No, I'm not talking about Emeril's old show. I'm actually talking about boiling water. Specifically, water for pasta.
Don't worry, I'm sure that you're fully capable of turning on both the tap and the stove and waiting until enough bubbles show up - there's more to perfect pasta than that.
When it comes to pasta, there are a few simple tricks that will rid you of the sticky, clumpy, messy noodles that you may have come into contact with in the past.
First of all, use lots of water. I mean lots. I'm talking a good gallon worth. Seem like a lot to you? Good. It is. It's supposed to be.
Pasta likes lots of room to float around, flip this way and that, and all manner of underwater acrobatics (they're quite the active little group once the water comes back to a boil). The bottom line is that if you don't give them enough room, you're going to end up with one giant tangled mess instead of a nice plate of noodles, and no one wants that.
I'll throw in here a bit about oil. Adding oil to the water is said to do a couple of things. First, it supposedly helps keep those noodles from sticking (it's a natural lubricant, afterall). Second, it helps to keep the water from boiling over (saving you a lot of cleaning later).
I can't say much about the bubbling over bit, but I can say that it won't help you in the sticking department. Fat floats on water. This is great if you're trying to clarify butter (that's for another day) but not so great if you expect the stuff floating around under water to get coated by something that will, inevitably, be stuck on top. And what's more, once you pour out water (even though some say not to do this - that starchy water can come in handy later) the fat on top is the first thing to go down the drain. Wonderful.
I will say this, though, on keeping the water from bubbling over. Agitation (such as stiring) when it starts to peak will break things up and keep everything in the pot. It's possible that the oil on top of the water will continually agitate any foam buildup, keeping it to a minimum.
I'll also mention salt, because this is where it should be mentioned. Most people like at least some salt on their food. It does, in fact, have this little habit of pleasantly flavoring things and making them taste (when used judiciously) a bit brighter and just more like themselves. So how are you supposed to evenly salt pasta? By salting the water. Considering that you have a lot of water in that pot, you'll need a lot of salt. I've heard more than once that you want to make the water taste like sea water. I don't quite go that heavy, but do keep in mind that not nearly everything you put into the pot will actually be absorbed into the pasta. With a standard iodized salt package I generally upend it and go for three or four turns around the pot.
Now you're ready to finally add heat to this equation. Easy enough - toss on the lid and turn up the gas. Bring it to a full rolling boil, and toss in the pasta. Make sure that it's all completely under, otherwise it won't cook evenly. Now's the time to start stirring, too. Until everything gets back to a boil and starts swimming around on its own (and I keep an eye on it even then) you want to make sure that nothing's sticking together.
Once you've reached a delicious al dente (for fresh pasta this should only take about three minutes), you're ready to evacuate pasta from water. Into a colander it goes, and if you want to give something new a try hold back just a bit of the water.
Now, proper tossing (and this is important). You've got your freshly cooked pasta, that bit of hot pasta water, and the sauce that you no doubt have hot and ready.
Grab a bowl and pour in the pasta. Now pour on a bit of the sauce - you don't want to drown the noodles, just give them a nice coating. And now, just a bit of that pasta water. The starch will help the sauce stick and give a little flavor boost. Also, if you're planning to use any fresh herbs or cheeses, now's the time. Give the bowl a quick flip to mix everything together, and you're good to go.
One noteworthy note - the shape of the pasta affects how much sauce the noodle will hold on to. Smooth pastas hold less sauce than ridged ones, and the deeper the ridge, the more sauce can soak in and stick. Fun fact, no? At least it's a tasty one.
A simple dish, but still one that deserves a little recognition. With minimal effort, your next plate of spaghetti will be a dish worth raving about.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
The reviews are in...
Okay, so it's only one review, and as it's mine you might say it's a tad biased... but unless you're here to get my opinion, I'm really not sure why you're here. This is a review that I wrote for a small Indian place that I found downtown. It's kind of my new favorite hole-in-the-wall place (granted, it's really the only one that I know down here). If you're ever in the area and get a craving for Indian food, I highly suggest it.
Walking into Suruchi’s Indian Cuisine I had no idea what to expect. All I had to go by was a sign outside pointing me in the right direction and a recently renewed hankering for Indian food. After all, the worst thing that could happen would be me going home after a bad lunch and grabbing a quick PB&J, right? Okay, so the worst thing that could happen would be more along the lines of me going back home after a bad lunch and hugging the toilet for the rest of the day. But when I start jonesing for something, there can be but one cure. With this in mind I followed the sign toward my newest culinary conquest.
Upon entering the restaurant proper I took a quick look around to get my bearings. Simple café-style tables were arranged along the walls and would seat one or two persons, while more pushed together on the floor would accommodate larger parties. The chairs reminded me of my high school years, although (thankfully) they turned out to be far more comfortable than those of my youth. No servers were to be seen; instead orders can be picked up from the main counter once your number is called. At this point, your meal is handed to you on a plastic tray complete with individually portioned plastic flatware. The similarities to my high school days just keep on coming.
Then again, it takes more than a lack of linens to deter me. I grabbed a menu off of the counter and started looking over the selections. Thanks to a vast culinary vocabulary (and, no doubt, the pictures on the back) I was able to navigate the menu fairly easily. While I’ve never spent much (read: any) time over in India the menu seemed rather in tune with what I’ve come to associate with the cuisine. There are a few dishes sporting chicken, but the majority favored the vegetable cookery that is so common in the cuisine. This may explain why the vast majority of the customers were Indian themselves. Of course, the price is something anyone can enjoy, with entrees ranging from $5.99 to $7.99, lunch combos all hitting $8.99, and dinner combos going for $11.99. Being a fan of variety I went for Combo #1 which got me a plate of idli with peanut chutney and sambar, a fried samosa, and a mango lassi to drink.
After placing my order and patiently awaiting the sound of my number being called I was rewarded with a tray bearing my meal. Not wanting to miss out on anything I made a quick trip to a small condiment table before digging in. The choices here were limited, but considering the array of dips that I already held I wasn’t about to complain. One small tub held sliced red onions. The next, an odd mass of orange-brown stuff that, even after a small taste, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was actually in there. The third (and last) container held small green chilies that dared me to test my mettle merely by looking at them twice. I grabbed three and went to my table.
Now, if there is one thing that did not remind me of my high school cafeteria, it was the food. Three steamed rice cakes sat on my plate, each one soft and spongy – all the better for soaking up one of the no less than four dipping sauces that I had to choose from. The sambar was light and thin, but bursting with flavor that I can only describe as quintessentially Indian in the menagerie of spices that I could hardly hope to identify other than the distinct smokiness of cumin. The peanut chutney was a smooth puree, and while the pale grey-brown color might put some off, the rich texture and almost fudge-like sweetness kept me coating my idli.
In addition to what was listed on the menu I had two further sauces for which to dunk my rice cakes. The first was a green puree that had a sweet, pepper-like aroma and, despite insinuating a slight cooling property, hid a not entirely short-lived heat that snuck to the back of my throat like the worst kind of ninja (not unlike those three small chilies that I had picked up earlier). The last was a small amount of a very sweet brown liquid with an exotic flavor that I both recognized yet found nearly impossible to place. I find it difficult to remember a time when I was quite so happy to be eating things that, frankly, I couldn’t tell you what exactly they were.
And this is saying nothing of the samosa. A beautiful, flaky pastry shell encased deliciously seasoned potatoes and peas. I’ve always been a fan of simple pleasures. The lassi as well was rich and creamy with just enough mango to be pleasantly flavored and not overpowering.
So while the ambiance may be a bit lacking if you’re trying to impress a date, the food is sure to please. And, I’m happy to say, neither a PB&J nor a seat by the toilet will be necessary.
Walking into Suruchi’s Indian Cuisine I had no idea what to expect. All I had to go by was a sign outside pointing me in the right direction and a recently renewed hankering for Indian food. After all, the worst thing that could happen would be me going home after a bad lunch and grabbing a quick PB&J, right? Okay, so the worst thing that could happen would be more along the lines of me going back home after a bad lunch and hugging the toilet for the rest of the day. But when I start jonesing for something, there can be but one cure. With this in mind I followed the sign toward my newest culinary conquest.
Upon entering the restaurant proper I took a quick look around to get my bearings. Simple café-style tables were arranged along the walls and would seat one or two persons, while more pushed together on the floor would accommodate larger parties. The chairs reminded me of my high school years, although (thankfully) they turned out to be far more comfortable than those of my youth. No servers were to be seen; instead orders can be picked up from the main counter once your number is called. At this point, your meal is handed to you on a plastic tray complete with individually portioned plastic flatware. The similarities to my high school days just keep on coming.
Then again, it takes more than a lack of linens to deter me. I grabbed a menu off of the counter and started looking over the selections. Thanks to a vast culinary vocabulary (and, no doubt, the pictures on the back) I was able to navigate the menu fairly easily. While I’ve never spent much (read: any) time over in India the menu seemed rather in tune with what I’ve come to associate with the cuisine. There are a few dishes sporting chicken, but the majority favored the vegetable cookery that is so common in the cuisine. This may explain why the vast majority of the customers were Indian themselves. Of course, the price is something anyone can enjoy, with entrees ranging from $5.99 to $7.99, lunch combos all hitting $8.99, and dinner combos going for $11.99. Being a fan of variety I went for Combo #1 which got me a plate of idli with peanut chutney and sambar, a fried samosa, and a mango lassi to drink.
After placing my order and patiently awaiting the sound of my number being called I was rewarded with a tray bearing my meal. Not wanting to miss out on anything I made a quick trip to a small condiment table before digging in. The choices here were limited, but considering the array of dips that I already held I wasn’t about to complain. One small tub held sliced red onions. The next, an odd mass of orange-brown stuff that, even after a small taste, I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was actually in there. The third (and last) container held small green chilies that dared me to test my mettle merely by looking at them twice. I grabbed three and went to my table.
Now, if there is one thing that did not remind me of my high school cafeteria, it was the food. Three steamed rice cakes sat on my plate, each one soft and spongy – all the better for soaking up one of the no less than four dipping sauces that I had to choose from. The sambar was light and thin, but bursting with flavor that I can only describe as quintessentially Indian in the menagerie of spices that I could hardly hope to identify other than the distinct smokiness of cumin. The peanut chutney was a smooth puree, and while the pale grey-brown color might put some off, the rich texture and almost fudge-like sweetness kept me coating my idli.
In addition to what was listed on the menu I had two further sauces for which to dunk my rice cakes. The first was a green puree that had a sweet, pepper-like aroma and, despite insinuating a slight cooling property, hid a not entirely short-lived heat that snuck to the back of my throat like the worst kind of ninja (not unlike those three small chilies that I had picked up earlier). The last was a small amount of a very sweet brown liquid with an exotic flavor that I both recognized yet found nearly impossible to place. I find it difficult to remember a time when I was quite so happy to be eating things that, frankly, I couldn’t tell you what exactly they were.
And this is saying nothing of the samosa. A beautiful, flaky pastry shell encased deliciously seasoned potatoes and peas. I’ve always been a fan of simple pleasures. The lassi as well was rich and creamy with just enough mango to be pleasantly flavored and not overpowering.
So while the ambiance may be a bit lacking if you’re trying to impress a date, the food is sure to please. And, I’m happy to say, neither a PB&J nor a seat by the toilet will be necessary.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
When technology fails, cheesecake prevails
In other words, I was planning to put here something that I had saved on my flashdrive, but the powers that be have decided that it's not going to happen.
Rejoice and be merry, for we are in the computer age, and it is a righteous time of error messages and wingdings.
Thankfully, I am not (quite) a one trick pony, and come bearing news of one of my favorite desserts. Oh yes, I come to you with the knowledge and power of cheesecake.
Cheesecake seems to be one of those desserts that people love and hate in equal proportions. If it's good, it's really good. People "ooh" and "aah" and otherwise are swooned by your culinary prowess.
On the other hand, people seem to be put off by the (seemingly) daunting task of creating such an envied treat.
I'm not going to say that things can't go wrong, but I am going to say that, with a little forethought and good sense of what you're doing, you'll get the end result that you (and all the rest of us) so desperately crave.
So where's it all start? What makes this dish so touchy? What is it in the first place? The answer to this last question is the answer to all the rest. I remember a couple years back (now please, don't ask me how this actually happened, but...) I was watching the Martha Stewart show. This very question (or rather, "is cheesecake a cake or a pie?") came up. I was pleased with myself to be able to answer the question before Martha had a chance to pipe up.
It is neither. A cheesecake is, in fact, a custard.
Now what is a custard? The simplest and most basic answer to this is a simple equation: Egg + Dairy + Cooking = Custard. There are, of course, other common ingredients (sugar being a biggy).
Likewise, in the world of custard there are two families (luckily, no feud is going on here). On one side we have stirred custards (easy enough - they're stirred while you cook them) like pudding and zabaglione (which is actually made with wine rather than dairy). On the other side we have unstirred custards (take a guess how you pull that one off) like the cheesecake, creme brulee, and even savories like quiche.
To make the perfect cheesecake, one must first endeaver an anatomy lesson. Don't worry, there's not much to it. A simple cheesecake only has a few ingredients.
Cream Cheese: This is rather important, as it's a cheesecake you're making. Cream cheese is the bulk material you're working with. It gives a good, creamy texture and moderate (and easily altered) flavor. If there's one thing I've learned, it's to not skimp on quality. I've tried the cheap stuff. I've sat with my mixer (granted, not a stand mixer) for minutes on end (when you're mixing roughly four cups of something, it doesn't take a long time to be a long time), and even worked it all through a seive that could double as a fencing mask.
There were still lumps.
For the love of all that is right and good in the world, buy the good stuff. It will make a difference. It will make all of the difference.
Thank you.
Next up, the eggs: these guys are the structure. Proteins in the eggs (after mixing and baking) are laced throughout the custard, acting as I-beams. The thing is, egg protein isn't exactly a quick-drying cement (culinarily speaking, of course). You'll need to give it a nice, long rest in the refrigerator to make sure everything sets up (unless, of course, you were planning on serving soup for dessert). I'm talking hours here. Unless I'm in dire straights, I always let it set overnight. Toss a towel over the top to keep a film from forming (or wrap in plastic, aluminum, or whatever else you happen to have around), and let it set. Patience is a virtue, and will be rewarded.
Third, sugar: do I really need to talk about this one? It's sugar. It's sweet. It's a good thing.
Lastly, flavoring: For a "classic" cheesecake, this is as simple as a little vanilla (the good stuff is prefered). You can, of course, use anything you like. Chocolate, pumpkin, lemon, strawberry, shnozeberry... anything that you like.
Now, on to the method (and the tricks that will keep you in good custard til the end of time).
First comes assembly of the goods. First into the pan (I use a spring-form pan, but I also water-proof it) goes a nice layer of non-stick spray on the bottom. Then in goes the crust (I'm a fan of nuts, myself, but personal choice and other flavors involved make the end decision). This should be baked for 10-15 minutes before the custard goes in (otherwise it's not really going to get the attention it deserves).
Next spray the sides of the pan with the non-stick spray and pour in the custard. This then goes back into the oven. But first, we need to set ourselves up now to have the cheesecake of our dreams in the future.
Even cooking is important. Gentle even cooking is better. The best way to do this? Waterbath.
It's easy to set up. Grab your pan and some sort of vessel (roasting pans are nice) that said pan will fit in. Place the cheesecake pan* inside the large pan and then fill it (no, not the pan with the cheesecake in it) with boiling water. Make sure that the water is even with the cheesecake, otherwise it won't do you any good (the top, not surrounded by water, will cook differently than the rest). Then into the oven (preheated to 350) we go.
*As I mentioned before, I like to use a spring-form pan for easy removal later. This alone, however, does tend to lead to (at least partially) soggy dessert. Fear not, for I shall not leave you to tackle this task alone. Waterproofing your spring-form is as easy as ripping off a sheet of aluminum foil. The foil needs to be wide enough for the pan to sit in the middle of the square and have enough room on either side to come close to the top (at least higher than the water will come). Fold the foil up and push it as tight against the pan as you can - if possible, fold it over the top lip a bit. All you have to do is make sure that the crease on the bottom isn't actually touched by the water and you're good. I'll note that I've tried using the same method with plastic wrap and a rubber band to hold it in place, but the rubber band broke apart sometime during the cooking process. For me, foil is definitely the way to go.
Now a quick note on the waterbath. The point of it is that you won't actually be cooking at 350. Water boils at 212, and stays there. Ergo, the cheesecake is cooking at 212. It's very gentle, very even, and makes for a very smooth, creamy cheesecake. This is why having the water level up to the top is very important... I've made that mistake myself in the past (when I was first fidgiting with my existing recipe) and got something that was kind of a frankenstein half-smooth half-cakey concoction. Still tasted alright, but if you want that creamy texture, you'll want the waterbath.
For how long do you bake it, you ask? Well. For a normal (and by normal I mean 10-11" pan) cheesecake I set my timer for 40 minutes. At this point it shouldn't be done, but I like to err on the side of caution. It should take about 50 minutes to 1 hour to be fully cooked. Pleast note that "fully cooked" may not look (and in fact shouldn't look) "fully cooked". Like all things egg, "done in the pan is overdone on the plate". It should be firm to the touch, but just a tad jiggly. Practice makes perfect on this one. The waterbath (ie, the even cooking) will give you some leeway here.
If it does happen to overcook, you may get some breakage across the top. It's not pretty, but that's about the extent of it. It just means that the egg proteins tightened a bit too much during the cooking process and in the end pulled the custard apartin a few places. It can be covered with a topping of your choice (maybe a nice fruit glaze or sour cream topping). If you watch it, though, you won't have to worry about it in the first place.
Now, I said it before and I'll say it again - once it's out of the oven, let it rest. Overnight if possible. Those eggs need a lot of time to set up, and if you cut it too early you're shooting yourself in the foot.
That's really all there is to it. It takes a bit of work and a lot of patience, but with these and a few tricks along the way you'll have yourself a dessert that's well worth the effort.
Rejoice and be merry, for we are in the computer age, and it is a righteous time of error messages and wingdings.
Thankfully, I am not (quite) a one trick pony, and come bearing news of one of my favorite desserts. Oh yes, I come to you with the knowledge and power of cheesecake.
Cheesecake seems to be one of those desserts that people love and hate in equal proportions. If it's good, it's really good. People "ooh" and "aah" and otherwise are swooned by your culinary prowess.
On the other hand, people seem to be put off by the (seemingly) daunting task of creating such an envied treat.
I'm not going to say that things can't go wrong, but I am going to say that, with a little forethought and good sense of what you're doing, you'll get the end result that you (and all the rest of us) so desperately crave.
So where's it all start? What makes this dish so touchy? What is it in the first place? The answer to this last question is the answer to all the rest. I remember a couple years back (now please, don't ask me how this actually happened, but...) I was watching the Martha Stewart show. This very question (or rather, "is cheesecake a cake or a pie?") came up. I was pleased with myself to be able to answer the question before Martha had a chance to pipe up.
It is neither. A cheesecake is, in fact, a custard.
Now what is a custard? The simplest and most basic answer to this is a simple equation: Egg + Dairy + Cooking = Custard. There are, of course, other common ingredients (sugar being a biggy).
Likewise, in the world of custard there are two families (luckily, no feud is going on here). On one side we have stirred custards (easy enough - they're stirred while you cook them) like pudding and zabaglione (which is actually made with wine rather than dairy). On the other side we have unstirred custards (take a guess how you pull that one off) like the cheesecake, creme brulee, and even savories like quiche.
To make the perfect cheesecake, one must first endeaver an anatomy lesson. Don't worry, there's not much to it. A simple cheesecake only has a few ingredients.
Cream Cheese: This is rather important, as it's a cheesecake you're making. Cream cheese is the bulk material you're working with. It gives a good, creamy texture and moderate (and easily altered) flavor. If there's one thing I've learned, it's to not skimp on quality. I've tried the cheap stuff. I've sat with my mixer (granted, not a stand mixer) for minutes on end (when you're mixing roughly four cups of something, it doesn't take a long time to be a long time), and even worked it all through a seive that could double as a fencing mask.
There were still lumps.
For the love of all that is right and good in the world, buy the good stuff. It will make a difference. It will make all of the difference.
Thank you.
Next up, the eggs: these guys are the structure. Proteins in the eggs (after mixing and baking) are laced throughout the custard, acting as I-beams. The thing is, egg protein isn't exactly a quick-drying cement (culinarily speaking, of course). You'll need to give it a nice, long rest in the refrigerator to make sure everything sets up (unless, of course, you were planning on serving soup for dessert). I'm talking hours here. Unless I'm in dire straights, I always let it set overnight. Toss a towel over the top to keep a film from forming (or wrap in plastic, aluminum, or whatever else you happen to have around), and let it set. Patience is a virtue, and will be rewarded.
Third, sugar: do I really need to talk about this one? It's sugar. It's sweet. It's a good thing.
Lastly, flavoring: For a "classic" cheesecake, this is as simple as a little vanilla (the good stuff is prefered). You can, of course, use anything you like. Chocolate, pumpkin, lemon, strawberry, shnozeberry... anything that you like.
Now, on to the method (and the tricks that will keep you in good custard til the end of time).
First comes assembly of the goods. First into the pan (I use a spring-form pan, but I also water-proof it) goes a nice layer of non-stick spray on the bottom. Then in goes the crust (I'm a fan of nuts, myself, but personal choice and other flavors involved make the end decision). This should be baked for 10-15 minutes before the custard goes in (otherwise it's not really going to get the attention it deserves).
Next spray the sides of the pan with the non-stick spray and pour in the custard. This then goes back into the oven. But first, we need to set ourselves up now to have the cheesecake of our dreams in the future.
Even cooking is important. Gentle even cooking is better. The best way to do this? Waterbath.
It's easy to set up. Grab your pan and some sort of vessel (roasting pans are nice) that said pan will fit in. Place the cheesecake pan* inside the large pan and then fill it (no, not the pan with the cheesecake in it) with boiling water. Make sure that the water is even with the cheesecake, otherwise it won't do you any good (the top, not surrounded by water, will cook differently than the rest). Then into the oven (preheated to 350) we go.
*As I mentioned before, I like to use a spring-form pan for easy removal later. This alone, however, does tend to lead to (at least partially) soggy dessert. Fear not, for I shall not leave you to tackle this task alone. Waterproofing your spring-form is as easy as ripping off a sheet of aluminum foil. The foil needs to be wide enough for the pan to sit in the middle of the square and have enough room on either side to come close to the top (at least higher than the water will come). Fold the foil up and push it as tight against the pan as you can - if possible, fold it over the top lip a bit. All you have to do is make sure that the crease on the bottom isn't actually touched by the water and you're good. I'll note that I've tried using the same method with plastic wrap and a rubber band to hold it in place, but the rubber band broke apart sometime during the cooking process. For me, foil is definitely the way to go.
Now a quick note on the waterbath. The point of it is that you won't actually be cooking at 350. Water boils at 212, and stays there. Ergo, the cheesecake is cooking at 212. It's very gentle, very even, and makes for a very smooth, creamy cheesecake. This is why having the water level up to the top is very important... I've made that mistake myself in the past (when I was first fidgiting with my existing recipe) and got something that was kind of a frankenstein half-smooth half-cakey concoction. Still tasted alright, but if you want that creamy texture, you'll want the waterbath.
For how long do you bake it, you ask? Well. For a normal (and by normal I mean 10-11" pan) cheesecake I set my timer for 40 minutes. At this point it shouldn't be done, but I like to err on the side of caution. It should take about 50 minutes to 1 hour to be fully cooked. Pleast note that "fully cooked" may not look (and in fact shouldn't look) "fully cooked". Like all things egg, "done in the pan is overdone on the plate". It should be firm to the touch, but just a tad jiggly. Practice makes perfect on this one. The waterbath (ie, the even cooking) will give you some leeway here.
If it does happen to overcook, you may get some breakage across the top. It's not pretty, but that's about the extent of it. It just means that the egg proteins tightened a bit too much during the cooking process and in the end pulled the custard apartin a few places. It can be covered with a topping of your choice (maybe a nice fruit glaze or sour cream topping). If you watch it, though, you won't have to worry about it in the first place.
Now, I said it before and I'll say it again - once it's out of the oven, let it rest. Overnight if possible. Those eggs need a lot of time to set up, and if you cut it too early you're shooting yourself in the foot.
That's really all there is to it. It takes a bit of work and a lot of patience, but with these and a few tricks along the way you'll have yourself a dessert that's well worth the effort.
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