibly careful with them, too. No harsh scrubbing (not even the green side of those little sponges), no oven time, and I wouldn't care to run them through the dish washer either, just in case. But, if you're an omelete lover, I wouldn't begrudge you a small one.

There's a short list, at least, of what makes a pan. While this won't fully outfit your kitchen, it's sure to be a good start.

Lifting the veil

If there's a food-related topic quite so bound up in controversy as veal, I haven't heard of it.

Go ahead, google it, see what happens.

Chances are the front page will look something like this: a few sites on straight information (ie, neutral in viewpoint), a few cooking sites and related items with recipes, and a few talking about how cruel the practice is.

I'm not going to try to convince you of one viewpoint or another. In fact, I won't even talk about my own personal stance. I'll just put out some information, and you can do with it what you wish.

First of all, a quick note about why we started using the mini-moo's in the first place. Veal is actually a by-product of the dairy industry. Cows (that's an actual category of cattle, by the way, meaning females used for dairy) need to give birth about once a year in order to continually produce milk. As it is, this leaves us with a surplus of baby cattle. Female calves can be taken to be raised as the future dairy-producers of America, but the males are just taking up space. Being the thrifty little people that we are, we slaughter them (generally around 9-10 months of age) and sell the meat as veal. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suggesting that we're the first society to come up with veal - far from it, really. On to the topic at hand, though.

While animal right's activist groups such as PETA oppose all sorts of animal-raising practices, veal has it's own special little spot on the shelf. It's not only big groups like this, though. Many people are turned off by veal. While Americans consume in the neighborhood of 60 pounds per year apiece of chicken and beef, veal consumption is less than a single pound per person per year. Even lamb, which is another "baby-version" that is sometimes found on our plates, does not have near the amount of protest. So what makes veal so special? Check out how it's raised.

Granted, here in the states we're not exactly known for giving our slaughter-animals acres of roaming grounds. It's more efficient to use the factory-farm setting, and it produces a more consistent product (in fact, the factory farming technique is why pork isn't graded by quality - it's so consistent now that there's little point). There are 3 categories of veal, from a packaging standpoint.

Baby veal (aka Bob veal): Slaughtered at an age of 3-30 days. These are actually the lowest quality of veal because we haven't had a chance to produce that pale flesh that gives veal it's unique character.

Non-formula veal (aka Barn raised, and many other names): These are veal, but only just. Because they're fed a diet of grains, grass, and/or other examples of "real food" they don't have that pale flesh and the flavor will be more pronounced (not a good thing with veal). Often these guys will be hutch-raised (think calf-sized dog houses) or even maybe in larger yards or barn settings.

Formula-fed (aka Special fed): This is, in essense, the real deal. What is "special feed", you may ask? Liquid milk replacer. In large part it lacks iron in order to keep the meat pale. The calves are commonly raised in small stalls about 2'x6' (about enough room to stand up and maybe lie down). They're not given water so that they're encouraged to eat more (it is liquid, so they're not dehydrated). This leads to a larger slaughter-weight. On the downside, an all-liquid diet does often lead to chronic diarrhea. And of course eating a diet nearly void of iron does have its own side effects.

It's worth noting that about a year ago Europe got rid of the last of these crate-raised veal facilities. Over there it's all hutches and barns and the like. In fact, all animals over there must be raised "in the environment in which they would naturally be found" (quote may not be word for word, but you get the idea). Long story short, our four-legged friends across the pond enjoy a lot more outside time than those over here do.

However, in the case of veal this means that the meat just isn't what most people consider to be good veal. It's going to have more color, and be at least slightly less tender (although with an animal that young, it's not going to be tough by any stretch of the imagination). Case in point, in the past six months our veal exports to Europe have increased by about 70%.

Take it as you will. Love it or hate it, that's what veal is. If nothing else, it's good to know what's really on your plate.

Soup's on

As the weather turns cooler (yes, even here in the Queen City) thoughts turn to the warmer things in life. A crackling fireplace, a big poofy blanket, a steamy mug of hot chocolate... all wonderful things.

Not to be left behind, though, is a big, hot, delicious bowl of soup.

Cold weather aside, soup really is a wonder-food. Let's take a look at this for a moment.

For starters, it can be deadly simple. Veggies, stock (you do have a stockpile of frozen stock that you've made, right? No? Oh goodness, we're going to have to talk), seasonings, heat, done. Deliciousness in the making.

It's good for you. No matter what the cooking method (even the oft-hailed steaming) you're going to lose some nutrients from the food. Some more than others, but always some. One of the benefits of soup is that any nutrients that leak out of the ingredients are leaking out into the soup itself. So drink up, kids, it'll make ya grow up big and strong.

It's economical (which, especially now, is a good thing). For one, you can make soup out of pretty much anything you have (much like a casserole). I don't advocate throwing things into the pot without even bothering to take a look at them, but you can start with pretty much any given foodstuff and go from there. In the case of stew (largely soups with meat, often thicker in consistency) you are able (and even encouraged) to use tougher (and as such, cheaper) cuts of meat. Prime rib eye is wasted here. Give me brisket, and to you I will give stew. In case you're wondering, brisket is essentially the breast cut of beef. The long time/low heat cooking method of stewing is perfect for these cuts. The collagen (connective tissues that can be broken down) will gradually melt away, allowing the meat to absorb moisture and flavor from the liquid (again, hopefully homemade stock). That same collagen will do good things for the stew, like adding richness and creamy mouthfeel without the need for extra fat.

Like I said, wonder-food.

I said we'd talk about stock, so here's me talking about stock. The difference between a 'stock' and a 'broth' is that stock is made by pulling collagen out of bones to create gelatin within the liquid. Broth is simply flavored water. As such, you can never truly have "vegetable stock" (one of my greatest culinary pet peeves).

Stock is a wonder-food all its own. It's great for the aforementioned soups, and also can be used in small amounts to finish a sauce (or in larger amounts to be the base of one). Because there's a relatively large amount of collagen pulled from the bones, the end result has a great creamy mouthfeel without any extra fat. All in all, I'd say it's one of our finer creations.

And the best part - if you thought making soup was easy, just wait until you hear about stock.

Grab a bunch of (preferably uncooked) bones. If you're making chicken stock, use chicken bones. Beef stock? Beef bones. You get the idea. Throw them in a big pot. Cover them with water (just enough). Put it on heat and bring to a boil.

You see how easy this is? If you can boil water, you can make stock. Brilliant.

There is another thing or two, though, but believe me it's nothing really bad.

As the water boils, it'll start pulling collagen out of the bones. This is good. It'll start pulling a few other things out, too, and this isn't quite as awesome. These things tend to cause foaming on top of the water. It's easy to deal with, though, just find a way to scoop it off (slotted spoon, ice cream scoop, or as Alton Brown likes you can use one of those little nets used to catch fish in pet stores).

And now, we flavor. The classic approach would be a simple mirepoix (that's a classic blend of aromatic veggies - two parts onion, one part carrot, and one part celery). You don't even have to chop it up, really. Cut the onions in half, break the carrots, snap the celery, and toss it all in. Salt and pepper can go in, or if you prefer you could wait until you're actually using the stock for a dish to season it.

At this point turn it down to a simmer (that's 160-185 degrees, if you're curious). You'll know you've got a simmer going if small bubbles are floating regularly to the top, but not really breaking the surface. Simmering is good because it's a more gentle method and will leave us with a clear stock in the end.

So how long do you simmer? The longer you go, the more collagen you'll extract (and that's the whole point). This is likely to be an all-day process (I said easy, not quick). The stock is completely done when you can easily crush the bones with tongs. When it's done, strain it into a new container (carefully, mind you, you're working with a hot liquid) and store it in the refrigerator. You can freeze it if you like, and keep it up for a year (if it's properly stored in an airtight container).

A couple of notes.

Be ready to refill the pot as needed. Water does tend to evaporate, and you'll want to keep the bones fully submerged. Keeping some warm water handy will allow you to add more in without dropping the temperature of the pot by too much (which would just make it take longer as it would have to reheat).
Don't add herbs and such at the beginning of the process. Eight hours in a simmering pot will absolutely destroy them. Save them instead for the last few minutes. On that note, using stems rather than leaves will give you a little more leeway in this area, as they'll give you the same flavor but will stand up to more damage, and will be a lot easier to strain out to boot. A good way to do greenery for something like stock is to use a bouquet garni. All this is is a bunch of herbs tied together, or wrapped in cheesecloth, so that you can just pull them out when you're done.

Stock... it's a wonderful thing, isn't it? Yeah, it really is. I say soup is economical, but it's got nothing on stock (made with bones, and just as easily scrap-bits of any veggies and herbs that you care to throw in).

The next time you start to throw away that bit of onion, consider throwing it into the refrigerator instead and saving it for stock. Grab a few bones (either from carving a bird yourself, or - if you're lucky - the local butcher), and make a day of it. You won't be sorry.

Food for thought

I wrote a short essay today for a scholarship (keep your fingers crossed for me), and the subject was "What do you hope to contribute to the culinary industry?".

I bring it up because it is much the same reason that I am here writing this.

Above all things, I hope to inspire.

I hope to inspire someone, even just one person (but hey, more's always good) to look closer (to quote a favorite movie of mine) at food. To not just see meat on a plate, but to see everything that food can be, everything that it can do.

Why is food so awesome? What really makes it so incredible? It's because it's not just about staying alive. That's a purpose, sure, but that's not what it's about. It's about bringing people together. It's about sharing. It's about something as simple as sitting down and just being with each other for a while.

Yeah, I want you to taste the food. I want you to talk about it, experience it to the full degree possible, but above all I want you to share it. Who are you going to talk to if no one's there? I want people to come together to appreciate everything.

So yes, eat and support local foods as much as you can. Buy seasonal ingredients instead of relying on the same old frozen vegetable medley. Take time to enjoy the food you're eating, to really savor it. Do everything you can to experience food in its entirety, as often as you can.

Most of all, do it together.

Abandon all faith, ye who enter here

Have you ever wondered what goes into a hot dog? Maybe even dared to ponder the contents of "canned meat"?

It's nothing insanely mind blowing. Sure, you'll get some odd pieces mixed in like snouts and feet and cheeks, but it's all meat. Then again, plenty of items love to use tripe (that's stomach, just so you know) and other such delicacies in place of more conventional cuts.

All in all, in and of itself eating the odder bits shouldn't kill you. Many are less nutritionally viable, sure, but that just means don't eat liver every day. The real problem comes with the production process of processed meats.

In order to be "processed", a piece of meat simply needs to be altered physically, chemically, or enzymatically. In theory this means that pounding out a chicken breast for some chicken kiev counts as processed meat. More practically, though, it refers more to chemical and enzymatic alterations.

There are three types of processed meats. Those that are cured whole (such as bacon and ham), sausages (like chorizo and those hot dogs), and restructured meats (chicken nuggets, spam, and all their ilk).

Unfortunately for us, processed meats are not the best things that we can be shoveling in. Regular consumption of these items has been linked to not only an increase in colon cancer in adults, but a radical increase (something like 700%) in leukemia for children. Might want to think twice about packing that bologna sandwich for a school lunch.

Now you might be wondering why cured meats are on the same level as these chemically induced, machine shaped cans of meat. After all, it's just salt, right? If it was just salt, we'd probably be better off. Well, aside from the botulism anyway. You see, sodium nitrites, the nasty little buggers in today's curing blend, were added because they protect against botulism (which, being a toxic remnant rather than an actual living thing, can't be cooked out). They also had the added benefit of keeping the color of the meat (otherwise you're left with a weird greyish brownish thing). These nitrites were later determined to have the nasty habit of causing colon cancer. Not so great there.

You may think that you can get away from all of this by cutting back on all of those hot dogs and sausages and perfectly-round lunch meats, but sadly the problem doesn't stop there.

If you take a moment to look around, almost everything has at least some processing done to it. Whole carcasses (at least as whole as we normally find them in any given grocery store) are often injected with chemicals to, say, keep them more moist. Maybe a few enzymes have been added to tenderize it for you. The truth is that these alterations are the most efficient way that we have to maintain a consistent product. I've got nothing against getting the same quality every time I buy something, but is it really worth what it's doing to us?

You can find certain items labeled "natural", which means that nothing has been injected or otherwise added before sale. Of course, this little keyword comes with a higher price tag. On the other hand, if you're a huge sausage fan you can always just buy a grinder and make your own at home. You can even buy the casings if you're jonesing for some links. Doing it yourself not only allows you to avoid all of those snouts if you've a mind to do so, but most importantly you cut out all of the extra chemicals that would (most likely) otherwise be added in. Fresh sausage only keeps for 3-5 days, so either don't make too much at once, or invite the family over for a grill out.

I have to say, though, farm to fork eating sounds better every day.

Wine Tasting 101

In the interest of exploring the bottom of some of my favorite glasses I thought I'd do a quick runthrough of how to "properly" taste wine.

Now before I start, let me say this. I am not a great wine taster. I'm not one of those people who can rattle off all sorts of obscure flavor profiles and talk about how it hits a part of the tongue that you've never even heard of. I just haven't had that much practice (sad, I know). I say this because I don't want you to feel intimidated by trying this out. It's going to take some time to be able to really get all of the flavors and smells, so just relax, take a drink, and enjoy.

Flavor aside, there are a few characteristics to look at. First is sweetness. Wines range from very sweet to very dry. Some try to pull wool over your eyes by being dry but very fruity and acidic (so it may seem sweet at first), but don't be fooled. Next up are tannins. These are also found in coffee and tea, and are the things that make you feel like someone put some sort of glue between your teeth and cheeks. The heavier the tannin level, the more your teeth will drag. Acids in wine are pretty easy to spot. These make your mouth water (particularly under your tongue) so just watch how much saliva is forming to get a feel for how acidic the wine is.

Different wines also have different bodies. Some sit lightly on the tongue (almost water-like) while others are heavier (imagine if you took a shot of heavy cream). Also pay attention to the intensity of the flavors. Some will be very pronounced, others will be much lighter.

It seems like a lot... and it kind of is. But it can be fun to have a go at it. If it helps, try to focus on a different aspect with each taste. No rush, and no worries. Afterall, you can always pour a second glass if you need a little extra to figure it out.

To wine and dine

Sweet pear... a hint of oakiness... a whisper of lilac... wine lovers all over will recognize these phrases and countless more. I've had the opportunity recently to learn a lot about wine, both production and tasting. It's amazing how you can get such an array of flavors and aromas by the relatively simple act of fermentation.

I do love to talk food, and wine grants the perfect forum. It's great to sit down with a few wines and a few friends and just drink, talk, and enjoy. You can get so much out of a good wine. Really get in there and try to think about what you're smelling. You do have to train yourself - the part of your brain that recognizes those smells is, unfortunately, separate from the part that knows their names. But don't worry, a bridge can be built. Who knew alcohol would help with a construction project? It just takes some practice.

Tastes are just as complex. Often the taste of a wine won't correspond exactly with the aromas. Take note of where it hits on the tongue - does it land on the front? Or maybe it's heavier and sits more toward the back. Or maybe it rolls through a cycle rather than deciding on just one area. And what of the finish? Does it taper off quickly, or do you get a range of aftertones?

There's a reason that people will travel to wine tastings. There's a lot to be found inside that glass if you care to look. This is what makes wine such a great center for discussion. Talk about the tastes, the aromas, why you like it, what you like better.

All of this, and still no mention of food... and what a mention it deserves. There are plenty of wines that are just fabulous on their own. However, mixing wine with food can bring a whole new set of flavors that neither component alone can offer. Some wines pair wonderfully with cheeses, some are great with meats... the list goes on and on. As far as I'm concerned, any area that has an expert that makes more money than I can likely dream of in a year (we're talking about sommeliers, in case you're wondering) is an area worth noting.

That said, there's nothing against simply enjoying a glass of wine. As I've mentioned before, I may be a food snob but I don't like to be pretentious. There's nothing wrong with simply enjoying a nice glass of wine without having to worry about some big to-do with every swig.

If you feel up to it, take the time once in a while to really sit back and enjoy the wine, and maybe compare a few notes.

Live well, eat well, drink well.

A is for apple, B is for bee, and...

C is for cookie (and cake, and all things creamed). We've talked muffins, buscuits, and bread, but what is life without a good chocolate chip cookie once in a while? The creaming method brings so much goodness to the world. Really, where would Nestle (trademark, and all that) be without it?

So what is the creaming method exactly? To cream is to beat air into butter. This can certainly be done by hand, but it's much faster, easier, and better if you have a stand mixer. Often sugar will be creamed into butter because those tiny little sharp crystals tear into the fat and make thousands of little holes. These holes are what give cookies and cakes and all such goodies that light and fluffy interior that we all love so much.

It's almost mindboggling what you can do with a few basic ingredients and different methods of preparation. If you'll remember, simple bread consists of flour, sugar, salt, yeast, and water. A simple cookie batter consists of flour, sugar, salt, baking soda or powder, butter, and egg (and please note that fat and egg often do go into bread as well). Of course we can add all sorts of flavors (like vanilla) and extra goodies (chocolate chips and nuts spring to mind), but the basics remain the same. There are a few things that you can play around with within those basic ingredients as well. In order to show this off, we're going to take a look at one of America's favorites, the chocolate chip cookie.

As far as different flours go I've never used anything other than all-purpose, and that's what I suggest. You're not really looking to form gluten, but you're not really adding much liquid, either (which I'm sure you remember is essential to gluten formation). A dab of vanilla, a bit of liquid from the eggs, and maybe some milk... I'd say you're using less than 1/4 c of liquid altogether (unless, of course, your recipe is radically different than mine). Anyway, I'll save the bread flour for bread, and use the cake flour for something that really needs the lower protein.

Now when it comes to choosing between baking powder and baking soda it depends on the exact recipe. For chocolate chip cookies baking soda is great because chocolate is slightly acidic. On the other hand, if you like lighter, cakier cookies then baking powder may be what you want. The extra acid will actually help the cookies rise a bit more, giving you a fluffier end result. I've tried once replacing all of the soda with powder, and I thought that it was a bit much. Some may like that much extra flavor, but it wasn't for me. Feel free to replace part of the soda with powder if you like, just remember that soda is 4 times as powerful as powder, so plan accordingly when you swap out.

As for sugar, you have a choice between white and brown (and then there's light brown vs dark brown). Brown sugar is essentially white sugar plus molassas (either from being less refined, or from having it added in). Darker browns have more molassas. For cookies, the darker you go the chewier it will be, and I do love a chewy cookie. Also of note is that the molassas retains more moisture (I'm sure you'll have noticed the difference if you've ever seen a bag of brown and white sugar). If crisp is your pleasure, use more white sugar (ie, less moisture).
A quick note on freshness. Get tired of your brown sugar drying out? Toss a piece of bread (lots of people will use this to get rid of the heel) in with the sugar and leave it overnight in an airtight container (and really, you should be keeping the sugar in an airtight container anyway to avoid this in the first place). The dry sugar will absorb the moisture from the bread, leaving you with deliciously moist sugar and a cruddy dry piece of bread. Luckily the world has far more use for breadcrumbs than brown sugar crumbs.

Eggs are pretty simple in that you just have to remember what eggs do. They help to bind the dough and provide structure once cooked, and egg whites by nature dry things out. If you want to give your cookies a little shot of extra moistness you can replace an egg white (I'd start with just one and see where that gets you) with milk. Now, a standard large egg (that's the size that's generally used for recipes) is 1/4 c in volume. It's split almost half-and-half between yolk and white (with the white just barely winning out). Given that there are 16 tablespoons in a cup (meaning 4 in 1/4 cup) you'd need 2 tablespoons of milk to replace the yolk. Also note that right now, the hardcore bakers in the world are glaring at me and reaching for their pitchforks. I'll admit that if you're doing some serious baking, you should definitely weigh this stuff out. However, since when I make cookies it's generally a half-batch using only a single egg (and with that, I don't usually replace the white anyway, but that's just me) I wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

Let's talk vanilla while I have your attention. Ever wonder what the difference between real vanilla extract that costs who-knows-how-much per bottle and the cheap imitation stuff that's a couple of bucks? Vanilla extract is the real deal, and imitation stuff comes from bark. Yeah, that stuff that grows on trees. The same chemical compound that gives vanilla its flavor is found in certain woods. There are also regulations on alcohol content. The simple version is that if it's costing you more, it's higher quality stuff (if you ever get the chance, sniff the contents of each side-by-side, you'll be able to tell the difference). So which to choose? Well, if you're making a vanilla sugar cookie where you really want that vanilla flavor to come through you might consider splurging on the good stuff. If you're planning to put so much extra stuff in the batter that you won't knowingly recognize any vanilla (but don't worry, it's still worth putting in) then go ahead and use the cheap stuff.

And now we come to the fun part. This is my personal cookie recipe. Like I said, I'm a fan of chewy cookies, so that's what you get from this. Want something different? Now you know what to do to get it.

1 c (2 sticks) butter
1 c brown sugar
1/2 c white sugar
2 eggs
1 t vanilla (I use imitation)
2 1/4 c flour
1 t baking soda
1 t salt
1 bag chocolate chips (the usual suspect here, it's been a while, but I think it's a pound)

Cream the butter and sugar (on high for a few minutes in a stand mixer if you can).
Beat together the eggs with the vanilla and mix into the batter.
Combine the flour with the soda and salt. Mix into the batter (please don't do this at high speed, unless you're going out as a ghost for halloween. In fact, I'd almost say to go ahead and do this part by hand to avoid any unecessary cleanup).
Add the chocolate chips and mix.

This should give you somewhere around 2 dozen golf ball-sized cookies (2 1/2-3" diameter). If you have a scoop that you like the size of, use that for uniformity (uniform cookies means uniform cooking). You want to take care to not have the batter too runny, lest the cookies come out a flat bloblike mess. Then again, you don't want to put rocks into the oven either, or you'll have a flat dough ring with the chocolate all bunched up in the middle in a mound. The batter should be soft to the touch, but still able to hold its shape well. Feel free to chill or set out as needed.

Space the would-be cookies on a baking sheet with enough room that they won't be running together (how much depends on just how large you're making them). For those golf balls, I'd give a good 2 1/2" in between each. Bake at 350 until the outside is golden brown. The middle should be pale and look unfinished (it's not done yet, but it'll keep cooking out of the oven).
If you have parchment paper, it'll save you a lot of grief getting them off of the baking sheet, not to mention it's a huge help with clean up. Barring that, be ready with a nice thin spatula. Remove the cookies to a wire rack to cool (if they're falling apart on you when you try to pull them off, you can let them sit on the sheet for a bit to set more, but be careful to not let them overcook on the sheet).

One last thing. I'm sure that, if I were under any legal obligation, I'd be enforced to inform you that consuming uncooked cookie dough that, like in this case, contains raw egg is a health risk and can lead to salmonella.

So... yeah... be warned.

Doesn't stop me, though.

Diary of a mad scientist, part deux

Hey all, I said that I'd continue on with quickbreads in my last bit, and here it is.

Luckily for your weary eyes (I'm sure you get sore after staring at the computer screen for so long) a lot of the basics are already covered in the previous post. All of the ingredients do the same thing in muffins or biscuits as in yeast breads. It's more a matter of different technique.

There is, however, one big difference when it comes to the shopping list. Quickbreads don't use yeast. That's what makes them quickbreads, actually. Since they call for a different leavening agent, they don't require hours to rise (or any kneading, for that matter). Just mix and bake.

So what are those new leavening agents? Generally we're talking baking powder and/or baking soda. Baking soda is a fun little thing that, when added to liquid, starts producing gases. Said gases give lift to the batter or dough, and voila, leavening. Baking soda is a bit of a base, in that it will neutralize light acids (in cooking, this means chocolate, buttermilk, a dab of citrus, and lots of other stuff). So you'll want to use it in recipes that have these acids (chocolate muffin, anyone?).
Baking powder is a bit of a mix of things. It's a mix of baking soda plus enough cream of tartar (acid in powder form) to neutralize everything, along with some cornstarch to keep it all nice and dry. Extra acidity can add some different flavors, so if you like those you might try substituting baking powder for baking soda (either fully or partially, depending on how much of that flavor you want).

A note, though. Since baking soda is what actually leavens, you may have caught on to the fact that teaspoon to teaspoon baking powder is going to leaven less. So how much is good? Obviously too little and you'll be left with flat muffins that just don't have enough gas to rise, but too much will leave you with collapsed muffins (remember what I said earlier about too much gas causes them to rise too much and finally they collapse under their own weight before the outside sets?).
If you're going for baking soda, 1/4 teaspoon per cup of flour will do the job (yeah, it's pretty efficient stuff). Since baking powder is roughly 1/4 baking powder, it takes about 1 teaspoon per cup of flour.

A (further) note. I mentioned earlier that gases start forming as soon as the baking soda hits liquid. This means that little bubbles are forming and, in a thin batter, will rise to the top, pop, and release all of the gases. No gas in the batter means no rise in the oven. It's easy enough to avoid this, just don't mix the batter and walk away for three hours. Also of note are double-acting baking powders and sodas. These are specially designed to release gases in two stages, once when mixed with the liquid, and then again when they hit heat (ie, the oven). Not necessary by any means, but if you want extra insurance you can get some.

Now when it comes to technique, you're looking at basically three different options. The creaming method (used for cakes, cookies, and their ilk), the muffin method (you guessed it, muffins), and the biscuit method (do I need to say it?). While cookies and cakes may fall into the realm of quickbreads in that they use baking soda rather than yeast, I consider them far enough removed to deserve their own post. Now not all things made with, say, the muffin method are muffins. Carrot cake is actually constructed via the muffin method. On the other hand, you could just say that carrot cake isn't a cake, it's just a big, oddly shaped muffin... I'll let you decide how you feel about that one.

So what makes a muffin? The easy answer, oil. Liquid fat mixed with the dry goods leads to coating the proteins, helping to stave off gluten (which you don't want much of here), and giving you a nice tender product. That's really the long and short of it. As far as actual mixing goes, mix together all of the dry ingredients in one bowl, and the wet in another. Then pour the wet over the dry (I've been taught to add in 1/3 of the dry, then 1/3 of the wet, then another 1/3 of the dry, etc, until it's all in and combined, but in all honesty generally I just pour it in).

Now this next bit is imporant. Mix the batter, just until it comes together. Yes, there will be a few lumps, and yes there may even be dry spots. Stop. Mixing. Put down the spoon and step back. Overmixing is the bane of all muffinkind. It's just too easy to form too much gluten, and then you get tunneling. What is tunneling you ask? Think of what the inside of a muffin should look like. Small pockets everywhere, varying slightly in size and kind of hodge-podge in placement, but small and mixed throughout the muffin. Too much mixing forms too much gluten, which gives too much elasticity. When the gases kick in, this too-elastic batter will hold on and keep expanding. Instead of getting a nice little bubble, you get a big, long, tunnel-like bubble than could very well run the length of the muffin. That's just no fun, so let's keep it from happening by not overmixing.

And one more thing, don't pour straight into the muffin tin (or waffle iron - yes, those waffles we all know and love... at least I do... are made in the same manner as muffins). Give the batter a few minutes to rest (I know what I said about gases escaping, but a few minutes will do way more good than harm). The batter will firm up a bit as the proteins pull in water and set up just a tad. It'll be easier to work with, everything will be more uniform... trust me, it's a good idea.

Now, on to biscuits. Biscuits are formed by cutting butter into flour in order to coat the proteins with solid fat. Note that I say butter because that's what tends to be common and that's what I use, but any solid fat will do the trick. If you want to make biscuits with lard, be my guest. You may remember what I said about tender vs flakey when talking about pie crust a while back (and the astute of you will have noted by now that yes, a pie crust is just an unleavened biscuit). Larger cuts of butter lead to a flakey product, and smaller cuts lead to tenderness. I'm not here to tell you whether you like flakey or tender biscuits, I'm just here to tell you how. If you want things really flakey (like a really flakey pie crust) then leave those chunks large. If you're all about the tender biscuits, cut them small (rice-sized granuals of butter seem to be fairly common).
Now, everything I said about over mixing pie crust stands with biscuits. Once you add the liquid, mix it just to combine (overmixing leads to tough biscuits, and that's no good whether you were going for tender or flakey). Be very gentle when rolling out the dough, too. As soon as the liquid is in, you're playing with fire. You have to be careful to avoid forming too much gluten. So roll the dough out gently, and cut as many biscuits as you can out of this first rolling. You can reform the dough once, but much more than that and it's going to be overmixed.

And let's not forget that biscuits like a rest too (see a trend forming?). After you've got the dough together, let it set for just a few minutes before you start rolling. Same concept here; more uniform product, and easier to work with.

One last note. If you get biscuits that are mounded instead of flat on top, just poke down a bit in the middle before you bake them. The middle tends to rise a tad more than the sides, so starting lower than the sides will even things out in the end.

There you have it, the best of biscuits and masterful muffinwork.

Alright, that's enough of me trying to be witty for one day.

On the rise

As with all things righteous and good, there is more to a good loaf than just ingredients. Technique is key, and you know what that means...

So you've got all of those ingredients mixed and your dough ball is formed, but what now? First, we knead. Is there a right way to do it? Of course!

If you're lucky enough to have a stand mixer or food processor at your disposal, push the "on" button. Congradulations, you're kneading.

For the rest of us (or those who just want to do it by hand) it's just a tad more complicated (but don't worry, it's really easy). Turn the dough out onto your work surface. You want to keep the dough from sticking, and for most people this means sprinkling some flour on the surface. A certain aforementioned book writer mentions that another good (and maybe even better, since it won't add extra flour that can dry out your dough) method is to use just a touch of oil, or even water. Not so much that the dough slips everywhere, but just enough to keep it from sticking to the work area. I'll leave it up to you what you use.

Actual technique is fairly simple. The idea is to mix the dough in a uniform motion in order to form those sheets of gluten. Place your palm in the middle of the dough ball and push in and pushing outward. Fold the dough over itself (so that what was on top is now in the middle), give it a quick quarter-turn, and repeat.

See? Easy. Just keep that up for 10-15 minutes.

After the dough is properly kneaded, it's a good idea to form a nice smooth skin on top. This will help keep all the gases formed by the yeast inside and lead to a nice rise. You can get this effect by pulling away from the top of the ball and tucking it under itself. When you've got a nice smooth top just pinch the bottom together.

And now the all important rise. Dough likes a moderately warm climate (room temperature is pretty good). You can easily leave the dough in the mixing bowl, cover it with a towel so that it won't dry out from exposure to air (also rubbing the outside with just a dab of oil is helpful here), and let it sit on the counter for an hour or two until it's risen to double its original size.

If you're in a hurry, you can take a note from the pro's and build your own proof box. You'll want to make sure that your oven can run low enough (110 F will kill the yeast), so if it has a setting that will keep it around 90-100 F you're good. Killing the yeast will leave you with sad, unleavened bread, and no one wants that - so please, use a thermometer to be sure. Grab a standard baking dish (anything that will hold water will work, really), fill it with boiling water, and stick it in the bottom of that oven. Set the dough on a higher rack and let it rise. That little trick should cut the rise time about in half.

If you're not in a hurry and want to add a little flavor to your bread, try going for a nice slow overnight rise in the refrigerator. The colder temp will slow down the yeast and allow flavorful bacteria (which would be eating the same sugar as the yeast if those hungry little things didn't take it all first) to develop. I suggest giving this a try, as it'll add a whole new dimension of flavor.

Once you have your risen dough, it's time to punch it down. Really you just have to press (and not all that hard, even) down the middle. This will let out a lot of the gases that caused the first rise (but hey, there's another rise on the way, so don't worry), but what you're really doing is breaking up the yeast. Budding yeast is kind of like the 25-year-old who's still mooching off of his parents and living in the basement. He's a fully grown yeast cell, but he's just not letting go of his immediate family. Having a few big clumps of yeast isn't going to be as efficient as a bunch of little yeasties all spread throughout the dough. Punch down the dough, fold it over, punch down again... you get the idea. You only need to fold it a few times, more or less so that what was on the outside before is now in the middle. This will break up those clumps of yeast, allowing Jr. to go off and start his own family.

You'll want to form the dough into its final shape (whatever you want - a loaf, rolls, twists... I'm not going to tell you how to eat your bread) for the last rise, but first let it rest for a few minutes. Let the gluten recover from the beating it just got, and it'll be easier to work with.

For the second rise you can let it sit on the counter, or try the proofing method. I suppose that you could let it rise in the refrigerator again, but by this time I'm getting impatient and want to eat. Choose your rise method, and go for it. Again you want the dough to roughly double in size (and, by the way, it should happen faster the second time around).

Now it's time to bake. And yes, there's more to this than simply tossing it into the oven and walking away. The nature of the beast is that you're fighting a battle as soon as you put the dough in, because you want one last good rise (called "oven spring") before the crust sets. This rise comes from yeast giving one last hurrah before getting killed off (those guys just can't take heat), and also from the liquid turning to steam and giving some extra lift. So you need a good hot oven to make this happen, but not so hot that the outside crust sets before the dough is expanded.
If you have it right, you'll have a nice, beautiful loaf (or rolls, or twists, or whatever). If not, here are a few things that can happen (but now you'll know why they're happening):

If there's an air pocket near the top crust, the oven was too hot. The crust set, gases couldn't get out, and so they just rose to the top and stayed there.
If the top busts open somewhere, the same sort of thing happened. The crust formed early and the gas was trapped inside... but instead of just sitting there and forming an air pocket they decide to get the heck out of dodge, and they break loose. This particular problem can be helped by slashing the dough before baking. Not only does it look cool, it allows gases an easy exit.

Now that the dough is done baking (and you know it's done because you popped in your trusty thermometer and it read 180 F, right?), it's time to take it out of the oven. But wait, hold off on ripping into it (I know it's hard, believe me). Give it just a few minutes to rest. Let those proteins set up. It'll be worth the extra wait.

And there it is. You've got the lowdown on the ingredients, you've got good technique, and soon you'll have the wonderful smell of fresh baked bread.

The plans of mice and men

I ended up making those cinnamon rolls today, and as promised I'm back to let you know how they turned out.

As it turned out, a bit more flour was needed to get a workable dough (by a bit, I mean I kept adding until I had nearly 4 cups total in there). Go figure. Maybe this is why I'm not a baking and pastry student.

If (and when) I do it again, I'll start with 3 cups and add if necessary. Dough can be fickle when it comes to environmental changes (humidity and such). Not that I'd expect a massive change making the recipe in the same apartment, but I'd be wary of starting off with a full 4 cups.

To make matters worse (at least, less professional) the oven here has been acting up (ie, instead of the 375 I wanted I was probably baking at 250 or so). They did end up nice and fluffy, but they didn't brown as nicely as I believe they would given proper oven temp (I threw the heat up to 500 or so for a few minutes to get a little color, and a bit did come out, but I was balancing on a thin rope between brown and burnt with that high heat).

As far as a yield, it's hard to say given that I didn't measure.. so let's estimate that a sheet of dough 1'x2', rolled up and sliced into roughly 1" rolls, will give you around a dozen. Ish. It was my first go, so cut me a little slack. I'll try to be more exact next time. In any case, it makes plenty for one to be snacking on them most of the day and to have a bag left over.

Be sure to get a good amount of filling in the middle, too. Sadly I was down to the last bit of brown sugar, so mine are a tad lacking in that department, however the mix did melt down a bit and form a delcious sort of crust on the bottom of the rolls (quite possibly my favorite part).

So, the official word on the matter?

Start with 3 cups of flour, and be ready to add more. Just go for a nice ball of dough that you can work with your hands.

I have to say, though, all this talking has gotten me a bit hungry... good thing I still have that bag of leftovers.

Diary of a mad scientist

Many will say that baking is a science, and many would be true. It's not simply a matter of throwing whatever smells good into the pot and seeing what comes out. Baking is an entirely different beast, one that is far more measured and calculated.

But, nevertheless, this beast too can be tamed. It's all about knowing what you're doing, and knowing what you're putting into that mixing bowl is doing. In order to avoid another way-too-long episode of my ramblings, we'll stick to yeast doughs today.

Basic yeast bread consists of 5 ingredients: Flour, liquid (at its simplest, water), yeast, sugar, and salt.

Flour has proteins, namely the proteins needed to form gluten (you'll be hearing plenty about this). Proteins in general are what give structure to baked goods. Gluten specifically does a number of things, and I really can't stress enough just how important gluten formation (whether you're trying to form it or keep it from forming) is in any given baked good. Before I get into that, though, I'll continue with the rest of the big five.

Liquid, quite obviously you might say, gives moisture to baked goods. It is necessary in the formation of gluten as well.

Yeast is our leavening agent. After consuming sugar yeast releases gases which give bread its lift.

Sugar, as mentioned before, is yeast food. Simple little yeast just loves simple little sugar. It also acts as a tenderizer in baked goods, largely by keeping gluten from forming (so putting too much sugar into something like dough for cinnamon buns can be a very bad thing, because you'll be left with a listless pile of unrisen dough).

Salt follows with it's general use as a flavor agent, but also helps in the formation of gluten. What's more, it keeps yeast in check so you won't have the blob growing on your counter if you leave it alone for too long.

Now more about gluten, and just why it's such a big deal. If you've ever made bread by hand (or any yeast-risen dough for that matter) you'll know what I mean when I say it's elastic. You push it out, it snaps back. You can poke a finger (lightly) into a ball of well-kneaded dough and the little divet you just made will pop right back out. That's the gluten at work. Gluten is a very rubbery, elastic protein that, when kneaded, will form into a network of sheets throughout the dough. This is what gives bread its chew. Also, those sheets are what catch the gases let off by yeast and allow the dough to rise. No rise means a smaller, dense loaf.
The flour you choose will have a big affect on gluten, because different flours have different amounts of protein. First of all, wheat flour is the only flour that has enough glutenin (the protein that forms into gluten) to be worth anything here. All-purpose flour is, as you may have guessed, in the middle of things. Bread flour has higher amounts of protein while cake flour has less. Whole wheat flour has less protein per cup because the rest of the kernel, while having a lot of other benefits, doesn't have the proper stuff to form gluten. In short, when it comes to flour you can get away with all-purpose, but higher protein bread flour is better. If you want to use whole wheat flour or some other grain (such as rye) feel free to do so but I suggest mixing it with some wheat flour (I go half and half when I use whole wheat flour).

Okay, so we've got the basic ingredients plus a nice science lesson about a very special protein. However, there are a few more things that can (and commonly are) done to add a little more to breads.

Fat. Be it a little butter or oil (or in some cases a lot) fat does a lot of things for dough. If you use a flavorful oil, then those flavors are going to come through in the dough. Fat is also a tenderizer. It does this by being its usual slippery self and gets in the way of gluten formation (much in the same manner as with a meringue, enough fat - and it doesn't take much - will keep those delicate bonds from forming and those egg whites just won't whip up). Now, if you want that extra flavor but don't want to keep gluten down, you can try adding the fat in after the dough has been kneaded (allowing the gluten to form up without fat getting in the way).

Eggs. Whites and yolks both do some cool things to baked goods. Egg whites are pretty much our best bet when it comes to drying something out. Yolks will increase the shelf life of bread. Eggs also offer proteins to bind and set bread, so if you have a recipe that keeps coming out too crumbly, maybe adding in an egg is the way to go.

Now that you know what some things do to your dough, let's look at how much should be going in.

The ratio of flour to water (or whatever your liquid of choice) is a bit important. If you're looking to make a pour batter (say you were going for waffles or pancakes) then about a 1:1 ratio would be good. The pie crust that I use is a 5:1 ratio, essentially just enough water to form the flour into a ball. The bread that I am in habit of making is a 3:1 ratio. You can tweak this a bit, obviously more water will give you a wetter dough and more flour a stiffer one. It just depends what you're going for and what you're trying to make.

The book CookWise by Shirley O. Corriher is a great resource, and I mention it here in the middle of things because much (if not all) of the next few bits come more or less directly from me having read it (okay, so I'm not done with it yet - it's on the larger side - but I've already learned a lot from it).

As I said before too much sugar will completely wreck any hopes of getting gluten into your dough. It depends on how much protein is in the flour to begin with, but stay under two tablespoons of sugar per cup of flour and you should be alright.

One pack of yeast (somewhere around 2 1/2 teaspoons) will work on a dough with three cups of flour. In fact, if you give it enough time, it can leaven a dough with up to eight cups of flour in it.

You don't need much salt. About 1/4 teaspoon will be plenty for you for a standard loaf (about 3 cups of flour).

Okay, we've covered the basic ingredients, what they do, and the respective ratios. Now, with a mad cackle and lightning rods flashing, it's time to experiment.

I've been wanting to try out some cinnamon buns, so here goes!

The goods:
2 1/2 c all-purpose flour
1/4 t sea salt
4 T sugar
2 1/2 t yeast
1/2 c water
1/2 c skim milk
1 egg yolk
1/2 t vanilla

The plan:
Mix the flour, half of the sugar, and salt (sea salt has extra proteins that help with gluten, and I have a jar thanks to Christmas presents - standard stuff will work, though) in a bowl.
Beat the egg and mix with the milk and vanilla (I use skim because, again, I have it - take your pick, though).
Proof the yeast in the water and remaining sugar (a lot of yeast doesn't actually require this step. If you're not sure, proof it to make sure it's good. If you're confident in the yeast, you can go ahead and mix it and the rest of the sugar with the dry goods).
Combine wet and dry, and mix to form a ball. Knead to perfection (a solid 10 minutes by hand, 30 seconds or so with a food processor blade, or a few minutes with a dough hook in a stand mixer - for any mechanical method the dough is ready when it sticks to the blade/hook in a ball).
Let rise until doubled in size.
Punch down and let rest for a minute or two.
Roll out, fill (see below), and roll up.
Cut to desired size (I'll be going for about an inch). Unflavored dental floss is great for this.
Place in a pan, let rise again, and bake at 375 F until golden and delicious (I'm guessing 12-15 minutes).
Top with glaze (see further below).

For a filling, I'm going with a simple cinnamon sugar mix. Melt down some butter and spread/brush over the rolled-out dough. Sprinkle with a cinnamon-sugar mix (just mix to your own taste). Maybe some brown sugar. Pecans would be great, but I'm a poor college kid.

For a glaze, take a little powdered sugar and put just a splash of water in - trust me, it doesn't need much - and mix it to form a glaze. Simple and delicious. Start with something like a tablespoon of water per cup of powdered sugar (and no, I don't plan to use a full cup of sugar here). So like I said, very little water.

I'll let you know how they turn out.

So there you have it. A definite science, where too much of the wrong thing can ruin your day and sometimes leave you guessing as to just what went wrong, but when you know what's going on you've got everything you need to make your own recipes (they've got to come from somewhere, right?).

Table talk

Have you ever heard the word "sobremesa"? Maybe back in the days of Spanish class, or perhaps you've had the good fortune to visit a hispanic country or two (something I aspire to).

By direct translation, the word means "over table". It refers to the time spent after a meal is eaten when the participants then stay at the table and talk.

Yeah, you read that right, somewhere in the world people actually ignore the tv, leave the laptop shut, and talk. It's really a beautiful concept. I'm not trying to be anti-american, but we seriously need to take a look at our eating habits. No, not about what we eat (scroll down for that bit), but how we eat. How we spend the time during the meal, and after.

I do love cooking. I love knowing food, I love creating food, but probably most of all I love sharing food. That, for me, is the core of things. Good food isn't about surviving, it's not about fulfilling our nutrient needs and keeping our stomachs quiet (although it does that nicely). It's about coming together, spending time talking, laughing. Spending time loving.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but pulling up to a window to grab a bag full of greasy burgers and fries that you'll be half-heartedly chewing while talking on the cell phone and yelling for the kids in the back to keep quiet... yeah, that doesn't really count.

There's an odd split, too. People will jump at the chance to go out with friends for dinner and spend an hour talking during the meal, and then sit around for another hour after. But what happens at home? We grab a plate and run to sit in front of the TV. There may be some conversation during commercials, but largely it's chomping and staring.

I know you're busy, I know you have a hectic schedule, I know it's hard to find time. But try. Just try it. Sit down. Get everyone together, and sit. Talk. Enjoy. Enjoy the food, enjoy the conversation. Don't rush things. Break out some cards or the old Monopoly board, maybe. It's all part of the process.

Take a note from the rest of the world. Afterall, who doesn't want a little more love at the table?

Smart Eating 101

Greetings and salutations dear readers. I do so enjoy your companionship that I've decided to do what I can to keep you alive longer (so that you can keep visiting, of course).
Now, chances are that you're aware that the US is pretty much the fattest nation in the known world (and, in all likelihood, we'd beat some of the unknown too). A quick bit of research shows that about 1 in 4 adults are clinically obese. This doesn't mean that these people are to the point where they can't get out of bed, but it's still not exactly a great thing.

I don't want this to turn into a rant about weight - far from it. Eating right isn't about dropping 2 sizes in time for bikini season, it's about being healthy. The benefits of a healthy lifestyle go far beyond a measurement. A longer life, less stress (to make those extra years bearable), and more energy are a few good ones.

I'm also not here to talk about "health food". I don't really like that term, anyway. Too many bad thoughts enter our heads when we hear it. I am a fan of knowing a little about the food you're eating, though. So, I'm going to give you a crash course in the basics.

There are six things you need to survive:
Proteins, Carbohydrates, Fats, Water, Minerals, and Vitamins.

The first three give us energy in the form of calories (that's right, calories aren't some nasty thing that make us fat, it's just a measure of energy). Specifically, a calorie is the amount of energy needed to raise 1 mL of water 1 degree Celsius. And actually, when a label says something has 100 calories, it's actually talking about kilocalories (100,000 calories for you metrically impaired)... but that's really just a fun fact to impress your friends. We'll keep it simple here and just call them calories like we're all used to seeing. The latter three have various functions in our body and are important for any number of reasons.

When it comes to proteins, carbs, and fats, there are the good and the bad (and in some cases, the ugly). You need each, in varying amounts. So let's take a look, shall we?

Proteins - they build and repair muscle and other body tissues, help your immune system, and otherwise rock face.

There are two categories; complete and incomplete. Proteins are just chains of amino acids. There are just over 20 amino acids (that we care about, anyway), and our bodies produce over half of those naturally. The completeness of a protein depends on whether or not it contains all of those amino acids that we can't make on our own - the essential amino acids.

Essentially complete proteins are found in animal products, while plant products only have incomplete proteins (with a few noteable exceptions). So how do all of those vegetarians get along? Complementary proteins. Mix the right foods, and together you'll get everything you need in the protein department. And don't worry, there's no big complicated chart where you pick one from list A and two from list B, just three groups. Grains, nuts/seeds, and beans/legumes. Pick any two, put them on the same plate, and enjoy. You probably already do this more than you might think. Some classic examples are rice and beans and the american favorite, the PB&J (note that the jelly here is just for taste - it's the bread and peanut butter that does all the real work).
Like I said, though, there are some exceptions from the rule of "plants = incomplete protein". Soy only lacks one essential amino acid, and so is basically considered as complete. Quinoa and amaranth are both good sources of complete protein.

Carbohydrates - simply put, they're your body's energy. If anything else is used for energy, it's converted to carbs first. If these conversions happen too often, they can lead to some nasty side effects.

Again, there are two types here; simple and complex. Simple sugars are extremely easy for your body to use, and so lead to quick spikes of energy that fade soon after and can lead you tired afterward. Complex carbs are larger things that take some time to break down into useable pieces, so your body gets a longer lasting, more evenly distributed source of energy from these.
As a rule the more refined something is when you eat it, the simpler it is. Refined sugars, honey, candies, and all the other goodies are simple sugars through and through. Pasta and bread are examples of complex carbs. In the case of grains using the whole thing (namely the husk) gives you an even more complex carbohydrate.
It's fairly easy if you think about it. Grape jelly is more complex than pure sugar, but grapes are more complex than the jelly. 100% whole wheat bread is better than puffy white bread, but any bread (that I know of, at least) is still better than that jelly.

Fats - they cushion our organs, keep us warm, and are the perfect long-term energy storage facility (unfortunately this does mean that excess energy generally gets thrown into fat cells, which can expand to virtually any size).

As before, there are the good fats, the unsaturated fats (mono-unsaturated being better than poly-unsaturated). Mono-unsaturated fats raise HDL cholestrol (the good kind) and lower the LDL cholestrol (the bad kind). Poly-unsaturated fats lowers both, so it's not as good as the mono's, but it's better than some.
Mono's generally have strong flavors (such as olive oil). Poly's are generally neutral (such as corn oil), so if you don't want the flavor these are a good second choice.

Saturated fats (those that are solid at room temperature) aren't wonderful. As far as cholestrol goes, they raise your LDL. They're great for flavor though (examples are butter and bacon fat), so just watch the amount you use.

Now the really bad guys. Trans fats are pretty much the worst guys around. Anything hydrogenated (taking a liquid fat and altering it so that it'll be solid at room temperature - such as margarine) is a trans fat. These raise your LDL and also lower your HDL. Boo and hiss, I say. Your body can't even really process the hydrogenated fats thanks to the alterations that have been made. I don't know about you, but if my body can't even recognize it as edible, I'm not sure that I want to use too much of it when I cook.

Now amounts are also important. 50-75% of your calories should come from carbohydrates. 10-15% from proteins, and 20-25% from fat. Seems low on protein, doesn't it? You have to remember that our bodies make most of what we need already. Even if you're into weight training, you don't need much more than that - it'd be far more important to get the good versions of everything, especially carbs so that you have energy for all those reps.

Before I go, I'll give a quick bit about the latter three nutrients. Water is pretty simple. If you don't get any you'll be dead within a week. Drink it. Vitamins and minerals... the easiest way to get what you need is to eat a variety of different foods. Different colors generally mean different nutrients in that respect. So hey, not only will the plate look better if it's not all white, you'll be getting what you need too.

And lastly, refinement and cooking. The more something is treated, the more it loses. Fresh strawberries have more nutrients than strawberry jelly or juice. The closer you are to the vine/tree/root/whatever, the more nutrient dense the food will be. Also, the more something is cooked, the more nutrients it will lose. This is why steaming and soups are considered to be good methods, nutritionally speaking. With soup, anything that cooks out of the ingredients stays in the broth and still makes its way into your system. Steaming is a very gentle, low-contact cooking method, so not much will be lost.

I'm not suggesting that you try steaming a chicken, but be aware that more violent methods of cooking (such as deep frying) drag out more nutrients than gentler methods (like a long slow roast).

So there's a (not so brief as originally intended) look into what's going on with your food. As they say, knowledge is power. Like I said, it's not about dropping sizes, it's about a healthy lifestyle. Love your food, and love yourself. Eat good, and eat smart.

Bake and fill to taste

Let's talk pie.

It comes in just about every shape, size, and flavor imaginable. It gives us a wonderful use for those starting-to-go apples, and is probably at least half of the reason why we love our grandmothers as much as we do.

Unfortunately, half of this wonderful dessert has, quite frankly, gotten the shaft. I'm talking about the crust. Pre-made pie crusts are, in my opinion, the death of this food. People will flock to buy these things to save time and effort when in fact making the crust is probably the quickest and easiest part of the whole process. Not to mention that when you do it by hand you have full control of the outcome, and that's going to mean a far better crust than anything you'd find in the store.

So before I throw down a recipe for you, let's talk about what makes a really good crust and how we get there.

When it comes to baked goods, flakey and tender are pretty much on opposite sides of the scale. There are a number of factors that play into the flakey-tender dichotomy. Using a liquid fat, which will simply absorb into the flour mix and coat everything, is going to provide a tender item (as seen with muffins). This is why the great among the pie crusts are made with butter or lard and not oil. Also the size of the pieces of fat makes a big difference. Before I can explain about that, though, a quick lesson about how solid fat = flakey is in order.

As I said, liquid fat like oil will simply absorb into the flour like water, giving an even coating and tenderizing the product (that's what fat does when left alone in baked goods - it tenderizes). Chunks of solid fat, however, are different. Cutting the fat into the flour (that is, either working the butter in with a quick run through a food processor or the old fork and knife method) does still coat the flour with fat, but you still have these nice big pieces spread throughout the dough when you're done. When these chunks hit the hot oven they melt and spread all throughout the dough. Soon the water will turn to steam and will separate the layers of protein contained within, and you're left with all of those wonderful light flakes.

Now why does size matter in this process? It's pretty simple - a large chunk of fat will melt over a large area, the steam will go to work over said large area, and you'll be left with nice big flakes. Tiny little bits of fat (say for example, pieces about the size of rice) will make tiny little puddles of fat, which turn into tiny little pockets of steam, and you just won't get those nice flakes. The smaller you go, the more tender the result. Big flakes come from big fat, and that's that.

Before anything else, though, watch out for a few pitfalls:

Don't go overboard when working the fat in, especially if you're using a food processor. Like I said, cutting those pieces too small won't give you a flakey crust. A food processor will only take about 10 seconds, if that. Pulse lightly, and keep your eye on it.

When rolling out the crust, be gentle. Remember those protein layers that get separated to become those wonderous flakes? That protein is gluten. It forms when flour mixes with water. If you're ever kneaded dough, you know that it gets more elastic as you go - that's gluten forming. These rubberband-like strands are great for bread, giving a good chew and catching gases to allow for a good rise as well. For a pie crust, though, they're not exactly friendly. Too much gluten will make a crust tough, and who wants that?
When rolling, don't just go to town on the sucker. Use quick, light strokes to gently form the dough into the desired shape.

Watch the water you use. You want just enough water to bring it all together into a dough. Gently mix while pouring to bring it together - but remember what I said about gluten. Mix just enough so that you have a doughball.

Keep it cold. Especially when using butter, which gets really soft at room temperature, it's important to keep everything cold. Before I roll it out, I give the dough a nice chill in the refrigerator (or even a few minutes in the freezer). If you can, toss everything you'll be using (bowl, rolling pin, etc) into the freezer as well. The up side to lard is that it has a higher melting point, so it will stay solid just a little bit longer in the oven. This is helpful because the protein layers need some time to set. If there are no layers to push apart, the steam won't create flakes when it escapes. The most crucial time to chill the dough is before it goes into the oven (so that solid chunks of butter are present just before baking). If nothing else, give it a few minutes in the freezer before you bake it.

Docking, that is to say poking little holes all over the place, is necessary if you're baking the crust without any filling (blind baking). Otherwise the steam won't have a good way out and you'll get all sorts of air pockets.

And now, on to the actual recipe. This will make enough for 2 crusts - either a top and bottom, or 2 bottoms... likely with some scraps left over.

1 1/4 cup flour*
pinch salt**
1/2 c butter***
1/4**** c ice water

That's a lot of little footnote markers, but they're important. I'll go through the process, though, before explaining.

Combine flour and salt.
Cut in butter (I personally try not to go below pea-sized pieces, and probably half are at least twice that size. If using a processor and you want this effect, do half of the fat first to 1/2 T sized pieces, put in the rest and go a bit more. You should end up with good chunks of butter. If it looks like you've got a lot of flour left in there, don't worry, it just looks that way. Stir it around gently a bit to make sure all of the flour has touched the fat, but don't cut the fat further)
Gradually add ice water, starting with 2-3 T. The necessary amount depends on altitude, humidity, etc, so go light and add more if needed. Remember, you just want it to come together.


There you have it. You've got your doughball, ready to go. Now for those footnotes...

*Flours are not created equal. Bread flour has more gluten-forming protein, and cake flour has less. Since we don't want too much gluten, using cake flour if you have it wouldn't be a bad idea. If all you have is all-purpose, though, don't worry. Alone it'll make a fine crust (all other steps done properly). If you want a little extra insurance, though, replace 2T of flour with corn starch. It'll mix in well enough with everything else in this amount, but it won't form gluten.
**Salts are also not created equal. Sea salt, though I love it, is full of minerals that are beneficial to gluten formation. Given that it's way more expensive this may be falling on deaf ears, but in case it matters, save it for other culinary pursuits and use standard table salt or kosher salt.
***Another bit of insurance can be added here. If you care to, replace 2T of butter with lard. Really, you can use all lard if you want, but I'm sure a lot of you are making faces at that thought. I just use butter myself, and it'll be fine if you keep it cold, but like I said, if you want that extra bit of insurance...
****Just to reiterate, use ice water to keep the mix cold. I fill a 1 cup measure with ice, then with water. Give it a minute to cool down all the way, then add it one tablespoon at a time to the mix.


One final note. This is something that I haven't actually tried yet, but I think it may be worth noting. Adding sugar to baked goods does a few things. It gets in the way of gluten, sweetens (obviously), and helps with good browning. It's classified as a tenderizer, as sharp crystals have a habit of cutting through things. If you feel up for experimenting, toss in a teaspoon or two with the rest of the dry goods. I would expect that, given good preparation in other areas, the outcome would be beneficial. If you do try it, let me know how it turns out. I'll be testing that one with the next pie I make myself.

The next time you get a sweet tooth going, I highly encourage you to try your hand at putting together your own crust (even if you don't feel like filling it, you can bake it with a little bit of cinnamon-sugar on top - trust me, it's delicious). It's easy, and really takes less time than the trip to the store. Just keep in mind a few good tips and you'll be an expert in no time.

Seeing is believing... right?

Advertising is everywhere - it's on the tv, in the movies, on billboards and plastered everywhere in between. Shoot, some people even want to turn the moon into one giant floating logo. The point is the food we buy, or rather the bags and boxes that they come in, are no exception.

Most of these buzzwords - low fat, lite, reduced fat, ad infinitum - are healthcentric, trying to convince concerned mothers and would-be dieters that this product is better than all the rest. There's nothing wrong with slapping these words in big bold letters across the front of a box, but if they're going to do us any good, shouldn't we take a minute to learn what they mean?

Take "low fat" and "reduced fat", for example. They seem to imply the same thing - there's not as much fat in whatever it is that you're looking at. Indeed both are concerned with the amount of fat in the product, but they mean rather drastically different things. "Low Fat" denotes that something is, in fact, relatively low in fat. This means 3 grams or less of fat per serving as well as having 30% or less of said calories coming from fat. "Reduced Fat" means that this product has at least 25% less fat per serving than the standard version.
"Light" or "lite" means that the item in question either contains 1/3 fewer calories, or half the fat. These can also be reference to sodium content in which case the amount of sodium must be reduced by at least 50%.

But I'm here to tell you, these things aren't quite as user-friendly as they may seem. The biggest reason for this is that it's all regulated by serving size, but serving sizes aren't regulated. I've got two examples for you.
Firstly, take any one of the multitude of "fat free cooking sprays" available. I have such a can myself (great for the waffle iron and making those cheesecakes come out of the pan) in fact, and a quick look tells me that the primary ingredient (the ingredients are always listed in order of amount, by the way) is canola oil. So it would seem that held in that can is some special form of fat free fat. Sound fishy yet? It's all in the wordplay.

Like I said, the serving size is what matters. If something contains less than 1/2 a gram of fat (a trivial amount in terms of actual consumption) per serving then it can be labeled as "fat free". The serving size for one of those spray bottles, you ask? Oh, a nice healthy 1/3 second burst. In other words, maybe enough to give light covereage to the bottom of a small ramekin (forget about trying to hit the sides, though). If you're trying to go to town on a standard 9x13" baking pan, you're going to be looking at some serious spraytime.

Second example (this one comes from an old professor of mine). One day in the grocery store she spotted a display of cheesecakes. Some were your standard run-of-the-mill, fat, calorie, and deliciousness filled cheesecakes. Others were branded as "reduced fat". Being the savvy shopper that she was (among other things, she taught an intro to nutrition course) she took a look at the labels to see just what the difference was. As advertized, the second cake (although it's really a custard) had less fat, less calories... in fact it had less everything. Well, everything but slices that is.

The first dessert was set to be cut into 12 portions, and the second 16. In all other ways they were exactly identical. Same dessert, different label. Reducing the portion allowed the company to throw on the term "reduced fat" without having to put forth the effort of actually making a second product.

Furthermore, keep in mind that "reduced" or "light" is not the same as "low". Just because something is lower in fat, calories, or anything else than the original doesn't mean that it's not still really bad for you.

I'll throw this one out there while I'm on the subject - cholesterol. Some foods (peanut butter springs to mind) have advertised as being cholesterol free. They certainly are. Just as every other plant-based product in the world is. Cholesterol, a gunky fat-like substance, is only found in animal products. It's found in us, even. It's not all bad - much like everything else there's a good version and a bad version, but that's another story. There's nothing wrong with saying that there's no cholesterol in peanut butter (or anything else that doesn't have it, for that matter) but it's kind of like saying "No African pigmy babies were slaughtered en masse in the making of this peanut butter".

All I'm saying is that you should be aware of what you're buying. Don't be afraid to use any of these terms as a guide, but that's all they are, a general guide. If you really want to know what you're getting into, read the label. All you have to do is flip the box over.

Go on, declare your supremacy

You may be unaware of this fact, but I am a food snob. I am not, however, pretentious when it comes to food. And yes, there is a massive difference.

Simply put, a food snob demands quality food. It's really that simple. Pretentiousness comes in when it stops being about the food, and instead is about the dress code, the extent of the wine list, and the specific degree the server stoops at to properly kiss your hind quarters.

Now I don't have anything against a nice selection of wine (or other booze for that matter), and good service is a big part of the greater restaurant experience, but said service and food shouldn't ever be looked down upon because it comes out of the back of a mobile trailer-turned-kitchen. I've had far more let-downs from fine dining restaurants than I've had good experiences (granted I've had very few fine dining experiences, and Indiana isn't exactly a food mecha), and it's all because the food just didn't blow me away. It hasn't ever been bad, mind you, but if a place is claiming any amount of stars it'd better put out some incredible eats - and that means something that I couldn't easily mimic in a dorm's kitchenette.

I do want to be clear, though, I'm not at all putting down fine dining. I just don't find it to be at all necessary for incredible food. As I said, I'm a food snob. So what does this mean exactly? I demand greatness. Call it what you want, put it on the finest of china, serve it to me with the utmost of grace, but if I don't have to focus on not falling out of my chair from sheer euphoric bliss then I'm not satisfied.

Here's the catch, though - it doesn't take much. In fact it takes very little. Give me a burger and fries and I'll satisfied... so long as it's a good burger and fries (although as a general rule, if they're done correctly I feel that they deserve the title of pommes frites rather than "french fries"). Hot dogs? Bring it on if it's a quality product with a deliciously toasted bun, maybe some nice hot caramelized onions or some fresh relish, or even just some good clean mustard. A good bowl of soup can get me more excited than an eight-year-old on Christmas day. I love simple food. That much is a personal preference. I demand exquisite food. That, my friends, is the creed of a food snob.

I'll throw down an example from today. The garde mange class (garde mange classically being the "cold station", often doing select appetizers and desserts) set up a beautiful buffet of tartines and other treats today as a bit of a capstone project. My class got to go through and eat. Why am I this lucky? I try not to question. One of the items, and one that got me excited, was a simple caprese salad (tomato, basil, and mozzarella cheese in its simplest of forms). The cheese, I was informed, had been made fresh that morning.

Needless to say, I had high hopes.

Unfortunately they were, at least slightly, dashed away.

I blame the tomatoes.

Romas, if I'm not mistaken, they just weren't great. Maybe I should blame the fact that I've had locally grown, in season, utterly ripe and intensely delicious tomatoes in my day. Or maybe I should blame the fact that those things probably were picked while green and "ripened" in-transit. To go further, I would have enjoyed a bit more of a dressing (even a simple olive oil) and a bit of extra... perhaps some garlic, paper thin shallot slices, or even just kosher salt and fresh ground pepper. I will give credit where it's due, though - that cheese was quite good.

I encourage you to adopt the life of a food snob. Laugh in the face of America's fast food (notably the only country who can't seem to get the concept of good, quick food right), and lift up that burger made from fresh ground sirloin (which, by the way, is my suggestion for a great burger) served with hot, fresh, and always double-fried frites.

Keep it simple. Or, if you want, keep it complex. But keep it good.