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| Shiitake dan dan noodles, care of Becky Selengut's "Shroom" - Photo by Wasabi Prime |
Showing posts with label cookbooks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cookbooks. Show all posts
Monday, November 3, 2014
Mixed Plate: A Mushroom, a Boat, a Whale, and a Walrus Walk Into the Kitchen...
Tis the season for cookbooks in bloom! I know most people fall into one of a few categories when it comes to cookbooks: A) The Casual Collector, usually gifted most of their books by friends/family who know them best, and the books' subjects tend to lean towards specialty desserts or general party-planning ideas; B) The Hoarder, a ravenous collector with a discerning eye for quality-written recipes and techniques, happily giving up valuable living space in lieu of several overstuffed bookshelves bowing from the weight of those damn heavy Modernist Cuisine tomes; C) The Recovering Cookbook-aholic, one who has purged their library of books they realistically know they won't cook from, they're worried about the Hoarders TV crew showing up at their house (again), so their collection is meticulously curated with only books they know they'll use regularly. While I've never let my books edge me out of house and home, I do have a Fear of Stuff, so I tend to fall within the C-category. Which is why when I do add to my cookbook collection, I'm extra-picky, and extra-excited when I find not only one, but TWO new books that I think deserve a spot on the shelf.
Monday, March 26, 2012
OMG a Recipe: It's a Mad Mad Mad Men World
I've been feeling the nostalgic vibe of late, especially after receiving a funky old Campbell Cookbook: Cooking With Soup cookbook from a friend who knows I love kitschy stuff like that. It goes nicely with my Philadelphia Cream Cheese cookbook, spiral ring-binding and all. Appropriately enough, the equally vintage AMC series Mad Men is kicking off its effing-finally-it-took-you-long-enough 5th season. To celebrate the return of the martini-swilling chain-smoking prodigal son, I thought I'd hazard a sampling of what the 1950s and 60s era cuisine tasted like, and cook something from the book that looked like it would have sat on Betty Draper's shelf, before things went off the rails.
These old cookbooks, much like an early episode of Mad Men, circa season 1, can be quite a hoot. Where else are you going to read about the four food groups, where the Milk Group includes a serving of cubes of "Cheddar-type cheese?" A time when capers were considered "crafty," there's dishes called "Spunky Ham Bowl" or "Cock-a-Leekie Soup" without a trace of self-awareness, and you could still get away with calling a dish "Oriental" as long as there's some soy sauce in it. Ah, those were the good old days. It's no wonder they were all raging alcoholics who drank their way through lunches to get through the day.
I found what could best be called a pantry straggler -- a lone can of chicken and rice soup sitting upon our shelf. Luckily it wasn't one of the newfangled line of Campbell's soups, so I could reference a recipe in the cookbook using this soup flavor. Granted, my can o' soup was using wild rice, which I'm sure would have been considered too exotic for the post-Baby Boomer era, but even in its original white rice form, it wouldn't have changed much with the recipe I decided to use. Simply named Greek Lemon Soup, on page 163, the dish was just that: one can of condensed chicken with rice soup, water, 1 egg, lemon juice, nutmeg and butter. They dress it up a little by describing the soup as being called "Soup Avgolemono" to the Greeks, which means just that, egg-lemon soup or sauce.
Even the newly-singletoned Stepford-drone, Betty, would appreciate this soup, as it can be made for a serving of one, with minimal ingredients that are likely hanging around a forlorn-looking refrigerator and pantry. You basically heat the soup to the can's directions, and whisking the egg with the lemon juice in a separate bowl, you temper the egg and lemon mixture before incorporating it slowly into the soup, but off the direct heat, so the egg doesn't curdle. You're lightly cooking the egg in the soup, constantly whisking so that it just emulsifies and gives the soup a rich, surprisingly silky texture. I was actually -- gasp -- pleasantly surprised with what gently adding the egg to the soup would do for its consistency. The lemon juice brightened the flavor, which does any canned product some good, and the nutmeg just made it a little more interesting. What isn't interesting is the final result: Bland, Boring City. Even Don Draper would choose a different kind of liquid lunch before sucking down this snooze-worthy broth.
Not very exciting-looking, I know. So I drizzled a little olive oil and added some fresh-cracked pepper as these would have been ingredients hanging about a Mad Men-era household, and something they would have thought to add to the soup anyways: Voila! Slightly less Bland-Boring-City.
I had my vintage-era soup and then capped the day off early by signing off around three to start swilling cocktails and exercising poor decision-making skills that would make the fellas at Sterling Cooper proud. Perhaps later I'll have enough liquid courage in me to give recipes like "Curried Crax" a try, or figure out just what the hell a "Mulligatawny" is.
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| Now you're cooking with nostalgia! - Photo by Wasabi Prime |
I found what could best be called a pantry straggler -- a lone can of chicken and rice soup sitting upon our shelf. Luckily it wasn't one of the newfangled line of Campbell's soups, so I could reference a recipe in the cookbook using this soup flavor. Granted, my can o' soup was using wild rice, which I'm sure would have been considered too exotic for the post-Baby Boomer era, but even in its original white rice form, it wouldn't have changed much with the recipe I decided to use. Simply named Greek Lemon Soup, on page 163, the dish was just that: one can of condensed chicken with rice soup, water, 1 egg, lemon juice, nutmeg and butter. They dress it up a little by describing the soup as being called "Soup Avgolemono" to the Greeks, which means just that, egg-lemon soup or sauce.
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| Betty is DONE with being your haus frau - Photos by Wasabi Prime, Mad Men pic from AMC |
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| Option B... for Booze - food photos by Wasabi Prime, Mad Men pic from AMC |
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| A little better. But a dry martini would make it perfect - Photo by Wasabi Prime |
Monday, June 14, 2010
Mixed Plate: Kitchen Confidential
Meanwhile, in a laundry room not far from here...
So I'm either going crazy and having a Wonderfalls
-like spell of momentary mental derangement, or it's a visit from the Wasabi Prime Peanut Gallery Players, objects from the kitchen who like to throw me under the bus now and then with a dose of truthiness and snyde commentary. I've been so used to snapping photos and clanking around in the kitchen, making stuff for the last year, that I forget what a silly setup I have, and how it's kind of funny to get a behind-the-scenes look at how Wasabi Prime makes food-whoopie every week.
I used to have a bit of ghetto pride over the little Casio point-and-shoot digital camera I was using from Blogging Day One, but I can't complain with the Canon 50d that Mr. Wasabi gave me over Christmas. But beyond that very lovely upgrade, it's still been Wasabi business as usual. My "photo studio" still consists of the south-facing laundry room, which finally gets its chance to shine, as normally I try to keep washing machine dials out of the picture. Thankfully I removed the drying undies and bras that normally hang on the metal rack on the left. With better weather and sunnier days back in season, I will definitely be booking more time in the "studio," between wash/rinse cycles.
I do have good knives, and that is worth noting, as it makes a world of difference from the Info-mercial set I had, also from college days. I invested in a set of cold-pressed steel awesomeness from Henckels years ago and have never regretted a penny of that purchase, but the cookware remains in a state of flux. Over the holidays and following birthday, I was lucky to receive some very nice new items, a big sautee pan and new pot from foodie-friend, Ms. South Sound Garden. I think she was just tired of hearing how the pans I use are so old, the bottoms are so warped, that I have to roll my wrist as I cook, to make sure the surface gets heated properly. Yes, for reals, this is how I roll, my wrist, that is. These are no longer T-Fal, but T-Fail pots and pans -- I've had them since college. Beyond shameful, but I'm the worst when it comes to replacing things. My socks have holes in them, my cookware has convex bottoms, and god forbid if I have a sniffle, as I'll probably wait until one of my limbs fall off before I go to the doctor. Don't even get me started on my flossing habits and how often I throw out my disposeable contact lenses. Kitchen Confidential or Life Choice Confessional? You decide, but don't judge too harshly as I'm pretty sure you don't floss every day either.
One of the other items I always use beyond the realm of good sense is this old pair of oven mitts printed with -- I swear -- fornicating penguins. My aunt gave me these right before I went away to college and a friend noticed it later saying, Hey, the penguins are doin' it. I was like, No, they're not. My aunt would not give me something with penguins 'doin' it.' But apparently I was wrong, as they are indeed getting to know one another in the Biblical sense, but in an artful, line drawing way. If Missoni can put out a line of naked ladies printed on dresses this season, it's en vogue to have a pair of oven mitts with penguins doing the humpty-hump. They're fine oven mitts, but I've managed to set them on fire with my hand still in it, after brushing them against the top of the broiler. That's always a crowd pleaser at a dinner party, the host setting her hand on fire. Having meals at Casa de Wasabi, we spare no excitement or threat to bodily harm. So there's a hole in one of the mitts and I continue to use them on hot plates, slightly burning my hand every time when my exposed fingers go through the charred hole. Seriously, someone give me the number of a behavioral specialist, as there is clearly something wrong with me. This isn't a blog post, it's a desperate cry for an intervention of some sort.
I also have a small collection of cheesy cookbooks. And yes, I do cook from them sometimes. For as much high-horse-ing that's said about organic, sustainable, farm-fresh whatever, sometimes you just want a weird Jell-O mold dessert with canned fruit bits suspended in it like fight scenes from The Matrix. My mom gave me her copy of the Philly Cream Cheese cookbook, from which I have a lot of fond childhood memories of her making layered gelatin desserts. I don't think about gelatin being made from cow hooves, the food dyes that most likely caused a tumor from which Mothra will spring forth from any day now, or the fact that Cool Whip was neither cool nor whipped cream, yet we ate copious amounts of it with abandon. Sometimes the best-loved food memories are perfectly captured... due to the level of preservatives.
As for my Crockery Cookery book -- it was a gift from a friend who found it at a used bookstore and it must have been like finding the Holy Grail, because the photo on the back is freakin' priceless. It kind of makes me wonder what future generations will think of the Martha Stewart cookbooks, wondering how crazy those will look years from now. I'm pretty sure Martha wouldn't have the fashion stones to wear something as totally fabulous as that printed dress that perfectly matches the colors on the crock pot collection.
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| The Wasabi Prime Peanut Gallery Players - thanks, we'll be here all week - Photos by Wasabi Prime |
So I'm either going crazy and having a Wonderfalls
-like spell of momentary mental derangement, or it's a visit from the Wasabi Prime Peanut Gallery Players, objects from the kitchen who like to throw me under the bus now and then with a dose of truthiness and snyde commentary. I've been so used to snapping photos and clanking around in the kitchen, making stuff for the last year, that I forget what a silly setup I have, and how it's kind of funny to get a behind-the-scenes look at how Wasabi Prime makes food-whoopie every week.I used to have a bit of ghetto pride over the little Casio point-and-shoot digital camera I was using from Blogging Day One, but I can't complain with the Canon 50d that Mr. Wasabi gave me over Christmas. But beyond that very lovely upgrade, it's still been Wasabi business as usual. My "photo studio" still consists of the south-facing laundry room, which finally gets its chance to shine, as normally I try to keep washing machine dials out of the picture. Thankfully I removed the drying undies and bras that normally hang on the metal rack on the left. With better weather and sunnier days back in season, I will definitely be booking more time in the "studio," between wash/rinse cycles.
 |
| The "studio" and the t-fail experience with cookware and sexy oven mitts - Photos by Wasabi Prime |
I do have good knives, and that is worth noting, as it makes a world of difference from the Info-mercial set I had, also from college days. I invested in a set of cold-pressed steel awesomeness from Henckels years ago and have never regretted a penny of that purchase, but the cookware remains in a state of flux. Over the holidays and following birthday, I was lucky to receive some very nice new items, a big sautee pan and new pot from foodie-friend, Ms. South Sound Garden. I think she was just tired of hearing how the pans I use are so old, the bottoms are so warped, that I have to roll my wrist as I cook, to make sure the surface gets heated properly. Yes, for reals, this is how I roll, my wrist, that is. These are no longer T-Fal, but T-Fail pots and pans -- I've had them since college. Beyond shameful, but I'm the worst when it comes to replacing things. My socks have holes in them, my cookware has convex bottoms, and god forbid if I have a sniffle, as I'll probably wait until one of my limbs fall off before I go to the doctor. Don't even get me started on my flossing habits and how often I throw out my disposeable contact lenses. Kitchen Confidential or Life Choice Confessional? You decide, but don't judge too harshly as I'm pretty sure you don't floss every day either.
One of the other items I always use beyond the realm of good sense is this old pair of oven mitts printed with -- I swear -- fornicating penguins. My aunt gave me these right before I went away to college and a friend noticed it later saying, Hey, the penguins are doin' it. I was like, No, they're not. My aunt would not give me something with penguins 'doin' it.' But apparently I was wrong, as they are indeed getting to know one another in the Biblical sense, but in an artful, line drawing way. If Missoni can put out a line of naked ladies printed on dresses this season, it's en vogue to have a pair of oven mitts with penguins doing the humpty-hump. They're fine oven mitts, but I've managed to set them on fire with my hand still in it, after brushing them against the top of the broiler. That's always a crowd pleaser at a dinner party, the host setting her hand on fire. Having meals at Casa de Wasabi, we spare no excitement or threat to bodily harm. So there's a hole in one of the mitts and I continue to use them on hot plates, slightly burning my hand every time when my exposed fingers go through the charred hole. Seriously, someone give me the number of a behavioral specialist, as there is clearly something wrong with me. This isn't a blog post, it's a desperate cry for an intervention of some sort.
 |
| Start spreadin' the news - it's time for jello molds! - Photos by Wasabi Prime |
I also have a small collection of cheesy cookbooks. And yes, I do cook from them sometimes. For as much high-horse-ing that's said about organic, sustainable, farm-fresh whatever, sometimes you just want a weird Jell-O mold dessert with canned fruit bits suspended in it like fight scenes from The Matrix. My mom gave me her copy of the Philly Cream Cheese cookbook, from which I have a lot of fond childhood memories of her making layered gelatin desserts. I don't think about gelatin being made from cow hooves, the food dyes that most likely caused a tumor from which Mothra will spring forth from any day now, or the fact that Cool Whip was neither cool nor whipped cream, yet we ate copious amounts of it with abandon. Sometimes the best-loved food memories are perfectly captured... due to the level of preservatives.
As for my Crockery Cookery book -- it was a gift from a friend who found it at a used bookstore and it must have been like finding the Holy Grail, because the photo on the back is freakin' priceless. It kind of makes me wonder what future generations will think of the Martha Stewart cookbooks, wondering how crazy those will look years from now. I'm pretty sure Martha wouldn't have the fashion stones to wear something as totally fabulous as that printed dress that perfectly matches the colors on the crock pot collection.
 |
| What a crock. - Photos by Wasabi Prime |
Monday, May 3, 2010
OMG a Recipe - Get Hitched With the Newlywed Kitchen
There will be punch and pie. Wiser words never spoken, and thank you, South Park. Although for Mr. Wasabi's recent birthday, it was a half-truth, as there was pie, but no punch. Seeing as how it was his super-duper favorite pie -- strawberry rhubarb -- the serving of punch with pie seemed a non-issue. In other super-duper news, I was lucky to receive a copy of The Newlywed Kitchen: Delicious Meals for Couples Cooking Together,
a new cookbook written by the fabulous talents of Lorna Yee and Ali Basye, beautifully photographed through the skilled lens of Kathryn Barnard. The strawberry rhubarb pie in the "Happily Ever After" dessert section of the book was too perfect not to make for my special sweetheart on his special day.
Martha Stewart is gnashing her teeth in envy for not making something as freakin' sweet and personable as The Newlywed Kitchen. But I'm sure she swims in a Scrooge McDuck-like chamber full of money to assuage whatever feelings of "dang, yo, why didn't my minions get on top of this first?!" Maybe she doesn't say that, but I can only imagine what happens in her grosgrain-beribboned Fortress of Solitude. Interestingly enough, I don't own any Martha Stewart cookbooks because for the most part, her recipes are just that, a list of things to make, and with the in-tar-webs, you can get a basic recipe for a roast chicken anywhere. Most cookbooks in general will have easy-to-follow recipes and have beautiful production values in the presentation of the food, but for the most part, there's really no connection of the food with the people who are eating it. I like The Newlywed Kitchen because you see the people who helped compile this collection of recipes, you read their stories, and you have a sense of why Lorna Yee and Ali Basye wrote this book -- it's a sweet love letter for those who have been fortunate to find that special someone, and it's also for anyone who just understands the magical quality of food to encourage togetherness, and how making a meal builds memories.
There's a nice, friendly sense of humor about The Newlywed Kitchen -- it's like that friend you have that just encourages you through something you're not sure about, letting you make mistakes and just reminding you along the way that, "hey, it's just food, it doesn't have to be perfect, and I'm sure it'll be tasty, so it's all good." I have to remind myself how lucky we all are to be living in an area that is so in-tune with preparing meals at home, and how there are many more who are terrified of the kitchen, so having this book be that little bit of encouragement to get cooking is a very good thing. The book includes recipes for all meals (breakfast, lunch/brunch, dinner), a variety of occasions (cooking for in-laws, yikes!), and of course desserts.
Even though Mr. Wasabi and I aren't technically marriage-ified, and ten years together does not a newlywed make, I still zoned-in on the strawberry rhubarb pie recipe on page 208 for Brock's birthday. It's his favorite, plus strawberries and rhubarb are in season. Double whammy! I followed the recipe, save for the swap-out of leaf lard with shortening for the crust. I know leaf lard is the bomb-diggity, it makes pie crusts venture into another dimension of flaky texture that defies the known universe, but I just didn't have a chance to track it down prior to making the dough. That being said, the crust still came out beautifully, so have no shame over swap-outs because life happens and that house isn't going to clean itself. I liked the inclusion of sour cream, as it kept the dough moist, and I'm sure some other Alton Brown food science went on, but by golly, it was just flaky, crispy goodness.
I'm not great with pie-making, but trying to improve upon this skill for no other reason than a Mt. Everest-scaling-like reason of, because it's there. I'm keen on finding crust recipes -- my mother uses vinegar for hers, much like some use neutral spirits like vodka to keep the dough moist, and ensuring flaky crust nirvana. That crispness is the tricky thing, especially with fruit pies, as the fruit will of course release quite a bit of moisture and often results in a soggy, baked mess -- that's usually my end game with pies and why I've thrown out many a ruined, doughy mess in tearful frustration. I goofed on making the rhubarb/strawberry filling by overcooking it a bit, making it more moist than chunky, but the crust saved my bacon as it were, by staying flaky and keeping the filling nicely contained. For my pie-n00b-ness, I find that crusts are my saving grace, as they often hide most sins and keep everything looking ship-shape. The Newlywed Kitchen's recipe was great, as it gave a lot of leeway for dessert klutzes like myself, and it resulted in a delicious birthday dessert. Sadly, I don't have a photo of a slice of the pie with vanilla ice cream, because while we still have a few slices left, they never survive long enough on the plate for me to snap a quick photo. Even with crust ingredient swap-outs and overcooking the filling, it's plenty delicious, and like a paparazzi-stalked starlet, unable to be photographed, as it's just that awesome.
Wedding season is upon us, so if you're looking for an appropriate gift for a soon-to-wed couple, or just want a lovely cookbook for yourself and your sweetheart, grab up a copy of The Newlywed Cookbook. You don't have to be like Beyonce and put a ring on it, just to enjoy a home cooked meal with loved ones.
Much Wasabi Thanks to Lorna Yee and the team at Sasquatch Books for a copy of the cookbook; looking forward to cooking my way through it and most likely making another pie that will probably be just as underphotographed due to its om-nom-nom-ness.
a new cookbook written by the fabulous talents of Lorna Yee and Ali Basye, beautifully photographed through the skilled lens of Kathryn Barnard. The strawberry rhubarb pie in the "Happily Ever After" dessert section of the book was too perfect not to make for my special sweetheart on his special day. |
| The Newlywed Kitchen by Lorna Yee and photographed by Ali Basye - Photo by Wasabi Prime |
Martha Stewart is gnashing her teeth in envy for not making something as freakin' sweet and personable as The Newlywed Kitchen. But I'm sure she swims in a Scrooge McDuck-like chamber full of money to assuage whatever feelings of "dang, yo, why didn't my minions get on top of this first?!" Maybe she doesn't say that, but I can only imagine what happens in her grosgrain-beribboned Fortress of Solitude. Interestingly enough, I don't own any Martha Stewart cookbooks because for the most part, her recipes are just that, a list of things to make, and with the in-tar-webs, you can get a basic recipe for a roast chicken anywhere. Most cookbooks in general will have easy-to-follow recipes and have beautiful production values in the presentation of the food, but for the most part, there's really no connection of the food with the people who are eating it. I like The Newlywed Kitchen because you see the people who helped compile this collection of recipes, you read their stories, and you have a sense of why Lorna Yee and Ali Basye wrote this book -- it's a sweet love letter for those who have been fortunate to find that special someone, and it's also for anyone who just understands the magical quality of food to encourage togetherness, and how making a meal builds memories.
There's a nice, friendly sense of humor about The Newlywed Kitchen -- it's like that friend you have that just encourages you through something you're not sure about, letting you make mistakes and just reminding you along the way that, "hey, it's just food, it doesn't have to be perfect, and I'm sure it'll be tasty, so it's all good." I have to remind myself how lucky we all are to be living in an area that is so in-tune with preparing meals at home, and how there are many more who are terrified of the kitchen, so having this book be that little bit of encouragement to get cooking is a very good thing. The book includes recipes for all meals (breakfast, lunch/brunch, dinner), a variety of occasions (cooking for in-laws, yikes!), and of course desserts.
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| Springtime birthday with strawberries and rhubarb - Photos by Wasabi Prime |
Even though Mr. Wasabi and I aren't technically marriage-ified, and ten years together does not a newlywed make, I still zoned-in on the strawberry rhubarb pie recipe on page 208 for Brock's birthday. It's his favorite, plus strawberries and rhubarb are in season. Double whammy! I followed the recipe, save for the swap-out of leaf lard with shortening for the crust. I know leaf lard is the bomb-diggity, it makes pie crusts venture into another dimension of flaky texture that defies the known universe, but I just didn't have a chance to track it down prior to making the dough. That being said, the crust still came out beautifully, so have no shame over swap-outs because life happens and that house isn't going to clean itself. I liked the inclusion of sour cream, as it kept the dough moist, and I'm sure some other Alton Brown food science went on, but by golly, it was just flaky, crispy goodness.
I'm not great with pie-making, but trying to improve upon this skill for no other reason than a Mt. Everest-scaling-like reason of, because it's there. I'm keen on finding crust recipes -- my mother uses vinegar for hers, much like some use neutral spirits like vodka to keep the dough moist, and ensuring flaky crust nirvana. That crispness is the tricky thing, especially with fruit pies, as the fruit will of course release quite a bit of moisture and often results in a soggy, baked mess -- that's usually my end game with pies and why I've thrown out many a ruined, doughy mess in tearful frustration. I goofed on making the rhubarb/strawberry filling by overcooking it a bit, making it more moist than chunky, but the crust saved my bacon as it were, by staying flaky and keeping the filling nicely contained. For my pie-n00b-ness, I find that crusts are my saving grace, as they often hide most sins and keep everything looking ship-shape. The Newlywed Kitchen's recipe was great, as it gave a lot of leeway for dessert klutzes like myself, and it resulted in a delicious birthday dessert. Sadly, I don't have a photo of a slice of the pie with vanilla ice cream, because while we still have a few slices left, they never survive long enough on the plate for me to snap a quick photo. Even with crust ingredient swap-outs and overcooking the filling, it's plenty delicious, and like a paparazzi-stalked starlet, unable to be photographed, as it's just that awesome.
Wedding season is upon us, so if you're looking for an appropriate gift for a soon-to-wed couple, or just want a lovely cookbook for yourself and your sweetheart, grab up a copy of The Newlywed Cookbook
. You don't have to be like Beyonce and put a ring on it, just to enjoy a home cooked meal with loved ones. |
| Love is a strawberry and rhubarb pie - Photos by Wasabi Prime |
Much Wasabi Thanks to Lorna Yee and the team at Sasquatch Books for a copy of the cookbook; looking forward to cooking my way through it and most likely making another pie that will probably be just as underphotographed due to its om-nom-nom-ness.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
OMG a Recipe: Cookbook Combo
With the cold weather and extra time (I am a temporary Lady of Leisure, after all), the Prime has been flipping through cookbooks and seeing what items catch my fancy. This particular weekday meal combined two recipes that seemed destined to play nice on the edible playground: Dinette's Chef Melissa Nyffeler's Corn Fritters with Bacon and Feta, served with a seared flank steak, marinated and dressed with Chef Jerry Traunfeld's Lemon Rosemary sauce. Because these are recipes from well-known local chefs, it was like going out, but with the comforts of home. And wearing one's fuzzy silppers at dinner.
Chef Nyffeler's recipe was another one found in my copy of Celebrated Chefs, the restaurant/non-profit organization program that yields a nice cookbook of local chefs' recipes when you sign up. I'm still a sucker for photos with every recipe, so the lovely and colorful corn fritters from Capitol Hill's Dinette looked too delicious not to make. This is definitely more of a warm-weather recipe, so I had to make modifications to match the availability of winter ingredients. This is a nice cookbook to peruse for ideas as well as a reminder for restaurants to visit; some of the other Seattle restaurants who donated recipes include: Rover's, Joule, and Spring Hill, among many other well-loved eateries. The recipes range from drinks, to starters, main courses, and desserts. They're all fairly uncomplicated to make, and are good options for when you're cooking for friends, as it's a nice to have a story to tell with every dish, and where the recipes came from.
Another cookbook that's been a go-to for weekday meals has been The Herbfarm/Poppy's famed Chef Jerry Traunfeld's The Herbal Kitchen: Cooking with Fragrance and Flavor
, a beloved signed copy Mr. Wasabi and I got when we were at a cooking demonstration years ago. I do own his The Herbfarm Cookbook
, which has an amazing collection of recipes and informative uses for herbs -- I tend to use this book more as a reference guide, cooking more dishes directly from Herbal Kitchen. For his grilled lemon-rosemary hanger steak recipe, I changed out the cut of meat, as we had a spare flank. Sadly, our tree-like lemon verbena has gone into winter dormancy, so I used his substitution of zesting two lemons. Thankfully, the rosemary was still snippable in the garden, so that, along with garlic and chives, there was an ample supply of fresh herbs for the sauce. Using soy sauce as a savory element, giving it a depth of flavor, it provided a great marination liquid. I used the leftover lemon juice to loosen the leftover marinade to drizzle over the finished meat as a sauce, a bit like a chimichurri. I do recommend both books, as they're great reading material for ideas and herb usage, but our copy of The Herbal Kitchen definitely has the most bookmarked pages.
The beef takes time to marinate, but beyond that preparation, it's a fairly reasonable weekday meal to prepare. Because I'm such a leftover queen, this makes for a great second-day meal, if you toss the sliced flank steak and sauce with fresh greens and serve with a warmed fritter, it makes for a grand hearty salad. The sweetness of the corn fritters went well with the herbal citrus flavor of the meat, and I think this would be something great to make again in the summer, with more fresh-picked herb options and it's not so rainy to use the outdoor grill.
Here is a modified version of Chef Nyffeler's corn fritter recipe. I think this would be a fun and flexible side dish to play with, in terms of ingredients. Sliced fennel would be a nice addition, or a bit of shredded parsnips as a sweet swap-out for the corn. Different cheeses could be used, like a creamy chevre; maybe a light coating of breadcrumbs as a crust to keep the cheese from oozing out. For the bacon, I've been microwaving slices laid between a layer of paper towels, about a minute per slice -- since the recipe doesn't use the fat and just needs crumbled bits, this has been one of my preparation shortcuts.
Corn Fritters with Bacon and Feta (Winterized!) by Chef Melissa Nyffeler of Dinette
Serves 8
3 cups frozen corn
1 cup crumbled sheep's feta
8 oz thick-cut bacon, chopped and fried (ok to leave out if you're making it vegetarian)
1/2 cup chopped fresh herbs (I used parsley and cilantro)
3 green onions, thinly sliced
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
3 to 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, for frying
Stir together the corn, feta, bacon, herbs, green onions, and eggs in a medium bowl. Fold in the flour until well blended.
Heat 2 tablespoons of the butter in a large skillet, preferably nonstick, over medium heat. Spoon the batter into the pan forming patties about 2 1/2 inches across. Cook until browned, 3 to 4 minutes, then turn and brown on the other side, about 3 minutes longer. Set aside on a plate and keep warm in a low oven while cooking the rest, adding more butter as needed. Scoop out any stray corn kernels between batches.
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| Savory-sweet corn fritters served with an citrus-herb flank steak - OM NOM NOM! - Photo by Wasabi Prime |
Chef Nyffeler's recipe was another one found in my copy of Celebrated Chefs, the restaurant/non-profit organization program that yields a nice cookbook of local chefs' recipes when you sign up. I'm still a sucker for photos with every recipe, so the lovely and colorful corn fritters from Capitol Hill's Dinette looked too delicious not to make. This is definitely more of a warm-weather recipe, so I had to make modifications to match the availability of winter ingredients. This is a nice cookbook to peruse for ideas as well as a reminder for restaurants to visit; some of the other Seattle restaurants who donated recipes include: Rover's, Joule, and Spring Hill, among many other well-loved eateries. The recipes range from drinks, to starters, main courses, and desserts. They're all fairly uncomplicated to make, and are good options for when you're cooking for friends, as it's a nice to have a story to tell with every dish, and where the recipes came from.
Another cookbook that's been a go-to for weekday meals has been The Herbfarm/Poppy's famed Chef Jerry Traunfeld's The Herbal Kitchen: Cooking with Fragrance and Flavor
, a beloved signed copy Mr. Wasabi and I got when we were at a cooking demonstration years ago. I do own his The Herbfarm Cookbook, which has an amazing collection of recipes and informative uses for herbs -- I tend to use this book more as a reference guide, cooking more dishes directly from Herbal Kitchen. For his grilled lemon-rosemary hanger steak recipe, I changed out the cut of meat, as we had a spare flank. Sadly, our tree-like lemon verbena has gone into winter dormancy, so I used his substitution of zesting two lemons. Thankfully, the rosemary was still snippable in the garden, so that, along with garlic and chives, there was an ample supply of fresh herbs for the sauce. Using soy sauce as a savory element, giving it a depth of flavor, it provided a great marination liquid. I used the leftover lemon juice to loosen the leftover marinade to drizzle over the finished meat as a sauce, a bit like a chimichurri. I do recommend both books, as they're great reading material for ideas and herb usage, but our copy of The Herbal Kitchen definitely has the most bookmarked pages. |
| Having a going-out experience while staying in! Photos by Wasabi Prime |
The beef takes time to marinate, but beyond that preparation, it's a fairly reasonable weekday meal to prepare. Because I'm such a leftover queen, this makes for a great second-day meal, if you toss the sliced flank steak and sauce with fresh greens and serve with a warmed fritter, it makes for a grand hearty salad. The sweetness of the corn fritters went well with the herbal citrus flavor of the meat, and I think this would be something great to make again in the summer, with more fresh-picked herb options and it's not so rainy to use the outdoor grill.
Here is a modified version of Chef Nyffeler's corn fritter recipe. I think this would be a fun and flexible side dish to play with, in terms of ingredients. Sliced fennel would be a nice addition, or a bit of shredded parsnips as a sweet swap-out for the corn. Different cheeses could be used, like a creamy chevre; maybe a light coating of breadcrumbs as a crust to keep the cheese from oozing out. For the bacon, I've been microwaving slices laid between a layer of paper towels, about a minute per slice -- since the recipe doesn't use the fat and just needs crumbled bits, this has been one of my preparation shortcuts.
Corn Fritters with Bacon and Feta (Winterized!) by Chef Melissa Nyffeler of Dinette
Serves 8
3 cups frozen corn
1 cup crumbled sheep's feta
8 oz thick-cut bacon, chopped and fried (ok to leave out if you're making it vegetarian)
1/2 cup chopped fresh herbs (I used parsley and cilantro)
3 green onions, thinly sliced
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
3 to 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, for frying
Stir together the corn, feta, bacon, herbs, green onions, and eggs in a medium bowl. Fold in the flour until well blended.
Heat 2 tablespoons of the butter in a large skillet, preferably nonstick, over medium heat. Spoon the batter into the pan forming patties about 2 1/2 inches across. Cook until browned, 3 to 4 minutes, then turn and brown on the other side, about 3 minutes longer. Set aside on a plate and keep warm in a low oven while cooking the rest, adding more butter as needed. Scoop out any stray corn kernels between batches.
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