Monday, November 30, 2009

UnRecipe: Thanksgiving Prefunc

Surprise, it's not a Thanksgiving post! I anticipated I wouldn't have a T-day wrapup post ready in time, due to a prolonged food coma -- I was right! I also got hit with a cold over the weekend and need to collect photos from my friends who took pics on Turkeyday, so have patience, Grasshopper. But it doesn't keep me from sharing a pre-holiday meal that was designed to help prepare for Turkey Day. This practice-round simple dinner featured an Herb Roasted Chicken, Cranberry Wine Sauce, Herbed Sweet Potatoes, with a Walnut, Apple, and Goat Cheese Spinach Salad.

No, it's not turkey leftovers! - Photo by Wasabi Prime

Certainly nothing earth-shattering, and not really worth posting a recipe, as this was more of a way to clear the fridge for the onslaught of Turkeyday grocery shopping. It was also an excercise to practice taking apart a fowl beast. At the risk of upsetting Thanksgiving purists everywhere, I didn't cook an intact turkey this year -- Norman Rockwellian meaty centerpiece be damned! I bought a whole bird, but I went all Boxing Helena on its poultry booty, removing the meaty parts for faster and controlled cooking. I didn't want performance anxiety, so I practiced on a small chicken and figured I'd play around with a cranberry sauce while I was at it.

I wish I could find a clip from Alton Brown's Good Eats episode where he showed how to separate a chicken into its main meaty parts, where he used a wooden skeleton of a dinosaur to illustrate how all the parts joined and interlocked. It was a really helpful way to visualize how the parts were connected, and where to cut so as not to shatter bones. I was inspired by that how-to, and that helped with cutting down the chicken. I think the episode was called Fry Hard II, if you happen to have it on DVD.

Once the practice round was completed and I felt at least a little more comfortable with the idea of dismembering a larger bird, this meal sort of appeared out of the UnRecipe ether. A friend had given us apples from her tree, and we had spinach, walnuts, and goat cheese in the fridge. I'd had a bag of fresh cranberries for an as yet-to-be-revealed project, and I figured I'd just use them and buy a fresh bag for Thanksgiving. I made a cranberry sauce using a bit of Hightower Cellars' 2007 Murray Cuvee. I wanted to see how adding a bit of wine to the cranberries would work out for flavor. It ended up bringing out too much bitterness, but it helped develop the intent over what I would use for Thanksgiving dinner's cranberry sauce, adding more sweetness and some spice to balance the wine's acidity. As for the rest of the bottle of Murray, it went well with the rest of the simple, satisfying dinner. Indy the Wonder Pup approved of our wine choice, but did not approve of the fact that she got neither a sip of vino, nor a taste of roasted chicken. Sorry, pup.

What? I can't haz wine? WTF?! - Photos by Wasabi Prime

* Thanks to Hightower Cellars for providing the wine. We were excited to try this one first, as Indy most certainly approved of the label design.

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Wednesday, November 25, 2009

It's the Great Pumpkin Cheesecake, Charlie Brown!

Happy Thanksgiving Eve! Are you leaving out can-shaped cranberry sauce and a plate of candied yams for the Great Pumpkin Pie, who flies in to magically defrost the turkey you totally forgot to fridge-thaw three days ago? No...? OK, so that's totally made up, but if you do still have a twenty pound bird trapped in the Ice Age, attempting to thaw in your refrigerator, may the Force be with you, and keep the local pizza parlor on speed dial. If you're feeling the pressure of holiday meals, just focus on the best part: dessert. I was inspired by a recent dual-location pantry raid and put together a Pumpkin Cheesecake with Chocolate Cookie Crust.


Amazing what can come out of random pantry goods - Photo by Wasabi Prime


What's behind pantry number one? I pilfered the remaining box of Jojos from the office snack supply -- Trader Joes' version of Oreos, supposedly made with a slightly less-scary list of ingredients to make the cream filling. There were maybe about a dozen cookies left, the perfect amount for making a crust. Pulverizing them in a plastic bag, they were rendered to a sticky, crumbly mess. The cream filling made for an adequate glue to help press it into the bottom of a parchment paper-lined springform pan.

The second pantry being rummaged through was our own. I found a can of pumpkin puree, and while I'd normally save it for a classic pumpkin pie, I'm taking a stab at pumpkin pie from scratch this year, so no canned goods allowed. I had my vintage copy of the Philadelphia Cream Cheese Cookbook, so I took their classic Motown Philly cheesecake recipe and modified it slightly for the sake of UnRecipe-ness. I used half the amount of cream cheese and added an extra egg, which yielded a more fluffy dessert, and not the typically dense cheesecake consistency. The flavor was light and sweet, and it didn't sink like a stone in one's stomach, but to be honest, I was kind of hoping for a more dessert density.

I'm not listing the modified recipe because I want to test it out again, add the original and frightening amount of cream cheese to get the traditional heavy richness, but with the pumpkin pie flavor. I may add more spices like cinnamon and allspice. As a dessert, the lighter version is perfectly enjoyable -- the team of professional taste testers, aka, my officemates, were kind enough to sample some slices. They were pleased with the result, but to quote the awkward genius of George McFly from Back to the Future: "Lorraine... you are my density... I mean... my DESTINY." I consider this post an unfinished date with density/destiny, and I hope to make this again with greater all-around success.

Until that dessert rematch, best of luck on your own Thanksgiving feasts. Remember to give thanks for the things that really count in life, beyond the perils of a dry overcooked bird. I wish bountiful feasts of goodwill, friends, family, and happy memories for everyone out there. And a slice of pumpkin pie with extra whipped cream, of course. Happy Thanksgiving!

Oh, as an extra bonus, I have an announcement to say that foodie-fab blogger and Kreativ Blogger Award-winner, The Hungry Dog, did a "TAG, you're it!" on the Prime for revealing seven facts (foodie and non-foodie alike) about herself. Seven facts! Makes me think of that line from Something About Mary, about the Seven Minute Abs.

Factoid Uno: As a child, I decided I didn't like seafood only because my dad didn't like it. Am working on reversing this logic polarity of dumb-sandwichville.

Fact Part Deux: I am double-jointed and can pick up nickels with my freaky knuckle tendons.

Fact Episode III: I do not know how to ride a bike and will probably not pick up this skill anytime soon, because my motor coordination is EPIC FAIL.

Fantastic Fact 4: I am a sci-fi geek who likes comic books and other nerdy things, but does not play video games. Again, hand-eye-coordination EPIC FAIL.

Facticazzo Five: I find dogs cuter than babies (sorry, little ones -- get a fuzzy face and a wagging tail and maybe we can negotiate something)

Facto Sixo: Telly Monster on Sesame Street annoys the hell out of me. The rest of the Muppets are awesome-sauce, however.

Seven Minute Facts: I could eat potato chips all day, which is why I don't buy them. God help me.

Now comes the fun part - TAG, you're IT: SJBe, South Sound Garden, Tokyo Terrace, Velveeta Ain't Food, Tiny Urban Kitchen, Sense & Serendipity, Radish & Rose.

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Monday, November 23, 2009

UnRecipe: Holy Schnitzel, it's the Other White Meat

All this turkey talk with Thanksgiving coming up -- don't jive me, Turkey! What about the other white meat? Don't let H1 urban myths steer you away from the loving porcine arms of Wilburiffic deliciousness. In a belated theme of Oktoberfest and a continued theme of "we need to clear out our freezer," Wasabimus Prime put forth a Pork Schnitzel with an Apple and Beer Sauce, served with Gorgonzola and Pecan Green Beans.

That's some good schnitzel, man. - Photo by Wasabi Prime

The UnRecipe part of this meal was the fact that we had frozen pork chops and some random beers sitting in our mini fridge. The whole UnRecipe theme is slowly evolving from "throw everything together and see what happens," to "throw everything together, try and write stuff down, and see what happens." I'm not entirely sure if it makes much of a difference to readers, having the recipes listed below, as I don't think these dishes are exciting enough to inspire anyone to make them. But it is a peek into the life of a consummate pantry cook who just likes to MacGyver-it when it comes to meals.

Since this was one of those thrown together meals, I didn't take any photos of the making-of or separate ingredients, but given the basic nature behind it, I think the final, plated meal is pretty self-explanatory over what was used. I liked this meal because it's uncomplicated and appropriate for a weekday dinner, plus the ingredients are simple and budget-friendly. As everyone's in the midst of preparing for a big Thanksgiving feast, this is a simple enough thing to make prior to the Big Push next week, without having to give in to the siren song of the drive-thru window. Although damn it all if fries and a milkshake aren't tasty!

Holy Schnitzel, it's Oktoberfest! (with Gorgonzola Pecan Green Beans)
(serves 6)

schnitzel ingredients
3 large pork chops, trim excess fat, sliced lengthwise and pounded flat (stressbuster!)
1 large apple, cored and diced (whatever's in season, but I dig Fujis)
1 stalk of celery
1 cup flour for dredging
1 bottle of beer (Oktoberfest/seasonal brew, if possible)
1 shallot, minced
2 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tsp thyme and/or rosemary, finely chopped
salt + pepper to taste

side dish ingredients
2 lbs green beans
6 oz pecans, rough chop
4 oz gorgonzola cheese, crumbled
1 tbsp olive oil
salt + pepper to taste

To prepare holy schnitzel: Put a large skillet on the stove and heat to medium-high. Sprinkle salt and pepper on both sides of pork and dredge in flour, dust to remove excess. Put vegetable oil in heated pan, enough to cover surface, and add dredged pork, two at a time to avoid crowding the pan. Cook until browned on both sides, cooking all cutlets and then setting aside on a platter when done. Tent with tin foil to keep warm.

Reduce heat to medium, keep skillet on stove, add diced apple, shallot, and celery. Cook until wilted, slowly adding beer to help deglaze pan and create a sauce. Add fresh herbs and a pinch of salt and pepper, tasting as you go. When full bottle of beer is emptied into pan, reduce sauce to thicken slightly and add pork cutlets back into the pan to coat with the sauce. Let the cutlets and sauce play nice for a few minutes before turning heat off.

Green beans time! You can start this while the sauce is reducing -- get a pot of water boiling on another burner. When water gets to a boil, add the green beans and cook until beans get to a bright green -- should only take a few minutes for them to be partly cooked, but remain crisp (that's what I like), but if you like them softer, feel free to let them suffer further in the bubbly cauldron of hot water. Drain the beans once they get to the doneness you prefer. Turn the burner off, but leave the beans in the drained pot. Add the olive oil, chopped pecans, gorgonzola cheese crumbles, and a pinch of salt and pepper. Toss mixture; the heat from the beans will melt the cheese and combine with the oil to create a sauce, and keeping it in the pan saves you from dirtying another bowl. But if you like doing dishes, feel free to toss mixture in another container, as I'm not the boss of you. :)

Holy schnitzel, let's plate up a cutlet, smothered in an apple/beer sauce, and a big heaping pile of nutty, cheesy beans and om nom it up while you're watching something awesome on TV. Having another beer in hand while eating this meal is not a bad thing either, so cheers to weeknight meals!

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Wednesday, November 18, 2009

UnRecipe: Onion Soup is Good Food

We have skeletons in our closet, or more to the point, bones in a box freezer. Whittling down our meat locker of animal protein delights, I'm left with several packages of soup bones. Now that the chill of winter is nearly upon us and it makes good sense to have a pot simmering all day on the stove, I made a big batch of beef broth. The end result was a meal of Onion Soup with Parmesan Crisps, which is never a bad idea for a cold, rainy day. Plus it's a nice prefunc for the gastric bypass we're all going to have to undergo after Thanksgiving next week.

Soup's On! - Photo by Wasabi Prime

I'm no expert at making broths, and I know beef can be a little trickier than chicken, as there's more flavor from a whole carcass than a segment of bone, even with some marrow in it, so there are extra steps people take to get as much flavor as possible. I just roast the beef bone for a bit before letting it take the plunge into a pot of water for a few hours to simmer away. In terms of spices, I add things like whole cloves, a star anise if I have it, bay leaves, and peppercorns, but don't go overboard, as I don't always know how the broth will be used. I'll usually let it reduce down a quarter before calling it done; the result isn't overwhelmingly rich, but for basic soups, it's a nice thing to have on hand. The first time I took a stab at broth-making was almost a year ago, on an older version of Wasabi Prime that was on Vox. Check out this blast from the past when I made beef broth.

Onion soup seemed like a delicious reward for a day's work of simmering. Notice I'm not saying French onion soup. The final result is too different for purists, so the Français factor gets dropped out of respect. The UnRecipe-ness of this was that I started out with a classic French onion soup recipe, but puttered around with it. A recipe that's similar to what was produced is on Epicurious -- their onion soup with loads of thyme.

While thyme was on my side (har har), bread and a soft, melty cheese was not. Let's be honest, we order French onion soup because we want the floating toast with the blob of crispy, molten Gruyere sitting atop the little soup tureens. Not that the finished onion soup wasn't delicious, but it was going to be melted cheese or bloody murder at this point.

Not wanting to go to the grocery store for the missing ingredient walk of shame, I rummaged the refrigerator and found some grated Parmesan cheese. Turning the oven on to 350 degrees, I pulled out a cookie sheet and silicone mat, and made little flat rounds of cheese sprinkled with fresh cracked pepper. The oven did the work, melting the cheese into crispy golden wafers. While I won't say this is as satisfying as a piece of toast with melty cheese, it worked as a quick fix to garnish the soup and add a little extra flavor as it melted in.

I couldn't eat another bite! Not even this waaaaaafer thin round of cheese? - Photos by Wasabi Prime

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Monday, November 16, 2009

UnRecipe: Fantasy Island Pizza

In the mind's eye, picture a tropical breeze, a perfectly serene beach, and the Smoove-B stylings of Mr. Rourke in his impeccable white suit to greet guests and present a pizza that looks somewhat like the one in the photo below. Not that it's such a wonderous thing that deserves a place on television's Fantasy Island, but more like when someone orders a "Hawaiian Pizza," I'm fairly sure it's only a fantasy that people in Hawaii are keen to order the combo of canned pineapple and soggy ham. Not to burst anyone's bubble, but they like their pizzas like everyone else: cheesy, meaty, and delivered in under thirty minutes before their beer gets warm. But it is one of Mr. Wasabi's favorites, and I felt this casual comfort deserved to be gussied-up a bit, so inspired by some pantry goods and our recent vacation, a Spiced Pineapple, Black Forest Ham, and Sundried Tomato Pesto Flatbread was created. Look, Boss! It's de pizza!

Eat your heart out, Ricardo Montalban, King of Khan - Photo by Wasabi Prime

Trader Joes was the driving force behind this dish. It's a great store, full of amazing things you never knew you needed, but can't live without, and after bringing them home, you're not totally sure how to live with them either. Organic heirloom cherry tomatoes? Individually-sized Greek yogurt cups? Frozen pot de creme? My personal weakness is their snack aisle (Chili Lime Cashews, you complete me), and came across a package of their dried pineapple with chili spice. I had no idea what it tasted like or what I would do with it. By the Power of Compulsive Shopping, I had to have it!

Flash forward months later when I realize we've accumulated too many random items in the pantry, it's time to cook our way through this smorgasbord, and I recognize the package of red spice-flecked pineapple chunks. I thought as a joke, they would make for a fancy Hawaiian pizza, but the joke got less and less funny as I thought it may not taste like total crap.

In an UnRecipe-like fashion, I collected items I thought would be a good fit, but in atypical fashion, I actually started jotting things down. Why? I don't know -- let's just call it preparation for Thunderdome. I did use a flatbread recipe from Epicurious by Ben Ford, which was a nice return to breadmaking. The rest of it was a MacGyver meal of throwing together things and hoping I didn't end up making a pipe bomb instead of a pizza.

Kickin' it with Flava-FLAV: spicy pineapple, sundried tomato pesto and heavenly ham - Photo by Wasabi Prime

While the flatbread dough rose, I had enough time to make a simple pesto from sundried tomatoes. For the cheese, I chose fresh mozzarella, as it melts nicely, stringy-good, and the flavor won't compete with the other elements. I went back and forth on the ham, wondering if I should use proscuitto or not, but went with Black Forest as it's a bit meatier and not as salty. Because the spiced pineapple chunks were so strongly seasoned with chili and ginger, I didn't want it to be a Fight Club of flavors.

Once baked, the finished flatbreads were a satisfying combination of savory and sweet. The dry pineapple chunks soak up the surrounding moisture, so they soften by the time it's baked. The crust was doughy with a good bite to it, a delicious reminder that making bread isn't so difficult and very much worth the effort. I don't have a pizza stone, but was still able to get the small paddle-shaped flatbreads done with a bit of crispness. The small shapes bake up quickly, which is good since they need to be baked prior to adding the pesto and toppings.

I often felt like the "Hawaiian Pizza" was akin to a plain pepperoni and cheese pizza -- boring and overdone. Approaching something I'm not excited about and finding a way to make it more interesting was a nice experiment that yielded delicious results.

Heavenly ham and el diablo pineapple combine forces! - Photos by Wasabi Prime

Fancy Fantasy Island Flatbreads
(makes 8 small flatbreads)

*use flatbread recipe from Epicurious

flatbread toppings
8 oz fresh mozzarella, torn into 8 segments
8 slices of Black Forest ham
1 package of spiced dried pineapple from Trader Joe's

sundried tomato pesto
3 0z bag of sundried tomatoes
3 garlic cloves
1/2 cup olive oil
1 tsp chopped oregano
1 tsp red pepper flakes

Waiting for bread to rise and/or bake, take tomatoes and garlic and pulse in a food processor until rendered to small, even-sized pieces. Add spices and let food processor break everything down into small bits before slowly adding the olive oil. Continue to mix in food processor until consistency is like a paste.

When flatbreads are done baking, remove from oven and reduce temperature to 350 degrees F. Spread the pesto on the flatbreads and divide the cheese, ham and pineapple across the eight flatbreads. Place back into the oven and let the cheese melt and brown slightly before serving. Commence omming and nomming.

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Friday, November 13, 2009

30 Rocks My Socks: Dealbreaker!

For those who haven't heard, NBC's 30 Rock is a freakin' funny show. And that says a lot because I rarely enjoy situational comedy, aka, "The Sitcom." Short of early seasons of The Simpsons, most sitcoms are kind of... awful. The magic of Tina Fey's brain and all her wacky castmates creating behind the scenes shenanigans of an SNL-like series melted my Grinchy heart. Plus it's awash with arcane quotable lines, which I will mercilessly pepper this post with, so deal wit it, Cate Blanchett!

When one of my favorite blogs, The Chickenless Kitchen, announced a cooking challenge to come up with a 30 Rock-themed recipe, I immediately thought, That's crazy! But then I heard Tracy Morgan/Tracy Jordan's high-functioning alcoholic voice exclaim: Who's crazier? Me or Anne Curry?! Short of hearing the voice of God or seeing a burning bush, I felt like my questionable mental stability must be issuing an edict to make this challenge happen! So with the help of Mr. Wasabi, who is a huge 30 Rock fan, we came up with something as disturbing and indulgent as the show is. We like to call this little beastmaster, The Dealbreaker.

There's a sandwich under there, I swear! - Photo by Wasabi Prime

Much like the confused look of terror that's probably on your face right now, there's just no easy way of explaining this. It's a bit like walking in on a crime being committed. The foodie foundation of The Dealbreaker is a Croque Monsieur, which is French for the sandwich that will surely end you -- the meaning loses a bit in translation, trust me. A grilled ham and cheese sandwich wasn't enough, no sir, this one had to be smothered in a beer cheddar sauce. Main character Liz Lemon's favorite thing is a sandwich, because it's a perfect meal placed between two slices of bread, and one of her absolute favorite foods is cheese -- any and all of it. Much like this meal, Liz is a big hot mess, as shown by this ample collection of quotes and gags.



The name, Dealbreaker, refers to a catch phrase from a self-help character Liz creates for her skit comedy show that's full of quotable relationship advice like, "Long distance is the wrong distance - shut it down!" The radioactive colored crumbles over the top are a nod to Sabor de Soledad, The Taste of Solitude, or generic offbrand Cheetos, as Liz calls them. Alec Baldwin's awesomely offensive network exec, Jack Donaghy, discovers there is an actor who looks like him, playing a villain called the Generalissimo on a Telemundo soap opera. Donaghy's trying to win over his girlfriend's mother who hates the Generalissimo, so he plots to have the character killed off on the series, so his face isn't associated with someone she hates. Here is a clip that mentions Sabor de Soledad, and also happens to be awesome:



I'd like to believe this is a Liz Lemon-worthy meal, as it's designed for an indulgent serving of one, enjoyed in the comfort of one's home at some late night hour on a Saturday night, watching the Generalissimo on TV, curled up under a Slanket.

The Dealbreaker

Sandwich
2 slices of bread
4 thin slices of ham
slices of gruyere cheese - enough to cover one side of the bread
1 tbsp butter (for grilling sandwich and spreading on bread)

Sauce
6 oz beer, preferably an ale (just drink the rest, I did)
3/4 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 tbsp butter
1 tbsp flour
salt and pepper to taste

For garnish: 1/4 cup crushed Sabor de Soledad (or Cheetos, whatever)

Make sauce first: on a burner set to medium, place a small saucepot and melt the butter and sprinkle in flour. Incorporate the ingredients untilthe paste is slightly browned and slowly add the beer, mixing or whisking constantly to remove lumps. Reduce burner temperature to low. When sauce is smooth, slowly add in handfuls of the shredded cheddar until it's melted and a creamy sauce has formed. Add salt and pepper to taste and set aside.

For the sandwich: smear the butter on both sides of the inside surface of the bread and lay down a layer of gruyere and ham. Place a skillet on the stove and turn on burner to medium. Melt a pat of butter in skillet and grill the sandwich on both sides, pressing to ensure inside is melted and fused together.

Plate the grilled sandwich and pour sauce over the top. Sprinkle over bits of Sabor de Soledad and shout to the world, THAT'S A DEALBREAKER, LADIES!

Special Wasabi thanks to local bakery, Macrina, who provided a loaf of their amazing Pane Francese, a bread developed from grape yeast from Hightower Cellars. It's a really hearty and flavorful bread which stood up to all this 30 Rock silliness. I'm fairly sure Liz Lemon would wrestle the Pane Francese from my hands in the street to make a sandwich out of it... but not without a fight, Ms. Lemon!

Let's make a Deal(breaker) with the help of Macrina Bakery - Photos by Wasabi Prime

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Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Tipsy Baker: Halloween Hangover

It's been over a week since Halloween graced our jack-o-lanterned doorsteps and perhaps over an hour since the leftover candy has graced my waistline. I was taken in by the siren song of individually wrapped packets of candy corn, thinking "Oh, Halloween's on Saturday this year, we'll have a ton of kids showing up," and I bought an ambitious amount of candy. We were able to give away a bit of the goods, but not nearly as much as I'd hoped, so we're of course awash in sweets that tempt us every time we walk in and out of the kitchen. My sugar-addled brain came to the conclusion that making Botched Butterscotched Bars with Candy Corn was a nifty plan, even though the candy corn was only for garnish and we now have cake to go with candy.

It's a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake... if you're feeling boozy - Photo by Wasabi Prime

Given that it's baking and Homie don't play with a smidge of this and a dash of that, I used a recipe. However, a glass or two of wine made my head foggy and I used the wrong amounts, thankfully to non-catastrophic results. And thus, Tipsy Baking was born.

I used a basic butterscotch bar cookie recipe from a tattered copy of The Joy of Cooking that my mom threw into a moving box when I made the trek out to Washington. I used more flour and butter than the original recipe, and it resulted in a more dense, cakey bar. Realizing the mistake, I remade the recipe using the correct measurements, but it resulted in more of a toffee-like bar that seemed confused over whether or not it wanted to be candy or a cookie. Comparing the two batches, I have to admit the tipsy batch using the mistaken quantities had a more pleasing texture, almost like a caramel pound cake. When the pan of just-baked cake emerged from the oven, I pressed in the candy corn in ample-spaced rows. The heat from the cake softened the candy corn, just enough to help fuse it to the surface. Granted, this didn't really whittle down our supply of candy corn as much as I'd hoped, but at least the finished bars looked pretty.

Because the bars are so dense and sweet, small petit four-sized portions seemed the most appropriate, lest we turn into Mike Myers' Phillip, the Hyper-Hypo kid from 1990s SNL. In uncharacteristic Wasabi manner, I'm listing the botched-up recipe below. Wine-drinking optional but highly recommended.

Indy's keen disguise may have worked on others, but we are not fooled. No cake for you! - Photos by Wasabi Prime

Botched Butterscotched Bars (adapted/wrecked from The Joy of Cooking)
* makes up to 20 small, bite-sized bars


1 cup of unsalted butter
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 sifted cup of flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt

20-30 candy corn candies (for optional decoration)

Line a 9 x 9 inch pan with a criss-cross of parchment paper, so that all the surfaces are covered; this will make for easy removal once it's baked. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.


Turn burner on to medium, take a small saucepan and melt butter and dissolve brown sugar. Mix until incorporated and turn off heat. Wait until the mixture cools slightly and slowly incorporate the eggs; can temper them in to be sure they don't scramble. Add in vanilla extract.

Sift flour, baking powder and salt together. Take the wet ingredients and slowly incorporate with the dry until mixture is fully combined into a loose, sticky batter. Pour batter into lined baking pan and bake for 20-25 minutes, checking midway through and rotating pan for even cooking. Use a toothpick to check center for doneness -- toothpick should come out clean when it's finished baking.

When cake is baked, remove from oven to cool. While still hot, press candy corn into surface in three or four well-spaced rows. Each cut bar should have one candy corn in the center. Remove cake using parchment paper and allow to cool on a rack. Once fully cooled, cut into small bite-sized squares and serve.

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Monday, November 9, 2009

Mixed Plate: Ono Kine Hawaii - Island Grindz is da Bes' Kinez (part 2)

Howzit? Ono Kine Part Deux, comin' at you! Apologies for not posting sooner, but in traditional fashion, let's consider these on Island Time. Those familiar with Hawaii know that ono kine grindz is the Pidgin equivalent of the dinner bell for the best part of living La Vida Loco Moco. If you're wondering, Pidgin is the commonly spoken creole that developed as a result of the mix of cultures in the Aloha State. Pidgin is easy to understand for the most part, as it's English, with a smattering of words and language structure from Hawaiian, Portuguese, Cantonese, Tagalog, Japanese, and Korean. Years ago, this helped to facilitate universal communication amongst the variety of immigrants during the plantation days, and this language of resourcefulness has carried on to present-day. Much like the unique dialect of Hawaii, local foods were influenced by this multiculturalism, resulting in dishes born of humble comforts, war, and the ingenuity to make seemingly unappetizing ingredients into something truly wonderful.

Hawaii style weddings are full of ono food and ohana plenty - Photos by Wasabi Prime


This melting pot of cultures resides in local meals, from simple breakfasts to formal weddings. Brock and I were there for my cousin's wedding, at the very lovely Willows in Honolulu, on a gorgeously sunny day. Cousin J, her sister, mom, and our Auntie S all pitched in to make precious favors of boxed chocolate-dipped shortbread, decorated with orchids, and the dinner was a huge buffet of delicious options -- the whole wedding was grand, complete with a Japanese and Filipino toast to honor the families.

The food items I particularly appreciated were things locals wouldn't think twice about, but might be considered unique most anywhere else -- the reception cocktail hour served up fresh poke (seasoned raw tuna and vegetables, like a ceviche), as well as boiled peanuts. Long before the raw bar craze hit the restaurant scene, Native Hawaiians have enjoyed fresh poke and it's been a social gathering mainstay ever since. Boiled peanuts, a popular snack in Asian countries as well as the Southern states, has also been a longtime pau hana pupu favorite. Hawaii can be a hot, humid place, and the only refuge can sometimes be as simple as a plate of cool poke and salty boiled peanuts, all going marvelously well with your can of Primo Beer. That seems to be the snack litmus test to truly be considered ono, oishii, and pupu-worthy -- if it's good with beer, then it's brok da mout good.

#1 BBQ in Lahaina, Maui; note the $2.99 breakfast special on ghetto fabulous posterboard - Photo by Wasabi Prime


A bit of Hawaii's history can be seen through its plate lunches. I've never been shy about my love for Spam musubi, and this isn't some dark secret that thwarts a political future -- you can get this marvelously mysterious meat at nearly any chain restaurant in Hawaii. Even BK will do it Your Way, freaky-deaky though it may seem. We even picked up individually-wrapped Spam musubis at the local Foodland for a quick lunch. A WWII remnant of military rations and the fact that it's a long way from the Mainland to these islands, growing accustomed to eating meat from a can became a fact of life. But therein lies the magic of ingenuity and a grumbly tummy. During our visit to the island of Maui, we found #1 BBQ, a tiny eatery in a stripmall offering local breakfasts and lunches in Lahaina. It's got a suspiciously Engrish-sounding name, it looks like a greasy spoon dive, but there's nary a tourist nor a fake plastic lei in sight. It's mostly locals who patronize this place, so you know you're getting the good stuff, plus all the best eats are scribbled on a poster board menu.

Lunch and breakfasts powered by Spam and Portuguese sausage - photos by Wasabi Prime


Offering simple $2.99 breakfasts (you can see it on the sign by the order window -- proof that it exists!) that would make my friends at the Cheap Appetite blog cheer, #1 BBQ powered our morning with a hearty portion of scrambled eggs over rice and a choice of the almighty slabs of Spam or extra-large slices of delicious Portuguese sausage. The islands can thank the Portuguese immigrants for coming in to work on the ranches, bringing their knowledge of linguisa-making to bless Hawaii's meals with the wonderfully spicy, fatty sausage. A few restaurants make their own linguisa from scratch, which is a treat if you can find it. A lunch trip to #1 BBQ also let me quiet a serious saimin craving. I love the chewy, crinkly-wrinkly noodles sitting in a loose shoyu broth that's typically more Hawaiian-style than Japanese, especially with the wedges of Spam floating in there. The only thing missing in the saimin were shreds of scrambled egg and thin slices of kamaboko, a pressed fish cake dyed in the unholy hue of Hello Kitty pink. What?! people exclaim when I say this is why I go to Hawaii. You travel all this distance to find hole-in-the-wall dives that serve processed meats and strange cross-cultural foods? Damn skippy, I do.

Quirky and fun Hawaiiana collection at Hawaiian Village Coffee House in Maui - photo by Wasabi Prime


We split our meals between Lahaina and Kaanapali. There was a strip mall close to our hotel, which had two spots we frequented during our Maui stay: The Hawaiian Village Coffee House and CJ's Comfort Zone. We had a refreshingly Starbucks-free morning at the Hawaiian Village Coffee House, enjoying their strong brews and Mr. Wasabi enjoyed their strong WiFi when he had to do some work -- yes, he had to work, and yes, that totally sucks, but (shameless plug alert!) Torchlight turned out totally rad. To escape an overpriced hotel breakfast buffet, we found refuge at CJ's and their early bird special under $6 that included eggs, potatoes or rice, bacon or sausage, and delicious vanilla macadamia nut coffee. While not as ghetto fabulous as #1 BBQ, we returned to CJ's several times to take advantage of their deli-style and local-friendly menu.

Don't bother me, I'm in the Zone with my breakfast, loco moco & mochiko chicken - Photos by Wasabi Prime


Along with saimin, I had to indulge in a loco moco. CJ's was the first I'd ever seen served with slices of tomato, but they felt no further need to gild the lily, serving up two hearty hamburger patties over rice, nestled beneath fried eggs, smothered with brown gravy. I've had this many ways, served with potato mac salad, fried saimin, or the eggs and hamburger over fried rice -- it's the beauty of all these local dishes in that there's really no correct way of making or presenting them, since everyone has their own take on the recipe. I was also able to sample some of CJ's tasty mochiko chicken, a sweet, savory teriyaki-flavored fried chicken. My mother usually makes this over the holidays so I associate it as Christmas chicken, but it's pretty delicious and much like Christmas, should be celebrated all year round.

Makawao, a little town very close to my heart and pastries still stuck in my arteries - Photos by Wasabi Prime


Greasy comfort indulgences aside, the visit to Maui provided a long-overdue walk down memory lane for Ms. Prime. My mother's family is from the upcountry town of Makawao, a small community nestled in the hills and farmland at the base of the volcano Haleakala. It's like traveling to a different place, leaving behind the sandy beaches of Lahaina and driving up into the higher elevation where the surroundings go from arid desert to verdant farmland and fields of sugarcane. The temperature drops ten or more degrees, there are trees everywhere, and the land is dotted with ranches and livestock. This is the place where tourists tend not to venture, and it's a shame, as these sleepy towns are places that have managed to stay a little more authentic. Granted, over the years, my grandparents would lament that their dusty little cowboy town turned hippie with crystal-crunching aura readers and people who would take the avocados from their yard and sell them as healthy and organic, even though they sometimes tasted lousy.

The custardy jewel of Makawao, courtesy Komoda Store bakery - Photo by Wasabi Prime


Along with sharing Makawao's rural charm with my travelmates, they were able to experience a local treat, the cream puff pastries from the Komoda Store bakery. It's a silly thing to say, but they truly are a taste of childhood. I remember many mornings where a box from Komoda Store would be waiting at the breakfast table, the sunlight pouring in through wispy clouds, shining a holy light on the formica table holding that beautiful parcel of goodies: deep-fried malasadas covered in cinnamon sugar, eclair-like long johns, and the Komoda-famous cream puffs. Unlike the traditional French pastry, these cream puffs are filled with a heavy, glutenous pudding. They're also Monster Truck-sized in comparison to the traditional profiterole. The dough is chewy and plain, so as not to compete with the chocolate or classic vanilla filling. Because of its center, it needs to be served cold. I recall pulling the pastry apart in smaller pieces to scoop out the custardy filling, savoring every bite as I read the funnies my mom pulled from the morning paper. I can recall so much sense memory from the time spent in this small, nearly unknown place -- specific smells, sounds, and even the feeling of line-dried sheets as feet slipped into bed. Having a familiar pastry from Komoda Store was a sweet and sad reminder of how much I truly miss those times and the people who now live on in memory.

Not to get all maudlin on everyone -- we had a blast and did not neglect to lavish attention on fruity umbrella-staked cocktails and a local brew or two. We picked up a bottle of Volcano Red, made by the Big Island's Volcano Winery and raised a glass or three one night in the hotel. My folks and I had visited the winery years ago -- their wines lean heavily towards sweet and fruity, and their fruit-blended and honey wines are their stronger suits, compared to the Red. It was a little harsh and on the acidic side, but their honey wine remains a winner as something to enjoy with dessert. I'm just very glad to see the Volcano Winery is still working away, producing vino from the Big Isle.

Hey, man, I got a beverage here! - Photos by Wasabi Prime


Additional frosty beverages that are available in many Mainland stores are the local Kona Brewing Co. microbrews, also from Big Island. Around since 1995, they have been putting out a variety of ales, a lager, and a seasonal porter. Lighter beers have always been a traditional favorite among the islands, as it can be pretty refreshing on a hot evening (enter the boiled peanuts and poke). I stuck to their Longboard Island Lager, which I think is my new favorite of theirs, offering a deeper flavor than their ales.

Hey, braddah, dis post stay pau already, so get one nuddah beer and raise a glass to conclude this edible kama'aina (local) adventure. I realize a lot of the foods here are almost painfully humble, and it's not that fabulous four-star restaurants don't exist -- the islands are awash with them, much like any large city, but I wanted to show some common foods that are unique to the area. They are childhood comforts of the Islands, and it's a collective experience that is perhaps so everyday, visitors may not even think to notice or experience them, and that would be a shame because the food culture of Hawaii is very authentic and rich in history.

I barely even touched the surface of true local foods, just going for the simple, can't mess-up fare, since I'm not as familiar with the Lahaina area. One of my favorite food blogs, The Tasty Island, is a great resource if you are on Oahu or just want to see the variety of delicious food the locals enjoy. Consider Pomai your food guide to da bes' kine, brok da mout grinds, with a handy and effective Spam Musubi rating system. Mahalo plenty.

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Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Mixed Plate: Ono Kine Hawaii - Green Acres (pt 1)

Aloha! Mr. Wasabi/Brock and I took some time to fly off to the tropics of the 50th state for a cousin's wedding, some family time and some much-needed rest. While I was not born in Hawaii, the entire Wasabi Prime clan on both sides are all Islanders, having been born on and lived across the islands of Oahu, Maui, and Hawaii/The Big Island. I am fortunate to have been able to experience this place for extended visits during my childhood, and have been granted a very different perspective on this place from the typical visuals of swaying palm trees, mai tais, and hula girls. For the first of a two-part post series, I wanted to focus on the aspect of Hawaii that people don't immediately think of, which is the land's ability to feed the people, and the importance of staying connected to this relationship.

A vast plantation of pineapple? Nope, just my Auntie P's backyard garden! - photo by Wasabi Prime

It's nearly impossible to lose sight of the fact that Hawaii is a string of islands, and given that isolated geography, that inspires a need for sustainability. Goods and resources tend to be more costly because much of it is barged or flown in. During the turn of the century, agriculture made the islands a valuable commodity, but the fields of pineapple and sugar cane disappeared over the years as commercial air travel became more viable, and the industry of tourism eclipsed the plantation days. A waning economy has been a reminder to everyone that a renewed focus on local resources and increased self-reliance is a valuable investment to take part of.

Baby eggplants, chili peppers, Suriname cherries in a yard, and a breadfruit at a park - photos by Wasabi Prime

Staying a few days at my aunt and uncle's home in Kaneohe, a city on Oahu outside of Honolulu, we were given access to a produce department in a home backyard. My Auntie P clearly picked up the Green Thumb talent in the family and has always used her backyard garden to its full extent. She grows tomatoes, pineapples, chili peppers, salad greens, eggplant, and various herbs. She also has a huge Suriname cherry tree which produces beautiful, sour little fruits, what she used to call "pumpkin cherries," because their exteriors look a bit like a round bumpy squash. A fortified punch of vitamin C, the large-pitted cherries are too tart to just eat on their own, but she uses them for preserves and I'm sure would probably make for a marvelous relish come Thanksgiving Day.

Auntie P was last seen carefully nursing a small bell pepper plant that she had sprouted from seeds. Given that Hawaii's warm and rainy climate turns annuals into perennials, this lone pepper plant could easily produce several years' worth of bell peppers, so it's worth the extra care. Every time I visit, I'm envious of her tomato plants, which are more like a tomato bush, as they don't die back and just continue to fruit throughout the year.

Along with the bounty from home gardens, we saw breadfruit trees growing in parks. About the size of a large melon, the bumpy-skinned breadfruit were concentrated carbohydrate sources for the Native Hawaiians. Because it's so starchy, it's a bit like a potato once cooked and can be used in similar tuber-like applications. Much like the potato, the breadfruit's myth describes the Hawaiian people's deliverance from famine: the god of war Kū, after living in secret among mortals, sacrificed himself so that his family and others could be saved from starvation, and a breadfruit tree miraculously grew from a place where he once stood. For a lot of the traditional foods in Hawaii, there are legends like these to remind people of the value of what the land can provide. Aside from providing a lush, tropical landscape, the plants and trees are a resource worth nurturing.

There remains a strong connection to the land that the locals have, and I believe this connection grows stronger and new connections are being made as people are realize how this works toward environmental sustainability. Having so many people in Hawaii descended from the plantation era and generations of accomplished farmers (my own family included), it isn't unusual to just walk outside and pull together ingredients from the yard for a meal; this mentality is truly in the hearts and minds of the people. Granted, Hawaii is a more hospitable place for year-round growing, but it's an inspiring reminder for everyone to be aware of what is readily available, versus what needs to be brought in from afar.

It ain't easy being green... unless you're in Hawaii. Then it's super-easy. Photo by Wasabi Prime

Don't touch that dial...er...keyboard! The second part of this two-part Hawaii adventure is on its way! Having discussed the natural side of Hawaii, one has to reveal the unnatural side of Spam and other unique local foods that created a beloved menu inspired by resourcefulness and multi-culturalism. Next stop: Ono Kine Grindz! Mahalo!

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Monday, November 2, 2009

FoodTrek: Fall/Winter Preview Night at Monsoon East

An opportunity to sample the fall/winter menu from a local acclaimed restaurant? By all means -- head East, young Wasabi, to Monsoon East in Bellevue! I've had the pleasure of visiting the newer Eastside kin of Seattle's Capitol Hill longtime favorite, as shown in a previous post. It's always a treat, as it's in the small and charming Main Street area of downtown Bellevue, full of several neighborhood darlings. Sibling founders Eric and Sophie Banh have done a wonderful job transplanting the hospitality and dining experience of Vietnam into the Emerald City. This night in particular was special, as a birthday was being celebrated --Monsoon East's own!

Cheers to you, Monsoon East! Deadly Nightshade, indeed, as I could drink these all evening - photo by Wasabi Prime


Along with the occasion of the restaurant's first annivesary in its Eastside locale, it was to celebrate their new membership with the Bellevue Downtown Association. Local business owners gathered for an open house, in the cozy setting of Monsoon's private dining area. Nestled amongst the solid wood walls and the gauzy fabric panels, the party was a comfortable, relaxing place to meet and chat with neighbors.

Guests were greeted with what I have to say was my favorite cocktail of the night, the beautiful Nightshade, a Halloween-appropriate femme fatale of a drink, served in a petite cordial glass with a storm of movement lurking behind its dusky color. Sweet, fragrant and bubbly, basil seeds are added to the cocktail and the fizz makes the ethereal pods dance in the light. Flavored with the lilac-colored liqueur, parfait amour, the drink is blessed with the delicate and beautiful vanilla, orange and rose flavors of the liqueur, as well as the lightly crunchy texture of the seeds.

Plates of bite-sized menu items were placed on the table, one after the other. The chill of winter may be upon us, but the bright colors and flavors suggested otherwise as guests were treated to a wide array of tastes. Spicy and fresh papaya spring rolls, smoky shrimp skewered with snow peas, and one of my previous favorites, their creamy tuna tartare on a crisp taro chip -- I wish I could say I remember all the wonderful nibbles, but I confess to being overwhelmed by the endless parade of dishes and just let the flavors carry me off to Happy Food Coma Land. This is why I'd make for a lousy restaurant reviewer -- I stop taking notes halfway through and just get lost in the garden of edible delights!

Savory and sweet, so wonderful to eat! - Photos by Wasabi Prime


Just like the food, it's easy to become swept away by Monsoon's hospitality. They provided cocktails with each wave of menu samplings. Continuing their nod to Halloween, the Nightshade was followed with the sloe gin and orange flavored Satan's Whiskers, a masculine-looking cocktail that could easily steal one's soul for a night. A tart, deeply-flavored plum cocktail followed, with a white chocolate dessert drink that went beautifully with Monsoon's signature banana cake. Served with a basil syrup, the cake was a reminder that herbs, when properly coaxed, can be as much of an ally to sweet as they are savory dishes. I was told that owner Sophie Banh is the gatekeeper of the restaurants' distinctive library of sauces, and that they are a valuable and beloved family secret, ensuring the hand-crafted touch of the owners across their menu.

In many cultures around the world, the keepers of knowledge are regarded as living treasures, so both sides of Lake Washington can consider themselves amongst the lucky and thankful to have such dining treasures as the Banh family sharing their dining and hospitality with both Seattle and Bellevue.

Happy Birthday, Monsoon East! Wishing you many more years of luck and delicious success.

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