It’s not because of my skill at baking, which can more accurately be described as the ability to read and generally follow instructions. This brownie is based on a great recipe from Smitten Kitchen who adapted it from another great recipe from Baked in Brooklyn. Eat anything from these justly celebrated dessert creators and you’ll probably bust out the superlatives too. Plus, it’s got a lot of butter in it, and we all know the important kitchen equation: butter = awesome.

But the brownie got me thinking more about the food we eat and how it’s produced. If you just want to skip ahead to learn how to make these brownies yourself, scroll all the way down.  But first, some brownie pondering…

***

Sitting at my crumb-covered kitchen table with a belly almost uncomfortably full of dessert and one hand still clutching a few chocolatey morsels, a surprising realization came to me: I almost never eat brownies made from scratch.

Do you? I’m curious. Think about it. Despite being a fan of brownies, I rarely buy them from bakeries.  Restaurants don’t often offer brownies on the dessert menu, and even if they do, I’m not likely to order something I can just as easily bake at home.  And that’s the thing – brownies are a homestyle, comfortable, familiar, fifties housewife/school bake sale kind of dessert.  A dessert that almost universally, at least in my world, came straight out of a box.

A brownie recipe from my childhood would look like this: pull the Betty Crocker box out of the cupboard. Pop the plastic bag of brownish powder, add an egg and some vegetable oil, stir in a big bowl, bake in a pan and cut into squares.  No need for complicated baking equipment, kitchen knowledge, or really any degree of thought or effort.

On the contrary, baking brownies from scratch takes not only a fair amount of time and effort but also a great deal more money.  I decided to make spiced brownies for the Rambling Cafe at Somerset House Design Fair over the holidays and found myself choosing between a box of brownie mix under £2 and the ingredients to make them myself for almost £8, which didn’t even include the flour and spices I already had in my cupboard.  Since we care about making good, real, food with high-quality ingredients at Rambling Restaurant and it fits into my general ethos of food and cooking, I went with the expensive choice. But I was annoyed that these were my options.  I’m willing to put in the work;  shouldn’t that save me money?

pause for brownie ogling.

I was chatting about this mid-brownie devouring with my friend Alexis, who mentioned that a roast chicken from her supermarket costs less than buying the whole raw chicken and taking several hours to season and roast it herself. Like so many pre-made items in our supermarkets at refrigerators these days, you have to be crazy to make it yourself. Or you just have to be willing to spend more money, take more time, and expend more effort. You have to love the process of cooking and appreciate the taste of homemade food and value the act of creating something yourself (and enjoy the kudos you get for preparing something delicious from scratch). Sure, sometimes the professionals do it way better, and that’s absolutely worth paying for. But too much of the time, you’re trading flavor, health, and taste for convenience and price. And all too often, the money you save reappears as hidden costs externalized in our health care system, the polluted state of our environment, serious issues with factory treatment of workers and animals, the little time spent enjoying the sharing and eating of food with people in your life, the disconnect with where our food comes from, and so many more problems associated with our current methods and industries of food production and consumption.

Michael Pollan, in books such as The Omnivore’s Dilemma and In Defense of Food, has written a great deal about the American food industry over the past century and how governmental systems were put into place with the goal of creating cheap calories so people could afford to eat. In addition, companies like General Mills (owner and creator of brand name Betty Crocker) produced convenience items that allowed people, almost exclusively women, to spend less time in the kitchen and more time pursuing their own careers or interests. It was a profitable enterprise for those huge conglomerates that arguably had the positive social benefit of achieving more gender equality in the home and workplace (I’d actually be very interested to research that exact connection). But these industrial methods also made high-calorie treats like brownies and chocolate chip cookies and french fries and microwave pizza widely accessible,  affordable and effortlessly replicable in your own home. Which, in turn, have contributed towards making people extremely unhealthy and so we find ourselves in the midst of this obesity crisis the United States and increasingly more Westernized countries face today.

Browsing a bookstore a few weeks ago, I flipped through a few pages of Michael Pollan’s new book Food Rules: An Eater’s Manual (full review and commentary coming soon from Irene Bean!). One of the rules talks about the notion of treats and how we’d all consume a lot less junk food if we had to make it ourselves. Imagine how much work it takes to produce a french fry and how much less you’d eat them if you had to peel and slice potatoes, purchase and heat large quantities of oil, and risk first-degree burns instead of sidling up to the McDonald’s drive-thru. And you could probably cut down your brownie eating if you had to spend $10 on chocolate, eggs, sugar, and flour rather than $2 on a box of dehydrated chocolate mix.

Clearly this doesn’t make sense for plenty of people who have neither the time nor the money nor a general idea of ‘fun’ that includes two sticks of butter and a cupboard full of spices for experimentation. But it speaks to a way that perhaps we should all be eating, both for our own health and the health of our planet. New York Times writer Jane Brody covers this idea succinctly in her recent article on Pollan’s book, ‘Rules Worth Following, for Everyone’s Sake.’

So take a stand. Make those expensive, rich, chocolatey, effort-full, amazing brownies.  Shun the prepackaged and the processed in favor of the butter and the eggs and the chunks of good chocolate. They might take a bigger chunk out of your wallet, but you can feel good about making them. And most importantly…they just might be the best brownies of your life.

gratuitous brownie porn shot

Ridiculously Good Spiced Brownies With Almonds

Adapted from the Smitten Kitchen recipe who adapted it from another great recipe from Baked. I added a few more spices, took out some other ingredients I didn’t have around, got rid of an egg (my mom walked by while I was baking and said ’5 eggs? Do you really need 5 eggs?’ and I said…you know, probably not. And I didn’t miss it).  Feel free to play around with the spices depending on what you like and what you have in your cupboard.  Also, I only had chocolate with almonds in the kitchen, which I never would have bought but ended up being surprising little crunchy bites of toastiness.

What You Need:

1 and 1/4 cup flour
1tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ginger
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp allspice
1/2 tsp white pepper
12 ounces dark chocolate with almonds, or add separately if you want ‘em. Or walnuts. Whatever’s your bag, really.
1 cup (2 sticks yeeaaaah) butter, chopped into small chunks.
1 and 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
4 eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract

What You Do:

1.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and butter the sides of a pan.

2. Mix the flour and all the spices in a bowl.

3. Stick the butter chunks and the chocolate chunks into a heatsafe bowl over a pot of boiling water. Stir every so often until the mixture becomes chocolatey smooth, so silky and fragrant that you could pour it into a chocolate fountain and jump in. Don’t though – you have brownies to make. Unless of course you’ve changed your priorities.

4. Remove the bowl from the heat and stir in the sugars. Once the mixture has cooled a bit, whisk the eggs in one at a time, trying not to overmix or the brownies will get cakey.

5. Fold the flour/spice mixture into the chocolate soupiness using a spatula.

6. Bake for about 30 minutes. Important note: contrary to what you might have learned back in the day from Betty Crocker about using a toothpick to test for doneness, you DO NOT want your toothpick to come out clean or your brownies will not be moist and fudgy. You want a few little crumbs on the toothpick. For an adorable illustration (complete with brownie-eating monster!) check out this drawing from the amazingly talented Claire Murray.  She’s got some other fantastic and whimsically illustrated recipes as well as some funny random drawings.

I wish I had a brownie monster friend to help me finish off the pan sometimes.  Eating way way way too many brownies is just a possible side effect of baking some of the best brownies you’ve ever eaten. Oh, and I’m still curious. When was the last time you ate a brownie from scratch?

I should be kept far away from deep frying machines.

Don’t get me wrong – I love a crunchy, golden, batter-encrusted item as much as the next arterial disease-scorning glutton.  The problem is, I never know when to stop. I’ll start off with a perfectly reasonable goal, like 15 or 20 deep fried Mars bars. But by the end of the evening, everything that is fit for human consumption and hasn’t been tied down has gotten thrown in the boiling oil and things are just getting out of hand.

Lest that look of horror on your face prevent you from reading further, let me inform you that I didn’t consume all those crispy, glistening, gooey-with-hot-caramel-and-melted-chocolate deep fried candies on my own. Foodrambler and I made the deep fried Mars bars for Burns Night at Rambling Restaurant, a Scottish culinary extravaganza starring our homemade haggis (so not as disgusting as you might think…eventually).  In case you’re wondering, deep fried Mars bars are a genuine Scottish delicacy according to Wikipedia.  To enhance the Scottishness of the dish, foodrambler had the inspired idea to batter the chocolate logs in another Scottish delicacy: the violently (and controversially) orange-colored soft drink known as Irn-Bru.

I thought that was a genius idea, until I tasted Irn-Bru. It boasts the gloriously saccaharine taste of Red Bull, the vaguely citrusy overtones of dishwashing detergent/washing up liquid and the unpleasantly chemical reminder of cough medicine or assorted cleaning product. However, it’s the 3rd best-selling soft drink in the UK behind Coke and Pepsi, so someone somewhere is drinking it and it just may be Sarah, our third woman in the kitchen on Burns Night. Apparently, the exact recipe for this magic brew is known only by the chairman of the company and one other person, and they are not allowed to fly on the same plane. Hilarious.

We decided to give it a fair chance in a Deep Fried Mars Bar Batter Taste Test. In the name of culinary exploration, the Irn-Bru would face off against a beer batter (Carlsberg, if you’re curious) and a traditional milk batter. We found a classic batter recipe (details below) and tried several variations with each of the liquids.

This bubbly mess is what you get when you add Irn-Bru to a bowl of flour, cornstarch, and baking soda. Warning: this activity will lead to you scraping a floury gluey mess off all your countertops for the next week.

After tasting way too many little bits of deep fried candy, we settled on the classic milk batter as the best. The artficial aftertaste of the Irn-Bru came through too much in the batter and the beer tasted slightly sour and too thin, but the milk batter was thick, rich and indulgent. The beer batter could be great for savory items, and I’d be interested in trying other liquids, but for a sweet dessert dish the milk batter was perfect.

Of course we had to try deep frying some battered haggis balls too. That sounds like a really bad insult.

Get out of my sight, you battered haggis ball.

After playing around with the various batters, the deep fried haggis balls and the haggis-stuffed deep fried English muffin, not to mention three other preparations of haggis, the scent of batter grease was making us feel seriously ill.  We put away the deep fryer until the actual Burns Night, which is when we broke out the big guns to deep fry half a Mars Bar for each of our 20-odd guests to be served with a hefty dollop of cranachan. Cranachan is a light and highly alcoholic Scottish dessert involving whipped cream, honey, raspberries, toasted oatmeal, and a serious splash of whiskey.

And here’s why I should stay away from deep fat fryers.  Once the oil is boiling, bowls of batter are within reach, and there are edible items within the vicinity, I can’t stop myself from tossing things in.  We started with a second round of Mars bars, because they were there. Then I peered through the fridge and found a block of cheddar cheese. Cut into pinky finger-sized slices and dipped in batter, these tongue-scorching oozy and cheesy mouthfuls were a beautiful bit of batter-encased delight. Good idea.

Deep frying a spoonful of creamy cranachan? Bad idea. Actually, I think the deep-fried cream has potential to be delicious (like tempura-fried ice cream…mmm) but the whisky-soaked cranachan traces in the greasy batter remnants was just nauseating.

Pouring the remaining batter straight into the increasingly gross oil in an attempt at funnel cake? Even worse idea.  Straight up fried dough is amazing, but not when the oil has already been used to fry several dozen chocolate and caramel bars, a block of cheddar cheese, a Scotch-infused spoonful of cream, and several small household pets.  Kidding about the pets though – the cat really didn’t like being dipped in batter and couldn’t fit in the deep fryer anyway.

Kidding.  I don’t have a cat….anymore.

I just can't quit you.

In case you want to have your own deep frying adventures, here’s a very easy recipe for batter:

Deep Fried Mars Bar (And Anything Else Fryable Within Reach) Batter

What You Need:

1 cup flour

1/2 cup cornstarch or cornflour

pinch of baking soda or bicarbonate of soda

milk (or beer or Irn-Bru or liquid of choice)

What You Do:

It’s pretty simple. Mix the powdered ingredients. Whisk in the liquid until it approaches the consistency of a light pancake batter. Dip delicious or random or curious items into the batter and carefully place into the boiling oil. Let cool, place in mouth, repeat.

Just make sure you know when to stop.

]]> http://eatfamilystyles.com/2010/02/06/playtime-with-boiling-oil-experimenting-with-deep-fried-mars-bars/feed/ 7 http://eatfamilystyles.com/2010/01/20/the-family-styles-holiday-eating-escapades-part-five-momofuku-inspired-miso-butter-scallops/ http://eatfamilystyles.com/2010/01/20/the-family-styles-holiday-eating-escapades-part-five-momofuku-inspired-miso-butter-scallops/#comments Wed, 20 Jan 2010 09:30:14 +0000 mei http://familystyles.wordpress.com/?p=2683

If you’ve been reading this blog recently, you know quite well that Irene and I have a bit of a thing for David Chang and his small East Village Momofuku restaurant empire.  The cookbook has been bedtime reading for both of us as well as the source of three or four or maybe eight dishes over the past few weeks. I’m almost glad I left the book back in Boston with Andy (it was ostensibly his Christmas gift anyway) because things were getting a bit out of hand.

I first ate at Momofuku Noodle Bar in its initial tiny incarnation about four years ago and felt a pressing and insistent desire to return after finishing the cookbook.  Luckily I was leaving for New York the next day, so less than 24 hours later I found myself alongside devoted noodle fans Lexi and Rachel, hunkered down over steamed buns glistening with fatty pork belly, pungent and slippery ginger and scallion noodles, and a steaming hot porky bowl of classic Momofuku ramen that I could now recreate if I had a ridiculous amount of time and an even more ridiculous amount of pork.

(An aside: I’ll be honest, we actually tried to go to Ippudo first, but 90-105 minutes is too long to wait on an empty stomach, even for what some consider to be the best ramen in New York.  Frank Bruni’s NYT review on their ramen includes some of my favorite food writing ever, particularly the first four paragraphs which are so descriptive and poetic and so perfectly true: ‘The taste of ramen isn’t just layered and complex; it’s almost murky, but a good murky, an enthralling murky, the kind of murky in which greedy eaters contentedly lose their way.’ Rarely has any food writing made me quite so insistently crave anything so viscerally and immediately as Bruni on ramen. Which reminds me that I’m really hungry for ramen, right now).

But I was only the tiniest bit sad to walk away from Ippudo because it meant I could taste more of Momofuku with a deeper understanding of the dishes and the impetus/inspiration/happy accidents behind their creation.  Speaking of inspiration and happy accidents, the supposed topic of this post  – a last-minute-invention dish of miso butter scallops – owes its existence to both. Momofuku gets props for the inspiration and the lack of clams at Whole Foods deserves credit for the resulting purchase of local Gloucester wild-caught scallops instead.  Chang’s recipe for scallops in kohlrabi puree using an entire stick of butter got transformed into this recipe using slightly less miso butter which adds a rich warmth to the fresh scallops.

Miso Butter Scallops

This recipe’s pretty simple.

What You Need:

A bunch of good quality, fresh, ideally diver caught scallops (less destructive to the ocean environment)

2 tbsp butter

2 tbsp white miso paste

A splash of vegetable or grapeseed oil – something neutral tasting

What You Do:

1. Combine the butter and miso and mix thoroughly to get miso butter.  You should probably make extra because you’re going to want to slather it on everything you can possibly think of. Like your face.

2. Heat a neutral oil in a frying pan and once the oil is hot, place the scallops in the pan and press down to ensure full contact with the pan.

3. After two minutes, the bottoms of the scallops should be lightly browning, at which point you pour the miso butter into the pan and let it melt. Tip the pan towards you to collect the melted butter in a spoon and then pour it over the scallops to baste.

4. Let the scallops cook until you have a nice browned bottom, at which point they still may have a hint of translucence but the scallops should be warmed through. I like scallops barely cooked, but you can also flip them and cook for a minute or two on the other side if you want. Overcooked scallops are like rubbery

5. Serve over roasted brussels sprouts – wack ‘em in the oven with olive oil, salt and pepper until they brown and crisp up.

Thanks Momofuku. I’ll see you soon, even if I have to fly around the world to do it.

One of the best things about being home at my parent’s house is the likelihood that any given moment – approximately 89.75% of the time – the Bean and I can walk into the kitchen and there will be delicious Chinese food cooking.  Yep. It’s pretty sweet.  There’s a lovely Chinese couple, Jenny and Don,  living there who help our Dad around the house and also cook tummy filling and seemingly effortless and homestyle Chinese food.

Quite often these dishes are aesthetically pleasing and easily replicable, like the black tea and spice glazed eggs above.

Other times, these dishes are neither easy to prepare nor particularly attractive…

Unless you have a thing for chicken heads.  Don’t let the head or feet scare you off though…soy sauce chicken is seriously delicious.

Another time I walked into the kitchen and encountered this disturbingly phallic item. Not quite as tasty,  but certainly an excellent source of gleefully immature amusement.

Who knew marinated and simmered pig’s tails could inspire so many Lorena Bobbitt jokes? But enough of this edible exotic titillation. Back to the black tea and spice eggs.  We’ll stick with the less intense preparations for now. Tea eggs are incredibly simple to make and beautifully glazed like old pottery.  I love the cracked glass spiderweb of tea and spice flavor threads patterned against the organic form of the smooth and shining egg white.

There are a few more complicated versions of this recipe out there, but this one is nice and easy.  We could claim it’s because we value simplicity and the beauty of uncomplicated recipes, but it’s really because Irene’s Chinese skills   skills were limited to comprehending the major components as explained by Jenny. Which is not to say that Mei’s are any better. In fact, if Mei’s level of Chinese language skill corresponded to this tea egg recipe, Irene’s abilities would be a ten-course Imperial Banquet. So here’s our best explanation, but don’t worry. It’s pretty hard to screw up.

The Simplest Chinese Tea-Glazed Eggs

What You Need:

A bunch of eggs

A few tablespoons of Chinese black tea leaves ideally, or a few black tea bags.

A few whole star anise flowers

About a 1/2 cup of soy sauce

What You Do:

1.  Boil the eggs in just enough water to cover the eggs for 2-3 minutes, just enough to set the eggs.

2. Remove the eggs from the water and run under cold water or place in a bowl of cold water to stop the cooking and cool them enough to not burn your hands off.

3. Use the back of a large spoon to crack the shell all over the eggs.

4.  Once the shells are cracked, place the eggs back in the water and add the rest of the ingredients and boil for about 3 hours. The longer you leave the eggs, the darker the glazed lines and the saltier the taste.

You can slice and put the eggs on top of noodles or salad, make into an interesting egg sandwich, or just eat straight.  We wouldn’t blame you.

]]> http://eatfamilystyles.com/2010/01/11/the-family-styles-holiday-eating-escapades-part-three-chinese-home-cooking-and-tea-glazed-eggs/feed/ 0 http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/15/kitchen-experiments-roasted-fennel-squash-and-asian-pear-soup/ http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/15/kitchen-experiments-roasted-fennel-squash-and-asian-pear-soup/#comments Sun, 15 Nov 2009 22:36:18 +0000 mei http://familystyles.wordpress.com/?p=2384 I’ve just spent the last few hours greedily devouring the food porn and travel tales in Anthony Bourdain’s round-the-world eating book, No Reservations. It makes me want to eat coconut water-basted roast pig in Indonesia, steamed shark’s head in Singapore, fois gras burger in Montreal and white clam pizza in Seattle (pictured above behind the soup). Hell, I’d even consider testicle terrine in Iceland, raw seal in Northern Canada, and ‘sand-, fur-, and crap-laden warthog’ in Namibia to be able to eat and travel like he does, although I could do without the nasty details of the hospital visit resulting from getting a little too friendly with the lower intestines of said warthog.

Since I can only vicariously live out my gluttonous international foodie fantasies through Bourdain’s book (at least for the evening) I consoled myself with soup. It’s become perfect soup weather in London, so I finally stopped longing for my lovely red immersion blender back in San Francisco and buckled down and bought another one. Can’t do soup without it!

With delicata squash and a big bulb of fennel in last week’s veg bag, I had the basics of a flavorful autumn soup based on an amazing roasted pumpkin soup recipe with cinnamon and chilis from the cookbook of the fabulous Moro Restaurant  on Exmouth Market (so far the best meal I’ve had in London…go eat there now). And then I remembered that I bought a bag of Asian pears on Brick Lane today and decided to include one for an additional sweetness and a texture that is  somehow on the positive side of slightly mealy and almost gritty.  I roasted half a pear with the squash at first but then decided more was needed and diced another half directly into the boiling soup. It’s probably easiest to just toss it all in at the end along with the potato that I added to thicken the soup. Then go to town with your immersion blender  – aka  your onomatopoeicallynamed zjzjzjzjzjjjzzher  – and your soup goes from ugly lumpiness to smooth and creamy like MAGIC.

Roasted Fennel, Squash, and Asian Pear Soup

What You Need:

1 large bulb of fennel – maybe the size of a softball

1 squash  – I had probably about 1 1/2 cups worth of delicata squash but butternut would probably be even more flavorful

about…3 cups chicken stock (no, I didn’t measure and I used a bouillon cube.  If only I could have homemade chicken stock on hand at all times. And of course, you can easily make this vegetarian by using veggie stock).

1 onion

1 potato

1 Asian pear

a pinch of cinnamon

a sprinkle of chili flakes

salt & pepper

What You Do:

1. Slice the squash in half, place into a roasting pan with a bit of olive oil.

2. While the squash begins to cook, trim the green bits and the base off the fennel bulb and cut into slices. Pull out the roasting pan and add the fennel and more olive oil if necessary (this is probably not the best way to do this, but I find it the most efficient. And that’s that).

3.  Start warming a bit of butter in a large pot while slicing an onion. Once the butter warms, sauté the onion on low heat until it becomes golden and translucent. Add the chicken stock to the pot.

4. If the kitchen gods are on your side, the fennel and squash will be ready – soft and delicious, maybe with some little roasty brown bits but not burnt – at exactly the same time. If not, you’ll have to futz around a bit with cooking times. Just do your thing and it will all work out. Add them to the soup.

5. Dice the potato and the pear into little chunks and dump into the pot.

6. Once everything is soft and cooked through, break out the hand blender and zzzzzjzjzjzjzjjjjjjj to your heart’s content.  I am way too entertained by this magical appliance.

7.  Add the cinnamon and chili and any other spices you like.  Spoon into your mouth and do your best to stop before your stomach explodes. I was only barely successful at this endeavor.

We made a version of this last week at Rambling Restaurant with toasted pinenuts, beet reduction, and yogurt sauce.  I bet it would also be good with toasted walnuts or a big hunk of crusty peasant bread or potato bread….in fact, this soup would be excellent with lots of things. Possibly even, dare I say it, roast warthog?

]]> http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/15/kitchen-experiments-roasted-fennel-squash-and-asian-pear-soup/feed/ 5 http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/10/insanely-indulgent-butter-fried-onion-soup-simmered-pasta-with-roasted-butternut-squash-and-ricotta/ http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/10/insanely-indulgent-butter-fried-onion-soup-simmered-pasta-with-roasted-butternut-squash-and-ricotta/#comments Tue, 10 Nov 2009 09:38:26 +0000 mei http://familystyles.wordpress.com/?p=2365

This may look appear to be normal pasta – if anything, a bit mushy and brown looking,  but otherwise nothing special. But no. This is some seriously, insanely, unnecessarily butteriffic pasta.

Butteriffic: (adj) infused with a completely superfluous amount of butter to the point of unsurpassed deliciousness and extreme caloric overload.

TV is generally full of all sorts of useless drivel, which is why I don’t own a television. However, sometimes TV teaches you important things. For example,  how to take a decadent and already relatively unhealthy dish such as macaroni & cheese and then infuse it with more deep, rich, buttery flavor to the point of…well, I was going to say heart attack, but I’m still standing.  So then, more accurately, to the point of AMAZING.  For this knowledge, I owe thanks to the final episode of MasterChef, which, based on my one viewing, appears to be  a British show of similar concept and nearly identical name to Top Chef.  In the ultimate challenge to determine a winner, the contestants had to recreate the dishes from a Michelin-starred chef for thirty other Michelin-starred chefs.  Yikes. I learned that Michelin-starred food is precise, complex, innovative, boundary-pushing, technological, demanding, beautifully presented, really ridiculously complicated, and most importantly – you guessed it, butteriffic.

The macaroni & cheese, elevated to Michelin-starred standards, involved dried pasta pan-roasted in butter,  simmered in veal stock, covered in stock glaze, cut into perfect circles, and stacked into a tower with layers of butternut squash and another over-the-top indulgence, duck confit.  Apparently the dish took four hours to make,  and that’s along with the 18 ducks that Steve, the ultimate winner, had to simultaneously roast.  Obviously I have neither the skill nor the time to recreate this dish, although maybe I should try because then I could eat it. But pan roasting in butter and simmering in stock? That I can do.

And now you can too, if you’re looking for that extra hefty dosage of calories. But hey – it’s also an extra hefty dose of seriously tasty comfort food, perfect for curling up in a comforter on the couch on a cold day.  This would also be an excellent dish if you were a bear looking to stock up on fat for hibernation. If you’re not a bear…well, you’ll just have to take my word for it that the buttery goodness is worth the fat.

Butter-Fried, Onion Soup-Simmered Pasta with Roasted Butternut Squash and Ricotta

What You Need:

about 1 cup dried pasta (shape-wise, something like rotini, ziti, or farfalle is probably easiest)

a huge hunk of butter

about 1 1/2-2 cups of stock – I happened to make beefy onion soup the day before (with enough white wine for a long lunch date of desperate housewives), which worked perfectly and added a nice layer of caramelized onion taste. however, you could use any kind of storebought stock for minimal work or homemade for more work but totally worth it. also, you could easily make this meat-free by using veggie stock.

1 cup roasted butternut squash (easy instructions below)

1/3 cup ricotta cheese – the fresher the better

Note: as usual, I didn’t actually measure any of these amounts, so take with a grain of salt. Feel free to add or subtract as seems appropriate. Also, this made food for two girls with the appetites of competitive eating champions. Possibly not recommended as a serving size.

What You Do:

1. If you haven’t made the squash yet, slice into thin pieces and place into a lightly olive oiled baking tray and whack into the oven on high until it’s browned and soft. I like to peel it first if possible, but you’ll need a decently sharp peeler to attack the squash. If you don’t have one, you can remove the skin post-roasting or just eat it.

2. Place the hunk of butter into a large saucepan on low heat. Let the butter warm a little until it starts foaming a bit, then pour the dried pasta into the saucepan. Yup, just dunk it in the butter.

3.  Let the pasta pan-fry in the butter, stirring occasionally for fair butter distribution, until the pasta gets a little toasty and browned.

4. Add the stock to the pan (whooosh of hot onionyness) and then let the pasta simmer in the soup  until al dente. It’ll start to get thicker and mushier, so use a spatula to stir every so often to prevent sticking.

5. Cut your roasted squash into yummy bite-size chunks.

6. Once cooked, place the pasta in a bowl and mix in the squash bites. Top with a sprinkling of ricotta cheese and a few twists of fresh black pepper.

7. Begin the  cholesterol-building, stomach-satisfying process of downing this insanely indulgent dish.

]]> http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/10/insanely-indulgent-butter-fried-onion-soup-simmered-pasta-with-roasted-butternut-squash-and-ricotta/feed/ 4 http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/01/roasted-lemon-and-vegetable-bulgur-wheat-pilaf/ http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/01/roasted-lemon-and-vegetable-bulgur-wheat-pilaf/#comments Sun, 01 Nov 2009 18:13:47 +0000 mei http://familystyles.wordpress.com/?p=2343

One of the exciting things about living in a new place are all the new and different ingredients  to sample, eat, delight in, purchase, cook with, and integrate into your kitchen repertoire.  Thanks to my dear friend Michelle and her excellent dish from the stunning Feast of Strangers, I’ve become acquainted with bulgur wheat, which tastes to me like a cross between couscous and brown rice.  The grains are slightly larger than the average couscous and a little rounder than rice grains and apparently have more fiber and vitamins, as well as a lower glycemic index than either of those two close cousins (at least for white rice). More importantly, they’re delicious as well as inexpensive and versatile.

I’ve taken to buying various cereals and grains in bulk for those exact reasons. Any given evening, I generally have enough fresh vegetables or canned items or refrigerated goodies to toss into a very simple bulgur pilaf or couscous. The following recipe can be adapted depending on whatever items you may have around but what makes the recipe a bit more special is Michelle’s roasted lemon trick. Tangy, zesty and slightly caramelized, the browned lemon rinds add a fantastic and unexpected kick of flavor.

The rest of the recipe is fairly nebulous, which, if you’ve read any of my other recipes,  you will most likely find unsurprising. But I think that’s the best part – it’s not particular or demanding or complicated or requiring of your full undivided attention. Essentially, you roast the vegetables that need roasting, sauté the vegetables which would taste better sautéed, slice up any delicious items you might have in the fridge like marinated olives or peppers, and boil the bulgur. Combine in dish, stir, and eat. Easy peasy. But don’t worry, I’ve also spelled out directions after the jump…

Bright orange peppers and uncooked bulgur!

Roasted Lemon and Vegetable Bulgur Wheat Pilaf

What You Need:

1/2 cup bulgur wheat

1 lemon

any vegetables you have around – I happen to have a massive bag of onions so I used three small onions. I also had some locally grown  peppers and mushrooms from my box scheme veg bag. Another night I included some roasted beets and carrots…just chuck in anything you think would taste good

fresh parsley is always good for pilaf – stick it in a jar of water and it will last much longer than in a bag

marinated green olives

garlic

spices – I used coriander, cumin, red pepper flakes, salt and pepper

olive oil

What You Do:

1. Chop the onions into small chunks and slice the lemon into thin rounds. This is a good time to pull the seeds out rather than find them in your mouth while eating. I also like to save the ends of the lemon, which you can then use at the end to add some lemon juice to the pilaf.

2.  Scatter the onion chunks and lemon circles into a roasting pan and pour on a good glug of olive oil. Sprinkle with a generous dusting of spices and salt and pepper, mix around for a bit, then whack it into the oven at 300 degrees or so. P.S. whack is my new favorite cooking term that I have picked up from co-Rambling Restauranteurs Michelle and Abi. Whacky whack whack.

3.  Cook the bulgur. I eyeballed it the way I cook rice – put it in a saucepan and cover with about a knuckle’s worth of extra water.  Start boiling and keep an eye on it to add water if necessary. Alternatively, if you were smarter/more organized than I, you could read the instructions and measure.

4.  Chop your other vegetables and sauté in a pan with a bit of olive oil and mashed garlic.  Slice up the olives.

5. When the bulgur is cooked through, stir and fluff it with a fork and let it sit a bit.

6. Once all the different parts are ready  – the roasted bits, the pan-fried nubbins, the fluffed cooked bulgur – stir it all together in a big bowl with some torn leaves of fresh parsley. Add salt and pepper as needed or any other spices. Squeeze in the lemon ends. This would also be an excellent time to toss in some crumbled feta or grilled halloumi.

7. Eat! Yummmmm.

]]> http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/11/01/roasted-lemon-and-vegetable-bulgur-wheat-pilaf/feed/ 2 http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/09/07/my-new-addiction-dangerously-quick-and-easy-scallion-pancakes/ http://eatfamilystyles.com/2009/09/07/my-new-addiction-dangerously-quick-and-easy-scallion-pancakes/#comments Tue, 08 Sep 2009 00:02:11 +0000 mei http://familystyles.wordpress.com/?p=2124

i am in the midst of a very dangerous scallion pancake obsession. if you’ve ever had these flaky fried disks dotted with slivers of green onions, you know that they have potential to become a serious addiction.  you pick up a piping hot triangle, shimmering lightly with a bare trace of sesame oil and threatening to pull apart into thin layers of nearly translucent dough.  you dip a corner into the smashed garlic soy vinegar sauce and bring it to your mouth, inhaling the scent of crispy seared scallions and the nutty warmth of the lingering sesame flavors.  and then you bite down, the doughy inner layers dissolving on your tongue as the crispy outer shards of the browned pancake crack into pieces like the icy surface of a frozen pond as springtime approaches.

oh…it tastes so good. and then you want to do it again. and again. and again.

and when you have perfected the quick and easy scallion pancake recipe to the point that it takes a mere stomach-rumbling twenty minutes to go from a bag of flour and a handful of scallions to the tastiest of pan-fried snacks…well, it’s dangerous business. because you will do it all the time. trust me, i know.

so i give you this scallion pancake recipe with a warning: with great power comes great responsibility.  after trying these pancakes, the mere sizzle of the pan or scent of freshly chopped scallions may cause you to relinquish control, churning out pancake after pancake and consuming every bite. cook at your own risk…

not only are these pancakes quick and easy, but they’re tons of fun to make.  i have vivid memories of helping to cook these as a child, standing on a chair to lean over our wide wooden kitchen table wiped clean and scattered with flour.  i loved watching the flour and water come together in a sticky dough, playing with the rolling pin to flatten huge circles, and shaping the dough into snakes and snails.  the worst part was waiting for the pancakes to cook – i was always impatient for both sides to brown and could barely let each pancake cool before trying to stuff them in my mouth. but as soon as i could pick them up…then came the best part. clearly these addictions can start at a very young age.

there are many variations of this recipe which use hot and/or cold water or this version by ming tsai which is essentially the same but lets the dough sit for half an hour. that doesn’t really work for me though, since i need my scallion pancakes fix fast. so i present to you the quickest and dirtiest version and i’ve included my favorite dipping sauce as well.

Quick, Easy, and Dangerously Addictive Scallion Pancakes

What You Need:

2 cups flour

1 cup boiling water

sesame oil

about 1/2 cup chopped scallions

What You Do:

1. mix the flour and boiling water in a bowl, using a wooden spoon to form a ball.

2. pinch off a quarter of the dough and place onto a sturdy and lightly floured surface. use a rolling pin (or in my kitchen-item-bereft and active-social-drinker case, an empty wine bottle) to roll the dough into a flat circle.

3. pour some sesame oil onto the pancake, smear it around into a thin layer and sprinkle the chopped scallions on top.

4. roll the pancake up into a long snake and then coil the snake up into a spiralled snail. see the photos above if you’re confused. this is the best part for kids (and kid-like adults).

5. sprinkle a bit more flour on your rolling surface and then roll the snail spiral out into a pancake again. this double rolling technique means yummy scallion bits sandwiched between lots of thin layers of dough. it’s okay if the snake splits and scallions come spilling out, it’s part of the appeal.

6. heat some sesame oil in a pan and cook the pancake until browned on both sides. cut into triangles, serve with dipping sauce, and eat eat eat.

7. repeat with the rest of the dough. i can never stop myself from eating multiple pancakes, but if you have the self-control of a zen master, you can also roll them out and then freeze them. make sure to freeze them individually and then stack them or freeze between sheets of plastic wrap or waxed paper to keep them from sticking together.

but a scallion pancake is really only as good as its dipping sauce..it’s partially a vehicle for a pungent and spicy dressing.  here’s the best one…buy the ingredients in an asian market just once and then you’ll have them in the cupboard for all future pancaking adventures.

Smashed Garlic Soy Vinegar Dipping Sauce

What You Need:

a clove of garlic

a large splash of soy sauce

an equally large splash of chinese vinegar

a sprinkling of red pepper flakes

a handful of chopped scallions

a dash of white pepper

squirt of chili sauce or chili oil if you like it spicy

a teeny sprinkle of sugar

What You Do:

1. place the garlic clove on a cutting board. place the blade of a cleaver or large chef’s knife on top of the garlic and hold the handle steady with one hand. make a fist with the other. bring fist down and SMASH the garlic like the ninja you are.

2. combine everything else into a small bowl. if you don’t have any of the ingredients just leave them out or substitute with something else that you think might taste good. yum. try not to drink directly.

one of my favorite parts of the week is picking up my growing communities veg bag from hackney city farm. every time, i still feel really lucky to live in a place where i have access to locally grown and organic produce from an incredible organization and i can pick it up less than a block away.  i also still feel a little weird using the phrase veg bag – it sounds like an insult (you dirty veg bag!) – but hey, when in rome…

this week, i’ve got:

potatoes, onions, and zucchini from ripple farm organics in kent

carrots from hughes organics in norfolk

cherry tomatoes and eggplant from wild country organics in cambridge

and finally, a salad bag locally grown in my very own borough of hackney. amazing!

this week’s salad bag had numerous unidentifiable bits of greenery including baby lettuce, basil, what looked like yellow chard, and a bizarre mottled green lilypad-esque leaf with a peppery bite. hilariously enough, i tweeted about it, and a farmer from georgia randomly told me that it was probably nasturtium leaves. after a quick google search, i think they’re right.  man, these interwebs.

following on my veggie burger and carrot potato explorations, i’m doing more fun kitchen experiments figuring out how to use all the random vegetables that come my way.  it’s the veg bag game! can’t beat anything that combines games and food: two of my favorite things on the planet besides panda babies.

growing communities is nice enough to include a recipe in the bags each week, which i’ve found to be a great starting point for figuring out what to make. it’s amazing how many dishes can be made based on what can often be found in the kitchen – today i debated a pasta primavera and a stir-fried eggplant with brown rice – but decided to riff off the courgette and cheese soup recipe from the bag.  the fun part of the game is playing with ingredients depending on what i’ve got lying around and seeing what deliciousness results. i didn’t have any cheese, but i did have cherry tomatoes and some verging-on-stale whole wheat bread so i tossed them both in for a ribollita-esque soup.  more than enough for a filling and hearty soup, but still light without any cream or cheese. mmmmmmm. soooooouup i love youuuuuuu.

Roasted Tomato Zucchini Bread Soup

What You Need:

1 small onion

2 cloves garlic

olive oil

1 cup cherry tomatoes

1  potato

1 bigass zucchini  – seriously, this thing was the size of my forearm. gimonstrous.

a few cups of vegetable or chicken broth or stock – i used a chicken bouillon cube which isn’t ideal but is suuuper easy. (i found the ones with the least freaky ingredients and no artificial preservatives).

2-3 slices of bread

any kind of fresh herbs  – i have rosemary, oregano, basil, thyme, and sage growing in pots in the 2 square meters of space behind our flat and it’s the best thing i ever did. despite being a very forgetful waterer, mother nature has my back what with the lovely london weather and all.

salt & pepper

What You Do:

1. chop the garlic and onion and saute in a generous splash of olive oil in a big pot.

2. stick your cherry tomatoes in the oven with more olive oil and bake until they collapse into themselves.

3. chop the potatoes, add to the pot and saute for a few minutes, stirring every so often so they don’t stick.

4. repeat with the zucchini.

5. once the vegetables have softened a bit, pour enough broth or stock to cover them and let the soup simmer for about 15 minutes or so.

6. while the soup simmers, check on the tomatoes. when they’re done, drop them into the soup and stick the bread into the oven (or the toaster if you happen to have one of those newfangled thingamabobs). toast until brown and crunchy and them crumble into the soup.

7. toss in the herbs, chopped fine, and add salt & pepper. if you ant to get all crazy, you can also stir in cheese. according to growing communities, feta, blue cheese and cream cheese all work well.

8. spoon into mouth. yeeeah. soup is good.

the simple lemon rosemary cookie above was born out of pure laziness. thought process: what else is in the house besides the basic cookie ingredients?

1. potatoes.  meh…can do better.

2. pasta. not useful.

2. lemons! good.

3. ham. baaaad.

4. a plastic tray of plants masquerading as a ‘garden’ with oregano, basil, sage, rosemary and thyme. yes, perhaps we can do something with this.

the result? lemon rosemary cookies, most delicious in sandwich form with homemade vanilla ice cream from foodrambler.

Lemon Rosemary Cookies

What You Need:

2 cups flour

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 + 1/2 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup unsalted butter

1 egg

1 tbsp lemon juice

1/2 tsp lemon zest

1 small sprig rosemary

What You Do:

1. mix all the dry ingredients (flour, baking soda, salt) in a big mixing bowl. oh yeah, and preheat the oven. standard 350º  should work.

2. chop the rosemary into tiny bits and mix in.

3. mix the butter and sugar together and add to the dry ingredients. i believe this is the ‘accepted way’ to combine ingredients, although i’m quite honestly not sure why. sometimes i just put all the ingredients in a bowl in no particular order and it turns out pretty tasty. do as you like.

4.  add the lemon juice and zest. the measurements are pretty inexact (shocker), i basically used the juice and zest of half a small lemon. no need to bother with those little spoons that are so annoying to clean unless it’ll make you feel better.

5. mix it all up into a tasty dough. after all, if the dough tastes good, the cookies will be good. just don’t eat it all before baking. i may have been known to do that…

6. pinch off some tiny balls (that’s kind of a dirty sentence), place on a greased baking sheet, and flatten slightly. bake for 8-10 minutes, keeping an eye out so they don’t overcook.

7. once out of the oven and cooled down, either stuff with ice cream for ice cream sandwiches or just stuff your face.

my apologies if you prefer your recipes very precise and detailed. but i don’t bake that way, so i figure it makes no sense to have recipes like that. there is certainly a science to many baking processes that i don’t understand at all and i’m sure are quite useful and important. after all, cook’s illustrated has built an empire (in my hometown of brookline, mass!) out of the fine-tuning and perfecting of recipes and people pay dearly for them. that’s all well and good for certain dishes i think, but is often very creatively stifling and restrictive. the rampant non-following of recipes always seems to turn out okay for me. so all i’m saying (and feel free not to listen) is that you shouldn’t stress about following directions too carefully. baking should be fun. and most importantly, so should eating what you’ve baked. woohoo!