The Random Gourmet

Random As Ever

2011-08-14T13:26:00.003-04:00

This is the view through the window of the Old Fort Pub where we had Cynthia's birthday dinner. It is a stone's throw from our house.

While I was trying to clean the oven recently the broiler element shorted out in a rather spectacular fashion. We decided to take advantage of the Memorial Day sales and upgrade from our entry-level GE, and finally give up on or fantasy of ever having gas burners (natural gas is virtually impossible on the island, and conversion to propane would be obscenely expensive (and from what we've seen, propane cooktops don't work too well). as I scouted the various appliance stores on the mainland, staying in constant communication via cell phone with Cynthia, reluctantly resigned to choosing from glass-covered ceramic cooktop models. Looking like we could get a good deal on a convection oven, I drove sales personnel crazy with questions, details and comparisons, finally narrowing the choice down to two. When it looked like we were narrowing down the decision, we were told that the one remaining model of our preferred choice had in fact been sold via an internet sale and had been shipped out. Just as we were ready to go for our second choice, the manager said they found one of or preferred models — apparently there had been a change in the model number. We bought, scheduled delivery, and I headed for home.

Just before I got home, I got a call telling me that there had been a mistake. The stoves were NOT the same model: the difference in the model number included a "D" which referred to a dual oven. But since I had already checked out, they would let us have the stove for what I paid. Thanks to mobile internet, I could check out the new model, and verify that we could get a $1500 stove for $700. We took it.

We love it so far; convection is awesome and the second oven is extremely useful, however, since it is so small, it heats up really fast and certain things, like pizza crust, can burn on a dime. The larger oven is closer to the floor, so we mature adults have to stoop lower to get the big cast-iron braziers into the oven, but the bottom rack slides out when you open the oven door which helps that a bit. Also the extra racks are a little too small and fall out.

Notes From the Underground

2009-09-13T12:28:00.003-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

Our friend Richard went clamming (without me) and found a sweet spot in the reeds. He harvested about 120 clams - too many even for Richard. He shared some with us, and we enjoyed them roasted from the grill with lemon and garlic butter.

Things are getting pretty busy here at the Random Gourmet. Cynthia and I work as theatre technicians and designers and as the fall season approaches we have multiple projects to juggle. While we continue to cook (and eat), the time to photo and blog is becoming scarce. And, we have a sober milestone approaching that will require its own entry on our related blog.

So while we may be dormant for several weeks, please check back occasionally. There is a lot going on below the surface.

Sloppy Joe Pocket Sliders

2009-09-01T20:26:00.014-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

Drick at Drick's Rambling Cafe extended a generous invitation to participate in his new weekly series on tailgating food - just in time for football season!

I love football! Well, not really, but I love to tailgate...

Actually, I just love to eat...

Anyway, to me the secret of good tailgating food is food that can be eaten with one hand: one hand to hold the paper plate and one hand to bring the food to your mouth.

Better yet, one hand to hold the food and one hand to hold the beer.

We've been doing a lot of sliders at our house lately, partly for portion control but mainly to increase the ratio of filling to bread. To me, a normal-sized 1/4 to 1/3 pound burger fits best on a slider roll. But mostly, sliders are fun.

I love Sloppy Joes and thought that converting such a classic into a slider would be perfect tailgate food if it weren't so, well...sloppy. And keeping that saucy mess in a tiny bun would be the definitive futile exercise. Then I remembered the mini pitas that we served with our tourtiere a week ago, and voila! Problem solved!

So here goes:

Sweat a mock mirepoix of diced onion, celery and sweet potato in a pan on medium heat. Why sweet potato? Just because. And just because I had one left over.
Chopped bell pepper is common in Sloppy Joes, but bell pepper messes with me. I used one chopped poblano, a couple of cherry peppers and some chopped peperoncini peppers.
After the vegetables are softened add two finely diced garlic cloves.
Add one pound of ground sirloin and about 1/2 pound of bacon that has been ground in a food processor.
Add salt, pepper, some smoked paprika and several healthy splashes of worcestershire sauce. Turn the heat up to medium-high to brown the meat.
When the meat is cooked through, add your house barbecue sauce (our house sauce follows). Start with adding about 1/2 cup, adding more as desired. Be careful to get the right saucy consistency to your meat mixture. If it is too runny or greasy, the sandwich will fall apart. If it's too dry, it just won't be a Sloppy Joe. Drain excess grease from the pan if necessary before adding any sauce.
Adjust the seasoning. If you want to go a little more southwestern, add some cumin, chili powder and/ or your favorite hot sauce.

Spoon the mixture into warmed mini pita pocket halves. We mated these with pockets full of a tangy slaw that Cynthia grabbed from Epicurious. For a variation, try spoonful of both in each pocket. This slaw was quite vinegary; Cynthia recommends cutting back a little on the sherry vinegar and doubling the sugar.

Our house barbecue sauce:

Pour a 16 oz bottle of pomegranate juice and the juice of one lemon in a pan and reduce to a thick syrup. You're basically making pomegranate molasses.
Add a 14 oz bottle of ketchup. I love ketchup. I need to start making my own.
Add 1 can of Coca-Cola. Or Root Beer. Or Dr. Pepper. A friend once inexplicably gave us 10 cases of Dr. Pepper. We had Dr. Pepper sauce for a year. And Dr. Pepper-glazed ham. And Dr. Pepper cherries jubilee...
Add 1/2 cup of sour orange juice. I find this in the ethnic aisle of the supermarket next to the mojito mix. If you can't find it use 50/50 lime and orange juice.
Add between 1/2 cup to 1 cup of bourbon.

Add anywhere from a teaspoon to two tablespoons each of:

fresh ginger
garlic salt
onion salt
sweet paprika
smoked paprika
ground coriander
crushed thyme
crushed oregano
celery salt
worcestershire sauce
salt and black pepper.

Simmer for at least an hour.

After creating the base sauce you can adjust to your liking or to suit the dish by adding:

honey, brown sugar and/or molasses
apple, pineapple, or mango juice
cider vinegar
mustard
ground chilies
cumin
tamarind paste
cinnamon
your hot sauce du jour...

The sky, as they say, is the limit.

Eating Her Curds and Whey

2009-09-01T07:49:00.013-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

Cynthia has been urging me to try out tofu. This dish was a long way from Japanese, but, with a hat tip to Ming Tsai, I'm no longer afraid to add tofu to the arsenal.

First I mixed some curry powder into melted butter and began oven poaching some very large shitake mushroom caps with their chopped stems. Then I poured a 12 oz bottle of Jamaican-style ginger beer into a new pan with one crushed garlic clove and reduced to a thin syrup.

I discovered Goya Jamaican-style ginger beer with the Latin fooods in the ethnic aisle of the grocery store and first used it to cook rice. It has a wonderful aromatic taste of ginger with a unique tangy, spicy heat.

I cut a couple of small planks - about 2" x 3" x 1/2" - from a block of soft tofu and dredged them in panko seasoned with red and green chili flakes. These were fried in grapeseed oil for about three minutes on each side, then set on paper towels to drain.

A half pound of fresh heads-on shrimp (which had been peeled and de-veined, but with the heads and tails left on, and seasoned with salt and pepper) was sauteed on high heat, also in grapeseed oil, for about a minute on each side.The shrimp were then tossed into the pan with the ginger beer glaze with some chopped snow peas and scallions.

Each plate was prepared with a nest of soba noodles (cooked for about four minutes in coconut water), then stacked with a shitake mushroom cap, a fried tofu plank, and two shrimp. The snow peas and scallions were scattered about the plate with the mushroom stems, and the shrimp was topped with fresh bean sprouts.The final touch was tiny bit of steamed lobster claw. The dish then was drizzled with the shitake-infused poaching butter and the remaining ginger beer reduction.

The tofu and noodles absorbed all those warm and sweet-spicy juices. The more we ate, the better it tasted.

Cynthia liked it. A lot.

That makes me happy.

Careless Shepherd Pie

2009-08-28T20:31:00.022-04:00

Photos by Cynthia

"A careless shepherd makes an excellent dinner for a wolf."

-Earl Derr Biggers

What is it that is making me crave the warm, satisfying foods of fall and winter all of a sudden, rather than light, cool summer foods? Maybe celebrating 90 days of the 2009 Coastal Humidity Festival is starting to become a little tiresome, and I'm looking forward to a crisp change in the weather.

In any event, as I recently looked in the fridge and thought of what dishes to assemble from all the leftovers, my thoughts kept going to classic comfort foods like pot pies and meatloaf (meatloaf? that sounds good..).

When I saw the extra uncooked ground lamb left from the recent lamb tourtiere I decided on a classic shepherd's pie.

Well, maybe not so classic. Being still fascinated (read: borderline obsessed) with exploring potato galettes, I decided to try using sweet potato galettes for the crust of the pie.

I put a classic mirepoix of chopped onion, carrot and celery into a pan to sweat.
I added some chopped parsnip and a bay leaf (I love parsnip. Don't you?).
When the vegetables were soft and tender I added three chopped garlic cloves and some dried thyme.
After about a minute I added a pound of ground lamb.
As the lamb browned I deglazed the pan with about 1/4 cup of oatmeal stout. Guinness, porter or dark beer would work well here.
I added about 1/4 cup of diced celeriac and fennel, previously roasted for a celery root and fennel chowder.
I added about a cup of leftover stroganoff (sans noodles, of course), and a small handful of frozen baby peas.
After a healthy splash of worcestershire, the seasonings were adjusted.
I dusted the mixture lightly with flour and stirred it in.
I folded in about two tablespoons of heavy cream and let the sauce thicken.

Here is where the shepherd got careless.

I thought about the sweet potato crusts the same way that I have been preparing galettes as a side dish. Essentially I prepared two galettes separately on the stove top, flipping them to brown both sides, and assembling the pie in a pan with the filling in between. It was virtually unmanageable to keep the potato layers stable with all the flipping, and after some time in the oven the top crust was an uneven blend of curling potato chips.

It was Cynthia's suggestion to flip the finished pie in the end, which provided a somewhat presentable finished dish.

When I try this again (and I will try this again), I'll approach the cooking of the galettes like a conventional pie crust: layer the potato coins in the baking pan and pre-cook in the oven. Add the filling, then position the potato slices for the top crust. Bake until top is browned, and then flip the finished pie before serving.

In the end, the wolf did enjoy an excellent dinner.

Fungus Among Us

2009-08-28T03:00:00.002-04:00

Photos by Cynthia

We so enjoyed the papardelle that we served with our branzino the other night, that I decided to use those long and wide but whisper-thin egg noodles as the bed for a mushroom stroganoff.

I armed myself with the standard wild mushrooms available at our local market - crimini, shitake and oyster. While originally intended to feature mushrooms only, I decided to add a little, well, beefiness with a couple ounces of slivered sirloin.

The beef strips were quick-seared on high for just a few seconds on each side, then removed from the pan and set aside. With the heat lowered to medium, I poured about two tablespoons of grapeseed oil to the pan.The sliced mushrooms were then added in stages; I wanted different layers of doneness with the mushrooms ranging from lightly cooked and plump to heavily caramelized. The mixture was deglazed with a tablespoon of Cognac three times before being flambeed with about 1/4 cup of the brandy.

After adding two sliced shallots and one crushed garlic clove, a tablespoon of tomato paste was browned in the bottom of the pan. After stirring the tomato paste into the mushroom mixture, I sprinkled sweet paprika and some fresh thyme, poured in about 1/4 cup of chardonnay and blended in about 1/3 cup of creme fraiche. This was allowed to simmer while the pasta was prepared.

Just before taking the noodles off the stove, I added the beef strips and 1/3 cup of sour cream to the mushroom mixture. The noodles were drained and drizzled with porcini-infused olive oil.

Despite the addition of the beef, the mushrooms and papardelle are the true stars of this dish, and could easily make a winning vegetarian offering.

No Peking

2009-08-27T08:47:00.010-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

We loved the delectable photo of the Orange Chicken Tacos at ChiliCheeseFries, and reading about how the recipe originally called for duck reminded me about the pablano crepes we made for our leftover grilled duck.

Inspired by Michael Symon's corn crepes, the ingredient list consists of:

half cup flour,
half cup milk,
2 eggs,
1 tsp of vegetable oil,
pinch of salt, and
up to two cups of whatever chopped or kerneled fruit or vegetable you like.

I used fresh corn, poblano and scallion. Put it together into a processor until blended. Pour about 2 oz of the batter into a 10" skillet over medium heat and cook for about a minute on each side.

We had ours Peking style, with shredded duck accompanied by our house barbecue sauce cut with hoisin sauce.

What to do with the little duck that's left? Maybe duckburger sliders...

Mean Greens

2009-08-25T01:43:00.003-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

Tonight's dinner was actually inspired by two leftovers. We had the beet greens from the recent attempt at the beet galette, and we still had some of Cynthia's Jade Soup.

First, though, are the simple, seared halibut steaks seasoned with salt, pepper and smoked paprika. They are topped with a chiffonade of quick-sauteed beet greens that are goosed with a touch of citrus.

I sometimes add a bit of a crushed vitamin C tablet if I want to add some citrus acid with out making everything taste like lemon or lime. I have read that citric acid is sometimes sold in the kosher section as "sour salt," but I have yet to find it. I just started using "Fruit Fresh," which is a mixture of citric and ascorbic acid, sold with the canning products. It works well, but has some additives. Use sparingly; a little goes a long way.

I poured some of Cynthia's lima and green bean soup into a blender with some mint, basil, parsley and olive oil. On the plate it was paired with a sauce of pureed roasted red and yellow peppers.

On the side was an amuse-bouche of celery root-fennel chowder. Diced celeriac and fennel were roasted for about thirty minutes, then simmered in a blend of beef and chicken stock, strained, and served with a kiss of lemon.

The surprise, though, was the beet greens; tender and pungent, but not bitter, they have a unique taste all their own.

Branzino!

2009-08-23T11:47:00.007-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

Branzino, aka European and Mediterranean seabass, is a beautiful, succulent fish. It was simple as can be to grill whole. Purchased cleaned and scaled from our fishmonger, I had only to clip the sharp pectoral and dorsal fins, rinse and dry, and rub the fish with salt and pepper. It was grilled on medium high heat for 5 minutes on each side.

We plated it on pappardelle which had been dressed in muscado vinegar and porcini-infused olive oil, and topped with a pan-cooked relish of diced tomatoes, olives, artichoke hearts, cherry peppers and pepperoncini.

When the fish was served, after removing the head and tail, the skin easily pulled away. The top half of the flesh needed to be very carefully sliced and pulled from the bones. After that maneuver, the skeleton was gently but painlessly pulled from the remaining half.

We did encounter a couple of pin bones as we ate, but they were easy to detect and remove. And it was worth it. The fish is buttery and delicious.

The Beet Goes On

2009-08-22T15:12:00.008-04:00

Photos by Cynthia

Continuing my fascination with vegetable galettes, I tried a version with orange baby beets. The thinly sliced beet coins were quite small, and with the shrinkage that occurred during the cooking, they didn't hold together as a pancake. But they had brilliant layered yellow colors, including a saffron-like tinge around the edges and were delectably crisp and caramelized. It was really more of a roast beet hash. They were topped with rings of shallots, grilled bay scallops and avocado.

The beets accompanied a pan-seared salmon filet, lacquered with the plum sauce from our recent grilled duck, set atop grilled zucchini planks.

All in all, a dish of glowing sunset color, just right for the end of the day.

Puff Piece

2009-08-22T08:38:00.006-04:00

Photos by Cynthia

We were invited to a birthday party tonight and wanted to bring something festive.

Several years ago on the original Japanese Iron Chef, I watched a challenger make what was his signature meat pie. I don't have any memory of what went into it, only it's distinctive shell: a warm, sunburst pastry crust. Last night I attempted a replica for a lamb tourtiere.

An onion and about a half of a pound of shitake mushrooms were slowly caramelized in a large pan. A pound of ground lamb and one link of Mexican chorizo were added to the pan and browned.. The mixture was seasoned with salt, pepper, freshly ground cumin seeds and some garam masala. I added some extra roasted garlic cloves that Cynthia prepared for her sumptuous tomato pie. (If we all ask hard enough, Cynthia may be coaxed into writing her own post about her creative spin on tomato pie).

After the meat was browned, some julienned sun-dried tomatoes and chopped artichoke hearts went into the pan with some fresh thyme, chopped mint, parsley, and cilantro.

Meanwhile, two sheets of puff pastry were laid out and gently rolled. In our small hot kitchen and humid climate, keeping dough at the right temperature is tricky. I had the top and bottom crusts on different pans that when in and out of the refrigerator to keep them from getting too warm and sticky.

When the filing was ready and slightly cooled, I pressed it into a shallow soup bowl that I used as a mold and positioned the mound of filling in the center of the bottom crust. The top crust was then laid over the the filling and bottom crust, tucked tight around the edge of the filling mound.

Using a large mixing bowl as a template, I placed the bowl over the pie and cut a circle in both crusts, leaving a margin of about two inches outside the mound. I the cut slits in the margin, folding both layers of crust into triangles to form the rays of the sun.

After cutting vents into the top of the mound, the pie went into a 400º oven. I was sharing the oven with Cynthia's tomato pie, so mine was on the top rack. It was done in about 25 minutes.

The puff pastry has a mind of it's own and some of the triangle rays morphed into odd proportions, and in hindsight, I would have liked to have brushed an egg wash on the crust for a sunny glow.

But heck, we were late to the party as it was.

Duck and Cover

2009-08-18T10:11:00.006-04:00

Photos by Cynthia

After days of torrential rain the monsoons let up and I could finally fire up the grill for the duck I had waiting patiently in the fridge.

I'm still experimenting with how best to get smoke from the new gas grill. The old, beloved grill - a generous gift from my brother - was a hybrid: it was a three-burner gas grill with an adjustable basket above the burners for holding charcoal and/or wood chunks and chips. As a gas grill it never got very hot but it would light the coals in record time, and as a slow-roaster or smoker it could keep relatively consistent heat over hours of cooking.

That old favorite, alas, endured one monsoon too many. After replacing many internal parts, proving the adage that rust never sleeps, all the innards eventually collapsed into a rusty heap, and to my dismay I discovered that the grill model was discontinued.

Overall I prefer grilling over chunk charcoal, and we maintain a classic Weber kettle, but there is no beating the convenience of flipping on the gas for quickly searing a steak, or the ease in maintaining a constant low temperature for hours on end.

With nothing remotely like it in our price range, we considered getting a cheap "disposable" gas grill and a low-end smoker,but that just seemed like bad economics. We settled on a modest but reasonably well-made, straight forward gas grill.

I'm still exploring the best way to inject smoke into the cooking equation. With past grills I have had bad luck with foil logs and cast-iron smoker boxes to hold wood chips. Either they just never got hot enough to produce much smoke, or they turned into little infernos that flared up and, even when set up for indirect cooking, could char the meat and upset the cooking temperature. I usually ended up just throwing wood chunks or chips right onto the burner. It usually works well (depending on the burner) but the resulting acidic ashes greatly shorten the life of the grill.

In my current set up, the grill has three burners covered with angles steel deflector plates. I've removed the deflectors from the two left burners and placed a cast-iron smoker box balanced right on top of those two burners. filled with a big chunk of hickory and some soaked cherry wood chips, the box gets enough heat to generate decent smoke.

Here we have our patient duck perched on a beer-can stand (minus the can). The duck has been rinsed inside and out, pat dried. The skin has been pierced all over (being careful not to puncture the flesh) and rubbed all over with sea salt, ground ginger and garam masala. The duck is positioned over the third burner on the right, with the smoker box on the right burners.

The two left burners will be turned on about 3/4 high. The right burner will not be used unless you want a re-enactment of the Pillar of Fire.

Close the cover and walk away. If your grill cover has a reliable thermometer, check the temperature periodically and adjust to maintain between 300 and 350 degrees. Rotate the duck 180º every 45 minutes.

Two and a half hours later, it looked like this:

It smelled unbelievable.

We served it with ginger rice and a make-shift plum sauce.

The plum sauce was made from halved red and black plums with skin left on and simmered in water with ground ginger and honey. When the plums were soft the mixture was pureed with a hand blender and strained back into the pot to reduce. We adjusted seasonings right before serving.

The plum sauce was lackluster.

But the duck was worth waiting for.

Couched Potato

2009-08-17T12:25:00.011-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

Several weeks ago I was reading an old Harold McGee article about how pots and pans deliver heat to food and then release the food when we want it to. He made several dozen potato galettes to test the properties of different pans.

I had never made a galette, and a couple of days later as I was figuring out how to incorporate a lone sweet potato into a dish with kingklip filets, I remembered McGee lovingly describing his flat, layered potato cakes cooked to gentle crispiness in his cast-iron skillet, and how he would slide it out of the pan onto an inverted pot lid for flipping back into the skillet.

Thus inspired, I cut paper-thin slices of the sweet potato, layering them - slightly overlapped - in a heated 10" pan with a little grape seed oil and butter. They were topped with salt, pepper, thyme, shaved red onion and sliced mushrooms.

After about ten minutes on medium-high heat, the galette was ready to flip. I, however, was not ready to try flipping; I was afraid of disturbing the mushrooms on top, so I gave it a few minutes under the broiler which worked quite well.

I have since successfully flipped an onion-and-mushroom-topped galette, using the classic technique of sliding the cake onto a pot lid, inverting the pan onto the lid, flipping them over together and removing the lid. I've found, however, that a topping like mushrooms keeps the top potato layer from contacting the pan surface, preventing it from browning correctly. In cases like that, the broiler probably does work best.

Since then I have used regular white potatoes and parsnips. The picture above features Yukon golds. Any root vegetable could work well.

Next, I think I'm going to try beets.

The Medical Tourist

2009-08-16T17:42:00.009-04:00

A recent edition of the New York Time Series "Well" featured a story called "The Medical Tourist." It featured a young woman who has moved to New York City and is living there solely for her cancer treatment at Memorial Sloan-Kettering.

This hit home for us not just because we also spent some time at Sloan-Kettering, but because it put a name to our activities as a family as we traveled the country seeking treatment for Henry.

We were Medical Tourists: visiting, sometimes residing in locales away from home for medical reasons.

Our medical tourism took us to Savannah, Memphis, Durham NC, and New York City.

As we look back on the unbelievable last two years we had with Henry, amidst all the horror, anguish and pain, we also can see that we filled those days with activity, adventure, and fun.

Driven by Henry's sense of wonder and joy of life, we took every opportunity to explore, play, and savour whatever unique activities a community had to offer.

Henry said it best. We were on a plane headed for Memphis to begin treatments at St. Jude. As the plane lifted off he declared: "The adventure begins!"

The adventure really began in Savannah. Since it is an hour's drive from us, Savannah was more of a commute, but with two of Henry's three surgeries performed there and about one hundred daily round trips for chemo, radiation, and various sundry treatments, we spent a lot of time in that unique city. At first, our impulse was to get in and out as soon as possible, but after a while we took the time to enjoy a bit of what Savannah had to offer.

Henry liked to spend time on River Street, a charming, if touristy, row of historic buildings facing the Savannah river. We dined at many of the pub-like restaurants that have "grog" or "boar's head" as part of their name. Henry loved the old-timey sweet shops that dapple the brick and cobblestone street.

We took advantage of an after-dark carriage ride, winding through old Savannah. Henry tested the willing driver on her knowledge of all the ghost stories of this most-haunted of American cities.

Henry's favorite restaurant was the Pirate House, a truly fascinating building made up of old structures from different periods that merged together over time with a network of mysterious tunnels below. He was enthralled by more ghost stories and always enjoyed a "cocktail" served in a mug shaped like a pirate's boot.

When our treatment plan took us to St. Jude, Henry had to deal with brain surgery, physical, occupational and speech therapies, radiation therapy, and classes to maintain his schoolwork. Henry and Mama had to reside in Memphis for over two months, with Dad commuting back and forth from his job to join them whenever possible. Henry and Mama were stranded at the Ronald McDonald house without a car, so when Dad came we would rent a car and take in as much of Memphis as time (and stamina) would allow.

We spent some time at the Peabody Hotel, whose famous ducks swim in the lobby by day, and led by the Duck Master in a ritual duck parade to the elevator for their night's rest on the roof. Henry was one of the guest duck masters.

We visited the Memphis Zoo several times. We visited the National Ornamental Metal Museum, which includes displays of wonderful metal sculptures as well as working studios and classes.

We visited the National Civil Rights Museum which occupies the Lorraine Motel where Martin Luther King was assassinated.

Of course we visited Graceland. We were joined by cousin Penton's family.

We watched the barges slowly float under the bridge on the Mississippi River.

And there was the food.

Henry had always been a picky eater with a small appetite, but that dramatically changed. While it is true that his treatments often included steroids which spiked his hunger, it is also true that as he grew older, he became more adventurous and became willing, sometimes eager, to try almost anything. And after months of hospital cafeteria dining, I believe that our whole family drew literal and figurative strength and nurturing through our search for interesting, satisfying, and fun food.

We explored Argentinian influenced Churrascaro at Texas De Brazil. We sampled ribs and fried pickles at BB King's on Beale Street. Henry enjoyed crepes from a street vendor. We had lobster pizza from Spindini's wood-burning oven. We enjoyed Lolo's, The Rendezvous, Paulette's, Felicia Suzanne's, the Flying Fish, Corky's, Bigfoot's Cafe, and Automatic Slim's.

Henry developed a surprising love of Sushi. His favorite sushi place in Memphis was Bluefin, a chic and trendy hangout where Henry tried several times to order the sea urchin which was on the menu but always sold out.

Without a doubt our favorite place in Memphis is McEwan's. Henry agreed with their claim of having the best mac 'n' cheese in the world. They introduced us to soba noodles, and featured an award-winning banana cream pie, as well as Alex Hailey's family recipe for black-eyed pea cake. They treated us like royalty, and one of the waitresses became pen pals with Henry.

When Henry recurred, he entered a clinical trial at Duke University Hospital in Durham, NC. This experimental chemo treatment involved sporadic trips to Durham for about a week every month or so over the course of about five months. Durham is a sleepy little town compared to Memphis and Savannah, but we found some treasures.

The Museum of Life + Science has some wonderful interactive exhibits as well as the Magic Wing Butterfly House.We also drove a couple of hours to take Henry to Carowinds amusement park.

When it came to food, there was a burgeoning restaurant scene blossoming on Ninth Street, fueled by the recently closed George's Garage. Our favorite is Vin Rouge, a classic bistro with delectable sweetbreads, a hearty cassoulet, and perfectly cooked seafood. We also enjoyed upscale Greek food at Pappas Grill, breakfast at Elmo's Diner, and Tex-Mex at the Blue Corn Cafe.

During one of our stays we ate a Texas Roadhouse right next to our hotel. Henry noticed all of the photos on the wall honoring those who managed to consume the Big Larry: a two pound beef sirloin. Henry swore that on a future trip I was to take on the Big Larry. So, on our last visit to Durham, when we found that Henry was unceremoniously dropped from the clinical trial, I took on the Big Larry.

It was harder than I thought it would be.

Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Institute in New York was our Hail-Mary: a clinical trial utilizing a radioactive isotope injected applied into the cranial-spinal fluid that was to directly attack the tumor. With the qualifying test, a test dose, and the first real treatment dose, we made three week-long trips to Manhattan, usually staying at the Ronald McDonald house on the upper east side.

On May 6, 2008, Henry celebrated his 12th birthday during that first trip, and we made the most of it. What he wanted more than anything was to visit the Nintendo Center, and that became the centerpiece of all our visits to New York. He tried out new games for the Nintendo wii and DS, and always left the store with new action figures, tee shirts and hats.

On that birthday we lunched at the Hard Rock Cafe and feasted on sushi that night at Haru.

On subsequent visits, we rode the giant ferris wheel at Toys "R" Us, and spent an afternoon at the Museum of Natural History. We dined at LeSteak Bistro and Les Halles Brasserie. We had a luscious panna cotta at Petaluma and Henry loved the grilled cheese sandwich at the Irish pub Finnegan's Wake. We searched, with no success, for the best New York Style pizza.

The warmest times were had at Cafe Luka, a family operation that treated Henry as one of their own, and at Finestra, a cozy little Italian cafe where we were befriended by the talented guitarist who performed there. He played lovely classical and flamenco inspired pieces, as well as a welcome Beatles medley.

We left New York in mid June, heavy with the knowledge that the trial treatment could not stop the progression of Henry's tumors. In July we tried an experimental drug that he could take at home. By August that, too, was discontinued.

On September 29, 2008, the adventure ended.

It is impossible to look back on those two years without reliving the horror, the pain and despair we all felt. But we also can remember the many, many wonderful, joyous times we had together. Buoyed by Henry's hope, faith and spirit, we all lived life to its fullest.

Especially Henry, who lived a lifetime.

Cross Posted from Henry's Blog

Surf 'n' Turf Kabobs

2009-08-14T09:15:00.005-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

We get fresh, plump, local heads-on shrimp here on the Carolina coast, so we cook a lot of shrimp.

Shrimp scampi. Shrimp curry. Barbecue Shrimp (cue Forrest Gump)...

Sometimes simplest is best.

On this day we skewered the shrimp with medallions of fresh tuna and beef sirloin, lightly seasoned with salt, pepper and kiss of some ground chilis. We put kabobs of fingerling potatoes and pearl onions on the grill's cooling rack for about twenty minutes before searing the surf 'n' turf kabobs for a couple of minutes on each side.

We accompanied the shrimp with a cocktail sauce of ketchup, sweet chili paste, wasabi paste, lemon juice and worcestershire. The tuna and beef were swathed in an amalgam of leftover sauces: a beef braising liquid, homemade barbecue sauce and Korean-inspired chili sauce.

We devoured the kabobs with red lettuce leaves that also served as a salad dressed in a lemon vinaigrette.

Bubba Gump never had it so good.

Come Together

2009-08-13T18:46:00.012-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

Tonight we were going to go on a little date. The plan was to dine out at our favorite outdoor bistro by the marina then go to a concert by one of those Beatle tribute bands.

We love the Beatles. I saw the last official concert by the Beatles at Candlestick Park in 1966. From way up in the bleachers, my sister and I watched the tiny figures on the bandstand that was perched on second base . You couldn't hear the music for the screaming. They played eleven songs and were gone in less than 30 minutes.

It was great.

Anyway, tonight as Cynthia and I prepared to go, a large line of thunderstorms appeared moving our way. While a near-daily occurrence in our humid summers, the forecast put a wet blanket on our plans for patio dining. We decided to throw together a makeshift supper from what was in the fridge.

Last night Cynthia made Cool Jade Soup, a lima and green bean soup from Epicurious, topped with an intense herb oil. Since we still had some of my parsnip vicchysoise from a couple of days ago, we thought to combine them into a joint effort.

Pouring the two soups into the same bowl at the same time, we were delighted to find that they poured evenly divided at the center, despite the two soups having very different consistencies.

Dotted with the sensuous herbal oil, the two soups complimented each other very well. The bean soup and herb oil gave some depth to the sweeter parsnip blend, and the parsnips lightened up the savory limas and green beans.

Served with a couple of BLAT sandwiches, it was a cool but comforting supper on a warm, wet evening.

Rain...I don't mind...

BLAT

2009-08-12T23:07:00.004-04:00

Photos by Cynthia

It took almost all summer, but we finally got some good tomatoes.

The local supermarket tomatoes are a joke, and we don't have a real farmer's market nearby. The few roadside stands we do have are a bit hit-and-miss, especially when it comes to tomatoes.

So, when Cynthia came home with a bag of luscious beafsteak beauties, that signaled one thing: BLT.

If not my favorite sandwich, the BLT is certainly in my top three. It certainly is a great way to enjoy the full flavor of a raw ripe tomato. And it proves the time-worn but true cliche that everything is better with bacon.

Today, ours were supercharged with a simple chili mayo (some ancho and smoked paprika powders stirred in) and grilled sliced avocado. Presented with romaine and raw bok choy leaves on toasted whole grain sourdough, it was a modest update to a classic.

Between Morocco and a Hard Place

2009-08-10T09:28:00.017-04:00

Photos by Cynthia

My typical approach to prepare for a meal is to stop at the store, find what looks good/interesting/new/fresh/on sale, mentally run through the home pantry, sketch out the menu, fill in the blanks, make the purchase, rush home, pull out every pot and pan in the house, turn every burner up to high, sear, flip, caramelize, reduce, pour, plate, serve, eat, leave the kitchen looking like the fire-bombing of Dresden, and start wondering what to eat next.

Slow cooking is Cynthia's territory.

We both love the savory phenomenon that can only be achieved after hours of meticulous planning and execution of a multi-layered and transforming low-and-slow cooking technique.

Cynthia has a natural affinity for it, for nurturing the dish through its revealing steps, and the patience to let the dish decide when it's ready.

Last November I gave her a beautiful terra cotta tagine from Morocco. She rewarded me with a beautiful citrus chicken tagine perfumed with hand-blended spices. We looked forward to many tasty Moroccan treats.

Some days later, cruising the Google, we found some postings warning about high lead content in most of the glazed terra cotta tagines made in Morocco. There had been no warnings or details about the glazed finish of Cynthia's tagine and the website offered no information, so we emailed the company asking about lead content in their tagines.

No reply.

After a series of unanswered emails, I sent a not-so-veiled threat that further unresponsiveness on their part would cause me to unleash my internet fury, denouncing their company on any appropriate websites.

In less than 24 hours we got this email:

Hello,

Our tagines are inspected at the port of arrival by the FDA and US Customs. If lead is found in the tagines, I believe their policy is that the tagines are destroyed and not allowed to be released. We have since changed companies from which we purchase tagines. Our newest shipment (due to arrive soon) comes with certification from the manufacturer that it is lead-free. This is a large, reputable manufacturer and we believe it is of the best quality to be found in Morocco. This allows both ourselves and our customers worry-free transactions with our tagines. If you are worried about the lead content from our old manufacturer, we welcome your returned tagine (please drop a note with your name so that we may trace the order) and we will ship you a new one.

We have our spam filters set to high to remove the thousands of pieces of junk email that we receive daily - in order that we may respond to our customers in a more efficient, speedy manner. Sometimes real emails inadvertently get caught in the filter and are deleted without our response. If that has been the case of your earlier emails, we apologize for the inconvenience and unnecessary worry this has caused you.

[Our Company] guarantees our products. If ever you have questions, please don’t hesitate to call us directly. Our toll-free number is ***-***-****.

Warm regards,
M****

Funny how their spam filter let my threatening email through...

Anyway, all is forgiven; we're boxing up the old one and looking forward to the shiny, new, certified-lead-free replacement to arrive.

While were waiting, I decided to try a non-tagine dish from the beautiful cookbook Moroccan Modern by Hassan M'souli. The dish doesn't really require slow cooking (the fowl simmers for only 30 minutes) but with the preparations, the marinade, the accompanying risotto and sauce, the meal took over four hours from start to finish.

I uncharacteristically followed the recipe somewhat faithfully. The original recipe is for squab, but not being under the elevated train with a .22, we opted for chicken thighs. I was also fresh out of orange blossom water, and while Cynthia makes beautiful preserved lemons, she is overdue for making a new batch, which takes at least 2 weeks.

I substituted a pinch of sugar with slices of 1/2 of a lemon. The dish, however, really needs the preserved lemon.

Charmoula Marinade:

1 tbsp dried chili
1 tbsp sweet paprika
1 tsp chopped ginger
1/2 tsp saffron threads
2 diced onions 2 bay leaves
1 tbsp toasted cumin seeds, ground
4 diced garlic cloves
small handful each of chopped parsley and cilantro
1/2 preserved lemon
1/2 cup olive oil
juice of 1/2 lemon
sat and pepper

Mix all ingredients and let set for half an hour. Add the chicken and marinate for at least two hours.

To cook the chicken, heat peanut oil in a large pot. Season the chicken with salt and pepper and brown on both sides. Add about two cups of water, a cinnamon stick, and 4 whole cloves. Simmer for about a half hour.

When the chicken is cooked, remove it and keep in a warm oven. Strain the cooking liquid into a saucepan containing three tablespoons of butter, 1 to 2 tablespoons of toasted poppy seeds, a teaspoon of ground cinnamon, 1/2 cup of sugar and 8 - 10 oz of dried apricots.. Heat to bubbly and reduce until syrupy.

The chicken is served over saffron risotto cakes. For our meal tonite, I didn't take the time to chill and set the risotto, so I couldn't cut it into cakes. I served it as a conventional mound with the chicken piled unceremoniously on top.

To make the risotto cakes, add 1 1/2 cups of arborio rice to a pot containing one grated onion and 8 cloves of crushed garlic that have been sauteed with two seeded and diced tomatoes. Pour in 1/2 of 4 cups of chicken broth, add 1 tsp of saffron and stir constantly until the rice is sticky (about 15 - 20 minutes).

Add the remaining stock with a cup of chopped mushrooms and some lime zest. Stir another 5 or ten minutes until creamy.

Add about 3oz of grated parmigiano-reggiano and 5 tbsp butter. Stir until well combined. Pour into a pan about 1 1/2" deep and chill thoroughly.

Before serving, cut into squares and sear in a hot pan until crispy on both sides.

After chilling overnight, the risotto was firmly set and I could cut and sear the cakes. It's worth the time.

Smelts Like Victory

2009-08-09T14:48:00.004-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

We frequently find fresh smelts in our local market, and I bought some yesterday. The only other place I regularly found smelts was in a big, bazaar-like fish market in San Jose, California. Besides their fresh fish offered for sale, they prepared a small menu of mostly fried seafood dishes served in the store. Baskets of fried smelts were probably the most popular.

So fried smelts for lunch it is.

dredged in Wondra that was seasoned with salt, pepper, paprika and dried red chilies, The smelts were fried in batches and kept warm in a 250º oven.

They were served with an onion-brussell sprout-potato hash, and a wasabi ketchup with sweet chili paste, lemon juice and a splash of worcestershire sauce.

I love the smell of smelts in the morning...

Lamb with Caulicous

2009-08-08T08:30:00.010-04:00

Photos by Cynthia

Lamb chops can be pretty pricey, but a small chop can be very satisfying so they don't have to make the whole meal prohibitively expensive.

The chops were pretty straightforward. Dredged in the current version of the house espresso rub they were thrown on the hellfire of the grill for about three minutes per side.

As for the rub, every batch has its variants but they all start with the Usual Suspects:

one part kosher salt
one part ground black pepper
one part onion powder
two parts garlic salt

For the this version of espresso rub we add:

two parts smoked sea salt
two parts espresso powder
two parts cumin
Two parts dried porcini mushrooms ground into dust
two parts tubinado sugar
one part cocoa powder
one part dried thyme
one part dehydrated worcestershire sauce

I noticed that several commercial steak and burger rubs contain worcestershire powder. I like worcestershire sauce and really wanted to add that flavor to by arsenal of dry rubs without using the sauce (which would alter the texture of the dry rub crust). The only source I found is PackitGourmet. McCormick has a worcestershire black pepper that will do in a pinch.

One problem with this ingredient is that in our humid south coastal environment, if it's not kept super air-tight, the powder absorbs moisture and cures solid as a brick - worse than the rock-hard brown sugar blocks we always half to bust up.

Anyway, the chops were accompanied by caramelized leeks and brussel sprouts which had some radishes tossed in for the last couple of minutes.

I love sauteed radishes. The cooking tempers their bite and the red color is a welcome contrast to the browns and greens that dominate my dishes.

The second side dish was my take on the newly-trendy cauliflower couscous.

The cauliflower florets were chopped in a food processor into a size resembling small couscous grains. I was going to cook them with a harissa sauce, but when I found we didn't have any, I made my own mock harissa. I chopped three cloves of garlic, a dash of coriander seeds and part of a poblano pepper in the food processor. I blended in some Olive oil, a sprinkle of dried cayenne flakes and a squirt of tomato paste.

The caulicous was sauteed until softened. The mock harissa was stirred in and cooked for about two minutes.

It wasn't couscous with harissa.

But it was good. Really good.

Revenge of the Scotch Bonnet

2009-08-06T20:19:00.005-04:00

Photos by Cynthia

I had bought parsnips for some shoestring fries and a parsnip galette and still had three parsnips left over. I thought a nice chilled soup would be refreshing for one of our humid summer evenings, so I ad-libbed a parsnip vichyssoise.

the white part of four leaks thin-sliced and sauteed in olive oil with pinch o'salt,
the juice of one lemon squeezed into the pot,
three thinly sliced parsnips added and softened,
more salt and pepper
chicken stock added to cover and simmered for 15-20 minutes,
about a 1/2 to 3/4 of a pint of heave cream added
puree with a stick blender until smooth,
heat until bubbly.

At this point, let the soup cool then refrigerate overnight. Before serving stir in some milk or more cream to get the consistency you desire.

I did cheat at this last step and saved a couple of fat calories by using fat free half and half. It maintains the silky texture of the soup although it adds some sweetness. You could add more lemon juice, but instead I added a crushed vitamin C tablet to boost the citric acid without adding more lemon flavor.

The main course was sauteed scallops over soba noodles. I made a quick sauce of seasoned rice vinegar, fish sauce, lime juice, chopped scallion and garlic. Then, emboldened by my trial outing with the scotch bonnet, I chopped up the remaining two-thirds of the fiery fruit, tossed in into the sauce with the bay scallops, and sauteed with chopped baby bok choy and sliced carrot until the scallops were just opaque.

The boiled buckwheat noodles were dressed in peanut oil and lime juice, then topped with the scallop mixture.

I was just beginning to appreciate the complex fruitiness of the scotch bonnet when the entire front of my seared mouth started screaming bloody murder. I nobly fought the fiery beast for a few more stabs, but ultimately laid down my skewer in defeat.

Cynthia finished her helping in due order. She did admit though, that it was "pretty hot."

Sirius Star Salsa

2009-08-05T07:39:00.010-04:00

Photos by Cynthia

Several months ago I saw someone on the teevee make a starfruit salsa. That seemed like a fun idea and I looked for starfruit at my next shopping trip. No starfruit. It's usually found in the major stores around here, so I kept an eye out for it to show up in the next few weeks.

I finally spied some yesterday and snatched it up. The seafood case had red snapper that looked and smelled fresh, and thusly armed, I headed home.

I decided to go vaguely Caribbean. While not attempting anything resembling Jerk, I did decide it was time to chop up a scotch bonnet.

Despite my declared devotion to chili, I am a somewhat wimpy when it comes to truly hot, spicy food. Cynthia, on the other hand, has a constitution of titanium, and her years in Louisiana gave her a special affinity for chiles and peppers. Cooking with her has expanded my taste and tolerance for spicy heat, and so today I am emboldened to take on the Big Kahuna, and create the Sirius Starfruit Salsa.

Sirius means "scorching" in Greek. Get it? I'm so clever...

The pepper that I bought was from a bin labeled "habanero;" I've heard several cooks refer to habeneros and scotch bonnets as the same thing but they are not: they have a slightly different shape and the flavor of the scotch bonnet is part of the distinctive taste of Caribbean cuisine. I am convinced, however, that most supermarkets stock them interchangeably. The habaneros that I found seemed to have more of the tam o'shanter shape of the scotch bonnet, and since that was my only choice anyway, what-the heck.

The starfruit was given a fine dice along with some red onion and tomato. Since the quantity of the salsa was going to be quite small, I was a little paranoid about too much of the hot pepper, so, holding the combustible fruit only by its stem, I sliced off about half, gave it a really fine chop, scooped it up with the blade of my Global and tossed it in.

I was convinced as I chopped some cilantro on the same cutting board that my hands were starting to burn, but that passed.

I splashed in some garlic juice, olive oil, pineapple juice, and a squirt of lime. Into the fridge it went.

The snapper was given a light sprinkling of curry rub and seared skin-side down. After flipping, it was simmered for a couple of minutes in pineapple juice, then removed from the pan and into a warm oven. A little coconut milk was added to the pan and reduced for about three minutes.

The snapper was presented with grilled zucchini and shoe-string parsnip fries, dotted with the pan sauce and topped with the salsa.

All in all, it was a tasty dish: the fries were crisp and sweet, the fish moist with a mild sear, and the salsa was fresh, zesty, and flavorful.

And not very hot.

I guess I took the scotch bonnet a little too siriusly.

(somebody stop me...)

Letters, I Get Letters

2009-08-03T08:37:00.005-04:00

Reader SK writes:

"What kind of clams do you harvest locally? And what kind of clams did you pick up at the market? I love to learn regional differences. If you're gonna write this stuff, I need specifics."

(Okay, it's my friend Steve again. No one else reads this dang blog...)

Coquina, jackknife and surf clams are found in our tidal waters. The clams that Richard and I harvested were probably butterfly clams.

Also known as the white sand clam, this species can be buried to a depth of 20 inches. Because they can bury so deep, they have few predators.

None of the local supermarkets or restaurants carry much of the native seafood. The smaller fish mongers tend to have meager supplies of the daily catch. We have good local shrimp, and oysters which can be bought by the bushel.

The clams featured in our dish were little necks from Canada, I think. We also regularly get mahogany clams which have a beautiful golden brown color, but don't actually have much flavor. Steamer clams are starting to appear more often.

Wherever they come from, a day with clams is a good day.

Clam Chowder Nouveau

2009-08-01T09:35:00.013-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

We live on the Carolina coastline and our friend and colleague Richard loves to go clamming. I once went with him to share the pleasure of slogging through the skanky mud in two thousand percent humidity, and clawing the elusive clams out of the reeds. After about 90 minutes, and after I had dug myself out of the slime because I headed forward but my hip boots stayed behind, we headed home with about a dozen clams each and wondered if it was worth it.

It was, and I look forward to doing it again.

But not for awhile.

The clams in this dish, however, were not from that day. These market clams beckoned from the cool crushed ice in the seafood aisle and were far more accessible than those locked in the roots of the bulrushes.

The broth was made of softened onions and garlic simmered in olive oil, white wine and diced tomatoes with some bay leaf, fresh basil, oregano, and a teaspoon of seafood demi-glace. The clams were roasted in a dry pan to concentrate their juices, then added to the broth along with jumbo rings of boiled calamarata pasta. Topped with chopped olives and peppers from the market's self-serve olive bar, the briny olive medley is all the salt you need.

A Whole Lotta Love

2009-07-31T09:25:00.009-04:00

In the first post of this blog I talked about my friends Steve and Kolet. Steve read the blog and shared this thought:

"Recipes are the documentation of someone else's work. For those without any imagination or creativity, it's a way of re-creating a dish, not unlike paint-by numbers. You may think you are artistic, but we know the difference. Recipes are valuable as a reference tool, a piece of research for you to consider when you start to create your own dish. I have 100's of cookbooks, and have never duplicated a single one of any of their recipes. Hell, I don't even cook my own recipes the same way twice. Each new version becomes a refinement of the last attempt. Each time, trying to get closer to the perfection I see and taste in my mind. My current quest has been for the perfect homemade Pastrami. After 5 years of diligence, I will tell you I'm getting close.

Kolet reminded me about that time that you house sat for us in Fresno, and all you asked for was a box of cereal and a pot of bacon chili. When we returned home the box was partially full, but the pot of bacon chili was gone.

What a joy to be remembered by good friends with an association of good shared food."

God, I want some pastrami right now.

I did house sitting for Steve and Kolet one summer when we were in college. Most of my friends had gone home for the summer and I chose to beat the Fresno heat by staying in, playing with their dog Pischer, reading, and listening to music.

My soundtrack was a vinyl compilation of Warner Brothers artists titled "Superstars of the Seventies," featuring "Run, Run, Run" by Jo Jo Gunne, "Doctor My Eyes" by Jackson Browne, "Paranoid" by Black Sabbath, and Led Zepplin's "Whole Lotta Love."

I loved being in their kitchen; it was really interesting to spend time and examine how they stocked their pantry: which ingredients they chose and how much they stocked (seeing what somebody buys in bulk can tell you a lot).

The layout of the kitchen reflected their free-wheeling but practical sensibilities. They had a wonderful wooden counter on wheels - originally intended as a gurney, but happily rescued before ever put to that use. Kolet explained that the height of it was perfect for her to kneed bread dough.

So I made my first bread in that house. I made dark, rich, unleavened herbal bread and several loaves of pale, puny french bread. They looked anemic but actually tasted pretty good.

So I settled into their easy chair with Pischer beside me, and feasted on fresh bread while listening to "Whole Lotta Love."

The Art of Improvisation

2009-07-30T12:17:00.020-04:00

The only time I ever worked in a restaurant kitchen was in 1975.

I was a dishwasher.

As a fledgling theatre artist, I moved to New York City to try out the bustling theatre scene. I was crashing on the living room floor of a college friend who tended bar at a downtown comedy club. One fateful night, the club's porter failed to show and I got the desperate call: could I come and fill in?

The club was The Improvisation. The Improv, as it came to be known, was the grandaddy of the comedy showcases. Nestled in the heart of Hell's Kitchen, it was a small, brick, two-room dive with a small stage shoved into the corner of the dining room. Off of the dining room was a galley kitchen manned by George, the self-proclaimed chef de cuisine, and...well...me, the reluctant porter, "porter" being a catch-all for dishwasher, janitor, stock boy, etc.

George was southern-born and a mostly self-taught chef. He had enormous pride and a fiery temper. He was eventually fired for assaulting the owner with a chef's knife.

It was a lively place.

The Improv was a breeding ground for upcoming comic talent. It had nurtured stars like Rodney Dangerfield and Robert Klein (both of whom stopped in for guest appearances while I was there; both were amazing.). Richard Lewis was the regular weeknight emcee. Larry David, already an established comedy writer, was developing his stage persona. Richard Belzer, a comic's comic, was a local legend.

And three years before appearing on TAXI, Andy Kaufman rolled out his Tony Clifton nightclub singer. Clifton was a vile character that directly antagonized the audience to such a degree that I once saw him threatened by a guy in the crowd with a broken beer bottle. I heard Andy tell a colleague:

"My goal isn't to be funny, it's to get a reaction. If I get a reaction, good or bad, then I'm getting what I want."

He got a reaction, all right. The audiences got so hostile that no other comics would follow him.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, George prepared his burgers served on English muffins, soups, honey fried chicken, barbecue ribs, and chili (!). Besides the standard bar fare, the menu stretched out a bit featuring a lot of chicken. There was Chicken Parmigiana, Coq Au Vin, and I would watch him bone chicken for his own Chicken a la George: boneless breasts sauteed in garlic butter with white wine and mushrooms. This was topped with swiss cheese and run through the salamander until brown and bubbly.

Although my focus was much more on my budding theatre career, he noticed and was flattered by my interest in his cooking. He started using me as a prep cook. I peeled and sliced onions for the onion soup and potatoes for the fries. I assembled and watched the chili (!!), and prepped the caesar salads. He taught me to make a roux, which was a base for all his soups, including his housemade peanut butter soup.

I left the Improv and New York after about 8 months, but not after grabbing the confidence to wield a kitchen knife, whisk a beurre blanc, and brew a wicked onion soup.

And as for Chicken a la George, I have been making that dish for the last 30 years, although it no longer bears any resemblance to George's original.

And I wish I had paid more attention to that wondrous sauce for the Coq Au Vin.

A lot of culinary seeds were planted during my time in that comedy club.

It also explains why my food frequently tastes funny.

Fish and Chips

2009-07-30T08:06:00.011-04:00

Photo by Cynthia

I spied the kingklip proudly perched above the routine seafood while searching for last night's dinner at the local market. It looked pink and fresh and, never having tried it before, made it the catch of the day.

A quick Google search for kingklip revealed:

This tasty and versatile import has yet to win a following outside of ethnic markets

Kingklip possesses all the attributes that usually make a species a star in the U.S. market. With white, mildly flavored, firm meat, kingklip is a versatile fish that can stand up to grilling and frying as well as being chunked in a fish stew.

Yet the eel-like fish remains a niche product that is sold primarily to a Latin American market familiar with the fish from their home country.

Three varieties of kingklip are found in the waters of South Africa, Australia, New Zealand and South and Central America. Importers prefer the golden and red kingklip, which tend to be larger fish and yield fillets of between 1 and 4 pounds. A smaller, black-skinned variety has a darker flesh, smaller fillet size and a coarser texture. It is not as popular as golden and red kingklip because of its less appealing meat color and texture.

“We don’t sell that much of it compared to other fish, since not everyone is familiar with king-klip,” says Tampa store Manager Lidia Vlahakis. “But our [Latin] customers do buy it regularly.”

Buyers of kingklip say it is similar to grouper, and demand for it often jumps when grouper are in short supply, as happened in late 2004 when the domestic grouper fishery was closed.

“We will bring kingklip in when grouper gets tight and the price for grouper starts to go up,” says Robert Pidgeon, director of purchasing at Inland Seafood in Atlanta.

(Note to self: kingklip is very popular in ceviche.)

We wanted to get a good taste of the fish itself for the first time out, so the seasonings were minimal. The filet was gently seared on one side in grapeseed oil and butter, then flipped and poached in white wine, butter and lemon. Sauced with the reduced poaching liquid, it was accompanied by a green salad (with Cynthia's luscious lemon and thyme vinaigrette) and a crispy sweet potato-mushroom galette.

The kingklip was sturdy but tender with quite a nice texture, and the flavor was...bland. This fish needs some bold strokes in flavorings and preparation to bring it to life.

The sweet potato galette, on the other hand, was a tasty surprise: paper-thin chips of sweet potato topped with layers of sliced onion and mushrooms, cooked to crispy in a saute pan over medium heat and finished with a kiss from the broiler.

Sadly, I didn't make enough for seconds.

Sunday Brunch

2009-07-26T13:02:00.006-04:00

Today's midday meal featured a lobster and scallop ceviche with muscato vinegar, sour orange juice, lemon and lime, anchovies, gooseberries, grape tomatoes, diced avocado, dried currants, minced garlic, shaved onion, and finished with dried pablano, red pepper flakes and Hawaiian coral sea salt.

The lobster tail and scallops were on sale and inspired the dish. I had the tart gooseberries, which I bought for a salsa verde in place of tomatillos (which actually are a type of gooseberry).

I started experimenting with ceviche after falling in love with one served at a local southwestern place. At first it seemed like the acid-cooked shellfish was simply a means to deliver the tangy, citrus-sweet juices and pickled aromatics. But letting the seafood linger on the tongue revealed a lush flavor.

I was also intrigued by a ceviche produced by Sam Talbot for an episode of Top Chef a couple of years ago, which was selected by one judge as his favorite of the whole season.

Clearly ceviche is a platform for creative expression of fresh and full, but subtle flavors. It's a great summer dish, so I have a couple of months to play with the concept before the chilly weather arrives and we lose our appetite for cold fish.

Chili

2009-07-25T17:43:00.006-04:00

Chili is just maybe the first dish that I ever made.

I actually was never fond of chili growing up. When my mother made chili she served a limpid bowl of ground beef floating in a tepid broth of stewed tomatoes and canned kidney beans, which were topped with some powdered spices from a packet. Served as the occasional super-saver supper, Mom would notice my turned-up nose and say "Someday you will long for a bowl of your mother's chili."

Of course she was right.

Salt of the earth that she was, Mom was never much of a cook, but in retrospect I am astounded by the fact that as a single mother of three and working a full-time job, she managed to pull together a home-cooked, sit-down dinner every night. She did take full advantage of the time and cost-saving measures available: dinner was usually a simple, pan fried or oven baked protein accompanied by a canned or frozen vegetable with a simple starch or salad. The occasional Chinese dinner was Chun King chow mein from a box, and we were well-acquainted with Chef Boyardee. Being Catholic, Friday meals were usually fish sticks or Kraft macaroni and cheese.

She did try to stretch out now and then, usually on weekends. Armed with recipes clipped from the Sunday supplements, she tried such exotic treats as the cool wedge and ambrosia salads. She became fond of chicken breasts that she topped with a tablespoon of mayonnaise and then baked.

Then there were the casseroles. There was no collection of ingredients that she believed could not be redeemed by the addition of canned mushroom soup or onion soup mix - maybe both. Tuna Surprise? I'm not surprised. The last straw was a vile concoction featuring chicken, peaches and potato chips that even Mom wouldn't eat.

And the chili. While I still am not drawn to the watery, bean-soup style, I have been constantly brought back to chili as the ultimate comfort food. Once living on my own, chili was the first recipe I looked up in Joy of Cooking. Chili was the dish that made me want to cook with all fresh or home-prepared ingredients: fresh tomatoes, onions and garlic; dried beans soaked and simmered; chopping fresh meat.

I ordered chili in restaurants everywhere. I was amazed at all the different dishes that called themselves chili. There were diner chilis that all tasted like Hormel, chilis with beans, chili without beans, and chili with spaghetti. Dear meat chili, rattlesnake chili, and veggie chili. Sweet tomatoey chilis, savory herbal chilis, and of course the blistering, how-hot-have-you-got witch's brew chilis that can peel your paint.

Some dear friends, Steve and Kolet, once hosted a backyard get together and the main event was chili. I was knocked over by the rich, smokey taste of that chili. Kolet told me that as she began to prepare the chili for the party, she discovered that she had no ground beef. So, she grabbed a couple of pounds of slab bacon, ground them up like hamburger and put that in the chili.

It was fantastic.

I spent the next couple of years futilely attempting to copy that chili. It was much later that I realized the true lessons of that day were of spontaneity and inspiration.

Which brings us to tonight's chili, made from ingredients on hand:

1 lb ground buffalo meat (yes, we had buffalo in the freezer)
1.5 lbs skirt steak, coarsely ground
.25 lb Mexican choritzo
15 oz can of fire-roasted diced tomatoes
1 can pinto beans
1 cup leftover homemade ancho chili sauce
1 red onion
1 Vidalia onion
6 garlic cloves
2 bottles dark Mexican beer
2 cups chicken stock
Random dashes of: cumin, ground coriander, ancho powder, sweet paprika, smoked paprika, chipotle powder, garlic powder, onion powder, thyme, oregano, ground cinnamon, espresso powder, cocoa powder, turbinado sugar, Worcestershire sauce, lemon juice, lime juice, salt, pepper.

Despite all the window dressing, I'm back to my Mom's ground meat, canned tomatoes, canned beans and powdered spices.

It's good to be home.