FOOD ON THE FOOD

Reason #5 Not To Read My Blog: Puree

Yet, another reason...

5.    I’ve been known to pronounce “puree” phonetically.  In public.

Meaning hard “e” instead of hard “a.”  I can’t help it.  I’ve been doing this wrong for so long, it’s now hardwired into my brain and nothing short of shock therapy is going to stop it.  Actually, I do the verb form correctly most of the time, as in “now that we’ve removed the seeds, we can ‘pyur-AY’ the tomatoes.”  It’s the noun form that confounds me every time.  As in “I can still see seeds.  Please don’t make me eat that disgusting tomato pyur-EEEEEEEEE.” 

Curse the French and their fancy word for soupy ground up stuff.

December Restaurant Events

On Tuesday, 12/5, Tremont 647 will be hosting its second annual Holiday Champagne Social from 6-9 p.m.  Shoot the unseasonably warm breeze (indoors) over appetizers and bubbly while the staff hands out holiday cocktail and appetizer recipes, with chef Andy Husbands demonstrating.  Cost is $39 (including tax and tip).  Reservations required. Tremont 647, 647 Tremont St., Boston, 617-266-4600.

In celebration of their 10-year anniversary, Tremont 647 and adjacent Sister Sorel are offering 10% off your food bill during the week of 12/10-12/15.

Celebrate Christmas early with Stellina’s traditional Roman-style holiday dinner on Tuesday, 12/5.  Enjoy four courses with Italian wines, caroling, and prizes.  Cost is $45 per person.  Reservations required.  Stellina, 47 Main St., Watertown Square, 617-924-9475.

Some like it hot, and some like it hotter than hell.  For the latter, East Coast Grill is hosting Hotter than Hell Night times three, December 11-13.  Torture those taste buds (in a good way) with dishes like chile-crusted duck with red curry and pineapple chutney, crispy baby back ribs with scotch bonnet BBQ sauce, and harissa-grilled chicken with fig-pomegranate jam.  Call to reserve.  East Coast Grill & Raw Bar, 1271 Cambridge St., Cambridge, 617-491-6568.

Mmmm...Unexplained Bacon

Yesterday, I found myself in the unusual predicament of having leftover bacon in the house, but no lettuce or tomatoes.  Crap.

Typically, I don’t stockpile lettuce and tomatoes (see Reasons #1 and #2 not to read my blog), so the part that’s the shocker was that there was any leftover bacon at all.  The words “leftover” and “bacon” were never intended to be used together in the same sentence.  This is yet another bastardization of the English language.

I was very disappointed in myself because, normally, I can sniff out pork products from a distance of three miles, even on hilly terrain.  It took those truffle-hunting pigs longer than I would expect to catch on that I was actually after them.  Who says pigs are so smart?

Anyway, since I couldn’t make my beloved BLT, and there was no way I was dragging two hungry, screaming children to the store, I did what any halfway intelligent person would do in this situation. 

I slapped some peanut butter on that bacon.

My husband has been talking about peanut butter and bacon sandwiches for years, even as I mock-vomited at his every mention.  But, I had never actually tried it.  Well, I decided, it’s now or never.

I wish this story had a better climax, but it just tasted like a regular peanut butter sandwich.  No better, no worse.  Well, the texture was a little funky for peanut butter. 

I never realized it before, but peanut butter and bacon have a lot in common, flavor-wise -- maybe, too much.  Rich, salty, fatty.  In fact, it’s entirely possible that peanut butter is actually what bacon turns into on its way from solid to liquid form.  You know, from bacon to peanut butter to bacon fat.  Just a theory.  I’ll have to pay closer attention the next time I cook it.

As for the PB&B, it seems like a waste of perfectly good bacon to me.

Reason #4 Not To Read My Blog: Quinoa

Yet, another reason...

4.    I’m not too fond of quinoa

Pronounced “KEEN-wah.”  You know, that South American grain that’s all the rage with the hip and healthy.  I mean, it’s okay.  I’ve eaten it.  I even cooked it once.  Then the bag sat in the cabinet for a year until we got pantry moths.  I was sad to throw away the cumin.  I was not sad to throw away the quinoa. 

If I had to pick an alternative grain (meaning, not rice, not cous cous, not wheat, oats, barley, cornmeal, or hominy), and anyone who’s anyone is picking an alternative grain, it just might be farro.  Maybe.  But you know what’s better than farro and quinoa? 

Cheesecake.

A Conversation with Dad

Here’s a snippet of conversation that I had with my dad this weekend:

Me: How’s that Caesar salad?

Dad: Good.

Me: I love anchovies.

Dad: Yuk.  I hate anchovies.

Me: You do?  But, you like Caesar salads?

Dad: Yes.

Me: Then you like anchovies.

Dad: No, I hate anchovies.

Me: You see that salad your eating?

Dad: Yes.

Me: There are anchovies in it.

Dad: Where?

Me: In the dressing.  Ground up anchovies in that dressing.

Dad: No, this is good.

Me: Then, you love anchovies.

Dad: No, Tammy, I hate anchovies.  (under his breath: Anchovies in a salad.  Ridiculous.)

Me: Let me have a taste.

Dad: Well?

Me: Anchovies.

Dad: No, I hate anchovies.

 

Actually, I was pretty sure there weren’t really anchovies in the dressing since we were not in a particularly upscale restaurant (Friendly’s, if you must know).  However, we could have been at the Ritz eating a salad dressed in 100% anchovies and we’d be having the exact same conversation.

Leftover Cranberries?

Or cranberry sauce?  Made this tasty dish last night.  Quick and easy.

Roasted Salmon with Cranberry Shallot Relish

4 6-oz. salmon fillets
3 Tbsp. olive oil
2 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
½ cup cranberries
¼ cup brown sugar
1/8 tsp. cardamom (optional)
1 medium shallot, chopped
2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar

Preheat oven to 400˚F.  Whisk oil and mustard together in small bowl.  Lightly oil roasting pan.  Place fillets in pan skin side down.  Season with salt and pepper, and brush half of oil/mustard mixture on fish.  Roast until medium rare, about 13-15 minutes.

To bowl of food processor, add cranberries, brown sugar, and cardamom.  Pulse until relishy.  Add to remaining oil/mustard mixture, along with shallots and red wine vinegar.  Season and stir well.

Brown salmon under broiler, if desired, then serve topped with relish.

Source: Adapted from Bon Appetit (original recipe here)

Reason #3 Not To Read My Blog: Photography

3.  I'm no photographer

If pretty pictures are what you want, you’ve come to the wrong place.  My sister is the photographer in the family.  She takes photos like this. 

These are tomatoes from the organic garden she tends on a picturesque crater in Maui.  With a panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean.  Bitch.  Notice how delicious they look.  Makes you want to bite right into them, seeds and all, right? 

My pictures don’t look like this.  They are worth negative 1000 words.

Photos posted to my site will be poorly lit and pathetically composed.  That is, if you get a picture at all.  Use your imagination.  Other more artistic and articulate food blogs will be referenced early and often.  Until they block me, in which case I may be forced to snap a photo or two so it doesn’t look like I’m totally phoning it in.  When I do, take comfort in the fact that for every one of my original photos on display, there are about 45 more just as bad or worse that I didn’t post.  And we can all be thankful for that.

Hi Dad

Do you like my blog?

Reason #2 Not To Read My Blog: Salad

Yet another reason why filling up on this blog might be a mistake.

2.    I don’t like vegetables in my salad

What???  I know, I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. 

It’s not the leafy part that bothers me (as long as it’s not iceberg lettuce -- blek).  Alliums, or anything in the onion, garlic, shallot category, are okay, too.  Tomatoes, technically a fruit, can be tolerated under certain circumstances (see Reason #1).  But carrots, cucumbers, broccoli, zucchini, peppers, or any other vegetable of the raw variety placed into a salad turns me off.  Immediately.  I don’t know why. 

Actually, yes, I do.  Because there are other much better things to include in a salad, like pears, strawberries, blueberries, dried cranberries, grapefruit.  Or nuts.  Or cheese.  Or salty, fatty meats.  Heavy doses of bacon and blue cheese are the only way I can eat iceberg lettuce, since they balance out its watery blandness.  These kinds of salad fixin’s really sing.  Carrots in a salad are a little bit tone deaf.  Cucumbers are just plain mute. 

Maybe, it’s a factor of where I live.  We don’t have cauliflower in six different colors and flavors.  Our vegetables don’t look like this.  Still, we do have farms.  Sometimes, the farms even come to us.  And the vegetables seem pretty good.  Maybe not California good, but pretty darned good.  As long as they’re cooked.  And off my salad.

Reason #1 Not To Read My Blog: Tomatoes

Before you commit to reading this blog with any sort of consistency, there are a few things you should know about me, in the interest of full disclosure.  Little food biases that may cause you to reconsider.  Let’s just get it all out on the table.  Here is one reason why getting your food news from this blog might be a mistake:

1.  I have issues with tomatoes

Big issues.  This is surprising to some because not only am I fully half Italian-American, but apparently I used to LOVE tomatoes as a small child, stripping the cherry-sized fruits from my mother’s garden plants.  But somewhere around age five, I distinctly remember being disgusted by them.  Raw, they were completely inedible.  Cooked into tomato sauce, passable depending on the cook, but in soup, definitely not.  Stewed, forget it.

I planned to stubbornly carry this bias throughout adulthood, but I shocked even myself when I fell in love with gazpacho in Spain.  What’s to love about raw tomatoes pureed into a cold soup? 

The answer: no seeds. 

Thus, I have reconciled with this shady nightshade – as long as I’ve scooped out the jellied putrescence contained therein, we coexist quite happily.  Many of the heirloom varieties have few, if any, seeds and are undeniably delicious.  In fact, I’m still seeing local heirlooms at Russo’s market in Watertown even as we’re almost into December. 

Thank you Indian summer.  Bring on the bruschetta.

Time for Turnip

We had a great Thanksgiving dinner at the M’s: 34-lb. turkey with gravy, two kinds of stuffing, mashed potatoes, turnip, squash, cranberry sauce, apple pie, pumpkin pie.  The whole traditional spread, plus a terrific lobster pie brought by the Cape Cod contingent (this recipe, I'm told, is still under lock and key).

Turnip is probably the most underrated vegetable in the world.  When it’s done right, though, it can really be a standout.  Chris Douglass at Icarus makes a mean turnip gratin.  It’s great roasted.  Me, I like it mashed.

The town of Eastham on Cape Cod is famous (sort of) for its sweet, white turnip: the Eastham turnip.  They have a kitschy turnip festival every year before Thanksgiving, to which I drag my family quite unwillingly (see my article in December's Cape Cod Life, on newsstands now).  They offer turnip tasting, turnip decorating, turnip bowling.  The locals are crazy for their turnips and some incarnation of the root shows up on Thanksgiving tables in the area.  And if we’re very lucky, it will show up on ours. 

For me, it just wouldn’t quite be Thanksgiving without mashed turnip, the other white root.

 

Mashed Turnip

3 medium white turnips (Eastham or Macomber), peeled and chopped into chunks
2 Tbsp. butter
Dash fresh grated nutmeg
Salt and pepper

Bring large pot of water to boil.  Add salt and turnips and boil until chunks can be pierced easily with a fork (15-20 minutes).  Drain and mash with butter, nutmeg, salt, and pepper. 

All Star Sandwich Bar, Cambridge

First stop, the All Star Sandwich Bar in Inman Square in Cambridge.  Chris Schlesinger’s homage to the humble sandwich, located on the same block as the East Coast Grill, is humble neither in quality nor portion size.  It’s not cheap, either (sandwiches range from $7-$10), but what did you expect?

On offer: A pretty decent reuben as well as pulled pork, po’ boy, pastrami, meatloaf, Cuban, and grilled cheese sandwiches.  Daily specials are marked on the chalkboard, things like the Turkey Gobbler (turkey with mayo, gravy, stuffing, and cranberry orange relish) -- a perfect prelude to Thanksgiving (or to wean yourself off of post-holiday tryptophan).  If you prefer your turkey in liquid form, or like French fries in any form, don't miss their gravy fries – golden fried shoe-string potatoes topped with turkey gravy.  Next time, though, I'd vote for the gravy on the side.  No one likes a soggy fry, gravy or no gravy.

Space is tight at peak hours, but I found the service to be quite accommodating (despite early rumors to the contrary).  Dessert options are sparse and appropriately simple (chocolate chip cookies, brownies, 7-layer bars), but you probably won’t have room.  And if you do, Christina’s “All Star Ice Cream Bar” is mere steps away.

All Star Sandwich Bar
1245 Cambridge St.
Cambridge, MA
617-868-3065
www.allstarsandwichbar.com

Saving My Appetite

For one full year after having a baby, I’m completely useless to anyone but my children.  I lose touch with friends, spurn all activities after sunset, become even more ignorant of current events.  Are we still at war in Iraq?  It’s like I go into a cave and don’t come out until my infant is a toddler.  During this time, there's only one thing on my mind.  Survival.

But once I get a taste of a full night of 100% pure sleep, I start to remember what I’ve been missing.  Coming out of “the cave” is like a butterfly finally emerging from a cocoon of blood, sweat, tears, vomit, and my own coagulated breast milk to an endless vista of rolling lavender fields and grapevines.  Or, in my case, the endless vista of traffic and strip malls that I have to pass on the way to where the food is.  Ah, but it’s worth it, because when I finally leave the cave, I’m hungry.  Damn hungry.

IS THERE ANYTHING TO EAT OUT THERE???