Adding Some Yeast to the Morning Routine

I'm sure I've said it before, but I'll say it again: breakfast and brunch are my favorite meals, especially when it comes to entertaining. Dinner parties are fun, lunch is cute, but there is something so cozy and friendly about brunch, and I love waking up to bake muffins or whip up a batch of buttermilk pancakes.

This weekend we had some friends over for brunch, and kept it simple with scrambled eggs, toast, and the newest addition to our morning repertoire: fresh-from-the-griddle English muffins. The best thing about the muffins, though, is that they don't just have to be an entertaining-only affair. They are definitely impressive and delicious, and yes, they do require a yeasted batter, but I'd be so bold as to say that they are actually easier to make than a regular batch of pancakes.



I guess that's why I've made them three times in the past two weeks. The only "rise" they need is a quick 45-minute rest, which happens to be the perfect window for checking email (or if you're me, about 1000 food blogs), and whisking a few eggs or making some oatmeal. The best part about these muffins, though, is that they are cooked on a griddle instead of baked. Plus, the batter is wet and malleable enough that you don't need to roll them out - just drop a puff of dough on the griddle and you're good to go. Sure, they come out a little irregularly shaped, but that's never stopped anybody from eating them as far as I can tell.

These English muffins are worlds better than anything that you can buy in a store. Fresh off the griddle, they are warm and steamy, with a soft, chewy interior. Forget nooks and crannies - these muffins have supple peaks of yeasty dough tucked between lightly crisped edges, browned and golden from the heat of the griddle. They can, theoretically, be split and toasted or slathered with jam, but Jonathan insists on eating them plain. The flavor imparted by a generous amount of yeast, a touch of whole wheatiness, and a bit of sugar is surprisingly robust.

In the spirit of giving credit where credit is due, the recipe I use is adapted from a recipe I found on the excellent baking blog, Baking Bites. It is one of the only recipes I found that doesn't require several rises, the use of elusive English muffin rings, or other wildly inconvenient processes that would make these prohibitively involved for an everyday breakfast item. My only modification is to substitute a cup of whole wheat flour for one cup of regular white flour. I've made them both ways, but whole wheat flour lends a heartier taste, in addition to a few grams of my favorite nutrient: fiber.

The only mildly challenging part of this recipe is the cooking. If the heat under the griddle is too high, you'll end up with a burnt exterior and a slightly underdone interior. I use relatively low heat, allowing the griddle to heat up just until some water sprinkled on it sizzles and evaporates. Once you drop the dough on the griddle, don't move it for a few minutes, flipping it once the underside is golden brown and the sides of the muffin are starting to dry out. The muffin is done when both sides are golden brown and the sides are dry to the touch, about 5-8 minutes total.



I love this recipe for many reasons, but here are the ones that will convince you to try it: 1) it only has 5 ingredients that don't come from the faucet 2) it yields a yeasty, bready flavor with only a 45-minute rise 3) it is in no way similar to anything store-bought 4) the muffins are delicious and healthy without the use of any dubious "substitutions." Enjoy!

Shockingly Easy English Muffins (adapted from Baking Bites)

2 c. flour (white, half whole-wheat, or 100% whole wheat)
3/4 tsp. salt
2 1/4 tsp. instant yeast
1 tbs. sugar
1/3 c. water
1 c. skim milk
cooking spray

Directions:
Whisk together flour, yeast, salt, and sugar in a large bowl. Warm the water and milk together in the microwave until warm, about 45 seconds. Mix the liquids into the flour, stirring with a wooden spoon to combine thoroughly. Beat until well-mixed, about 30 seconds or so. Dough will be wet (much wetter than most bread doughs). Cover bowl with plastic wrap and a tea towel, and set aside to rest for about 45 minutes, until puffed and bubbly. To cook the muffins: heat a griddle or skillet over medium heat until water sprinkled on its surface sizzles and evaporates immediately. Lightly grease with cooking spray, and then drop big spoonfuls of the dough onto the griddle using either a greased spoon or a greased measuring cup (I use a 1/3 c. measure). Cook until golden brown, and then flip and cook until sides of muffin are dry. They are best eaten fresh, but keep very well in a zip-top plastic bag for a day or two.

Farro Soup (Book Review)

A while ago, Mia picked up a copy of Deborah Madison's "Vegetable Soups." It's a beautiful book, with lots of vibrant, colorful pictures, and lots of recipes for vegetable soups. I like soup a lot, and I especially like making vegetable soups, because they're easy, they look good, and they're delicious. They require no particular skills, and they're basically impossible to mess up. Plus, I like chopping vegetables, which is usually required in large quantity.

The first soup that we chose to make from the book (and which we have re-made several times) is the summer version of the farro soup. We had just bought some farro in California for half the price that Whole Foods in Cambridge charges, so we were eager to make something with farro. In addition, the winter version of farro soup in the book is basically the same as the summer version sans tomatoes - why leave out the tomatoes when you can add them?

As in all of the vegetable soups I have made, you begin this one by chopping up an onion, carrots, and celery and sauteing them in olive oil. Then you add tomato paste and fry it for a little while. Next comes tomatoes, then water and pre-soaked farro. At the very end, you add a can of chickpeas. Deborah insists that, unless the chickpeas are organic, you should dispose of the liquid, but I consider that to be, if not pretentiously green, at least overly cautious. Then again, I don't wash my produce carefully, and I strongly prefer charcoal grills, so maybe I'm just asking for trouble.

As usual with soup, the most important thing is to make sure there is enough salt in it. Luckily, if there isn't enough salt, the solution is quick and easy - add more. The same is true with other seasonings. Mark Bittman had a recent post that suggests that the timing of salt addition is not nearly as important as people think, and I trust Mark Bittman, so I don't worry too much about under-salting the soup at first.

As you can see from the pictures, the tomatoes give the broth a nice red color, and the various vegetables give lots of pleasing contrast. The soup is best served warm, of course, but when we make a gallon of it, Mia and I usually can't resist taking it out of the fridge and gorging on it cold right out of the used yogurt containers that serve as our Tupperware. It never lasts very long.

Back in Action

Wow - it has been so long since the last Red Ramekin post! I didn't realize just how long it had been until I signed into Blogger to check up on my little baby blog...it has been neglected for the past three weeks, and I am very sorry about it. I won't let it happen again, I promise.

These past few weeks were pretty busy for me, but now I'm one huge step closer to graduation and I should have plenty of time to give Red Ramekin the love it deserves. On a related note, Jonathan and I are currently spring breaking, northern California style. Today it was 70 degrees outside, and in general the food here is so good it makes me wonder why I ever decided to commit to two more years of living in Boston. As soon as I stepped off the plane today, I was craving fruit and veggies and everything else that this Massachusetts weather has been keeping from me. Granny smith apples and root vegetables are great and all....but sometimes you just want some berries. And not those crunchy, vaguely berry-flavored specimens that cost $8 per pint.

Our first stop after the San Francisco airport was the Ferry Building, which on Tuesdays and Saturdays is bustling with a huge farmers' market. Today it was a bit quieter, but still lively; there was no farmers' market, but we had lunch at a little seafood place that really hit the spot. Super-fresh shrimp, crab, chowder, and salad was perfect post-flight nourishment.

We'll be heading back on Tuesday, though, because the farmers' market at the Ferry Building is not something foodies can afford to miss. I went once before, in December, and am anticipating an even more bountiful selection of fruits, vegetables, cheeses, and other specialty comestibles. It's really all about the samples, though. Last time I sampled everything from pummelos to persimmons, so I'm looking forward to some new things this time around, too.

But back to the kitchen...

I thought I'd share a little entertaining tip that is becoming one of my favorite ways to play hostess. Some might call it half-assing, but that's OK. Half-assing is better than full-assing, right? In any case, the tip is: make half and procure half. Or, as it happened a few nights ago, make one really fantastic thing, and supplement it with some other, prepared things.

The really fantastic thing was homemade sushi, and the prepared thing was Whole Foods sausages that we grilled at home. OK, I know - not the most, um, cohesive meal. But it wasn't my fault - I was in charge of the sushi, and left the guests to pick out something else to supplement it. A few months ago we tried the same technique, but purchased the sushi and prepared some miso-soba noodle soup.

The make half procure half route is not just about half-assing though. In our case, it's about being able to entertain for a larger crowd and in a more relaxed setting. The kitchen and our cookware probably wouldn't be able to accommodate cooking a full meal for 8 people, but if you procure, instead of prepare, half of your food, dinner for 7 or 8 becomes completely possible.

On Friday night, we had a few people over and started rolling away. The sushi was such a huge hit that Jonathan and I decided to make it again this evening, just for ourselves. This way, we could stuff ourselves with 5 times as much sushi without having to expend any more time or effort actually preparing it (sushi, as it turns out, is a rather time-intensive affair). Tuna is the only sushi-quality fish we can get our seaweed-flecked hands on, so we had tuna, cooked shrimp, tofu, cucumber, carrot, and scallions in our maki.

I've made sushi in the past, but never with as much success as we had these past two times. We used short-grain brown rice instead of regular sushi rice, but it was fantastic sprinkled with some seasoned rice vinegar after it had finished cooking. I think the key to professional-looking rolls is to use very little rice. I hate maki with too much rice - it gets gummy and messy and hides the flavors of whatever it is that's rolled up in the middle. I'm not including a recipe here, but take a look to get an idea of how we roll:

The whole set-up: rice, vegetables, tofu, tuna, shrimp, nori, bamboo mat...and beer


See? Not much rice - only half of the nori sheet is covered.


Don't skimp, but don't over-stuff, either. Here is tuna with scallions and cucumber:


And the rolling. The key is to squeeze that baby tightly so everything is nice and compact when you go to slice.


Speaking of which:


And here it is, the finished product. These are tuna rolls and shrimp rolls.


This time around I think our rice was on the bland side; I couldn't find the right rice vinegar, and the one that we used was seasoned, but apparently not seasoned enough. That was mostly remedied by an enthusiastic approach to soy sauce and wasabi dunking. And scallions. Scallions make everything delicious. All in all, a fun little project and a really yummy meal. This is definitely not the thing to make when you want something quick, but now that all of this free time has reappeared in my life, I won't be wanting anything "quick" for quite awhile. Is there any better way to spend one's time than rolling maki?

One final tip for anyone looking to make vegetarian sushi (which, this time around, was actually my favorite): Use the tofu that comes in a cardboard box (ours was Mori-nu) - not the Nasoya stuff in the refrigerator case. The vacuum-packed variety is far superior in both taste and texture. To prepare the tofu, slice into thin rectangles, lightly oil a hot skillet, and let the tofu brown on both sides, being careful not to let it break when you flip it. Slice into strips and roll it up with some carrot, scallion, cucumber...you get the idea. For some added flavor, I drizzled a miso/rice vinegar/soy sauce dressing over the maki before rolling it up. Yum! Nothing (especially not thesis-writing) beats some time well-spent in the kitchen.

Waiter, There's Something in My....Salad

So the time has finally come for us green redramekin-ers to take the plunge and participate....yes, you guessed it...in a food blogging event. For those uninitiated into the ways of the professional food blogger, suffice it to say that there are lots of food blogging events. The premise is this: a blogger "hosts" an event by challenging other bloggers to create a special dish/photograph/recipe/etc. Many events are regular affairs that happen once a month or once a week.

This post is a submission for the "Waiter, There's Something in My..." event, which happens each month and features a new twist on a standard dish. This month's standard dish was salad, so we were in luck. Last month, the dish was terrine. Yikes. Glad we didn't attempt that one.

For more information on the event, head over to Spittoon Extra.

But back to our submission. I sure do love a good salad, and I was happy to have the chance to test out this new recipe idea. The salad is a carrot and fennel slaw type of deal, with a dressing that is bursting with all sorts of crazy Middle Eastern flavors. It is inspired by a more traditional carrot and raisin salad, but instead of chunks of raisins, this baby blends them up in the dressing, so the sweetness is a bit more even and subtle in each lovely, lovely bite.

Have I mentioned that I'm completely in love with fennel? Well, I am. Fennel is my valentine. And I really love these crispy, slaw-y types of salads with a hearty meal. We had this one with a chicken, squash, and apricot tagine (recipe coming soon, I hope), and the salad was the perfect crunchy counter to all of that deliciously stew-like goodness.

We happened to not have any fresh herbs on hand (mint or parsley would have been ideal), so I tossed a handful of arugula into the processor along with the other dressing ingredients. Arugula is spicy and herby enough to do the trick, although next time I'll be sure to try it with parsley. Also, make sure to make enough for leftovers...after sitting for a day, the carrot and fennel really soak up the flavors of the dressing.

Carrot and Fennel Salad with Lemony Raisin Dressing

3 carrots
1 large bulb fennel
1/4 c. raisins
1/4 c. freshly-squeezed lemon juice
small handful fresh herb - mint, parsley, or baby arugula
1 tsp. honey
1 tbs. olive oil
salt, pepper, cumin, and cinnamon to taste

To make the dressing: soak raisins in hot water until plump and soft, about 30min. Drain and put into the bowl of a food processor. Add lemon juice, honey, and oil, and process until smooth. Add a handful of fresh herbs and process again. Pour mixture into another bowl, and season with salt, pepper, cumin, and cinnamon to taste. Add more honey if necessary. For the vegetables: peel and trim carrots and trim fennel (I suppose you could use the fronds for the dressing...). Grate carrots using the grating blade of the food processor, and slice fennel as thinly as possible, using the slicing blade. Toss vegetables and dressing together in a big bowl and serve either on a bed of greens or on its own.

The World's Best Pizza

I really like the pizza we make at home. We get to choose exactly the toppings we want, and we know what goes into the dough. But the truth of the matter is, we have neither an oven that gets up to 800 degrees nor a 30-foot peel for sliding pizzas in and out of such an oven. New Haven, CT's Wooster St. has at least three such pairs. So, naturally, we rented a ZipCar and headed for New Haven. Ostensibly we were going to see my friend Aaron, but there was mutual acknowledgment that this short trip was about one thing and one thing only: pizza.

Our experience with Wooster St. pizza ended up roughly par for the course. We drove past Sally's, which had a line of about 3 people out the door (which I declared to be interminable) and pulled over at Pepe's, a few blocks down. The line outside of Pepe's was suspiciously short for a Friday night, and it turned out that Pepe's itself was closed (just to emphasize: it was closed, but there was still a short line). However, Pepe's has a backup location behind its parking lot, "The Spot," whose pizza is identical. Mia and I stood in line outside Sally's in the pouring rain for about 15 minutes, watching the line grow in front of us as a few families cut to the front (they must have had the infamous "secret number" for reservations). The Sally's line shortens only by attrition; no one without a reservation ever seems to get a seat.

So we doubled back to The Spot and met Aaron, who was saving us a spot in line there. The quality of the pizza was evident through the window, through which we could see Connecticutians biting down on every variety of irregularly shaped piece of pizza. We sat down and ordered two red pies with mozz. - sausage and onion, and vege (without the green peppers). Naturally, the sausage and onion was for me.

The thing that separates New Haven pizza from the rest is the crust. It is thin and crispy, with a smokiness that you do not find anywhere else. Only rarely is it completely blackened, but even then it is delicious after soaking in the pizza's oils and toppings. But anyone can make a crust merely thin - New Haven style crust is not too thin. There is just enough dough to have the perfect bite once you get through the crisp outer layer. The tomato sauce and cheese are of course top rate (though Mia might disagree), but the crust is what makes New Haven pizza one of the most delicious foods in the world. It's hard to capture the crust in a picture, and harder still when your camera is attached to your cell phone, but here is an attempt at close-up of the vege pie:




and here is my personal pie:

If you're ever in New Haven, it is imperative that you head to Wooster St. Pepe's is open for lunch, but the traditional time to go is Sunday in the late afternoon. Show up 20 minutes before opening and you'll be sure to be in the first wave of customers. You won't be disappointed.

We're Back, with Meatballs

First things first: it's been an embarrassingly long time since my last post. But, just when I was starting to get really annoyed that things like exams and studying were taking up my precious maniacal blogging time, I realized that I was done with all of that. At least for a few days. Seven semesters down, one to go. Then it's going to be maniacal blogging time whenever I want it to be!

That said, you'll be happy to know that the last few weeks weren't entirely devoted to studying. We took some breaks to make some rather delicious meals, and even hosted a wee dinner gathering on Monday evening. More on that later.

For now, I want to make up for my recent blogligence with a wonderfully hearty and delicious meatball stew. I've never been much of a traditional Italian meatball person, but I've recently become interested in the meatball-like foods of other Mediterranean regions. Interestingly enough, almost every culture has some version of the meatball: kibbe, kofta, albondigas....all with names significantly more appealing than "meatball."

My meatball dish is Mediterranean-ish in terms of flavor, but its real roots are my mother's recipe for sweet and sour meatballs, a dish she'd make once in a while using ground turkey instead of beef. In some sense I hate to say that they were delicious, because the two main ingredients in the "sweet and sour" part of the meatballs were ginger ale and ketchup. I know, it sounds....not delicious. But trust me, it was. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be caught dead cooking with ginger ale and ketchup, so I've updated, improvised, and yuppified the recipe a bit. Ok, a lot. It's still turkey, still sweet and sour, and instead of being served over white rice, this version was accompanied by some quinoa. Brown rice or cous cous would also work very well. Also, I thought about calling this dish "Meatballs Agrodulce." Too much? I thought so, too.


About the recipe: it seems long, but let's face it - every meatball recipe involves the same basic steps. I think it helps to chill the meat mixture before rolling it into balls, but proceed as time permits. I call for "cooked grain" in the meat mixture, which could be anything from pre-soaked bulgur to cooked brown rice to plain old bread crumbs. The grain helps to add some substance and soak up some of the liquid from the meat and onion. Finally, it's important to really caramelize the onions for the sauce. Doing so makes them nice and sweet, and this is sweet and sour meatball stew, after all. To get the sour, I use balsamic vinegar, which you should add according to your tastes. Oh, and did I mention that this recipe is absolutely perfect on a chilly winter night?


Here's the recipe; be grateful that you can get all of the deliciousness of sweet and sour meatballs without all of that ginger ale.

Sweet and Sour Turkey Meatballs, Yuppy Style

For the meatballs:
1 lb. ground turkey
1 egg
1/4 c. cooked grain, bulgur, or breadcrumbs
1/2 onion, diced (as small as you can!)
2 cloves garlic, pressed
5-6 prunes, soaked and chopped
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. paprika
1/2 tsp. cumin
pinch nutmeg
1/2 tsp. all-purpose or Italian seasoning
1/2-1 tsp. salt
pepper to taste

Soak prunes (there are more prunes in the sauce, so soak those, too) in hot water for about 30min., until plump and soft, and then chop. Mix all ingredients thoroughly - don't be afraid to use your hands! If you have time, set aside to chill for a few hours. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Form meat mixture into 1-in. diameter balls, wetting your hands to avoid sticking. Place meatballs on a lightly greased and foiled baking sheet and bake for 15-20 min., until starting to brown and completely cooked through.

For the sauce:
1 tbs. olive oil
1 1/2 onions, sliced
2 garlic cloves, pressed
1 large can chopped tomatoes, with about half of the juice
10 prunes, chopped
1 carrot, diced
3 tbs. (or to taste) balsamic vinegar
Seasonings to taste: cinnamon, paprika, ground ginger, cumin, turmeric, salt, and pepper
cooked meatballs

Heat olive oil in a pot, and then add onions. Caramelize the onions. This should take about 15 min. of cooking. Watch the onions, stirring occasionally, to make sure that they are browning but not burning. Once they are nicely browned, add garlic, and saute for a minute or so. Season with salt, pepper, and spices. Add carrot and cook until slightly softened. Add prunes, and then add tomatoes with some juice. Season with balsamic vinegar and adjust the spices. Cook until thickened, and then add the meatballs. Cook for a few minutes more to heat the meatballs and reduce the sauce to your liking. Serve over rice, brown rice, quinoa, or cous cous.

Pesto Pinwheel Perfection

We always try to keep a frozen spheroid of Whole Foods' whole wheat pizza dough in the freezer. When we're feeling hungry and creative, we've been known to break out the pizza stone and try a new topping or two. And recently, we've come to the realization that this pizza dough, which, unlike our attempts at homemade dough rises on command, can be used to make other kinds of bread. In particular, we thought we might make cinnamon rolls.

Cinnamon rolls are a wonderful, delicious treat, but not half as inspired as our next idea. Why not make cinnamon rolls, but stuffed with something else, say...pesto? They'd still be soft, moist, and delicious, but savory instead of sweet. And the fresh pesto's bright green color would add a nice touch to the presentation. Luckily, we had already prepared pesto in the new food processor the day before, so all we needed to do was to unfreeze the dough and find a piece of unwaxed floss (more on this below).

I've always been hesitant to try to make any of the family of rolled-up dough products after the unfortunate incident of the yule-log cake in Christmas '98 (it looked like the yule log had been the victim of Hurricane Andy). But I was confident that, as long as I didn't get in Mia's way too much, this would work.

We began by taking the dough out of the freezer and putting in the fridge for a day. What was once a small lump of dough ballooned to many times its original size, threatening to burst through its plastic bag. With a rolling pin, we pressed the dough into a flat, wide rectangle and coated it with a thick layer of pesto. Next, we carefully rolled up the dough into a long, narrow cylinder:

The fun part is using the floss to squeeze off inch-wide slices of the cylinder, each of which will eventually grow to be its own pesto pinwheel. You loop the floss around the cylinder, and then squeeze it tight until separation is achieved:

We arranged the pinwheels in a cake pan, let them rest in the warm oven for 45 minutes, and then baked them for about 30 minutes at 375 degrees F.

The result was better than we had ever dared hope. The pinwheels are just sticky enough to holds themselves together, while not be too sticky to separate from each other. Once you have one in your hand, you can unroll it or take bites from it as you please. The olive oil contributes a delightful moisture, and the combination of fresh pesto and bread smells is almost overwhelmingly pleasing. Next up - a Christmas combination of pesto and roasted red pepper pinwheels!

Secret Ingredient Hot Cocoa

I used to think of hot chocolate as something that I really, really looked forward to when I was backpacking. Of course, the thing about backpacking is, when you get home, you realize that all those special backpacking treats - the 5-day-old gouda on stale pita, the 151-proof rum mixed with tang served in an unwashed mug that recently held coffee and lasagna, and yes, the hot chocolate served over the remnants of last night's mashed potatoes - just don't seem as delicious when you return to civilization. They all go straight into the trash, to be bought again in 358 days. Hot cocoa was a backpacking delight, and perhaps as a result, it had no place in my normal life. That was until Mia made us homemade hot cocoa recently.

Mia and I were enjoying ourselves, sitting at the table with my friend Josh and his girlfriend Andrea. When Mia suggested homemade hot chocolate with amaretto as a dessert drink, I readily agreed, but I didn't think about it too carefully. Josh and I continued our self-indulgent discussion about the secret lives of famous economists while Mia tended to the stove just beyond my field of vision. She soon placed the mug in front of me, but not until I put it to my lips did I recognize, finally, the enormousness of the moment.

Homemade hot cocoa is to Swiss Miss as raw milk cheese illegally imported from France is to Cheese Wiz, as 1982 Chateau Margot is to Thunderbird. The only remotely comparable experience was when, in high school, my Venezuelan friend Adrienne gave me a cup of her mother's homemade hot cocoa. That particular cocoa tasted like a melted bar of chocolate - it was incredibly flavorful, rich and thick. But it turns out it was missing something - a secret ingredient or two.

Mia made the cocoa in two ways - a more traditional version with cocoa powder, and one inspired by the South American tradition known in Argentina as submarino, which is milk served hot with a chocolate bar. Both drinks begin with heating skim milk. Then you add the chocolate, either in the form of powder or a bar. Finally, you flavor it with cinnamon and vanilla. Feel free to omit these secret ingredients for the "classic" hot cocoa experience, but we think that you'll find that vanilla and cinnamon elevate hot cocoa to new highs.

Secret Ingredient Hot Cocoa

1 c. milk
1 1/2 tbs. unsweetened cocoa powder (preferably Ghirardelli's or another high quality brand)*
1 1/2 tbs. sugar*
dash of vanilla extract
generous shake of cinnamon
splash of amaretto

Heat milk over medium heat in a small saucepan. Add cocoa and sugar, stir or whisk to remove lumps and combine. Add cinnamon and vanilla. Continue stirring until hot. Pour into mug and top off with amaretto. Serves 1 and leaves others jealous.

*Note: For submarino-style hot chocolate, substitute about an ounce of bittersweet chocolate for the cocoa powder and add sugar to taste.

Avgolemonissimo

I know what you're thinking - yet another soup. We basically subsist completely on soup at this point, given the fresh chill in the air and the infinite possibilities of warm, liquid deliciousness. I was planning to post about some other culinary adventures that we've taken recently, but this avgolemono soup that we made tonight was so incredibly delicious that I couldn't wait to share the recipe. Jonathan exclaimed, after polishing off a heartily-sized bowl: "I think that might have been the best soup I've ever had." The picture above was a success in terms of photography, but to be honest, this isn't the most beautiful thing you'll ever eat. Whether it is the most delicious, though, only you can decide.

The soup - avgolemono - is a classic Greek soup made with rice, eggs, and lemon; although we've added some odds and ends to make it a bit healthier and heartier. The recipe below could probably serve 4, but we had it on its own for dinner and were only left with one wee bowl's worth of leftovers. You could serve it with nice crusty bread or a green salad, but, if you don't feel like the extra work, it's fine and complete on its own. Despite wishing I had homemade stock on hand, we used Whole Foods brand and were quite pleased with the results. Without further ado:

Avgolemonissimo (Greek Egg-Lemon Soup With a Twist)

6 c. chicken stock
1/2 c. uncooked brown rice
1 split, boneless, skinless chicken breast
1 egg
3 tbs. freshly-squeezed lemon juice
1 carrot, diced
2 cloves garlic, chopped coarsely
1 c. finely chopped chard or spinach
2 green onions, chopped
generous freshly-ground black pepper

Bring stock almost to a boil in a large pot. When it is barely boiling, add rice, garlic, carrot, white parts of green onions (save the green parts for garnishing), and whole chicken breast. Cover and simmer over low-medium heat for about 20 min., or until chicken is cooked through. Once chicken is completely cooked, remove from soup and shred with a fork to get bite-sized pieces. Return to soup and continue simmering until rice is soft, about 20 min. more. Meanwhile, beat egg with freshly-squeezed lemon juice until blended. When rice is done, ladle a bit of hot soup into egg mixture and whisk vigorously to temper the egg. Don't let the egg scramble. After whisking for a few seconds, add egg to soup, and whisk some more to avoid scrambling. Continue to cook over low heat (don't let the soup boil) for a few more minutes, just until the soup is thickened. Add chopped chard and stir to wilt. Ladle into deep bowls and garnish with green onion.

Coffee Roasting I

When worked at Analysis Group, before I drank coffee, I used to listen wide-eyed to the VPs' tales of home coffee roasting. Steven Shurmann had just convinced AG to shell out for a fancy in-office espresso maker, with built-in water filters and surely more than the standard 15 bars of pump pressure, and he and Armando brought freshly roasted beans from their homes every Monday morning. Coffee roasting appealed more to my aesthetic sense of the good life than to my tastebuds.

But then, that fateful night when I first started to study hard for the microeconomics general exam (a big test grad students take at the end of their first year) a few years ago, I decided to give coffee another try. Maybe it was several years worth of beer bitterness, or maybe it was simply my more advanced age, but that night, the free coffee at the Bureau (National Bureau of Economic Research, where I have a desk) actually tasted sort of good. It wasn't long before I ordered my own coffee roaster (I went with the economical Fresh Roast) and sample pack of green beans.

In this post I will describe the basic roasting process. When I do my cupping later this week or early next week (depending on when the beans arrive), I will talk about comparing different roast styles and different coffees. The beans arrive (from the ubiquitous sweetmarias.com) processed but unroasted. They are green and have a faint earthy smell totally unlike the smell of roasted coffee. Here, for example, is a picture of my new India Anohki beans ("a rare and intense coffee, odd blueberry sweetness and hidey, rustic chocolate, low acidity, bizarre!").

The unroasted beans can survive at room temperature for years.

To roast, you throw the beans in the roaster, which is really just a glorified popcorn popper (with a special basket for the chaff - during roasting, the beans shed their outermost layer). They slowly turn a light brown, and you smell a popcorny smell. Then they start to crackle - the "first crack" is loud and assertive.


As they get darker in color after the first crack, the smoke becomes stronger and smells a little bit more like the coffee smell we're used to. A light roast is stopped before the second crack, which is characterized by more frequent but less powerful crackling noises. Here's a darker roast, which I stopped about 15 seconds into the second crack:


After the second crack, there's a lot of smoke, and you're getting into French and Spanish Roast territory. If you get to the mythic and dreaded third crack, head to Peet's after desperately waving a towel under the smoke detector to ward off the fire department's expensive and probably unnecessary visit.

My sources vary on how long you should wait to drink the coffee after it's roasted, but it's certainly no more than on the third morning after roasting. I'm beginning to believe in the roast-10-minutes-before-you-drink model, which my new coffee roasting book attributes to the Italians. I can't resist anything the Italians do.

Venison

As I was fortunate enough to sneak in a dinner sans Mia this evening, I was able to enjoy one of the few great pleasures in life, red meat. Beth proposed venison, and I agreed to walk to Savenor's to obtain it. Savenor's is about the size of my bedroom, and, in addition to a few readily obtainable potatoes and fruits, it sells meat. And I'm not even sure it sells regular meat - what it really sells is irregular meat.

I asked the butcher for help finding the right cut of venison. We wanted something that we could sear and/or roast such that we could finish eating before Josh Beckett threw his first 12-6 snapdragon for a strike. He brushed off my question by saying that, obviously, any of the multitudinous venison cuts available could be prepared in my fashion, but really what I wanted was bear or wild boar. I was careful to be both contemplative and noncommittal. When he was done explaining how truly stunning the $60 blob of bear meat tastes, I kindly asked him to give me one of the two venison tenderloins that were co-packaged.

An uncooked venison tenderloin is an alarming thing to behold. I have pictures, but they're available only by special request and after a background check. The best description I can think of is that a raw venison tenderloin looks like a common leech, but 20 times the size. Anyway, I did a simple kosher salt and black pepper spice rub, and then, after washing my hands thoroughly, I used the new silicone pastry brush to paint the entire thing with olive oil. I sauteed it over medium heat for about 4 minutes per side, and then we put it in the oven at 450 degrees for another 5 minutes or so.

The result was superb. It was the best meat I have ever tasted - tender, free of any gristle that might get in the way of the eating experience, and, most importantly, intensely flavorful. I really have no choice but to urge strongly that you head to your favorite specialty rare meat grocer and try it for yourself.

Pumpkin Bread

By request, I am posting our famous (stolen from a website lost in the sands of time) pumpkin bread recipe. Mia also has a "healthy" version of this recipe, which she may or may not post in the future. This version is not really that bad for you, and it is extremely delicious.

Pumpkin Bread

1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. cloves
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1 1/3 c. sugar
2 eggs
1 c. + 3 tbs. solid-pack pumpkin puree
1/2 c. vegetable oil

Sift the dry ingredients (not sugar) and mix the rest of the ingredients in a separate bowl. Mix wet into dry ingredients, being careful not to overmix. Pour batter into greased loaf pan and bake at 350 degrees for about 45min., or until tester inserted comes out clean.