Monday, August 25, 2008

The End of Carbs

My brother asked me, “Why don’t we eat like, corn on the cob, or ribs, or mashed potatoes or any of that other stuff we used to eat?” Good question.


I blame the South Beach Diet. When I was about 14, there was this book called the South Beach Diet that appeared in my house. I think we bought it at Costco, of all places. I was old enough to care about diets (although too young to actually follow one), and a proficient cook, so I flipped through it. Turns out some of what I believed to be vegetables were going to give me diabetes. Also, white bread is worse for you than heroin. I found the recipes much more interesting, but puzzling. There was a salmon filet with rosemary and garlic, my favorite greek salad recipe, and seared rare tuna with the best spice rub I’ve found for it yet. Then there were some real horrors. For dessert, SBD recommends fat free ricotta cheese mixed with Splenda. To call this dessert was laughable; we could not get this stuff down. Why was this garbage in the same book as my beloved Greek Salad? In place of mashed potatoes there was this strange puree of cauliflower, which must have been designed to disappoint, to raise our hopes and make us believe for a second that we were having mashed potatoes. The cauliflower stuff didn’t last either, but real mashed potatoes only come out at Thanksgiving.


Our parents lost weight, but the more lasting effect was the factioning of family dinner. My brother was not going to eat either pureed cauliflower or salmon, so he ate more frozen macaroni and cheese or bagel bites, or sometimes he and I would have our own dinner. Now that it’s just my mom and brother, separate meals are standard.


We needed one summertime family dinner while I was home. Ribs were his request, along with the South Beach villain corn on the cob. I remembered making the barbeque sauce years ago from this amazing page-long recipe that included dried ancho chili and a 2 cups of bourbon. This time, I also took on the grilling and the trimming and minor butchering, which I absolutely love. Something about taking apart a huge piece of raw meat is very satisfying, probably evolutionarily ingrained. Gnawing corn from a cob or ripping meat from a bone is so enjoyable because it reminds us where our food came from- corn came from those stalks filling the fields down the road, and meat comes off a bone, from an animal, not from a grocery store bin in a shrink wrapped package.


I also made a favorite summer side, cucumber salad. The fact that I had a mandolin made it impossible to resist. Cucumbers are peeled, seeded, and sliced thin (less than 1/8 of an inch). The sliced cucumber is salted (I used 2 Tbs for 4 cups) and sits for a few hours while the salt pulls the water out. When the slices are soft, rinse and squeeze out the water with a dishtowel. 4 cups will be reduced to about 2. Tossed with just a tablespoon of mayonnaise or plain yogurt and lots of black pepper, this makes a great cold counterpoint for the spicy smoky ribs. You can also add onions (before salting) or feta (at the end), but it’s very nice by itself.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Bad Vegetarian

I could be described as gastronomically unscrupulous. I flirt shamelessly with vegetarianism and go so far as to imply that we’re “getting serious,” slipping anecdotes of our adventures into conversation almost too readily. I publicly rave about nutrient rich veggies and shudder when I describe the hormone laden beef and chicken of my sordid past. I over-optimistically load up on kale and chickpeas and quinoa. I suspect we have a real future together.

But a trip home for the weekend or a visit from a friend and I find myself in a steakhouse with sexy lighting and a martini on my right, and words like “protein”, “iron”, “Atkins”, “evolution” and “omnivore” are playing on repeat.

“New York Strip, rare. Yeah, rare. Thanks”

Slut.

When I walk into my apartment, my cans of beans are dutifully standing guard and my tomatoes gleam at me innocently, and I feel a little guilty. I probably don’t deserve them, loose woman that I am. And maybe we were moving too fast; I picked up a box of Boca Burgers in the grocery store the other day. Hormones, antibiotics, slaughterhouses, The Jungle… I still don’t want to be the kind of person who eats that shit. I wouldn’t let such an exhilarating affaire complacently slide into suburban ennui.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Sorbet

If I'm at home when my mom is having people over for dinner, I will almost always make a sorbet for dessert. It's pretty easy and impressive and there are so many different possible kinds. When I'm paticularly ambitious, I make three different ones so I can give a scoop of each to ech person. Strawberry, Kiwi and Grapefruit was a nice combination. Rasperry and Mango are paticullary amazing.

The secret to perfect sorbet texture is retarding freezing by lowering the freezing point. This is accomplished by dissolving stuff. Higher solute concentration = lower freezing point. Duh. When a solution freezes, the water freezes first, leaving behind a more concentrated solution. The end result is lots of ice crystals suspended in a syrup. If the solution is less concentrated to start with, you end up with very large, crunchy crystals that give you a very icey sorbet. Too concentrated and the ice crystals are too small, and not enough of them, and your sorbet will be mushy no matter how long you try to freeze it. A great way to control the size of ice crystals without having to change the flavor of the sorbet is by adding alcohol (yay!). A molecule of alcohol has the same effect on freezing point as a molecule of sugar, but doesn't have to change the taste. Vodka is a pretty standard one, but liqueurs and even wine can be great flavorings. One of these days I'm going to make a Lime-Tequilla Sorbet, and serve it with a salted rim... Keep in mind that the sugar content of the fruit behaves, chemically, just like added sugar.

The Master Recipe for sorbet calls for 2 cups of fruit puree or juice, 3/4 - 1 1/4 cup sugar (depending on sweetness of fruit), 1 or 2 Tbs of lemon juice and 1 Tbs of alcohol.

Berry sorbet calls for 3 cups of berries pureed with 1/2 cup of water and strained (to yield 2 cups puree), 1 cup sugar, 1 Tbs lemon juice, and 1 Tbs Cassis (or vodka).

For mango, 3 mangos and 1/2 cup water yield 2 cups puree. To that add 3/4 cup sugar, 2 Tbs lemon juice and 1 Tbs vodka (rum is nice)

For citrus sorbets, the amount of juice and sugar is very depended on the sweetness of the fruit. Lemon sorbet requires only 1/2 cup of lemon juice and 1 1/2 cups water and 1 1/4 sugar and 1 Tbs vodka. Grapefruit calls for 1 1/2 cups juice, 1/2 cup of water, and 1 cup sugar. Orange sorbet can be made from 2 cups juice and 3/4 cup sugar. See the trend?

Berry or mago sorbets always turn out silkier and smoother than their citrus friends because those incorporate a lot more pectin, a polysaccharide found in cells walls that is used as the thickening agent in jams. It has the same effect in sorbets, and so, even with an ideal solution of sugar and booze and juice, a citrus sorbet will not have the velvety smooth texture of say, raspberry, where the pectin is extracted from the skins durring pureeing.

Today I'm making a plum sorbet, a last minute decision when I realized the plums were too small and too ripe to make the probably-more-impressive tart. I probably would have fucked up the tart, and sorbet is very forgiving. Also, I'm lazy.

It's a perfect dessert for having people over for dinner. Because, come on, no one really wants a rich chocolately thing after having tons of other food. You don't have to use your oven, and you can make it days in advance. Sorbet FTW

Friday, August 8, 2008

Black Bean Salads

I am never without at least one can of black beans in my pantry (pantry = two empty cardboard wine cases stuffed under my counter). Black beans are the perfect food- I put them in chilies or stews or make black bean soup, mash them up in quesadillas, and of course, many many versions of rice and beans.

Black beans are like, the healthiest thing ever. Really low in fat (and the little they do have is “good fat”), and the whole can is about 300 calories. They have a glycemic index of 30, which measures the effect of the food on insulin production. Higher means more work for your pancreas, more insulin resistance, more type II diabetes. For comparison, pasta has a glycemic index of 60, high fructose corn syrup has a GI of 90. 20 is about the lowest you can get, for things like broccoli, lettuce, spinach…. The low GI is due to lots of protein and soluble fiber, both of which slow absorption and therefore slow insulin response. Because fiber just passes through the body, it takes with it lots of bad shit like excess bile acids, cholesterol, and random toxins. The Journal of Agriculture and Food Chemistry found that the darker the bean’s coat, the higher the antioxidant content. The antioxidant levels in black beans are comparable to those of pomegranate, red wine, and blueberries. The polyphenols in the beans work as antioxidants in the bloodstream, neutralizing the free radicals that damage cholesterol and cause it to form plaque inside blood vessels. The high levels of folate in black beans has been shown to lower homocystine levels, reducing the risk of heart attacks, while the magnesium present in black beans inhibits the calcium channel (you know, both being in the second column of the periodic table and all…) which lowers tension in blood vessels, increasing flow of blood and oxygen. I also think it’s kind of cute that rice and beans together give the equivalent of a complete protein; in other words, all the amino acids we need to get from our diet, or the protein equivalent of steak.

But in the summer my favorite thing to do with black beans is toss them with various other stuff to make black bean salads. This usually means taking this uber healthy low GI food and mixing it with something sweeter.

Black beans and corn are not just delicious together, they also look gorgeous. Something about the beans and corn kernels being exactly the same size and shape makes the salad look very professional and aesthetically pleasing. I mix together

a handful of coarsely chopped cilantro
3 thinly sliced scallions (white and light green parts)
a teaspoon of cumin
2 Tablespoons of olive oil
juice from 1 lime

Toss that with
a can of black beans, rinsed
cup of corn kernels (frozen is totally legit but fresh corn right off the cob is great, especially if you have some leftover)
a pint of cherry tomatoes, halved.

This is fine, but it’s really better with some heat. Ideally, one or two finely chopped jalapenos make a great addition, but I am lazy and I hate chopping jalapenos. (The capsaicin, the compound that makes them spicy, will get all over your hands and up under your nails, about half an hour later your hands will start to burn and it will hurt like a bitch. If you have touched your eyes, nose, mouth, any other sensitive place, it will be burning as well. Have fun with that.) Instead, I like to use the jarred, pre-chopped jalapenos that you find next to the pickles. Yes, that is cheating. A few spoonfuls of that work beautifully, and won’t go bad or give you salmonella. This is a great thing to have in your fridge for guacamole or salsa or whatever. Hot sauce works too- the green Tabasco sauce is great and even Sriacha is not bad.

Mango is also delicious with black beans. Diced mango, diced red pepper, cilantro, scallion, olive oil and lime juice and hot pepper or hot sauce make another version of the black bean salad above. Both are some of the best summer dishes I make, because they’re so well balanced, with elements of sweet, spicy, sour, salt, and savory. Great with a piece of fish or chicken (grilled shrimp are yummy), on top of some chopped lettuce (which I had for lunch Monday and loved), mixed with rice, wrapped up in a tortilla, or by themselves.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Sunday Poached Eggs

Most of my culinary "knowledge" I have to attribute to my mom- the importance of salting pasta water was ingrained long before I understood colloidal properties and boiling point elevation, I knew what baking soda did, and as bewildering as it still is, I believed her when she told me yeast was alive.
So I am very impressed with myself when I can do something she can't. I can make up recipes based on what I have in the fridge, and I can eyeball volumes and weights quite effectively. But my favorite entirely self taught skill is poaching an egg. I don't think my mom ever poached eggs, which makes it seem even more exotic. I'd only ever had poached eggs at swanky brunches, on eggs benedict dressed up in oppulent hollandaise sauce with a mimosa. Eggs are an easy, cheap source of protien, with lots of vitamins and minerals and they're easy to have on hand. Poaching eggs, like hard boiling, doesn't need added fat, but a soft poached egg with a warm runny yolk is so much more luxurious.
I needed to figure out this poaching business. The water has to be hot enough to cook the egg white on contact without actually boiling, or the bubbling would break apart the egg. Vinegar is absolutely vital- all that acid not only increases the temperature you can get without actually boiling (due to that aforementioned boiling point elevation), but it also denatures the protiens like heat does (the same way seafood is "cooked" in acid to make ceviche). In a saucepan, I heat 2 cups of water and 1/4 cup of vinegar til boiling, then lower the temperature till bubbling just stops. I break the egg into a cup before dropping it into the water, to reduce spreading. As the edges of the white cooks, I sort of fold them over the yolk to make a nice little mound of egg white. After about 2 and a half minutes, I ease the cooked egg out of the saucepan with a slotted spatula.

I haven't totally got this down to the point where I can turn out Sunday Brunch style eggs like it's my job, but I on Sunday afternoons I like to practice by making poached egg salads. A poached egg (or two) on top of a big green salad with a vinagrette and a handfull of chopped parsley. A warm, runny egg on top of a cool crisp salad is a really luxurious, decadent lunch (and actually really really cheap).

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Farmer's Market Ratatouille

When I graduated last May, all my classmates packed up their futons and moved out of their houses or apartments or dorms, I stayed right here working in the lab. This is the end of summer vacation; I no longer have even that week between the end of finals and the start of an internship. I now leave my house at 8:30 and don't get back till 7, 5 days a week, no free breaks. This feels disturbingly like being an adult.

Other small changes suggesting the onset of adulthood have sneaked into my life. I often go to bed before 11. I use my computer more for work than I do for fun. I have an actual budget. And I regularly get my ass up out of bed on Saturday morning and walk to the farmer's market before 9 am to get things like corn, handmade fresh mozzarella, arugula, and The Good Tomatoes.

One of my favorite things to make after the farmer's market, or anytime in the summer for that matter, is ratatouille. It takes these amazing fresh veggies and doesn't mess them up. It keeps for like, a week, microwaves perfectly, makes a yummy lunch to bring to work.

I found these adorable baby zebra eggplants, a pint of small roma tomatoes, and a few small zucchinni and a bunch of green onions (all of which cost, like $6. Seriously). The cool thing about ratatouille is that you can play with the proportions of stuff, add a bell pepper, or not, substitute cherry tomatoes for big ones, or yellow squash for zucchinni, a different kind of onion... It's a completely foolproof and intuitive dish- in a Dutch oven sautee onions and pepper if using, add cut up eggplant, cook for a bit, add zucchini, cook till tender, stir in cut up tomatoes and season. Most recipes I've seen just call for fresh thyme, which is all you need, but it's also great with a few big teaspoons of herbs de provence and a generous pour of balsamic vinegar.

After a few bowls of this, I might eat it over pasta, stuff it in a pita, spoon in on to crostini with some parmasean cheese, mix it with quinoa (my favorite), or mix it with a can of white beans and cover it with breadcrumbs and parmasean to make an excellent gratin. This is especially fun to serve to those people who claim to not like eggplant, or tomatoes, or vegetables in general. Somehow they always make an exception for this.