Agua Fresca

I've never been a fan of agua fresca; usually it's too watery and sweet for my taste.  However,  Bon Appetit had a few recipes this summer for agua fresca that looked good.  Check them out here. 

The spicy cucumber recipe is good and the watermelon-ginger recipe is terrific.  I modified them both, of course, cutting the sugar in the spicy cucumber recipe to a fraction, and omitting it altogether from the watermelon recipe.   I don't like the taste of sugar, and without it the other flavors came through beautifully to make a fresh and spicy drink. 

I made the watermelon-ginger recipe the first time for ladies' night on my deck with the thought of offering a non-alcoholic alternative to the champagne and wine we were drinking.  Let's just say it wasn't needed, despite being the perfect summer drink.  We had a lot of agua fresca left over so I decided to try it as a granita. I put it in the ice cream machine (which I had to dig out of the appliance graveyard.  Haven't used it in years.)  I'm not sure why the granita wasn't as flavorful as the agua fresca, but it wasn't as flavorful so we thawed it out and happily drank it as a cooler.

I like to experiment with new recipes.  Aaron often works with my ideas, refining them into new forms.  Yesterday I came home to find a pitcher of Sheralyn melon-ginger agua fresca in the refrigerator, made with lime and ginger like the watermelon recipe.  It was delicious, though a bit thick and slushy.  The Sheralyn melon isn't as sweet as a watermelon so couldn't take the water to thin it down.  To keep the flavor Aaron had to omit the water.  We sipped a bit and talked about recipe refinements.   Before telling how the agua fresca  ended up, I'll just say that we rarely drink cocktails (maybe once per year).  It's not a habit we need, what with the wine habit we already have.  That said, I had an bottle of white rum tucked in the back of the cupboard, mint growing in the herb garden, and a notion in mind.  I muddled mint into a bit of rum, and then mixed it with the melon-ginger agua fresca.  Oh yeah.

My advice: check out the Bon Appetit recipes, throw in a bit of mint and rum, and enjoy Sunday afternoon.

Perfecting Corn Tart

It's been an unusually cold summer here, so we've only had fresh corn in the past few weeks.  Its late arrival makes it all the more welcome on the dinner table.  One of my favorite ways to eat corn is in a tart, and I just hit on the way to make the flavor sing.  It's so simple I'm sorry it took so long for me to figure it out.  When trimming the corn kernels from the cob, rather than slicing near the cob, I sliced near the tops of kernels. This trimmed about half of the kernel, and then I scraped the remainder with the back of the knife to extract the corn juice.  This resulted in a thick corn goop, rather than a tidy bowl of kernels.

When I leave the kernels whole, there is a nice crunch to the tart, but the surrounding egg custard doesn't taste like corn.  It's still tasty, but the corn flavor is subtle. By using the half-kernels and juice, the corn flavor infused the entire tart, and there was still a satisfying crunch from the kernel tops.  Yum.

Tarts are forgiving, so there is no one right set of ingredients.  Anything that goes with corn is a likely addition, so you could use chiles, bits of bacon or chicken (if you're so inclined), spinach, or whatever you like.  For me, the absolute perfect combination is onion, red pepper, and basil, with a tomato salad served on the side.

My recipe for corn tart

Recipe: Corn Tart

Recipe: Corn Tart

Cornmeal crust:

1 c. flour
1/2 c. fine cornmeal
1/2 t. salt
2 t. baking powder
1/2 c. water
2 T olive oil

Mix the dry ingredients, then stir in the wet ingredients.  Knead on a floured surface for about 5 minutes until the dough gets stretchy.  Roll and stretch into a tart pan, and blind bake at 350 for 10 minutes. 

Note: this dough wants to shrink back in, so when you blind bake, either weight it down or put a second tart pan inside the first so it doesn't shrink.

Note: this makes a great pizza crust, too.  Just roll it thin, top it, and bake.


Filling:

3 ears corn. Trim off the top half of the kernels with a knife, then use the back of the knife to scrape the remainder. 
1/2 onion, fine dice
1 small, or half large, red bell pepper, fine dice
3 eggs
1/2 c milk
1 c. grated parmesan cheese
1/4 c. fresh basil, rolled and thinly sliced to make a chiffonade
1/4 t. salt
good grind of pepper

While the crust is baking, saute the onions over a low heat to soften.  Add the peppers and saute for another two minutes to soften.  Remove from the heat.

In a bowl, mix all the other ingredients, then quickly stir in the vegetables.  Pour into the baked tart shell.  Bake at 350 for 30 minutes, or until the tart sets.

Summer vegetables

I've been quiet on the blog for a while, not because we haven't been cooking and eating, but because of travels and work commitments.  It's been a busy few months.

Summer fruits and vegetables are in the farmers' market.  We ate grilled vegetables accompanied by yogurt and salad greens every day while in Turkey earlier this summer.  Since we've been home we've done much the same, grilling batches of vegetables for dinner, and eating them cold for a few days after. Eggplant is a staple. It was part of every meal in Turkey, and we've been eating the small Italian and Japanese varieties (the first to market) since being home.  We just toss it on the grill in slices, then dress with a bit of olive oil and salt after it's cooked.  Grilled summer squashes, carrots, tomatoes and mushrooms are a staple in the house right now as well. 

We also keep batches of marinated and grilled tofu.  Our staple marinade is made with soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, a touch of oil, and Sriracha.  We also do a variation with soy sauce, lime, vinegar, green chile paste and brown sugar.   Both make a nice dipping sauce as well.

I've also been cooking batches of fresh tomato sauce, made with tomatoes onions and garlic, and seasoned with olive oil, salt, red chile flakes and basil.  It's great warm over the vegetables, and also cold the next day with eggs or a cold vegetable plate.

Trout Carbonara

Trout Carbonara

2 cups trout all bones removed
12 ounces fresh spaghettine or fettuccine
¼ cup fine dice onion
1-2 large cloves garlic, fine sliced
1½ tablespoons tomato paste
¼ cup white wine
olive oil
salt and pepper
1 or 2 egg yokes per serving

So now I have cold leftover trout. What to do with it? Having a yen for pasta I decided to do a rift on pasta carbonara. I got some fresh spaghettini (fettuccine would also work).

Get a large pot of water boiling, salt well. Since we are dealing with fresh pasta (2-3 minutes cooking) be sure the water is at a hard boil before starting to build the sauce.

Remove the skin and bones from the cold trout and break into small pieces. Watch out for all those little pin bones. Dice the onion and slice the garlic very thin.

In a large sauté pan, heat a 1-2 tablespoons oil and sauté the onion and garlic. Don’t burn it. A little salt now helps to get the onions sweating. Add the tomato paste and brown it a bit. We are looking for a very light tomato flavor here.

Add the trout and heat through. Add white wine and reduce.

Now separate the eggs. Discard the whites (or save for something else). Don’t break the yokes and if you are cooking for more than one, put each egg yoke (or two) in a separate small bowl.

Now start the pasta. Don’t over cook; you will finish it in the sauce. When the pasta is done, remove with tongs directly to the sauce and mix and let finish. Add more cooking water to keep moist, but not sloppy -- like a salad dressing.

For serving arrange the pasta and trout in a bowl, make a slight depression in the center for the egg yokes. Now slide the raw egg yokes onto the pasta keeping them whole.

Give it a good grind of very course black pepper and a sprinkle of finishing salt.

Dig in! Unlike a traditional carbonara, there is no cream and no cheese. Not that you couldn’t do that, but dairy and fish is generally not kosher for Italian. The egg yokes are broken and mixed in to create a silky rich sauce. It made my dinner.

It Really Works #1 - Grilling Fish

I was in Costco the other day buying this and that and walked by the fish area and saw packages of trout that had just been put out, i.e. hadn’t been sitting in the cooler for 6 days. They looked pretty fresh. Four large trout are a lot for one person to eat, but Lois is traveling this week, so I am on my own; it’s meat (or fish) pig-out time!

I decided to grill the trout. Now I have usually been reluctant to grill fish directly on the grill, especially delicate fish like salmon or trout. It’s too easy for it all to stick to the grill and have a real mess. All the books say clean the grill and then lightly oil it to prevent sticking but that doesn’t seem to work that well.

A few weeks ago I was watching “America’s Test Kitchen” and saw this tip on how to properly prepare a grill for cooking fish:

1. Heat the grill to the max – really burn off all that crud left from the last time you did that steak or chicken. I mean torch the sucker! Till its just turned to white ash.
2. Now scrub it good and hard with a wire brush until it is completely clean.
3. Oil it. Not once, but 7, 8 or 10 times. Get a bowl of vegetable oil (don’t waste that good olive oil unless that’s all you have), a couple of paper towels bunched up and your tongs. Rub on the oil, do it again, and again, and again.

The secret is that just doing it once doesn’t really build up a layer of polymerized oil. But doing it several times does. Now you are ready to grill.

For my trout I just first rinsed the trout. Then dried it completely. Any meat or fish should be completely dry for best browning. Brushed with olive oil and liberally sprinkled with salt, pepper, and garlic power. Don’t forget to season the insides.

Now lay the fish on the well seasoned grill and don’t disturb for 3-5 minuters. The fish should easily be flipped over for another 3-5 minutes and you are done. Crisply skin and no sticking.

It Really Works!

Souffle on the barbecue

Our oven has been out of service for a few weeks while we wait for a new relay to replace the one that burned out.  This really isn't a problem since we have other ways to cook, but sometimes we want baked dishes.  For example, I had some chard that needed to be used and a hankering for a chard tart.  Aaron sometimes roasts meat on the barbecue using a roasting pan (as opposed to grilling directly over the flame), and we started speculating about whether it was possible to bake a tart the same way.   We have a fairly large gas barbecue that can accommodate pans, so of course, we had to try using it as an oven.  I made a pie crust and a quiche-like egg/onion/chard filling.    Aaron preheated the barbecue like an oven, then turned off the middle row of heat so there were only flames on the side to keep the cavity hot, avoiding heat directly under the pan.  He then baked the tart with the barbecue lid closed to simulate an oven.  It came out perfectly.

We tried a squash gratin next.  Actually, Aaron did all the work, but since I participated in the eating, I use the collective pronoun here.  He nuked spaghetti squash, mixed it with vegetables and topped it with an oregano-spiced bechamel.  Again, he preheated the barbecue chamber and then baked the gratin over indirect heat.  It came out bubbling and browned with lot of nice crusty bits around the edge, and tasted even better than if it had been baked in the oven.  This was a real winner.

So, about a week later, we were standing in the produce aisle at the grocery store at 5 pm on a rainy afternoon, tired from working all day and feeling unimaginative, trying to figure out what to make for dinner.  We soon alit on the idea of spinach souffle, a go-to dish when we have no imagination.   It sounded great to both of us.  Then, we remembered that the oven didn't work, so we started speculating (still standing in the produce section) on whether we could make souffle on the barbecue.  Souffle is easy enough to make, but is a touchy dish to bake.  We decided that the worst outcome was that we would have frittata rather than souffle for dinner.  And really, once the idea was lodged in our brains, needed to learn if it was possible to bake souffle on a barbecue.

Once home, Aaron settled in to cook while I went back to work, and sure enough, he pulled it off.  He didn't alter the standard souffle recipe, but did take the time to find the oven thermometer hiding in one of our kitchen-gadget drawers and set the temperature at a steady 375.  He just made a souffle, put it on the grill (in a souffle pan, of course), and closed the lid.  And it worked.  The souffle was light and lifted, delicate brown on the outside, and tender on the inside. 

We still have a broken oven.

Recipe: Asparagus shitake rolls with yuba

When we were in Japan we ate yuba served in several different forms: wet (barely formed), dry, rolled into tubes and seasoned, in soup, and as a wrapper.  Yuba is the skin created when making tofu, similar to the way a skin forms on top of custard as it cools.  The tofu maker skims the delicate sheets of tofu off the cooking liquid and often lets it dry, similar to pasta.  It's much tastier than it sounds, and makes a great low-carb substitute for pasta or for wonton wrappers.   I've only had it in the dry pasta-like form, tossed in the salads sold by Hodo Soy Beanery at our local farmers' market, so was pleased to sample more varieties by the masters of tofu, the Japanese.  And, of course, I was inspired to use it in cooking.  This is a simple, tasty dish, inspired by the spring asparagus in the markets right now.

Asparagus and mushroom rolls

Yuba sheets (sold by Hodo Soy Beanery at farmers markets in the Bay Area, and probably available at good Asian markets)
Shitake mushrooms, 2 cups chopped
Shallot
Clove garlic
1.5 tsp miso
Asparagus


Sauce:
3T soy or tamari
2T seasoned rice vinegar
1t Chinese or Japanese mustard
1t sesame oil

1.  Snap off the bottoms of the asparagus.  Blanch in salted water until they're crisp-tender, 3-4 minutes.  Shock in cold water to stop the cooking, then set aside on a towel to dry.

2. Saute the mushrooms, shallot and garlic in a bit of olive or peanut oil.  When the mushrooms are cooked, transfer to the food processor and add the miso.  (Or, hand chop if you like.)  Make a fine chop, not a paste, but spreadable.  Taste for salt and pepper, and add just a touch if it needs it.

3. While the mushrooms are cooking, make the sauce.  Taste and correct the balance of soy and vinegar, if needed.  Pour into small serving bowls, one per person.

4.  Cut the yuba sheets into squares about 4x4 inches.

5. Spread 1T of the mushroom mixture down one side of the yuba sheet.  Place an asparagus spear on top of the mushrooms.  It's okay if the ends hang over.  Roll the yuba into a tube around the filling, just like rolling sushi or a burrito.

6.  Heat just a bit of peanut or olive oil in a wide pan.  Working in batches, brown the yuba rolls, about one minute per side, turning to cover the sides.  Set on towels to catch any clinging oil. 

7. Cut carefully into quarters (bite sized) and serve with the dipping sauce.

Notes from Japan

We spent ten days in Japan last month, splitting our time between Kumamoto and Kyoto.  While in Kumamoto we were the guests of my colleagues at the university there, who hosted us at several fabulous kaiseki dinners. Kaiseki is a multi-course feast, perhaps a dozen courses, each tiny (just a few bites), beautifully presented and highlighting the particular ingredient.  If you want a sense of what you get with a kaiseki dinner, check the web.  Wikipedia's description is accurate but doesn't highlight how artful and elegant the meal is. The photos in this book offer a good sample, and Google has hundreds of images of kaiseki dinners.

We had two full kaiseki dinners, one in the traditional style and one in a nouveau Japanese style. (Interestingly, we had tables and chairs at the traditional restaurant, and sat seiza or cross-legged on the floor in the nouveau restaurant.  A four hour meal is a lot of time to sit seiza on western knees, but fortunately I'd worn pants rather than a skirt so could switch to the agura pose traditionally used by men -- what we called Indian-style in grade school.   Kaiseki is served slowly, one dish at a time, allowing diners to savor and appreciate the dishes, and to have lively dinner conversation.  The beer, shochu and sake flowed freely which contributed to the conviviality as the evenings progressed.  Our hosts arranged in advance to accommodate my vegetarianism, so while the others had fish and meat dishes, I was able to sample tofu presented in several ways, a variety of vegetables, shabu-shabu, and the traditional rice and soup to close the meal.  Traditional foods like lotus root, pumpkin, tofu, yuba and radishes were accompanied by fresh and seasonal ingredients.   The dishes were cooked in every way you could imagine: fried, simmered, sauteed, raw, pickled, with or without sauces or garnishes. 

While in Kyoto, we had the chance to eat two tofu-based meals.  You might think to yourself that it would be challenging to eat tofu served eight different ways in one sitting and enjoy every bit of it, but the Japanese are masters of tofu innovation.  And, the tofu is fresh and delicious.  Highlights included fresh tofu simmered at the table in a light broth, then dressed with tamari and ginger, and tofu made from sesame which was distinctive and tasty, like a cross between hummus and tofu. I've been trying to find the sesame tofu since we returned home.

We also ate a full vegan, tofu-based lunch at the Nanzen-ji monastery in Kyoto.  The guidebooks say that Kyoto has more than one thousand temples and shrines, and it is indeed a culturally and historically rich city.  The Nanzen-ji temple was built in the 13th century and is still active.  The temple is famous for a massive brick aqueduct, built several hundred years ago to carry water to Kyoto, that crosses its grounds. It also features the Chosho-in, a traditional restaurant which has been serving vegetarian meals for 300 years.  Lunch is simpler than a traditional dinner, a five course meal of tofu, vegetables and rice, prepared and served simply. 

Notes from Rome

The blog has been quiet for a while because we've been so busy with travel, life and work that it's been hard to find time to write.  I've got some catching up to do.

We just spent ten days in Rome, sightseeing and eating.  The food was uniformly good, and the farther we got from tourist places, the better it got.  The Italians know how to cook pasta, and every plate we had, even from the cafeteria line at Ostia Antica, was perfectly al dente and dressed with a light, fresh sauce.   Rome was a real carb-fest for me, but I found a few interesting departures from the standard primi.  A few highlights:

 - The most innovative menu we found was at Ditirambo, a block from Campo di Fiori.  I love bitter greens but have never cooked with chicory.  After tasting their chicory souffle with sun dried tomato relish, it's on the list for experimentation.   They also had a zabaglione, flavored with a touch of marsala and served with filo crackers and strawberries that was a bit of heaven.  that I don't usually like sweets very much, but I couldn't stop eating it.

 - My newly discovered guilty pleasure is deep fried artichokes.  The artichokes are halved and trimmed so the tough leaves, choke and thorns are removed, leaving the light green leaves, bottom and stem.  Then, it's deep fried (no coating, just plain) and served with a touch of salt.  The substantial part of the artichoke is cooked through and flavorful, and the outer leaves turn brown and crunchy, just like potato chips. 

We also found a new wine that we absolutely loved, a Vie di Romans sauvignon blanc 2007.  It's different from any other sauvignon blanc we've had.  It's barreled in oak, and takes on a deep gold color and carmel flavor to complement the crisp fruit that is common to this grape.  The wine is hearty, like a white burgundy, so stands up to strong food flavors.  We picked up a few bottles to bring home and are trying to find it in the bay area, or find a similarly oaked sauvignon blanc. 

Slow cookery

We bought a Cuisinart slow cooker a few weeks ago with the notion to make soups and stews.  We already eat a lot of soup, but the hands-off aspect of the slow cooker is appealing for days when I don't have time to babysit the stove.   It means that I can cook when it’s convenient, and have dinner ready when I want, no matter what else fills up the day.  In the morning, I just chop some vegetables, toss in liquid and spices, and put the lid on, then come home sometime in the evening to find dinner ready.  No need to worry about burning or boil overs while the pot is untended.

I haven’t made anything outside of the normal repertoire yet, just ratatouille, vegetable soup, and vegetable stew.  Aaron’s made meat stew a few times as well, which he says are super-tender.   It’s taken a bit of experimentation to get the liquid balance right because liquid doesn’t cook off like it does on the stove since the heat is so low.  For example, I made ratatouille the other day using two eggplants, two red peppers, a big red onion, garlic and spices.  I added a slug of red wine, about 1/2 a cup, and a can of tomatoes (not drained), then left it alone for 7 hours.  It tasted terrific, with the vegetables getting very soft but holding their shape, and flavors bright but well melded.  But, it was a little soupy.  Half the juice from the can of tomatoes would have been plenty.  As it was, though, it made a fine meal as a base for poached eggs and topped with parmesan.

On the converse side, Aaron made an absolutely delicious barley soup with chard, fennel and dill (Bon Appetit).  The slow cooking allowed the barley to thicken the soup even more than normal, so it was almost risotto-like in its consistency.  Again, it was a great meal,  not quite what was intended, but a nice outcome all the same.
 

Winter soupe au pistou

The first time I had soupe au pistou was a few years ago, just after Aaron and I arrived in New York on a cold winter evening.  After a seemingly endless travel day, with a flight from California and a traffic jam on the way into Manhattan from JFK, I was tired and edgy.   A brisk, invigorating walk would have been just perfect to shake out the travel kinks, but this night was downright frigid.  So cold, hungry and a bit cranky, we bundled in our coats and headed up Amsterdam in search of food.  Several blocks later, we passed Nice Matin, a French restaurant we knew and liked; we beelined inside. Nice Matin was packed that night, but the host invited us to sit at the bar and have a glass of wine for 15 minutes while she found us a table.  The glass of wine took care of the edginess, and before long we were tucked around a little table.  The special that night was soupe au pistou, vegetable soup with a dollop of pesto on top, which was divine on this cold night. 

There’s no strict recipe for soupe au pistou, at least as far as I know, but in my mind it always has little white beans and a mix of vegetables.  Yesterday was cold and rainy, a perfect day for soup.  I was looking in the freezer and ran across frozen pesto from the summer garden.  Inspiration hit, and so I hunted through the cupboard to see what I could find.

Sometimes I figure out in advance what I’ll be cooking for the next while and shop appropriately, and sometimes I just use whatever is on hand and see what comes of it. Yesterday was a cupboard raiding day. We were out of dried white beans, but I found a bag of mixed beans, lentils and barley, like you would use in a 20-bean soup. Close enough.  We had carrots, onions and celery, and also the last of the roasted tomatoes from summer in the freezer.  I made this soup in the slow cooker, though it would have worked just as well on the stove, albeit with more attention paid.  The beans kept their form, while onions and celery got super-soft, and the starch from the barley made the stock thicken.  It was hearty and delicious, perfect for a gray day.

Yesterday’s recipe is here.

Recipe: Winter Soupe au Pistou

This is a hearty vegetarian bean soup served with pesto:


1.5 cups mixed legumes (or just white beans)
1 large onion
3 stalks celery
2 large carrots
1 large tomato or  1/2 c roasted tomato or a handful of sundried tomatoes, or the equivalent
1 clove garlic
1.5 tsp. thyme
1.5 tsp. tarragon
2 bay leaves
4-6 cups vegetable stock
salt and pepper
Pesto - a rounded tablespoon per person.

The secret to removing the gas factor from beans is to boil them for a few (2-3) minutes, and then let the pot sit and cool for anything from 2-12 hours, as your schedule allows.   Drain and rinse.  The beans will still be uncooked.

Cut all the vegetables in a small dice, 1/4”

Put everything except the pesto, so all the beans, vegetables, spices, stock, in the slow cooker.  Start with a teaspoon of salt and a grind of pepper.  It will be underseasoned, but you’ll correct this at the end.  It took 8 hours on high for the beans to cook through, or if you're cooking on the stove, it will take a few hours.  I started with 4 cups stock, then added more midway to thin the soup.  If you’re using beans alone (no barley), you may not need to do this. 

When the beans are tender, taste and correct the salt and pepper.  I added just a touch - about 1 teaspoon of balsamic vinegar at the end as well.

Serve each bowl of soup with a good dollop of pesto on top.

Miso and vegetable soup

 

It was time to use up some of the bits of vegetables in the refrigerator (and a little chilly outside), so I made a semi-composed miso soup.   We've had composed soups in restaurants a few times lately, and it makes a pretty presentation.  Mine was more rustic, which is a nice way of saying that I just made little piles rather than working toward food art, but it was pretty nonetheless.

Aaron made and froze a batch of vegetable stock a few weeks ago that was particularly flavorful, and with a spoonful of dark miso, just a drizzle of tamari sauce, and slivered ginger, the broth was over the top.  I sautéed (separately from each other) cubed sweet potato, mustard greens with garlic, mushrooms, and tofu with tamari and mirin.  The base of the bowl had soy noodles, the sautéed vegetables added in little piles, and the broth was ladled over the top.   A squirt of Sriracha in my bowl to gave it a little extra love, while Aaron opted for the more tame version.

The Texas Birthday Feast

My sister Lee just had a milestone birthday, a great reason for us to gather in the Texas Hill Country. Aaron and I offered to cater her party so she could enjoy the day without work. Actually, we volunteered Sue and Jenny, my sister-in-law and niece, to cater as well; they’re both good cooks and good sports, so jumped right in. It turned into a full family event as my brother Dave stepped in to help, and Larry, Lee’s husband, manned the smoker, helped us find things in the kitchen, and (perhaps most importantly) bought a lot of wine. Cooking was a day-long event so it wasn’t rushed, and Lee’s huge kitchen allowed all of us to work together and have plenty of elbow (and knife) room. Cooking with family was a real pleasure, as much a party as the main event later that evening.

We put together a menu to accommodate varying taste preferences, food allergies, new year’s resolutions, and lack of resolution. The idea is to have a lot of different, simple salads, vegetables, meats, and starches in separate bowls to allow people to build their own experience, so a big salad, a meat-fest, a few nibbles, or whatever. The flavor profile can vary easily with spices, so the plan works for Spanish, east or south Asian, French, etc. Lee requested Mediterranean, so we used cumin, coriander, paprika, oregano, and a lot of garlic in the veggies. Manchego, hummus and baba ganoush rounded out the nosh.

Texans love meat, and Aaron and Larry went all out, making beef tenderloin on the smoker, lamb stew, and marinated, broiled shrimp. Aaron will have to blog separately about the beef, but it was quite the production, involving a large outdoor multi-chambered smoker, low heat, and a fair amount of manly consultation throughout the afternoon. On the veg side, we made orzo salad with feta and tomatoes, couscous with caramelized onions and raisins, cooked spinach with garbanzos, a salad with spinach, oranges and red onions, a tomato salad, spicy carrots, and zucchini with raisins. It was a nice mix of hot and cold, spicy and savory, carbs and greens.

I asked people through the evening what they liked best on the buffet, and it seemed evenly split between the tenderloin, shrimp and lamb. There was a lot of ecstatic groaning over the meat dishes, and not many leftovers. One woman, bless her heart, raved about the tomato salad; the salads, particularly the orzo, green salad and couscous, were a hit. We could have had fewer kinds of salad, and I’m not sure people knew what to make of the zucchini and carrot relishes. As for me, the spinach and garbanzos, heavy with garlic and coriander, was the winner.

One final note on the meets-all-desires menu. For dessert we made small bites rather than cakes, again with the idea that it would be easy for people to compose their own plate with a little or a lot. We made little turnovers of walnuts in puff pastry, chocolate chili bites (which Aaron and Larry helpfully tested throughout the day), and a melon-berry salad. When we were cleaning up, Jenny started to package the remaining chocolate bites, and someone quickly grabbed the plate back from her so they could keep nibbling. Obviously a hit.

Road trip dining

Our road trip through the Southwest featured carbs, mostly from diner breakfasts and Mexican restaurants. Comparisons of green chile and cheddar omelets (me) and corned beef hash (Aaron) across state lines didn’t break up the monotony as much as made a game of it, and we had a few standout examples. Aaron says the hash and biscuits at Harris Ranch in the California valley were hands-down the best of the trip. The Copper Queen Hotel in Bisbee, Arizona, gets a nod for grilling the chiles for the omelet, and a diner in Blythe, California made a pattern on top of the omelet with a sliced square of Kraft American cheese, earning the honorable mention for the chef. You have to appreciate cheese art.

In the midst of all the sameness, two meals featured sauces that were interesting and well-deployed within the meal, enough so that these would have been noteworthy even in a foodie mecca like San Francisco or Manhattan.

Roka Cafe in Bisbee offered a risotto cakes with grilled vegetables and three sauces, a savory habanero, a basil puree, and a mild smoked chile cream. Habanero sauces are often sweet and hot, but this was savory with a vegetable stock, and medium-spicy. The basil sauce was pesto-like, but without cheese and just the barest touch of roasted garlic so it didn’t overpower the freshness of the basil. The chile cream wasn’t made with cream but had that consistency, so was smooth without heaviness. The spice level was low, so the flavor the chile and smoke came through without mouth heat. A generous portion of bite sized pieces of roasted carrots, onions and green beans were served over the sauces as a bed for the risotto cakes. Each sauce was tasty on its own, and the combination so good that I pushed the risotto cakes out of the way to make a meal of the underpinnings.

Trinity restaurant in Carlsbad, New Mexico, is an anomaly in a town full of barbecue-pizza-fast food joints. I’m usually not a fan of pasta primavera, the token vegetarian dish in far too many restaurants, but it was welcome that night when compared to the only other veg option in town, potato salad and coleslaw sides at a barbecue joint. Plus, Trinity used fresh vegetables rather than canned so the pasta tasted okay. A pleasant surprise, though, was an appetizer of fresh local goat cheese with chipotle-blackberry sauce. The sauce was made either with fresh berries or with good quality, not-too-sweet preserves, so had a powerful berry taste which was terrific with hot, smoked chile to flavor it. The sauce had a real kick--no shyness with spice here--and was delicious with the cheese.