Cooking With Ideas

50 Great Appetizers

The mail again brought along a new book: 50 great appetizers by Pamela Sheldon Johns. It is a small little book, a mere 110 pages including the index. Not fancy. Dips. Bites. Wraps. Skewers. Menus at the front in case you want to do thematic sorts of hors d'oeuvre nights -- Mexican, Italian, Vegetarian, Pacific rim, Mediterranean, whatever. I don't have much to say about the book really except I intend to make lemon chicken escabeche one of these days. And, I did make one dish from the book, just because I was feeling a bit obstreperous. Here we are, all saying "SEASONAL FOOD IS BETTER" in our loudest, trendiest, most politically righteous, environmentally and economically  responsible tones of voice and along comes a dish called "four-seasons frittata." 

No, the four seasons in the label does not reference a famous eatery. At the top the author says: "the four seasons are represented by the vegetables in this dish."  No further details are offered. So they are? Asparagus (spring?).  And, well, more than 3 more: onions, potatoes, red bell pepper, mushrooms. (Maybe the onion does not count. Certainly, they were not counting the parley?). 

Anyway, I made the frittata -- well, 2/3 of it since I had 6 rather than 8 eggs. I did indeed slice my potato into 1/4 inch slices and blanch. I did indeed blanch some asparagus in 3 inch lengths. I almost never do this before making a frittata -- and in this case it did help the potatoes and asparagus a lot. So, I learned a lot. And, I did fry up very well diced onion with thinly sliced mushrooms which for some reason tasted better than ever. Finally, I did put all this on top of my 6 egg fritatta and then thoroughly cover all that with grated parmesan. The result: tasty but it did tend to fall apart. There was a sort of oddly sweet tone to it all -- as it carried the parmesan to my lips. 

Most importantly: I discovered that thinly slice, blanched potatoes with parmesan cheese liberally sprinkled on top of them, when broiled, make an absolutely incredible snack. Less importantly, but well, swell, (what can be more important than discovering a new form of degenerate snacking?), I learned that Pamela Sheldon Johns runs foodie events, including cooking workshops in Tuscany. Not that I will ever get there, but there is always fantasy. Click here to take an imaginary trip right after you eat a real frittata.   

Magazine Land: Canandaigua

Now and then I discover a new magazine. Usually, this occurs in magazine land -- aka above the 49th parallel -- aka Canada, as I have noted here before. This time, it was not so much a new magazine as a new issue of a magazine. And I discovered it in the Canandagiua Wegmans a while ago. It's title? Canandaigua Magazine. Its subtitle? From Victor to Naples and everywhere in between. It's a relatively new magazine, and its fall 2008 issue is labeled, in huge-ish typeface, "The Food and Wine Issue. (Their web site is a bit out of date and only seems to have the Summer Issue listed. Alas.) 

Anyway, the Fall 2008 issue has articles such as "It's the Milkman!" by Melissa Pheterson which focuses on Charles Corby Jr., of the Pittsford Dairy. a piece by Alexandria Leto on preserving fresh vegetables (my favorite idea -- well, any of them, though I am not really venturing into the kitchen right now), and a review of some vineyard restaurants (no surprises there). All in all worth a gander -- a bit higher end production than some local foodie magazines, and a few intriguing advertisements. And magazines are always the perfect read when low on concentration. Which I am. 

So: you too might want to pick up this addition to local magazine fare -- even if you can't make it to the real magazine land right now. And dream of next summer, this fall, all the wonders of finger Lakes food. 

A Lull in the Foodie Action

A lull in the foodie action always means: yes, it is food holiday time. What is September 15 about: National Linguini Day (thanks again to this very spot here) and for some recipes for linguini, try here. (or the back of the package if you do not make it fresh.) 

It is also half way through National Papaya Month and a separately denoted National Honey Month. (Don't believe me? Click here. And scroll down.) And half way through these months as well: All American Breakfast Month, Better Breakfast Month, National Biscuit Month. National Chicken Month, National Mushroom Month, National Organic Harvest Month, National Potato Month, National National rice Month, Oyster Season and Wine Season. (Click here is you dare -- where you will also find out that September 15 is National Creme de Menthe Day. No, do not try to make Creme de Menthe Linguini. The idea is frightening even if it is not a Full Moon. ) 

And 14 days before Poisoned Blackberries Day. That's September 29. I don't even believe me. But it says so here. 

Maybe we should all throw caution to the wind, join a union, and start lobbying for food holidays off.

Secrets of the Red Lantern

Secrets of the Red Lantern is subtitled Stories and Vietnamese Recipes from the Heart and my reading of the memoir/essay portions of the book reveals just that: this is a book not only from the heart but with heart. It tells the tale of war refugees, of hope and desperation and success, alongside tales of that same trauma shaping parents who make life difficult for their children growing up as immigrants. In this case, the war is an American one, and the refugees arrive in Australia. They are, in some ways, quite lucky -- a more or less intact family that survives the war, escape from Vietnam via a self-constructed boat, and the creation of new lives in a new country. The memoir offers reminders of the globally awful response to the end of the Vietnam War and the ways that tracing of the movement of food can be, simultaneously, tracing of the pathways of tragedy, of hope, of politics. Written by Pauline Nguyen with recipes by Luke Nyguyen (her brother) and Mark Jensen (her partner), this beautiful book offers poignant glimpses of family life and global politics through the eyes of an individual's life and family. The pictures range from recent ones taken in Australia (and on a return trip to Vietnam)  to the photographs takes in the 1950s in Vietnam, of the author, her siblings, her parents. The book's design brings together food photography of high quality with family photographs as well.  And, here and there are reproductions of letters and official government documents. The settings range from their current restaurant to refugee camps and Vietnam prior to the end of the war. 

Like the pictures, the words bridge genres. The stories, too,  range across time and space -- from boats built for escape and navigated across nearly unknown seas to refugee camps to Surry Hills. And the tone of the memoir (or are they more stories?)  fluctuates -- from peculiarly personal feeling to the point of seeming to be way too much or overblown or weirdly intrusive for the reader  to very distant (and this despite the matters described which sometimes seem quite intimate and often horrifying), from evocative of strong emotions to flatter depictions of (equally emotionally laden) events and personal entanglements. Along with the essays which form the backbone of the story aspect of the book, the recipes themselves (and there are many and they are beautifully tempting in both word and picture) are often preceded by italicized sentences -- in large lovely font -- from Pauline, Luke or Mark setting the recipe itself in some sort of context. "I first ate this type of seafood in this context," for example ,or "this type of ingredient is best used in this way." Each offers an additional glimpse of the link of food and family, life and culture. Here are a few of my favorites, first, focused on ingredients. You'll have to get the book to read the little tales from Luke and Mark which render a bit more literal the analogy between the making of the book -- and of family  -- as a collective endeavor:

From Luke Nyugen (on page 242): Bamboo shoots are canes harvested to eat before they are two weeks old. And, on page 214: "I am the only member of my family who is not in love with sau tieng (durian). I totally  understand why airlines and hotels forbid this "king of fruits -- its strong aroma really packs a punch.  . . " 

There is, indeed, a bit of a collage tone to it all both literally in the many juxtapositions of pictures and of ingredients organized beautifully into recipes as well as less literally in the jumbly mumbly feeling that emerged when I read the memoir/stories from start to finish. I like the book. And I look forward to cooking from it. The recipes are quite evidently meant to be followed; and they are tempting. There is a vegetarian version of dipping sauce (sans fish sauce), not to mention lemon cured scallops and numerous sorts of rice paper wrapped rolls. Also, there are clear directions in the beginning of he book on how to translate from Australian measurements to US (I had no idea the "tablespoons used there are slightly larger than American tablespoons." Did you?); and there is a lovely and functional set of substitutions, glossary and additonal resources (including links to, e.g., www.vietworldkitchen.com 

Let's cook! Or, let's wander the web! 

On the connection of restaurants and war/revolution, click here.

For reviews of the Red Lantern restaurant in Surry Hills, -- yes, that;s Australia --  click here or here.   

Or, try here for their official site. 

Coming Soon to This Very Blog

While I have been doing a it of cooking (peach chutney with help, tomato sauce, cucumber kimchee) and storing away the season for the rest of the year, I have not been very food or blog oriented. I cannot seem to get the font thing sorted out in entries since typepad changed things, for example. Anyway, despite all this winge-ing (is that how that is spelled?) here are a few things to look forward to in the next little while here at Cooking with Ideas:   

A review of a cookbook entitled Secrets of the Red Lantern by Pauline Nguyen. The subtitle is "Stories and Vietnamese Recipes from the Heart" and Red Lantern in the title refers to a Vietnamese restaurant in Australia. I have read the memoir bits --and will be reflecting on them. Suffice it to say that the memoir brings together family secrets, migration caused by war, and the place of food in creating and sustaining both family connection and distance. The pictures are also swell as is the actual book itself. This one gets best exterior I have seen in ages! Better yet, the recipes may send me back to the kitchen finally. (Here's someone else's review just to tempt you! Or, if you are a traveler or a reader from Australia, or even the Surry Hills NSW, here's a bit on the restaurant itself.) 

Interviews for this blog are wonderful when they happen, but for everyone who says "yes, I will do an interview" relatively few ever actually get them to me! That's what I get for asking busy people to answer so many questions.  So, we are waiting for a whole raft of outstanding interviews (hint hint if you are reading this and you owe one!) Alice Peck, editor of Bread, Body Spirit, reviewed here, has agreed to do one, so keep an eye out for that! (Any hold up is my fault this time!) And yes, there will be more! 

What else? Possibly a contest to win a subscription to La Cucina Italiana -- and maybe a review of a new liquor made from (??!?!?!) acai which claims to be the new and healthier vodka. The liquor's name: Veev. For a teaser, click here. 

How Do You Spell Seviche or Ceviche or. . .

So, once in a while you are invited to a dinner --and you go even when you are feeling low. And, because you are supposed to know how to cook, and the evening is for foodies, you feel like you are supposed to bring something spiffy not just the Kaliber, nonalcoholic beer made by Guinness, that you are sticking with these days. (By the way, I think I am allergic to the stuff. Every time I drink it, I get a headache the next day, and I know it is not a hangover.) So, in this case, the dinner. I went to one of my favorite cookbooks., James Peterson's Fish and Shellfish. Yep, I looked for something spiffy and special but not too taxing. I'm not sure I like seviche -- or ceviche -- or. . . (Click here for various spellings and meanings.) But it meets both criteria (I think): spiffy and special. So, here's what I did, rooted in large measure, but not entirely, in Peterson's cookbook, page 91 or so. 

I bought a pound of dry wild sea scallops, 4 limes, 3 jalapenos, and a bunch of organic cilantro. I sliced the scallops into thinner bits (yep, Peterson is right -- if they are too slippy or hard to cut, a few moments in the freezer will stiffen them up for slicing; I did not need to do this but tried it anyway), and let them macerate in the lime juice with cilantro and jalapeno. After 20 minutes, I served what was no longer raw scallops but seviche (or ceviche or. . . )  in martini glasses. 

And here's where I really really diverged, besides using more scallops and different amounts of everything: organic pea shoots. I bought them. I did not use them. Usually, they look great. They make swell garnish. Usually they taste great. But, when I arrived at the moment of truth -- aka garnishing-- somehow these particular pea shoots let me down. They looked an odd flourescent green. So, I abandoned them in my friend's refrigerator. 

I am still not sure if I like seviche, ceviche. . . raw scallops. Ok, it actually tasted darn good -- maybe it is just the idea that puts me off. I definitely still like Peterson's cookbook. The dinner was fine. And the beer tasty. And the next day -- headache.