Urban Gardening {Morning Glory}

 


Happy first day of Spring! To help you get outside and cultivate your green thumb, I'll show you how to get growing the cheap and easy way by turning kitchen tools into garden tools on Danny Boome's new morning show, Morning Glory.

It Starts with a Seed {and a pot}

Last night I stayed up till the wees planting over 60 seeds in little newspaper pots that will later become our summer garden. The thing that made it so fun, besides the promise of practically free organic fruits and veggies all summer long, is making rows of little pots with my new paper pot maker.

This paper pot maker came from Jackie Johnson who sells his handmade oak beauties at his store Wood Elements on Etsy. It’s a handy tool; worth it’s cost for the dollars you’ll save on terra cotta since it allows you to roll old newspapers into pots just the right size for seedlings like the tomato starters above. Since the paper will disappear into the soil as the root systems grow, they can be transplanted directly into the ground when the weather warms. 

If you don’t have time or dime to invest, you’ll find a stash of surprisingly suitable pots in your very own kitchen. Save your paper towel tubes and cut them in thirds, and line them up on a sheet tray or baking dish which becomes their temporary bottom when you pack them with soil. 

Once you have your pots, it takes little more than the cost of a bag of potting soil and a few packs of seeds to create your own mini farm. It helps to have somewhere to transplant your farm in about 6 weeks, like a backyard, a set of raised beds or a community garden like mine. But you’ve got plenty of time to sort that out. For now, set the seeds to incubate in the warmest, sun drenched spot in the house where the window light will reach them while you’re away at work. Before you know it, you'll be seeing green. 

It sort of makes the whole growing your own food thing seem easier than you thought huh? Here’s the news—it is. Here are five other things you’ll need to know:

1. Soil

It helps tremendously to start seed in the healthiest soil available. Choose organic “seed starter” or “potting” soil, which is light and loose {those seeds need oxygen}, and designed to have the perfect balance of the nutrients plants need: potassium, phosphorus and nitrogen.

2. Seeds

It has been well argued that organically grown produce has the highest nutrient content. I’m a believer. Start with organic seeds, dated for the current year. Talk to local farmers and gardeners {your farmer’s market is likely full of them} about what grows well in your climate, and where they get their seeds. Some of my favorite online seed sources are: Southern Exposure Seed Exchange, The Seed Savers Exchange, Twin Leaf: Seeds from Thomas Jefferson's Garden at Monticello

3. Light + Warmth

Seeds are dormant storehouses of energy and nutrition, but they need warmth to unlock their potential. That’s why we start seeds indoors in the springtime in cooler climates, where the ground has not yet reached the optimum temperatures. That temperature is different for every plant, but most plants germinate most quickly in soil between 65 and 80 degrees. Seeds don’t need light to germinate, but once they reach the surface they do need about 6 to 8 hours of full daylight.

4. Oxygen

You know this: Plants, like animals, need oxygen, which is why we start tiny seeds in loose soil. Don’t pack your soil too tightly, and water with a light sprinkle or drizzle rather than a heavy douse of water.

5. One Last Tip

Follow the instructions on the seeds for how deep to plant seeds in the soil, but a general rule of thumb is the bigger the seed, the deeper in the soil it should go. Sprinkle tiny lettuce and herb seeds on top of the soil and top with a thin dusting of soil. Press zucchini, cucumber and melon seeds about 1 inch below the soil. They’ll need a deeper root system to grow up big and strong. 

Indulge Yourself, Darling! {pudding}

l.i.c., ny 

Last night I came home, opened the fridge, and found this…

…which was meant to be dessert for tonight’s dinner. Why thank you, I guess you like my chocolate pudding! 

Here is my recipe, and the rest of the meal that goes with it—a most satisfying savory cheese and potato pie with a layer of ham that you really must make {really, I insist, it’s one of my most delicious creations!}. I developed these recipes for the March issue of the Food Network Magazine that is about to disappear from the newsstands to make way for May. But don't worry, these recipes are yours to keep, so there's plenty of time for pie and pudding making.

A Movable Feast {join us!}

new york, new york

This morning at 6 am, András and hundreds of other road racers pedaled 30 miles around New York’s Central Park in the first race of the cycling season. When he came home and found me still snug in bed, his first question of course, was “what’s for breakfast.”

For three cycling seasons running, I’ve held the role of #1 fan and feeder-in-chief, which translates to VIP to a man who burns around 1,800 calories on a breezy Saturday morning. Since feeding the ones I love feeds my soul, I gladly accept. But as often as food is fuel for his next ride, the pursuit of good food also fuels our passion for hopping on the bikes together and finding our next feast. That’s why were such big fans of the new cycling travel series dedicated to regional foods, called Pedaling.

The series, which documents the movable feasts of competitive cyclists and commuters, makes stops in some of my favorite city stomping grounds and gives anyone who watches good reason to get out an explore their own city on a bike. 

If you happen to live in my city, New York, I’ve dreamed up two classes at Whole Foods Bowery Culinary Center that celebrate food + bicycles, and the launch of Pedaling TV. If you like to eat and ride, or love someone who does, join us: 

Thursday, March 18

A Movable Feast

6 pm to 9 pm

Calling all biking and baking enthusiasts! Come gear up for your own season of pedaling with culinary expert and Pedaling enthusiast Sarah Copeland; tonight's class is devoted to the making of classic doughs  that provide a flavor foundation for high-quality, high-energy fuel for your next cycling adventure. Learn to make homemade sourdough and whole wheat pizza doughs, and versatile pie dough that swings sweet and savory. 

On the Menu: 

Whole-Wheat Flatbread with Fresh Ricotta; Fingerling-Potato Pizza; Mashed Potato + Meat Pies; Little Breakfast Pies with Seasonal Fruit; Musette Pies. 

Register Here!

Thursday, April 29

Food As Fuel: Energy for Biking & Beyond

6 pm to 9 pm

Whether you're getting ready for the Five Boro Bike Tour, your daily commute or weekend ride through the country, pedaling requires high quality endurance foods that are high-energy, low-fat and low-maintenance. Join culinary expert and pedaling enthusiast Sarah Copeland as she unlocks the secret of "food fuel" that's as delicious as it is nutritious. Come prepare an endurance feast to fuel up for your next two-wheeled journey during tonight's family style dinner party. 

On the Menu: 

Hand-made whole-grain soft pretzels, Baja Fish Tacos with Homemade Corn Tortillas, Smashed Plantains with Cotija Cheese and Lime; Horchata Rice Pudding. 

Register Here! 

{logo by Jenny Goddard Design }

House of Bread

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread “~ John Muir

lic, ny

A few years ago, I moved from Manhattan to Queens to be with András, kicking and screaming the whole way. I had lived in Manhattan for 9 years, was convinced that my favorite things would be too far out of reach in his borough. He lured me with love, a farmer’s market right outside our building and promises of good bread.

The farmer’s market is indeed a gem, but the bread he spoke of came from an old Greek bakery below our subway stop and was wholly unremarkable. Luckily for him though, he was right, Queens is home to some of the best bakers in town. 

On a summer bike ride around the neighborhood, I passed a truck that said Pain D’Avignon, and followed it home down the street in hopes of finding French bakers that recalled those of walled French city of Avignon. Instead I found only a wholesale operation, and the breads I could smell completely out of view behind brick and motor. Still, I rang the buzzer and met JoAnne Cortese who opened up her doors to one of the most magnificent houses of bread I’d ever seen.

Owned by three gentlemen from Yugoslavia, Pain D’Avignon’s bakers are masters of handcrafted, artisan baking, and their commitment shows in the texture and flavor of their breads. Each and every bread is mixed by Moussa Cond’e, who has been mixing the unbleached, American-raised grains since he came to Pain D’Avignon from West Africa 8 years ago {he’s pictured here in this room of white}. After Moussa mixes the dough, all the breads are hand scaled and shaped before going to rise.

Bakers work through the night to turn out some of the finest, most toothsome artisan breads in town that until recently could only be had in the bread baskets of some of the best restaurants in town, including Picholine, Locande Verde and The Standard Grill.

Last week, Pain D’Avignon opened a retail shop at the Essex Market on the Lower East Side in Manhattan, home to Saxelby Cheese and Fromaggio Essex. The market is still one of New York’s best-kept secrets, and it’s worth a journey to this wondrous old-world market for the bread alone. Sadly, you won’t get to meet Moussa or the other men and women behind those hand shaped breads but you can take home their treasures to taste for yourself. 

favorite {books}

A few weeks ago, life brought me a little gift when Caroline Wright showed up in my station in the Food Network Test Kitchens. She was there to contribute her talents and expertise to our ever growing repertoire of recipes, and brought along with her the joy and enthusiasm we share for all things food. Over a few days in the kitchen, Caroline and I became fast friends and quickly learned that we share a love of France, where we both lived at different times during our culinary lifetimes, and books, which we value as inspirations and guideposts along our journey to write our own one day.

This month, she’s honored me as the guest on her desert island cookbooks series on her blog, The Wright Recipes.

Caroline’s eyes and laugh are generous, as are her recipes which she shares with the world each day on her blog so that anyone can learn to cook and eat as well as her. But when it comes to rules, she’s strict. She told me I could bring only eight books to this desert island. I considered telling Caroline that my suitcase has one of those expandable zippers and I’m sure it could hold at least 12, but she’s too kind, so I had to leave four books behind. You can see the eight books I wouldn’t want to live without on her site here; and below, here are four more books I’d sneak along when she wasn’t looking. 

Joy of Cooking, 75^th Anniversary Edition  

Sometimes even ambitious cooks need to return to the classics. When I do, I turn to the 75^th Anniversary Edition of Joy of Cooking. I worked on this edition long enough to appreciate the rigorous recipe testing each and every recipe goes through (including a simple hard boiled egg, which I tested 8 times). The recipes are trustworthy, delicious and a perfect starting point from which to experiment once you’ve gained a little confidence.

Sunday Suppers at Lucques: Seasonal Recipes from Market to Table 

Lucques is an acclaimed LA restaurant that’s famous for it’s Sunday Suppers. Whether you’ve heard of Lucques or not, or like me have never been, consider yourself lucky that Lucques’ chef Suzanne Goin was generous enough to share her secrets with the rest of us. I love the way this book is arranged by season, and it’s so easy to navigate and keep on hand for inspiration before you head out to your local market or garden.

A Platter of Figs and other Recipes  

This is the kind of intuitive cooking I wish Americans were cooking at home almost every night, and certainly when they entertain. It’s seasonality and simplicity at its absolute best in the hands of David Tanis, the part-time head chef at Chez Panisse. Gather your friends or your family—if they are anything like me, they won’t want to miss a single meal from this book.

The Balthazar Cookbook 

The Balthazar cookbook is the essence of New York and Paris rolled into one. If I were on a desert island (or if I ever moved away from New York), I could count on this book to feel my soul and my senses with the classic bistro food that I’ve come to count on for simple suppers and celebrations alike—French onion soup, steak au poivre, and the always perfect pavlova I order every time I tuck into a table at Balthazar. For their remarkable bread basket though, you’ll have to make an actual trip to New York, to the petit Balthazar boulangerie next door to the restaurant. 

Hungry in America

Whenever I make a meal for a gathering, I love to lay out all the plates and platters on the table and assign a dish to each one. I think it is the serenity of it that appeals to me—all these plates sitting there so peaceful and pretty before they’re filled with heaps and mounds of food.


But there’s nothing pretty at all about dishes that stand empty for one, two or even three meals a day. And there is no serenity in lying awake at night wondering how in the world you’re going to feed your child.

That is the reality of 49 million Americans who struggle with hunger. That’s 1 in 8 American families; 1 in 4 children.


In 1968, CBS aired a one-hour documentary that shocked the country with its report that 10 million Americans were facing hunger. Congressmen George McGovern and Bob Dole responded by creating legislation to form programs like WIC, a supplemental nutrition program for women, infants and children, modern day food stamps and school feeding programs. Much of it worked.


But somehow hunger became a lost priority. With each passing decade, the number of hungry families in our own country climbed, from 10 million to 30 million to a staggering 49 million in 2008. That’s five times the population of Hungary, and almost the entire population of France.


What’s shocking is that most of these families have at least one adult who works full time. And none of these families goes lacks food because our country lacks the resources to grow enough. This isn’t a famine. This is an outrage.

The United States is the only wealthy, industrialized nation with a massive hunger crisis. Why?

That is exactly the question the filmmakers behind the documentary Hungry in America seek to answer.

Private food banks, pantries and other feeding programs financed through charity seek to address hunger, but the need is too great. The problems causing hunger need to be addressed on a bigger scale. We need to ask questions like why ten percent of America’s largest and richest corporate farms collect almost 75% of federal farm subsidies; and why are many of these the same farms that grow corn to produce foods sweetened with corn syrup and sold cheaply to low-income Americans.

Good Food is everyone's right.

That is a belief I share with organizations like FEED projects, Good Food Gardens, Share our Strength and Hungry in America. Last night, at Colicchio and Sons restaurant in Manhattan, Tom Colicchio {of Top Chef fame} joined FEED foundation and Vanity Fair to raise funds to finish the film that will be a game changer in the fight against hunger, and to help launch FEED USA. Many generous New Yorker’s including Natalie Portman, Katie Couric, and Jake Gyllenhal gathered to lend their support, their celebrity, or their sense of responsibility to the filmmakers.

After we all ate rounds of carefully crafted potato gnocchi with braised brussel sprouts, tuna sashimi, lamb loin with lentils, and steamed oysters with celeriac slaw, we paused to try to imagine what it would feel like to have an empty belly as we listened to the voices of hunger as filmed by Kristi Jacobson and Lori Silverbush, the women behind  Hungry in America.

It’s a difficult thing to imagine, an empty fridge, an empty pantry, an empty plate. But it exists. In this country. No one can turn away from the true stories of those who live in that nightmare every day.

When the film is finished and shown across the country, the hope is that we can count on the passion and empathy of the American people to demand national change. In the meantime, the film, and the feeding, requires individual change and the generosity of sponsors like you. If you can, please support the film here. And you can help FEED a child here. 

Mad Hungry {books}

“Men eat differently than women—they eat more, they eat constantly, and they eat passionately.”  ~Lucinda Scala Quinn

I always thought I had the man food thing down pretty well. It was with food that I first lured András to my side, and he’s cleaned his plate during every meal since, praising my culinary prowess. But my focus has always been on quality over quantity—small amounts of exceptionally raised, lovingly braised bits of goodness that just fill us up.

Recently I learned that I’ve been going about the whole thing all wrong. Quality is key, but a hearty helping counts for an awful lot. My wake up call came when András came to pick me up at work for date night one recent Friday.  My colleague and friend Claudia, wife, and mother of two half-grown men, had just cooked up an oversized portion of pasta. She offered András a little taste before we headed to our concert, and before I knew it he was pulled up to the bar opposite her cook top, polishing off his second plate. It was more than I had ever seen him eat at home.

I’ve since learned that as intuitive as it is to cook for anyone we love, there really is an art to feeding the men and boys in our lives—be it boyfriend, brother, best buddy or little boy. No one knows this better than Lucinda Scala Quinn, author of the playful new book Mad Hungry : Feeding Men & Boys. You may recognize her name and face from the pages of Martha Stewart Living, where she is the Executive Food Director, but her shining role is that of wife, and mother to three active boys whom she feeds with the spirited recipes she’s created and gathered cooking her way through life.

I sent a copy of this book to my sister Jenny in San Diego, who has the joyous job of feeding her hubby and my nephew Benjamin, both excellent eaters. Last week she added one more man to that list, my dad, while my parents were out there visiting.

Tonight, upon their return, I called Mom and Dad to hear about the trip and Dad’s report centered firmly around Jenny’s chicken parmesan dinner, which came from the pages of this book.

“Where can I get mother a copy of that Man Hunger book?” Dad asked.

Right here. 

Date Night {Roman's}

ft. greene, brooklyn

Last night we had dinner with our friends Katie and Parker at their new neighborhood restaurant,  Roman's.  The meal was simple, satisfying, actually kind of perfect. Romans serves like kind of food that you could make at home but tastes especially good when someone else has done the work for you—things like stretched mozzarella on toasted bread, hen of the woods mushroom toasts with telleggio fonduta, and tagliatelle in a light rabbit ragu. It all adds up to a belly that’s not overly full, but incredibly satisfied.  And they have a pretty savory beer list too. Try the Aventiunus Doppelbock.

Between the four of us, we don’t each much meat, but we share a philosophy on eating humanely raised meats sold directly to the consumer.  Roman’s is the kind of place that celebrates that too, so go ahead and order the beef rib agnolotti {if it’s still there, the menu changes daily}. It helps to have your very own butcher, as Roman's does {Marlow and Daughters} but we won’t begrudge their good fortune since they’re not greedy with their resources. You can get quality meats from their butcher too, just down the road apiece.

Romans

243 Dekalb Avenue

Ft. Greene, NY

718-622-5300

Marlow & Daughters

95 Broadway

Williamsburg, Brooklyn

718-388-5700

Liège Waffles {a love offering}

Today when I was reading through the Saveur 100 {February + March issue} I got stuck on no. 92, submitted by Isabelle Zgonc of Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania. Her ode to the Chicken Paprikash her mother used to make began like this...

"In the minds of some of their Eastern European immigrant neighbors, my parents, Lester and Olga Kolozy, had a mixed marriage: he was Hungarian and she was Slovenian. It didn't get in the way too much, though; they were married for 60 years. They fell in love after my father spotted my mother at a Valentine's Day dance in Cleveland, Ohio; her parents told her not to marry a Hungarian, because all they think about is their next meal." 

I was not given such similar warnings before marrying András, who is also Hungarian, but if I had, like Olga, I doubt I would have listened. I read on to learn that Olga became an accomplished Hungarian cook and made her husband's mouth water for the flavors of home. Like Olga, I learned quickly that sometimes the best way to show a Hungarian man, or any man for that matter that you love him is with a plate full of his favorite food. This is true on any day, but especially on Valentine's Day.

Though András loves the food of his homeland and seems to feel extra loved when I sprinkle paprika on anything from fried eggs to fish, his favorite food as of late hails from Belgium —Gaufres de Liège, or Liège style waffles.

Gaufres de Liege are the crisp, sweet, dense and chewy waffles you find in the street stands in Brussels, Brugge or the city of Liège. There they are served simply with a dusting of powdered sugar,  a far different thing than the oversized, airy waffles we see on breakfast menus here at home.  According to legend, Liege waffles were brought to New York via The Waffle Guy, by appointment of the Belgian Ministry of Culinary Affairs. András fell in love with "the chewy ones" as he calls them, at the hands of the Wafels and Dinges truck who serve them at his cycling races, and has been asking me to make them ever since. 

We make standard Belgian waffles regularly, but the two of the three ingredients that give Liège waffles their distinctive texture—bread flour, large amounts of butter kneaded into a yeasted dough {like brioche} and pearl sugar that caramelizes on the hot iron—aren't things I always have on hand. But thanks to the internet and a little advance planning, I was in the running for wife if the year. 

After the dough was made, butter and pearl sugar kneaded in, and iron pre-heated, I set a simple table with the tulips he'd brought me and useless forks, and cooked up batch after batch of hot "chewy ones." {recipe here} We ate them by hand, one after another, first with sugar then Nutella, as I pulled them hot from the iron. András lapped me several times, rubbed his belly, kissed my hand and retired to the couch where he seemed contended for about a half hour before he asked, 

"Are there any more?" 

In a world of glass slippers and glittering castles, a question like that might make a girl feel forlorn. In the world of Lesters and Olgas, the world to which I belong, that's a question that sounds a lot like love.

Sweet Nothings {chocolate}

"Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination."
~Voltaire

It seems that chocolate for Valentine's day never goes out of style.  A well-dressed bar from Mast Brother's Chocolate, the Brooklyn chocolatiers whose chocolates come hand-wrapped in vintage paper, would certainly make a suitable offering for your beloved. But why should they have all the fun? Hand-wrap your own, as I have, in one of the pretty papers you saved from your last paper spree {my favorites come from here}. A handmade sweet nothing that speaks volumes in love.

Pulpo

{a love letter}

A few years ago, I wrote an ode to an old love that was picked up by Chow as their favorite love letter of the season {flattering!}. When I ran across it the other day, I found it still stirred feelings for a flavor that's gone remiss on my table; I thought it worth reprinting here in honor of rekindled flames and the coming of cupid. 

~

There is something about Octopus that always makes me feel like love. It wouldn’t have seemed so when I first tasted the eight-armed creature back in the second grade when my classmate brought in cold Korean-style octopus for show and tell. I stepped right up to taste, but the texture was foreign, and the flavor did nothing to quiet my concerns that the suctions would stick to the insides of my cheek. The experience was memorable, but not in the way a food wants to be remembered. It wasn't exactly love at first bite.

Years later, at a dinner with Japanese delegates from the UN, my hosts insisted I’d find love in a bowl of baby octopi, heads and all. Like an ill-matched pair on a blind date, we sat at an awkward distance, the octopi and I, until etiquette necessitated I eat them in their entirety, with nary a lick of sauce or soy. It seemed there just was no chemistry. 

Several years later, the cephalopod waived its flirtatious arms my way again, this time more successfully, at a dinner prepared for me by my dear Valentine. An adventurous eater who’d spent several years near the sea in Spain, my Valentine and I shared a deep affection for foods that swim. When he placed the octopus before me, its skin glistened through the generous layers of olive oil, lemon juice and parsley; I couldn’t resist. It was delicious— tender, juicy, and meaty in a way I’d never thought seafood could be. 

Though I had never cooked octopus myself, I'd heard storied techniques for tenderizing that ranged from beating it with a rolling pin to cooking it with a cork. I saw my Valentine’s success as valiant, like wrestling a bear in the wild. So infatuated was I that I didn’t think to ask for details about how he’d prepared it (beaten and bruised?), where he had bought it (Chinatown?), or why he had gone to all of that work for just two itty bitty portions. I was in love.

Several months later, during a Central Park picnic, this Valentine produced a Spanish tin of Pulpo in Olio (Octopus in Olive Oil), a lemon, and a set of toothpicks. He pulled the tin back the pop-top handle, halved the lemon with his well-worn Opinel knife and squeezed the juice that quickened into the oil as an impromptu dressing. Having not the habit of eating foods from a can, I was skeptical but still amorous, so I partook. With one bite I knew I’d been blinded by love—the canned octopus had the same succulent tenderness as the one I’d tasted at his house. I should have known that my Valentine had more suave than skill.

That’s how I got stuck on octopus. Like every good love affair, it’s had its ups and downs, but there is always something new to discover. I’ve had octopus in paella and ala plancha, hot and sizzling, grilled and charred, sushi style, Spanish style, simple and sublime— always at the hands of a trusted chef, but never in my own kitchen.  Many things deterred me from trying it at home, the hours of beating and braising, seasoning and saucing that are required, the posture of the octopi lining the streets of Chinatown.

Last week, in a fit of Valentine’s nostalgia, I ordered Grilled Octopus with Fagioli Diavoli Beans and Cavolo Nero at Del Posto, across the street from my kitchen at work. It was captivating—skillfully charred and curled on top of earthy braised greens and buttery beans. Leave it to Mark Ladner, the man behind the menu of Mario Batali's Del Posto to create such simple goodness. I've rubbed elbows with Mark enough during the taping of Iron Chef {where he's Batali's sous chef} to peek into the kitchen and ask him his secret, inspiration to try it at home. But then again, I could cross the street, a far simpler proposition.


And then, there is always the tin can.


Recently, dear friends moved from Madrid to New York. As a token of love, I made them a meal with flavors from home—sardines, Branzino, braised lamb in Tempranillo, Manchego cheese, and pulpo.

They praised all, but best of all the pulpo. They didn’t ask how I’d made it so tender, where I’d hid the remains, or which local fishmonger I preferred. And like my old valentine, I didn’t tell.

Maybe that’s the secret to love.

~

lazy lady churros {donuts}

l.i.c., ny

For the first time in my six years working at Food Network, the office is closed today for snow. Hooray for Snow Days! They’re a perfect excuse to take good care of yourself— soak in the tub, boil up a pot of water to steam your face, and make good use of your leftover churro batter. If you’re feeling lazy, like me, forgo the piping bag and lower little spoonfuls of batter into the hot oil to fry up little donut holes. Smother them in a blizzard of cinnamon sugar and snuggle in. Skip the guilt; I’m sure you’ll work it off with some vigorous play in the snow later today. 

Igloo making anyone? 

Postcards from El Morro

mexico city, mexico

I can’t quite recall exactly how András and I chose Mexico City as the starting point for our honeymoon, but I can recall the thing that made it hard to leave— hot chocolate and churros from Churreria El Morro. It could be argued by locals that these are actually the second best churros in Mexico City, but nothing could match the atmosphere in this 1930’s institution. There we could sit for hours, waiting for our churros and hot chocolate {Spanish, French, or Mexican style}, watching waitresses come and go in pink pinafores and pearly white loafers as gentleman snapped sections from ring upon ring of freshly fried churros.  Soaked in cinnamon sugar, each stack lasted only half as long as we hoped and seconds were a sure thing.

We’ve have been talking about those churros so much lately that one day recently when we were pedaling back from Brooklyn on a too-cold day, András pulled into the parking lot of Costo to share a dirty little secret with me—$1 a bag churros in the Costco cafeteria.

I’d like you tell you that I slapped his wrist and steered him in a different direction, and that absolutely everything we eat is always and forever more hand made by me. That’s only about 85 % true. The truth is, my lame attempts at a protest weren’t successful. I was too frozen stiff to argue, and besides, have you ever tried to take a toy from a toddler?

Costco’s churros have nothing on the crispy columns with melting interiors we experienced in Mexico. Not even $1 worth. So tonight, while the rest of the world was immersed in the superbowl, I set out to do some quality rewiring on András taste buds with a fresh batch of my own.  

{click recipe to enlarge}

Barbacoa

mexico city, mexico

There seems to be an unwritten law that going on honeymoons is like joining the Masons... secret and mysterious, and the fewer questions asked the less embarrassing for everybody. ~Martha Byrd Porter, Straight Down a Crooked Lane

This time last year, András I were on a plane bound for Mexico City, en route to our honeymoon. When we arrived, we checked in here, in a plain but perfect room flooded in light with an old footed tub in the middle.

The next day, our friend Nick had arranged for his cousins {and now our friends} Mary and Ro to take us for a day of authentic eating, starting with barbacoa at 8 o'clock am Sunday morning. From what I had read, barbacoa was something like barbecue, though that description hardly does the trick. Mary and Ro took us on a drive 30 minutes to the far side of the city {which side I couldn’t tell you} through unkept residential roads and alleys far from chic Condessa. Soon we were standing before the scene above ordering steamed, simmered hunks of meat lifted from a maguey leaf-lined pit, chopped on a smoothed old wood stump, weighed and served by the pound.

We hadn’t told them András is a vegetarian, though it didn’t matter. Barbarcoa is served with dozens of hot corn tortillas made by the magic of young hands that move like a dance over hot cast iron barrels, releasing the steamy golden disks into stacks.  Our appetite for masa awakened ravenous gratitude for their craft. We returned to their barrels over and over to watch and to refill our emptied basket, washing it all down with salsa, cerveza and hot-sweetened coffee. 

The moment was as unfortgetable as the meal, an ancient tradition seeped in the colors of Diego Rivera’s Mexico, the steam that soaked the air with stewed meat and the painterly quality of it all that appeared on film through the old camera I’d taken with us, leaving us with a longing for Mexico, with all its secrets and mysteries.

B is for Brooklyn {and beer}

brooklyn, ny

Last night, on north 11th street in Brooklyn, Brooklyn Brewery released the latest in their Brooklyn Brewmasters Reserve Series, Cookie Jar Porter, a smooth malty brew rich with the familiar flavors of oats and raisin. I'm not sure what I enjoyed more, the taste on tap or the actual cookies they were inspired by {from Feed Your Soul Bakery}. Both were DE-licious. The truth is I never met an oat I didn't like. If you're not careful, I'm likely to put oats into parts of your meal you never dreamed possible. But I still believe they they are most at home on the sweet side. Last month I dreamed up an oatmeal bark with a dark chocolate coating, layered it with bananas and an oatmeal-infused cream fool-style and called it Fool of Oats. Get it? Full of Oats? Anyway, the Food Network Magazine, where it appeared in the current issue, called it a parfait. Call it what you like, you can get the recipe here.

Oats aside, my favorite part of the the Brooklyn Brewery is their collectables -- bottles that date back to when Brooklyn brewed the world. Brooklyn was once home to almost 50 breweries, the first of which made its home there in 1822. Sadly, the industry went flat by 1976, when every brewery, including the 11 on a 12-stretch block from Bushwick to Williamsburg called Brewer's Row, had closed. But local brewers like Brooklyn Brewery, Six Point Craft Ales and Kelso of Brooklyn are giving the borough and its beer culture a welcome revival. And with all those grains {oats, wheat, barley}, that's a revival even the most health conscious among us can get behind.