The Perfect Restaurant

Did you ever try to imagine the perfect restaurant? What kind of food would it serve? What kind of ambiance would it provide? What kind of music would they play? And perhaps most importantly, how good would the coffee be? For many of you the notion of the perfect restaurant is nothing more than a fantasy, but luckily for me, this fantasy has become a reality. Cheryl’s, the new neighborhood restaurant focusing on “global soul’ may well be my dream come true.
It first grabbed my attention because of its innovative, funky, and comfortably minimal design. The brick walls are painted white, and covering the right wall are grainy slats of wood that reach and curve toward the back of the restaurant and continue up onto the ceiling creating a warm and rustic atmosphere. The first time I ate lunch at Cheryl’s I was running some errands and figured I would stop in for a quick bite. Even though it was my day off, it had been a stressful one so while ordering the Chelsea (all the sandwiches have names, as in human names) I spontaneously tacked on a glass of Rioja. The sandwich was simply perfect! Just the way I like it, with two fabulously fresh slices of nutty grain bread lightly smeared with fresh tarragon mayo, and stacked with just the right amount of turkey, greens, and delicately sliced cucumbers. Jenny Lewis’s soft and breathy voice echoed in the close to empty dinning room, “I’d rather be lonely, I’d rather be free, I’m as sure as the moon rolls around the sea…” I sipped my Rioja, boldly flecked with fragrant oak and fresh fruit, and took turns eating/sipping, sipping/writing, and writing then gazing out the window at the picture framed street corner on the other side. By the time I finished my perfect sandwich and polished off my glass of the wine I had decided to trashed my to do list and instead relaxed and got some writing done. It was altogether a flawless experience except that, when I went to use the bathroom I was almost stunned to find that there was no mirror.
Call me vain, but there was something unsettling about a bathroom trip without a mirror.

My second visit I wanted to put Cheryl’s to the true Gourmet Peasant test and that would have to involve morning coffee. I went in clean (without morning coffee or even a whiff of breakfast.) Moody and jonseing for my morning brew, I made a b-line for the counter and ordered the quiche Lorraine and a latte. I took my seat and prayed that the coffee would arrive before the coffee monster awoke from its peaceful slumber. I was overjoyed when the coffee arrived swiftly and with the perfect espresso to milk ratio. I took a sip, moaned then took another before noticing that the person next to me was staring. Oh well. I was jacked up on coffee and starving by the time the quiche arrived and devoured everything on the plate before I remembered that I had planned to take a picture.
Oh Well :(

So fare Cheryl’s has proved to fit the bill for my dream restaurant. Even the mirrorless bathroom adventure turned out to be a growing experience. There will be further testing before anything is set in stone of course. There is brunch to try, dinner to eat, and we musn’t forget about these cuties,
I can’t wait to give them a try. I think I may have an opening for dessert tomorrow, shall we say around 8pm?

Check out other reviews for Cheryl's Global Soul

I Admit...

Alright, I admit it, I have an obsessive personality and, when it comes to food, this fanatical glitch in my otherwise prudent nature can very often border on pathological. You’re all incredibly shocked, I’m sure. Those of you who have kept abreast of my coffee antics, have tagged along for my fantastical and at times quite tragic forays in cup cake making, and have witnessed my diligent journey to the finger-licking depths of chocolate noshing all understand how truly fixated I can become on a single food item.

Well I stand before you guilty once again. This time the substance of choice is, you guest it, ICE CREAM. Sure I could blame somebody else for my ‘difficulty’ with the stuff. I could easily blame David and his damn Perfect Ice Cream book but I am afraid that I am the one to blame. I have been making ice cream and consuming ice cream in sizable quantities long before The Perfect Scoop showed up on my doorstep (just wanted to take the time to thank my UPS delivery-man, Tom. Yes, we are finally on speaking terms and I'd like to keep it that way.) Blame does very little to alleviate the problem; this transgressive pattern in my eating habits is not going to change anytime soon. Who knows when I will tire of ice cream, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps never. The point is, and I promise you there is one, is that I realize that reading about coffee and coffee alone for two whole weeks only to turn around and read strictly about chocolate might become a bit boring for you readers and this is why I have devised a plan. I propose that each week I will select a subject and do my very best to blog about different aspects of that subject. When the week is up, I will move on to a new subject. I am not saying that it will be easy and I am certainly not promising that I will succeed, but for the sake of not boring you I am willing to try.

To kick things off I have decided to take things out of the kitchen and into one of NYC most beloved boroughs. My topic of the week is eating out in Brooklyn. Check back in throughout the week to find out what this peasant is eating in Brooklyn.

Pros and Cons

When comparing two items, it is important that the comparer carefully consider the pros and cons of each item. Thankfully, in my case, I am comparing ice creams, and not something unappealing like canned beets or hostess fruit pies.
Let us start with Ben and Jerry's.

Pros:

1. Its free Cone Day.
2. Its already made.
3. It's only one serving (so I won't stuff myself later.)

Cons:

1. It's only one serving (so I won't have a chance to stuff myself later.)
2. You have to choose from a set list of flavors.
3. The waiting.


And what about making a fresh batch of the ice cream from The Perfect Scoop?

Pros:

1. You can read and pronounce all the ingredients.
2. You can choose from a list of adventurous flavors.
3. You can improvise - I added ginger to the Super Lemon Ice Cream, and melon to the
Ginger Ice Cream.

Cons:

1. The effort
2. The mess
3. The waiting




As it turns out, I can't compare Ben and Jerry's and David Lebovitz' ice creams because to be honest, I didn't have the patience to wait on that long-ass line. Sure everyone looked like they were having fun, but I had been dreaming of my free scoop all day long, I hadn't eaten all day, and just around the corner was an ice cream place I have been waiting to try.





There were no long lines at Sundaes and Cones, and within moments I was sampling flavors from their selection of classic and some more unusual flavors (wasabi/poppy seed.) I ordered a cone with one scoop of Mocha Chip, and one scoop of Creamy Ginger. Sorry Ben, sorry Jerry:(







Though I did spoiled the proposed contest, I still felt the need to draw some kind of conclusion about store scooped and homemade ice creams. So when I got home I whipped up a batch of Super Lemon Ice Cream, adding a bit of ginger for good measure.
After two ice cream shops and a batch of homemade - the life of a food blogger is not easy - what does this peasant have to say about the difference between store-bought and home churned ice cream? I must say that, as you don't have to wait on an insanely long line for them, they both have their charm.

David vs. Ben and Jerry

April 17th is Free Cone Day at Ben and Jerry's. Participating ice cream shops in the NYC area include Ben and Jerry's Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn, Ben and Jerry's Chelsea, and Ben and Jerry's Third Avenue. Log onto their site to find participating ice cream shops near you.

As for me and all the other Lebovitz disciples, I wonder if our ice cream endeavors will forever ruin our taste for anything other than homemade ice cream. Thankfully, I am willing to sabotage my pitiful attempt at a diet in order to find the answer to this urgent question. Check back tonight for results.

A Word with Martiny

“ Martiny, you are now at an age in which you should know the truth about your origins…
“You are probably already aware that you are not like other Martinis. You’re shorter, tinier, and you only have room for one olive.
“What you are not aware of is why it is that you are different. The truth is, there is no such thing as a Martiny. My friend Caitlin conceived of you at a party one fateful night as a solution to my disorder. You see I love Martinis. I love them dry, straight up, a little dirty, and most importantly, I love them cold. The problem? Martinis don’t love me back. I have a fairly good tolerance to most alcohol, and have masterful pacing skills, but there is something about the sinister Martini that prevents me from being able to employ these skills.
With the first sip of the menacing Martini comes the belief that I am in fact invincible and can mix as many different types off booze as I want with little consequence. Red wine, white wine, bourbon, tequila, and beer, its all equal territory after I’ve had a martini or two. The sober reality however, is that I am not invincible, there is no equal territory, and there are unfortunately consequences (click here for more details, and here, and here)

“Now, I know that this is hard for you to hear, and perhaps even harder for you to understand. You have spent your entire existence being bullied.
“You are an outcast. Rejected, you have been forced to skate on the fringe of the elite and illustrious martini community to only now learn that it not your fault nor is it your weakness, it is mine.

“I only hope that with time you will come to terms with your anger and resentment and will understand that it is not easy to bear the weight of cutting-edge innovation, for it is both a blessing and a curse. With nothing other than good intentions did Caitlin first shouted out the word, “MARTINY!” And without malice were you poured from the shaker the very next day. I only hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive my shameful handicap.”

An Ice Cream Wish Fulfilled

Scrolling threw my blog entries over the last month or so, one might get the notion that I have become entirely consumed with the task of making ice cream. Do I deny it? With my culinary exploits broadcast on the web for anyone to see, how could I? Even David Lebovitz himself, the author of The Perfect Scoop and many other wonderful cookbooks, alludes to my heavenly immoderation with his link to my Gourmet Math – A losing battle post in which I attempt six of his recipes in one weekend. In accordance with 'gourmet math', and for the sake of looking sum-what presentable in my summer swimwear I was aiming at taking a break from ice cream making for a few weeks, but in light of Davids’s generous link, it seems that I must instead step it up a notch. Ah, La vida es dura – an ironic phrase that I have been uttering quite regularly as of late.

So how does an ice cream peasant step it up a notch? By making ice cream dreams come true of course! While showing my new ice cream maker to close friend and cooking companion Abraham, he opened up to me about his long and unfulfilled dream of making cilantro ice cream. “ Well do you have any plans this evening?” I asked him. He looked down at me with a tentative grin (he’s 6’4; I’m 5’4) and answered with hesitating inflection, “making cilantro ice cream…”



Unable to find a recipe for Cilantro Ice Cream, we decided on using David's recipe for Basil Ice cream as a guideline, and replaced the Basil with Cilantro.





Cilantro on its own seemed a bit boring so we decided to candy some lemon and lime zest to add a bit of kick.

With the custard churning away in the ice cream machine, and our candied lemon/lime zest cooling and crystallizing, we sat back and enjoyed some Roasted Carrot, Pear, and Beet Salad (we didn't want to eat anything too heavy with a quart of ice cream on the horizon.)



Five minutes before the ice cream was done, we tossed in the candied zest and watched as it was devoured by the rich and velvety frozen custard. "DING!!" went the timer and within moments we were crowded around the bucket and with fencing spoons tearing into the already melting concoction. It was a race against time, and we waisted none of it. " The cilantro is much more understated than I thought it would be," Abraham said before taking another bite. " But the flavor lingers," I interjected. And it did linger; Hours later I could still taste the earthy green essance of cilantro.

After our race against the melting pot, this was all that remained

So Abraham, how does it feel to have your long term ice cream wish fulfilled?









All in all the flavor came out great, though it will be subject to further experimentation and review. Perhaps we will 86 the zest and mix in a swirl of strawberry or even tomato jam instead... Any suggestions?

April Showers Bring May Flowers - SHF #30

At least that is what we have been telling ourselves over the years in order to make it through the rainy entrance of spring. But what if it didn’t rain? What if, instead of increasingly warm weather and plenty of rain, we got endless chilly days accompanied by the occasional snow flurry? What is it that we tell ourselves then?

This month's Sugar High Friday is being hosted by Monisha of Coconut Chutney. The theme, Flower Power entails cooking with flowers or flower extracts (yum) and is apparently inspired by the "beautiful Spring weather we’ve been enjoying recently." Well Monisha, I am glad that somebody has been enjoying good old fashion spring weather because this April has been anything but average here in the north east. The daytime temperatures have parked themselves comfortably at about 45 degree with late nights dropping below the freezing mark. With no expected change on the horizon, almost all of my friends have surrendered and revisited their long overworked winter wardrobes. But not me, I refuse! I will not yield to these meteorological conditions. I will not be intimidated by snow flurries on Easter morning, nor will I be railroaded by a chilly climate. I will ride my bike - even if it means I end up with an ear ache, I will wear my Marry-Janes – even if I have to wear them with thick wool socks, and I will eat Rose Sweetened Tri-Berry Sorbet – even if I have to drink a cup of hot tea to warm up afterwards. My entry this month has little to do with inspiration and is much more a statement of protest. Just like a tree that's standing by the water, I shall not be moved!

The round up will be posted on Coconut Chutney's Blog on April 27th so check it out and get a taste of spring.

Rose Sweetened Tri-Berry Sorbet


4 cups - mixed berries frozen or fresh - I used blueberry, strawberry, and
blackberry
1 cup - water
1/2 cup - Rose Water Syrup
1 tbsp - lemon juice
Zest from one lemon

1. Heat all the ingredients over a low flame. Do not boil.
2. Pour mixture in food processor and blend
3. Pass through a sieve, then stir in lemon zest
4. Freeze according to manufacturers instructions

Gourmet Math- A Losing Battle

I jog an average of three miles, three to five times a week. I do this for cardiovascular health, and more importantly, to counteract my habitual cup cake, chocolate, and ice cream abuse. Think of it as gourmet math. I can pawn 40 minutes of jogging for eight bite-size pieces of dark chocolate - to be consumed at strategic moments throughout the day. I can also swap 40 minutes on the elliptical for a scoop or two of my favorite ice cream, a tri-berry scone from Two Little Red Hens in Brooklyn, or Salt Caramels from Lucky’s…Hell, throw in a bike ride to work and back and I can have all three. Gourmet math would be a wonderful system if it were not for it one critical flaw, my mother.

This week I visited my mother upstate and with her boyfriend Dave out of town, we were free to run wild in the kitchen, and run wild we did. Like two witches at the cauldron, we churned away at the stove making custard after custard too freeze into ice cream. The ice cream machine cranked and grunted as we watched with childish delight the creamy and swirling liquid thicken into a frosty marshmallow-like consistency. We made four flavors:
The vanilla was flawless,
the coffee aromatic,












the lemon light and puckery,












and the butterscotch almond a buttery dream.
The next morning I woke to the caramelized aroma of toasted sugar and butter and found my mother in the kitchen making ice cream cones. Later that day, with my niece, nephew, and brother, we devoured the cones and most of the ice cream. That night we returned to a nearly empty freezer; the only flavor left was a previously made container of Roasted Banana Ice Cream. We did the only thing we could do; we ate it.

For most people, this two day ice cream fest would have be enough to fulfill a month’s allocation but, for me and my mother we still had one day, three flavors, and an stack of ice cream sandwiches left to go. Why quite when you are on a roll?
After calculating the number of extra calories consumed in ice cream while at my mother’s house, Gourmet Math determined that, I would have to run three miles, at least three times a day in order to break even with this degree of calorie consumption. Who has the time for such measures? And, what is an ice cream eating peasant to do in such extreme circumstances? These question and others even mildly resembling them are clearly pushed to the back burner while visiting my mother. Lets just say, I have a lot of extra running to do in the coming weeks.

La Vida Es Dura

Just moments after my mother swooped me up from the train station, were we comparing our favorite new cookbooks and selecting the recipes we would tackle over the next few days. She had just received David Lebovitz’s new recipe book, The Perfect Scoop, and I had just purchased The Essence of Chocolate by John Sharffenberger and Robert Steinberg. As I ruffled through page after page reading them aloud, our stomachs began to protest loudly. There were just so many marvelous recipes, Olive Oil Ice Cream, Guinness-Milk Chocolate Ice Cream, Chocolate Shortbread with pink salt and chocolate nibs, Chili and Chocolate Marinated Flank Steak… how were we ever going to choose between them all? Overwhelmed, I leaned back and glanced out my window at the approaching mountains plump with the promise of spring, and releasing a tiny giggle I sighed, "La Vida es dura."

A Soho Sighting

Master food and wine pairer Bernard Shanahan was spotted last night, sources say, at Soho hot spot Raoul’s on Prince street where he charmed his two fantastically dressed and blindingly gorgeous female companions with his delectable knowledge of food and wine.

It is said that, upon entrance to the gridlocked bar, the crowd parted creating a path that lead to a row of empty seats that appeared to be patiently waiting the trio's arrival.


After coupling the indulgently rich and fearlessly savory Foie Gras Brulee and Wild Boar Prosciutto with a luscious Tokai, Bernie shuffled his two mystery companions (if not already famous surely on their way) to Fanelli's Bar where the three enjoyed yet another brilliant pairing at his artful expense.

Cheesy and undoubtedly deep fried Jalapeno Poppers endearingly attended by a chocolaty Pint of Guinness Stout. It just goes to show, one of the most important skills a pairer can posses is versatility.

"Undeliverable"

At first, it was easy to pass off as paranoia but lately it has become increasingly difficult to believe that he is not against me. The first time, I figured it was a simple mistake; maybe I typed the address in wrong, or the buzzer was broken. It is possible that all three notices fell down and then blew away, isn’t it?

It was only after I received this notice from Theo Chocolate (my favorite chocolate in the world!) that my worst fears were confirmed, the UPS deliveryman has a personal vendetta against me.

Dear Gourmet Peasant,
The package was returned to us today by UPS as undeliverable at this address:
Gourmet Peasant
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Brooklyn, NY, xxxxx
or at least it looks like this is the box that the letter carrier checked. I find it odd that we entered the address into the UPS mailing system and that it was later rejected by them….(it is kinda strange isn’t it?) But that’s another story. Is there another address that it could be sent to? Please advise. We will resend on Monday. I am sorry for any inconvenience the delay may have caused…

“Undeliverable,” I can’t believe it! What did I ever do to him? There was that time I made
him wait outside in the snow while I got dressed, but it was early and I had been sleeping. I didn’t buzz him in because I live in an old building and I have to come downstairs to let people in.

It is also possible that he stumbled upon my post entitled Stood-up in which I describe the anguish of waiting in my apartment all day for him to deliver my new ice cream machine. Perhaps he was offended that I called him the UPS man and the delivery guy, instead of calling him by his name. If you are reading this Tom, Garret, Tony, Bob, what ever your name is, I promise to learn it by heart and to mention you by name in any future posts. I apologize.

As I scour my recipe books for tasty ways to make it up to the UPS deliveryman, I share with you all some helpful advice, don’t piss off your deliveryman! Don’t take him for granted like I did. If you like receiving your packages on time then, learn his name, stop and ask him how his day was, and never, I mean never, write an entry on your blog in which you imply that he may be capable of kidnapping your ice cream machine.

As for me, it is going to take a long time for me to win back the trust of my deliveryman but, with the weather warming up, ice cream may be a good place to start. I just hope he's not allergic to chestnuts.


Chestnut and Pear Gelato
2 cups whole milk
1/2 vanilla bean
1/2 cup sugar
4 egg yolks
1 cup of unsweetened chestnut puree
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 Pear, diced

• In a medium sauce pan cook milk over medium heat until it bubbles around the edge of pan. Add the vanilla bean, scraping the seeds into the milk. Let stand for 30 minutes then remove the vanilla pod and reheat until milk bubbles again. Cover to keep hot.
• In blender of food processor beat sugar and eggs until thick. Add puree and blend. With the machine running, gradually add the hot milk, then return mixture to sauce pan.
• Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon for 6-8 min, until mixture thickens and covers the back of the wooden spoon.
• Remove from heat and set in a pan placed within an ice bath. Stir for 2 minutes then mix in cream. Refrigerate for 2 hrs then place in your ice cream machine. Add pears during the last 10 minutes of freezing cycle.

*This recipe is based on The Chestnut Gelato Recipe from Pamela Sheldon John's wonderful book entitled, Gelato.

The Leftover Salad

The wonderful thing about parties is that there are almost always leftovers. One of my favorite things to do with them is to invent leftover salads made with whatever happens to been in the fridge. Sometimes this works out easily, for instance with my Thanksgiving leftover salad made up of spinach, roasted winter vegetables, and toasted pecans, all tossed in a cranberry sauce and balsamic dressing, and garnished with thick shards of Parmesan; other times the task turns out to be a bit more challenging. For example, one time I ended up with limp mesclun greens dressed in a tahini dressing accompanied by wasabi smeared with tuna. What can I say, these were the ingredients I had to work with. This party, having been a pairing party, was particularly fruitful in the leftover department - cheese, fruit, more cheese etc. - and so composing a delicious salad was not a challenge.

Arugula, Fennel, Haricots Verts, with Grapes, slivered Almonds, Lemon Zest, and Irish Cashel Blue Cheese, tossed in a Rose Water Dressing escorted by two rolls of Roast Beef smeared with Olive and sun dried TomatoTapenade. OHG!

The Winning Combination

Of course it was not intended that my pairing party be a competition however, there simply was one entry that stood out from the rest. It was a pairing that consisted of the choicest of ingredients, assembled with great care and an enthusiastic zeal that would fill any gourmet peasant with ravenous delight.



It is of no surprise that the winning combination belongs to Bernie Shanahan, a champion food and wine pairer in my opinion, and one of my favorite dinning companions. There are many a evening that I have found myself pleasantly sloshed after a night of heavy mixing due to the fact that the oysters must be joined by their handsome companion, Sancerre, and the Sea Bass by the very complimentary Sauvignon Blanc... oh wait is that a Tamarind sauce... you know, you could go with a red, for instance the Syrah. So red wine it is. To close, a port wine or sherry would invariably tag along after a luscious dessert. When having dinner with Bernie, I basically do as he advises and well, it has always proven a successful strategy.

The Road to Recovery

I Confess

I am writing to let you all know that I have not been abducted, nor am I being held hostage by little green Martian men. If I had, you better believe that I would be keeping you abreast of the culinary exploits experienced along the way. No no, my reason for being such a poor blogger over the last few weeks is in fact quite dull: writers block. There has hardly been a scarcity of exploitative material in my life or kitchen. I have struggled with custard (something that precludes being a good ice cream maker) and with the help of my mother, I have learned the art of gently tempering eggs in order to create rich and creamy custards. With this new skill I have moved on to create countless ice creams, some of them good and some of them not so good, and having eaten all of them, I arrived at the conclusion that there was an unfathomable choice to be made in order for me to maintain my current shape and size: ice cream or cheese; I like both of these in such quantities that there would only be room for one in my daily diet. Tragic, I know.

A Twisted Path

Each one of these experiences have provided me with countless photo opportunities and quirky anecdotes displaying my venturesome manner in the kitchen, my fanatical habits in eating, and dramatic withdrawals from one of my many sugar coated and butter filled indulgences. Yet still, every time I sit down to write, my fingers dance awkwardly across the keyboard weaving and winding down a twisted path that eventually leads to a impassable barricade that reads DEAD END you loser! Delete, delete, delete.

The Road to Recovery

So how does a gourmet peasant overcome writers block? I thought about it long and hard. Meditation was certainly an option. Perhaps all I needed to do was to quiet my mind in order to tap into my neurotic ramblings about food. In the end I decided on the road most traveled by troubled writers, booze. I decided to throw a Pairing Party, the idea being that guests bring a bottle of their favorite wine accompanied by some sort of treat, savory or sweet, which would compliment their alcoholic contribution. The results were interesting to say the least…

my entry:
Lussac-Sait Emillion (Bordeaux)
and mini focaccias served with tepinade and Goat Cheese and Potato, Portobello, and Fennel with Feta.




Matt's Entry:
Chardonnay with Jarlsberg and Gruyere







Kara and Darren's entry:
Vin de Pays de Vaucluse (Granache, Syrah, and Carignan mix)
and Saint Andre (my favorite cheese!)







Bernie and Terry's entry:

Bernie-
Rupert & Rothchild Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon mix with an Irish Cashel Blue enrobed in perfectly rare Roast Beef

Terry-
Rioja and Yodels (a classic pairing)






Random entry:
I don't remember the gentleman's name who contributed this bottle, but I must say it brought back some crazy teenage memories.

A 40oz. of Olde English 800, accompanied by yet another 400z.







There were so many more creative and wonderful contributions that I was unable to take pictures of because I was too busy keeping track of my glasses of both white and red. There was Prosecco with strawberries, White Cotes-de-Rhone with trail mix, Pouilly Fume with Ginger Melon ice cream, and another bottle of Saint Emillion with Macaroons, YUM! All in all, the Pairing Party was a success, as the night progressed I found myself growing pleasantly tipsy untill I became overwhelmed with ideas for future posts. Was it the cheese? Was it the ice cream or the booze? Its hard to say. I like to think it was the combination of my favorite food and wines together with the most delectable group of guests. Thanks guys!

It's My Party and I'll...

eat all the Rose Water and Pistachio ice cream for breakfast if I want to.
I wish I had a better picture of this wonderful ice cream that I made, but unfortunately
I ate it all before I had a chance to snap a couple

It is fairly obvious that I have an obsessive personality, and so why should you be surprised to learn that this aspect of my personality carries over into all of my relationships, namely my relationship with ice cream. I love ice cream. I love it so much that I have a tremendously hard time not eating an entire pint in one sitting. When I am eating ice cream, it is as though I am transported to a lusciously hypnotic state of delirium. As I focus on the texture and flavor components of each bite I fall deeper and deeper into the well of this meditative state; there is no yesterday, there is no tomorrow, there is only here and now and this rapturous sensation that transforms time and space.

The problem arises after this rapturous sensation comes to an end. As soon as I have swallowed my last bite, my spiritual condition quickly disintegrates leaving me in a frenzied state of withdrawal. I may decide to stop, to put the pint down and to walk away. 'I don't have to eat the entire thing' I tell myself unconvincingly. However, somewhere, in the back of my mind I understand that the battle has already been lost. As I move on with my day, attack chores, relax, exercise or what-have-you, I am all the time aware of that half eaten pint sitting in the freezer, lonely and deserted. Before dinner I sneak a bit. Two more after dinner. 'Oh what the hell!' I exclaim, 'I can eat it now or i can eat it later, whats the difference?' I ask myself as I surrender to the "now." Sometimes, like last night with my rose flavored ice cream, I muster the strength to restrain myself, to set the pint down and to forget about it. But, the next morning, as I brew my coffee, my keenly sharpened skills of rationalization (KSSR) go to work on finding some kind of logical reason for eating it all for breakfast. Lucky for me, this morning my KSSR did have to work too hard to find a reason as I had already woken up with the perfect excuse, my thirty-first birthday. Happy Birthday to me!

Now it is off to the gym - I won't have to search too long or hard to find a rationalization for that now will I?

An Appetizing End to an Unappetizing Week

If you haven’t already noticed, I have been more than lax with my posting this past week. You may think that, because of the pleasantly deceiving warm weather in the past few days, I no longer care. You may even believe that there have been many appetizing events in my week that I have mischievously decided not to tell you about. On both counts I assure you, I am innocent. The unfortunate reality is that it has been an extremely unappetizing week, spent focusing on potentially hazardous food, and the 6 favorable conditions that help incubate the bacteria and viruses that cause about a trillion different foodborne illnesses. Fun huh?

The goal was to obtain my Food Safety Certificate - one in about a thousand steps I must take in order to open my desired Peasant Ice Cream Factory. And so, with the sun glistening outside the classroom window, it has been my plight to study quit a few of these foodborne illnesses (yuck), the kinds of havoc they wreak on the body (double yuck), and what I can do in the kitchen to prevent them from occurring (no objections here.) To be honest with you, the course has been unusually interesting and, well, alarmingly informative. In fact, all this talk about bacteria, hazards, toxins, botulism, and parasites has had me considering quitting the whole ice cream biz in order to wage a full-on war against the devilishly sinister microorganisms. It would seem almost immoral to dedicate my life to the production wonderfully flavored ice cream while bacteria were still being allowed to multiply two-fold every 20-30 min under favorable and encouraging conditions.

Friday, as I walked proudly out the front door of the Health Department certificate in hand, I briefly imagined a life clouded by the smell of sanitizing solution. Would I become accustomed to the scratching sound of the scrub brush against eternally mold collecting tiles? Would it be enough to mop the kitchen floor four times a day? Would I have the strength and will power to walk into a restaurant and order my steak (I clear my throat in order to whisper), well done? On second thought, maybe spending my time inventing creamy treats would prove more rewarding, if not less… dry.

When I got home the first thing I did was to hang up in the kitchen my newly acquired certificate, then I spent the next two hours cleaning and sanitizing - just because have decided not to dedicate my life to the termination of micros, does not mean I can’t dedicate two hours to it. With my kitchen sparkling and the snow falling heavily outside, I decided it was time to brave the battlefield of germs in order to end my week on an appetizing note.


Mango chili and Lime Ice Cream


2 mangoes
4 egg yolks
1/3 cup - sugar
Splash of rose water syrup
13/4 cup - milk
1/2 cup - heavy cream
1 tbsp – Limejuice
1tsp - cayenne

Directions

• 1.) In blender or food processor, puree mangoes with limejuice, them pass through sieve and set aside.
• 2.) Beat together eggs and sugar until thick. It should have a lemony color.
• 3.) In a medium pot, heat milk and cream on stovetop, until almost boiling. DO NOT BOIL. Remove from burner and let stand for one min.
• 4.) Add 1/2 cup of the hot milk mixture to the egg mixture. Mix thoroughly before adding the next 1/2-cup. Continue until half the milk mixture is incorporated into the egg mixture. Slowly add the egg mixture back to the milk mixture whisking it by hand as you go.
• 5.) Heat the mixture on a very low heat whisking constantly (my mother says to whisk as though your life depends on it) by hand until the liquid coats the back of a wooden spoon.
• 6.) Remove from heat and pour through sieve. Place mixture over an ice bath, stirring occasionally. Once cooled add the mango puree and cayenne.
• 7.) Let mixture sit in refrigerator overnight before freezing in ice cream machine.

Marsupial Anyone?

While in school and finishing up my degree, I developed a fixation with BBC World News. Whenever I was in needed of source material to help me procrastinate from mountainous readings or tedious papers, I would surf the British news site in hopes of unearthing one of their random and offbeat stories that usually involved some kind of funny looking animal.


There was the story about a pack of flesh-eating squirrels off the cost of Russia who had viciously attacked and eaten a dog due, allegedly, to a recent pine cone shortage.


Then there was the story about roaches acquiring pet status in Australia – apparently the little buggers are popular because “the kids can play with them without getting hurt” Ah, what?!?



Who on earth covers these stories I would wonder while laughing with amazement. When China banned citizens from naming their children “Stinky Dog,” BBC World News was there (makes you wonder, was there really a surplus of people naming their children Stinky Dog?) When a woman in Sussex swallowed her cell-phone while fighting with her boyfriend, BBC World News was on the job.

As I rushed from school to my restaurant job, and from my restaurant job back to school I would often imagine myself traveling the world in search of new, unconventional, and completely trivial stories involving animals, insects, and incredibly stupid human beings. Was it possible that, one day, I too could be employed by BBC to cover wacky and unusual stories?

It was around this time that I was refining my paltry avocation; zeroing in on articles involving solely marsupials, of which there were surprisingly many. There were stories featuring flesh-eating marsupials, marsupials scared of there own noise, and, get this, marsupial recipes. A lover of Thai food, one recipe in particular caught my eye and sparked my interest, the question is, where can you buy some good Kangaroo around here?

Thai style salad of kangaroo and peanuts with lime

Ingredients
6 limes
2 tsp coconut-palm sugar (or demerara sugar)
1⁄2 red chili, seeded and finely chopped
1⁄2 tsp fish sauce
1⁄2 tsp tamari paste
1 tbsp vegetable oil
14oz kangaroo fillets, trimmed and cut into 6 equal strips
2 tsp rice, dry-roasted in the oven or in a frying pan until golden
4 shallots, finely sliced
2oz fresh coriander, chopped
1oz fresh mint, chopped
3oz roasted peanuts, coarsely ground

• Method
• To make the dressing, grate the zest of three limes, and squeeze the juice from all six.
• Mix with the sugar, chili, fish sauce and tamari until the sugar has dissolved.
• To cook the kangaroo, put the vegetable oil in a frying pan on a high heat and sear the kangaroo strips for 2-3 minutes, taking care not to over-cook.
• Remove from the pan and leave to rest in a warm place for 2 minutes. Finally, slice the kangaroo strips thinly and put in a mixing bowl with the dressing, roasted rice, shallots, herbs and peanuts. Mix well, and serve on six plates.

Recipe by Peter Gordon
from Fresh Food

Photos taken from original stories for which the links are provided

As Fundamental As The Earth...

For millennia, people have known how to cook their food. They have understood animals and what to do with them, have cooked with the seasons and had a farmer's knowledge of the way the plant works. They have preserved traditions of preparing food, handed down through generations, and have come to know them as expressions of their families. People don't have this kind of knowledge today, even though it seems as fundamental as the earth, and, its true, those who do have it tend to be professionals- like chefs. But I don't want this knowledge in order to be a professional; just to be more human.

- Bill Buford, Heat, 2006

Spare Change and Bread Pudding with a Twist

I used to have a lot of sympathy, now I just have a lot less change…

A good friend once told me this in a conversation about New York City panhandlers. It seems that every city street houses one, some of them screaming, others whispering, some of them smiling, and others frowning. From the punk rock squatter kids on the lower east side you may hear a line such as, “spare change for a decadent life style,” or from a stumbling hobo in Time Square, as he sips his Old English from a plastic champagne glass, you may receive the very crude request for, “ f***ing change!”

I used to give almost all of them whatever change I had in my pocket, fully aware that only a fraction would be putting my contribution toward a meal. As time has gone by and my change pot has run dry, I have devised a new way of dealing with panhandlers, I don’t give them money; instead I offer whatever food I have handy. In the past I have donated restaurant leftovers, half of a lunchtime sandwich, a bunch of bananas from my grocery bag, and even once a tin of Christmas cookies I was bringing to work.

It is a plan that, for the most part, works well, except for the times that I don’t have food to offer. This happens to be case with my local panhandler. Every night I exit the train and am greeted by his warm smile and modest request, “Whatever you can spare would be greatly appreciated.” At night I rarely have food with me and so I smile, shake my head, and shrug my shoulders to indicate that I have no change. “ Have a good night,” he says to me in response. Do I feel guilty? Sure I do, and that is why last night, when a coworker was about to throw out the leftover bread from brunch, I stopped him. Tonight I would bring him chocolate bread from Amy’s bread! Unfortunately, when I got off the train, he was nowhere to be found.

What was I going to do with all of this chocolate bread?


Bread Pudding with a Chocolate Twist

5 pieces – Day old Amy’s Chocolate Bread Twists
2 tbsp - melted butter
4 – eggs beaten
2 cups – milk
3/4 cup - sugar
1tsp – Vanilla
sprinkle of light brown sugar and cinnamon (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Break bread up into small pieces and fill one 8inch or two 4inch cake pans.
3. Drizzle bread with melted butter.
4. Beat together eggs, milk, sugar, and vanilla and pour over bread.
5. Let bread sit for a few them push down on bread with a fork in order to soak up egg mixture.
6. Sprinkle with light brown sugar and cinnamon then place in oven for 45 min, or until the center of the pudding springs back to touch.