Food Notes from My Sick Bed

Activity in my kitchen came to a screeching halt last week when I managed to contract not only strep throat, but the flu as well. Before I got sick I had all sorts of different post ideas in mind, which I no longer have time to develop in full. In the interest of purging my head of these buzzy bees, I thought I would do my own little weekly blog roundup, made up entirely of my mental cranberry stew of half baked reviews, recipes and Theraflu induced-reveries.

Art and Soul. As I mentioned, my parents were in town a few weeks ago. The first stop on my parents foodcation in D.C. was Art and Soul. For me, the meal began and ended with the lamb loin hoecake. Everything was delicious, but this little plate was so packed with flavors, from the tender lamb to the sweet pickled onions and cucumbers and light dressing. It was like a heavenly gyro. When the food gods want a gyro, they call out for one of these hoecakes.

Founding Farmers. Apparently, I am the last person in the D.C. area to know that this restaurant is awesome. I ordered the mixed grill (fried chicken, bratwurst, pork ribs and cole slaw), so I could sample as many meat dishes as possible as well as a side of mac 'n' cheese. Extravagant, I know, but as my favorite foods go, mac 'n' cheese is right up there with bread pudding. And I had heard things about this mac 'n' cheese. This mac 'n' cheese is the best mistake you'll ever make. Holy Mackerel! I wanted to bury my face in the stuff. Whew. Also, the pot roast was singular is its unique depth and subtle sweetness which we couldn't quite place (anise? allspice?).  All of our portions were big, so come hungry.

Finally, I continued my love affair with Fall. I had hoped to whip up some true Oktoberfest fare, with beers, brats and sauerkraut. Yum! Sadly, all I could muster was was a Pumpkin Bread Pudding and some pumpkin beer. I substituted dried cranberries for the raisins, but I didn't even get around to making the caramel sauce. The morning after I baked the pudding, I was hit and hit hard by the flu. I only tried one piece before my convalescence. Unfortunately, I can't really remember much beyond that other than it was pumpkiny. After that, I was on a strict diet of oatmeal, oatmeal and bread for days.

Coming up: I try my hand at a couple Eastern Mediterranean-inspired meals from my new cookbook: Spice: Flavors of the Eastern Mediterranean.

Vacation Edition: Cape Cod

Whew, I have just spent two amazing weeks eating myself silly, first down the Cape, then on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The first stop on my cuisine tour of the East Coast was the Blue Moon Bistro . Growing up, this location was a superb breakfast place called the Snow Goose. The place was a staple of my young summer diet. Since the Snow Goose departed, the location has been several different things, but I sincerely hope that the Blue Moon Bistro is here to stay. I started with a cup of the Gazpacho, which was thicker than I make, but with a very satisfying hint of spiciness. For my main course I tried the Butternut Squash Ravioli, which was heavy (obviously), but I was delighted that the accompanying cream sauce was light and flavorful, balancing well with the sweetness of the caramelized onions and the packed-to-capacity ravioli. This entree is offered in a smaller version, which looking back, I should have ordered, but only because there was bread pudding on the dessert menu, which NEEDED (we have discussed this) to be tasted.

My parents both had a swordfish special, which I am sure was fresh and delish, but since my seafood intake is strictly limited to raw bars, sushi and most crustaceans, I didn't save room to try a bite. My only reservation was that the bread pudding could have been zippier, as it has a grandma's-homemade-from-what-was-in-the-pantry feel. Personally, I feel that bread pudding is such a staple, the excitement of eating it comes from combining interesting ingredients (banana, caramel, liquor, croissants) while maintaining the comfort-food appeal. All in all, a basic raisin bread pudding still hits the mark.

If you love the Cape, as I do, and are looking for something a little more interesting that the basic family-friendly-(read: fish stick)-fare, I highly recommend the Blue Moon Bistro (even though I will always miss my precious Snow Goose.

The Red Pheasant

My other notable stop was The Red Pheasant Inn, dining at which I regard as a personal, foodie victory for two reasons. One, I ordered the duck, which I have never had before. Two, the Red Pheasant has always been the parents'-night-out dinner spot, for which the kids (my brother and me) were left with a stack of VHS and a take-away pizza, while my parents wined and dined down the street. Not that I blame them. I wouldn't want to spend nearly $30 on an entree my child would merely poke at before becoming too anxious to sit still and go running under the feet of the wait-staff. Therefore, I find is doubly rewarding that my literal and figurative entrance into the adult dining world of my childhood should be greeted with a dish of which I have never partaken.

The duck(ling). There was some debate on the onset, between my father and me, as to whether or not the mouthwateringly melty layer of fat on the top of the duck should be eaten. Having never eaten duck before, I was somehow convinced that eating the fat, with the meat, was a crucial part of the duck-eating experience. Despite the fact that my father didn't agree, I followed my instincts and was back-of-the-knee-tinglingly rewarded. I was fortified by a passage I read in Bill Buford's "Heat," in which Mario Batali feeds very thin slices of pork fat to Bulford's dinner guests, while telling Bulford that at his restaurant it is served as "prosciutto bianco" so as not to upset the lardo-phobes. I usually fear an excess of fat, as it is often accompanied by grizzle (yuck!), but eating this dish whole was possibly a life altering event. I promise never again to fear the presence of fat on my plate. Cross my heart.

More to come (with pictures!): Vacation Edition: Outer Banks.

Dessert Before Breakfast?

Saturday, I rolled out of bed around seven, which was impressive since I usually can't muster that much forward momentum until closer to eight on weekdays. Somehow I managed to get showered, dressed and down to my farmers' market around eight. Sadly, my favorite growers had not arrived or were still setting up, so I made my way down to Jasper sans delicious apple and freshly baked bread.

L'Academie de Cuisine is in Bethesda, so I had a beautiful drive up through the Palisades neighborhood. Man, those houses are gorgeous. I bet their kitchens are huge and sun-filled.

From the outside L'Acadmie looks like a corner bistro with a yellow-trimmed, many-paned bay window. Since I attended the demonstration class, we were set up in a room on the first floor, which was decorated in what I think of as a French countryside palette of soft blues, yellows, and greens, not unlike my mother's kitchen. (Sadly, like myself, my mother has felt the frustration of being constrained by the limited confines of a tiny kitchen). The three-hour class breezed by while our instructor Chef Nichole Ferrigno taught us how to candy oranges, make a flawless caramel sauce and peppered us with helpful hints about baking and entertaining. Most of the prep work and measuring had been done ahead of time by the lovely three assistants, who would have looked more at home at a church bake sale rather than in a teaching kitchen. Frankly, their feathery, white-gray hair and plump grandmotherly appearances were at odds with everything I associate with grandmothers and cooking. Instead of being culinary and cultural experts, waiting to impart generations or knowhow and can-do in the kitchen, these ladies seemed a little uneasy finishing up for our chef as she demonstrated the first few servings of any one dish. I realize my preconceived notions may be unfair and a tall order to make of all grandmothers, but it is what it is. (My grandmothers both hated to cook. Go figure).

The menu was: Mini Cheesecakes with Raspberry Sauce, Apple Spice Cakes with Maple Glaze and Candied Walnuts, Chocolate Brioche Pudding with Warm Orange Marmalade, and Warm Banana-Chocolate Wontons with Caramel Sauce.

The spice cake, I must say, was far superior to my recipe, which is a) not really mine, and b) a total disaster. I'm looking forward to making it on my own.

The cheesecake truffles weren't really doing it for me. Plain cheesecake really has to be something special to get my interested. I must prefer flavored cheesecakes, like key lime, ginger or chocolate. However, I did go to the famous Junior's once in high school. I don't know whether it was having cheesecake with my bacon and eggs that did it, but I seem to remember that experience being pretty kick-ass.

The Brioche pudding - oh my - was so delicious. I have never met a bread pudding I didn't like. It was a little denser than what I usually make, but I invariably substitute croissants for whatever bread is listed in recipes I try. And I have never made a chocolate one before.

The real winner of the day was the Banana-Chocolate Wontons, which were deep fried, covered in a cinnamon-sugar mix, dipped in caramel sauce and embarrassingly elicited a mumbled, but audible, sigh of deliciousness from me. I didn't realize that you could purchase wonton wrappers in packages that look not unlike Kraft Singles cheese slices. This recipe couldn't be easier. Slice up some bananas, bust up some chocolate, stuff it into a little crab-rangoon-looking purse and deep fry for a couple of minutes. (Fry Fest III menu addition?) I think I actually felt the back of my knees tingle on these ones, folks. Whew.

All in all, it was a great class. I'm sure I will benefit from all the little tips and hints the chef added along the way. I think I'll try a few more demonstrations before I go all-in and commit myself to an evening of potential kitchen catastrophe in front of a room full of strangers.

Manchego, Krispy Kreme and New Orleans

I've been playing with the idea of starting a food blog, since - let's be honest here - until baseball starts, food is the only recreational activity that truly interests me. Plus, I try new restaurants, recipes and techniques all the time, so I'll be detailing all of my successes and failures.

But first, a review of my weekend exploits. Ah, New Orleans, what a fabulous gastronomical experience you are. I had a grand time. I worry that I am becoming an old lady, because Becca and I barely "went out." We ATE OUT quite a bit, but we didn't do the whole drinking-until-dawn routine of our youth. Honestly, I think both of us were ok with that. We had some very good heart-to-hearts. Despite the fact that both of us still have no idea what to do about our differing little dramas, we ended our trip feeling satisfied in our heads, hearts and tummies.

Friday night we went to a place called Mimi's in the Marigny. Mimi's is right by Becca's apartment and was recently voted best bar by the Gambit Weekly, although my friend Andy says he's not quite sold. We chose a sampling from the Hot Tapas Menu , the pinnacle of which was the Mushroom Manchego Toast. This little square of cheesy goodness was piled high with shaved mushrooms, a soft, melty layer of salty manchego and just-solid-enough piece of toast. Manchego was one of our cheeses of choice in high school, so it was fitting that it still has the power to bring Becca and me together.

The next day we went to the home of the famous Purple Truck, Boucherie. The small plates, alone, are well worth a return visit. I have to admit, that Boucherie may have been my favorite meal of the weekend. We went in for lunch and enjoyed a couple bottles of Abita Amber, which was surprisingly good, considering I have only ever had their very sweet Purple Haze. We started off with the Collard Greens and Grit Fries as well as a plate of the French Fries with Garlic Butter & Parmesan Reggiano. So good. I have to say I preferred Becca's BBQ Shrimp Po'boy to my Pulled Pork Cake, which was a little ridiculously constructed as a leaning-tower-of-pork. But the real gem at this place (which I will be attempting soon) was a Krispy Kreme bread pudding. It doesn't take much to get me excited about a bread pudding, but the super sweet hint of donut glaze in every other bite was transporting. There is something about glazed donuts that makes me feel so carefree.

While I had intended to try the fried alligator appetizer at Cochon, Becca insisted that I try the Fried Rabbit Livers. I don't think I've ever had liver, regardless of who it belongs to, but this was very good. It had a funny consistency that felt kind of like goat cheese, which weirded me out when I realized it wasn't. But I powered through and enjoyed myself thoroughly.

In other food related news, I found what is rumored to be a very fun cooking school that offers recreational classes. They do demonstration and participation classes for pretty much everything under the sun. I am going to a demonstration class (read: cheaper) this weekend on "dessert tapas" where we'll be trying bite-size delectables. I am very excited. One of my co-workers says he has bought their classes as gifts for his wife and that they are: "fun, social and involve food, " which pretty much meets my essential requirements for any kind of event. Apparently, I am going to an authentic Scottish bar this weekend as well. Mini raspberry cheesecakes to lamb haggis. Stay tuned.