2010 Food Trends I'm Sick of

I'm thinking about somewhat expensive meals I've had out in trendy restaurants in 2010. I don't eat like that often, since I cook and tend to favor more traditional foods. But as much as I love grandma cooking I can't bury my head in the sand. There's a big culinary world outside my door, and I won't pretend it doesn't exist. Unfortunately I'm seeing quite a bit bandwagon hopping, brought on by the economic downturn. Something works for one place and it's immediately copied ad nauseum. I'm all for innovation from the very few who can be innovators; I can do without watered-down copycats. But they seem to be everywhere in one form or another. Here are some of their crimes I've noticed this year:

Asian fusion - When it happens organically we get brilliant things, like Vietnamese sandwiches, Japanese curries, Thai food, Korean tacos and Sriracha sauce. In the hands of inspired and talented chefs we get some of the top restaurants in the country, offering exciting flavors and signature dishes. But as a concept in less expert hands it leads to gimmicky, overpriced food. A recent example I suffered through was Asian fusion Southern BBQ soul food. Japanese pizza makes more sense to me, and that's not saying much.

"Gourmet" junk food - A good burger is a good thing, so don't make it a con job. Anyone who sources their meat well and treats it with respect can turn out a good burger. When restaurants start duping the gullible by throwing supposed Kobe beef into a meat grinder and charging high dollars for the destroyed result I'm going to take offense. Same goes for posh places offering "sliders" as appetizers. It's not cute; it's infantile. Don't mess with pizza, either. I have no problem paying over $20 for a pie with a perfect crust and top shelf ingredients lovingly fired in a wood burning oven. But charging that much for a so-so pizza just because someone decided to express themselves by piling it high with silly toppings? That's not only insulting your customers, you're insulting the very concept of pizza. Honest junk food made from good ingredients is a delicious indulgence. Tarting it up and trying to pass it off as fine food is a con job.

Pork belly - I love pork in all of its wonderful forms, belly included. I'm happy it made something of a comeback, and I'll indulge a few times a year. But I don't need to see it on every menu. It's getting a little tiresome.

Ridiculous portion sizes - If I want tapas, meze or dim sum I'll go to places that specialize in such. But if you're going to charge me $12 for three mini-tacos because your concept is "Mexican tapas" I'm going to call you a rip-off artist. Reasonable portions, please. This cuts both ways: if I order an appetizer and a main, and am too stuffed to do more than pick at the main there's a portion control issue, unless it's obvious that dishes were meant to be shared. Unless I'm there for a tasting menu I don't expect to waddle out of a restaurant in pain. And if I have to order four or five items to make a meal I expect there to be at least a vague correlation between the prices and the quality of what arrives at the table. Calling it "tapas" is not an excuse, unless what you serve is actually tapas.

Over salting - I'm not anti-anything, with the exception of low end commercially processed food. Fat is fine. Carbs are fine. Sugar is fine. Salt is fine, too. I expect restaurant food to be saltier than home cooking. When I go out for ramen I know I will consume twice the recommended daily salt intake in half an hour. But I don't expect to be unsure whether the burn in my mouth is from chili peppers or salt, which has happened in more than one popular NYC restaurant. I don't expect to go to a place famous for meticulously sourced ingredients prepared simply, only to find more than one dish nearly inedible because an unsure hand in the kitchen got too enthusiastic with the salt. Salt brings flavor to life, and an extra pinch improves simply prepared food. There is a point of diminishing return, though, and acknowledgment of it would be nice. I know making the food a little extra salty boosts wine sales, and I expect that from a wine bar. I prefer a little more restraint from a restaurant.

Cocktails with food - The fancy cocktail trend is well past its peak. I haven't heard the word "mixologist" in over a year, and I'm thankful for that. So I must voice my disapproval of those who try to prop up this waning fad by suggesting food/cocktail pairings. I'm sure that's great for people who don't like to taste their food, but for the rest of us the idea is laughable.

The "locavore movement" - Now that organic is nearly meaningless people need something to hold onto. So let's take a few things that make sense, such as eating seasonally and favoring locally produced foods, then build some misguided ethos out of it. No thanks. I have no plans to do without my coffee, wine, olive oil, citrus and spices, and have no desire to be part of any "movement". See you at the farmer's market.

Abuse of truffle oil - Oil is the poor man's way to get some truffle flavor into a dish. Yes, it can make your mashed potatoes ethereal, and turn a simple plate of grilled asparagus into a fine starter course. When did it become a commonplace thing, and should we be happy about it? I've only had real truffles a few times in my life, but the oil seems to be everywhere. I don't approve. It's kind of like passing off lumpfish roe as caviar, eating it often, then becoming jaded to the wonder of the real stuff. Or drinking so much prosecco in cans (yes, they sell it in cans) that you lose the ability to appreciate champagne. Hopefully the recent steep decline in truffle oil quality will return truffle flavor to the rare pleasure it once was. As tasty as they may be, a side of truffle fries sitting next to your $25 dollar hamburger is silliness. So is a $10 egg on toast flavored with the stuff. Enough already.

Wildly overpriced Mexican in NYC - I know that good inexpensive Mexican food in this town usually requires a trip to unfashionable neighborhoods. And I appreciate the handful of places that serve truly high end Mexican food. What I can't stand is places that are little more than mediocre taquerias, priced as if they were fine dining establishments because of their location in trendy neighborhoods and the fact that they pour top shelf tequila. I can practically hear the laughter from the left coast, and I'm ashamed for my fellow New Yorkers. This has got to stop.

My fear for 2011 - Sugar. In everything. Sweet sauces everywhere. Meat never served without a sweet wine reduction, a fruity sauce or some kind of sugary Asian fusion rub/dipping sauce. Wine lists will run in the opposite direction, moving toward flinty, mineral wines without a hint of residual sugar, making the sweet food completely unable to pair with anything on the list. And everyone who just graduated from waiting in line for Shake Shack will think it's wonderful.

Worth a Read: Luard's European Peasant Cookery

My buddy Richard Priest happens to be something of a polymath, in addition to being one of the best tour managers in the business (also business manager, aspiring producer and most recently, a welder). This man endures my endless talk of food with the patience of a saint, setting aside chunks of his precious downtime to join me for walks around Chinatown, where we seek out holes in the wall serving delicious meals for pocket change. His fluency in Mandarin gives him a better picture than I'll ever have of the goings on around us. (I have only a handful of sentences in Cantonese). Every now and then he honors me by being a guest at my table.

One such night Richard gifted my wife and me a copy of Elisabeth Luard's excellent book: European Peasant Cookery. This book is not breaking news. It was published in 1986. The recipes are for foods that are hundreds to thousands of years old, covering cuisine from Norway to Turkey. It's more than a collection of recipes - it is a great read. Luard can write, and chooses to preface most recipes with engaging descriptions of the land and the people, putting the recipes in cultural context. No surprise this woman has had over ten books published! This one is both inspiring for the cook and, I would guess, a pleasure for anyone interested in reading about food.

European Peasant Cookery provides the reader with a vibrant mental map of traditional cuisines across Europe. For me this not only brings back memories of meals I've had while traveling, but it adds new must tries to the list for future travels. Traditional food pairings are sketched out as well, which is great for those who appreciate thematic continuity at the table.

Then there are the recipes themselves: all bulletproof. Luard puts them in context, mentioning a few variations and common substitutions. By the time I set out to cook I don't even need to refer back to them; they seem as obvious as if I'd learned them from my grandmother. Sure, some of them are beyond the scope of what I plan on doing in my NYC apartment. As of yet I have no plan to cure my own ham or bacon, for example. Nor will I be making my own skyr (Icelandic farmer's cheese), though I wouldn't put that past my wife, who already makes her own buttermilk. Let's face it, cooking at home is much more enjoyable when you're inspired. And the recipes in this book cover so much ground it's easy to open to a random page and find inspiration. Lots of "I can do that" moments here, which lead to, in my case, casually deciding to make a Spanish (or Norwegian, or Greek, or German) meal. Luard even gives the reader a handle on the seasonality of the dishes.

Some future posts to this blog are bound to come from playing around with the recipes in European Peasant Cookery. It already inspired the fish stew post. (Lately I've been obsessed with fish - the first 90 pages of this book are on seafood, and they're becoming increasingly well-thumbed).

Germanic Salad in Buttermilk Dressing

I've traveled in the German-speaking world many times, often enjoying the food there more than I expected to. I expected the great brown breads, the good beer, wursts and schnitzel. But I loved being caught off guard by things like a sublime venison stew in Switzerland, outrageously good pork in Germany and the best pumpkin soup of my life in Austria. (Great wine in Austria as well). Of all the great things I've eaten in the German-speaking world, one that ended up in my own kitchen was one of the simplest: a composed salad with a dairy-based dressing (joghurt salatsauce). Variations of this salad can be found throughout Scandinavia as well. Easy to understand its popularity.

I first had this salad on tour with folksinger Rod Macdonald somewhere in Germany. Our bass player was a vegetarian, so large salads showed up at our table along with the meat dishes Rod and I ordered. They were often layered: cooked root veggies on the bottom (beets, potatoes), salad greens, then more veggies on top (cucumbers, tomatoes, radishes, sprouts, corn, celery - whatever was good and in season). The dressing was a vinaigrette, beefed up with a pinch of sugar, some yogurt, chopped capers and fresh herbs (usually dill). That's pretty easy, adaptable and substantial. In my kitchen it's the perfect accompaniment to the classic northern meal of buttered brown bread topped with cheese, cold cuts or smoked/pickled fish, with maybe a side of pickles. I'm married to a woman who makes that bread, and the weather in NYC is right for that kind of eating now. So I've been making this salad pretty often.

My version leans toward Austria, with pumpkin seed oil in the dressing and toasted pumpkin seeds as a garnish. I also use whole buttermilk in lieu of yogurt, because I'm more likely to have it on hand. (My wife uses it for baking). I'll sometimes leave the fresh dill out if I'm not feeling it. I did so in the above photo. Also, since summer veggies are out of season here in NYC I used a winter vegetable to top the salad - a beautiful mantanghong radish, which is sweet, mild and nutty tasting. They're worth seeking out.

(This recipe serves two)

For the salad:

1 potato, peeled and cubed
1 large beet, peeled and cubed
2 carrots, cut into 1 inch pieces
2 handfuls salad greens
vegetables to top salad (anything in season), cut into bite sized pieces
2 Tbs toasted pumpkin seeds (optional, to garnish)

For the dressing:

generous Tbs olive or toasted pumpkin seed oil
generous tsp white wine or sherry vinegar
1 tsp Dijon mustard
1 tsp capers, chopped
small clove garlic, chopped
1 Tbs fresh dill, chopped (optional)
1/2 tsp sugar
pinch white pepper (or more to taste)
2-3 Tbs plain yogurt or whole buttermilk

Stir dressing ingredients together in a small bowl. Set aside. Boil potato in a small pot. Boil carrot and beet in separate pot. When root vegetables are cooked drain, then fill pots with cold water to stop veggies from cooking further, bringing them to room temperature. After a few minutes drain again. Repeat if they're still hot. Arrange between two plates. Top plated root veggies with a handful of salad greens, then the seasonal veggies you're using. Spoon dressing over each salad, and sprinkle with pumpkin seeds.

Serve as a light meal with bread and butter, or as a starter course to a more elaborate meal.

Grandmom Pries' Turkey Noodle Soup

After Thanksgiving many families use the carcass from the turkey to make soup. There's no rocket science to this. A ten year old with a few minutes of training in knife skills could do it. It's not about technique; it's about feeding everybody still helping to clean the wreckage from the family get together on the day after.

I know my mother (seated just behind the poodle in the photo above) has a pot of this soup on her stove as I type this. But our family recipe has a twist that I have not seen in others: a large can of tomatoes added to the soup, which is then seasoned at the table with Worcestershire sauce. Just how this addition came to be is lost. When I asked my mother her reply was, "That's just the way my mother always made it." Her mother, Marie Pries (née McDaniel) is sadly long gone from us, and no one asked this woman who spent part of her young teen years working in Philadelphia's notorious mills just where the tomatoes in the turkey soup came from. Was it the depression-era ingenuity of a Irish mother of six stretching that carcass as far as she could to feed her family (also friends, neighbors and a spinster Irish immigrant they'd taken in)? Or had she picked up the idea from someone she knew? We'll never know. Are there others in the Philly area who do the same? I don't know anybody outside of my family who makes their turkey noodle soup this way.

But it's brilliant. It's absolutely brilliant. The slight acidic tang from the tomatoes against the earthiness of the turkey, set off by a few salty drops of familiar/exotic Worcestershire sauce? It's the best damned turkey soup I've ever had.

I'm now home from Thanksgiving dinner at my parents' place. Mom dutifully sent me away with a drumstick and part of a wing so I can make my own pot of soup. I will follow my grandmother's recipe, which is no recipe whatsoever - a few of these, a few of those, a pinch of this, a dash of that - exactly how I cook. And I like to think the spirit of the woman who spoiled a much younger me in the way only an indulgent grandmother can will be in my kitchen, savoring the smell of holiday leftovers transformed into a meal as worthy as the holiday meal itself. (I'm guessing she'd approve of my adding a sprig of fresh rosemary - Mom doesn't do it, but I can't resist).

Feel free to try this yourself, and, should you be so moved, raise a glass to the memory of a great woman, my grandmother, Marie Pries. This is her soup. And my mother's. And mine:

You'll need:

Turkey (carcass of holiday bird, or wings, or drumstick - whatever you have)
Onions, chopped (one or two for a small pot, more for a big one)
Celery ribs, chopped (same as above)
Carrots (as many as you want)
Canned tomatoes, broken by hand (big can for a big pot, small can for a small one)
Sprig fresh rosemary
Egg noodles, wide (figure about 1/4lb for every gallon of soup you make)
Salt and pepper, to taste.
Worcestershire sauce, to serve.

Let the amount of turkey determine how much soup you make. Two wings or a drumstick can make about a gallon of soup, which is a small pot. The whole carcass can make about four or five gallons (big pot). Throw all ingredients except noodles into pot. Add water to fill most of the way, cover and simmer for an hour. Use a slotted spoon to fish out all the bones (and what you can of the rosemary). Keep simmering, and add noodles. Stir every minute or two, to keep noodles from sticking until cooked, 6-10min, depending on noodles. Taste, and season with salt and pepper. Don't make it too salty, because you'll be adding a little Worcestershire sauce to the bowl when serving.

If you have some leftover meat, gravy or vegetables they can go into the pot as well. I remember my mother even using dehydrated vegetables from a little jar to beef it up some years. In the absence of a holiday bird I've made this soup with a couple turkey wings from the supermarket, and came out fine. You don't have to roast them, just throw them in the pot. This recipe is as easygoing as my grandmother was. It has been my pleasure to share it with you, Dear Reader.

(Thankfully, you can't see the state typing this has left me in - I'm practically reduced to grade school again, completely broken up over losing her).

Photo by Karen Bowersock Mahoney

Two Fish Stews

Say "fish stew" to most Americans and you're unlikely to get an enthusiastic response. Chowders and gumbos have gone mainstream, usually featuring shellfish. Francophiles drool over bouillabaisse. And that seems to be about where the love of fish stews ends in our culture, unless one is lucky enough to be of Portuguese descent and living on the New England coast. This is a shame. One need not be a fisherman to appreciate a simple fish stew - it's healthy, satisfying, and delicious, not to mention quick and easy to prepare.

My current favorites are based on a simple premise: onions and garlic sauteed in olive oil, to which you add wine and tomatoes, then finish by adding fish for a quick simmer. Here are two variations on this theme:

Italian Cod Stew

(Serves two)

3/4lb cod, cut into bite sized pieces (try to get all the bones out)
1 onion, chopped
3-5 cloves garlic, minced
olive oil
salt, pepper and chili pepper, to taste
glass of white wine
14.5 oz can whole tomatoes, broken up by hand, with liquid
handful of chopped flat-leaf parsley

Heat a heavy bottomed pot, and pour in enough olive oil to cover the bottom. Add onions, pinch of salt, chili and pepper. Saute until onions are nearly translucent. Add garlic and saute a minute or two more. Add tomatoes (with juice) and wine, and simmer gently for ten minutes. Add fish and parsley, and simmer for 2-3 minutes until fish is cooked. Serve with bread and salad (or greens sauteed in olive oil and garlic). The remainder of the bottle of wine goes with it, too, of course.


Basque Tuna Stew

As above, with the following modifications:

- Substitute tuna for cod. Since tuna is richer you might want to use less. Also, no need to blow the cash on the sushi grade stuff here. Traditionally, fishermen made this dish with the tail

- Add a chopped green bell pepper to the onions when you saute them

- Use red wine instead of white (Rioja is perfect). Don't raise an eyebrow about red wine with fish - tuna is practically meat

- Add two potatoes, peeled and cubed, when you add tomatoes and wine. Also add 1 tsp sweet paprika. Cover and simmer gently until potatoes are cooked, 15-20 min. Tuna goes in a few minutes before serving

- Leave out the parsley

(The picture is of the Basque version. You'll notice I added some carrots with the potatoes, for the hell of it. Worked fine). Photo by Cynthia Lamb

On Fussy Eaters

Just heard a bit on the Brian Lehrer Show about kids (and adults) being picky eaters. I have to admit to a character flaw when it comes to so-called picky eaters: I have absolutely zero patience for them. Eating with them actually makes me angry. I can't help but see them as killjoys.

And yes, it probably goes back to childhood...

Growing up, my sister and I happily ate anything mom put in front of us. Mom knew her way around the kitchen well enough that the family dinner was often one of the day's highlights. She was a picky eater herself, but willing to cook beyond her personal taste to please my more adventurous father. (She still cringes at the memory of the man feeding me pickled herring as I sat in the high chair). She had her limits, though: dad had to keep the Limburger cheese in the garage. The problem was my two younger siblings, who were very fussy as kids (not so as adults, and I love them both dearly). My sister and I would be scarfing down Lima beans, brussel sprouts and the like, while our younger siblings took the very existence of such foods as a personal affront. Mom, whose own dear father was what they called a "meat and potatoes" guy back in the day (what a euphemism!), bent over backwards to accommodate them.

And it drove me nuts.

First off, the person next to you saying, "Yuck!" and pushing their plate away throws a wet blanket over the whole meal. One of the nicer family moments of the day suddenly has to be all about them in a negative way? It didn't seem like a classy move, to me, even as a child. Then there was watching mom scramble to get something in front of them that they actually would eat. We were kids, not angels, and none of us (self included) showed our parents the kind of consideration that in retrospect we've come to know they deserved. Such is life, but having mom cook something else after she'd already prepared a meal seemed a little over the top to me. (Mom didn't seem to mind so much; she understood). From where I sat it looked like taking advantage of her. Finally there was a matter of self-interest. Mom started dumbing her cooking down for my fussy siblings. Dinners at the homes of Italian family friends made this clear. When we moved to Montreal and found ourselves surrounded by flavors from around the world it came into even higher relief. And it made me resentful - not so much toward my siblings, but at what they were doing to my mother's cooking. They were screwing with MY diet!

(Fortunately my then-fussy brother, who is now an arguably better cook than I am, led to the family to discovering Cantonese food right around that time. Even the fussiest of us were - and still are - powerless to resist).

By the time I was out on my own I sought out every bold exotic flavor I could find. Thankfully I have yet to grow out of this, and am married to a woman of equally adventurous tastes.

But I'm left with this character flaw. Whenever someone starts talking about what foods they do and do not eat it's like they're painting a target on themselves. I'm not talking about people with medical, religious or ethical prohibitions. I'm talking about people who have their little lists of Stuff They Don't Like and Refuse to Eat. To each his own, but I don't want to eat with such people. I'm not sure I even want to associate with them. Simply put, they test my otherwise reasonably well-developed tolerance. Understanding this is my issue, not theirs, is no help. I can barely contain the desire to strike out as they drain the joy away from a meal or even a conversation about food.

I've always considered food phobias to be psychological. They are also cultural. Many English and Americans have trouble with cilantro. They complain it tastes like soap, yet people who grew up eating the stuff rarely have a similar complaint. A current theory about this is that the developing brain categorizes items as food and non-food. The taste of cilantro is close enough to that of soap that someone who comes across the stuff after those categories have been established has to deal with their brain recoiling in horror over what it recognizes as eating soap! Research suggests the brain can be re-trained through desensitization, but for many that's more than they're willing to face. Understandable. Childhood is the time to prepare a person for a lifetime of good eating.

Many parents will point out the impossibility of this. Some kids are just fussy, and it's wrong to turn the dinner table into a battleground. I agree... sort of. It's obvious some people are more likely to be picky than others, but I think how those around them react to that determines whether they become someone with preferences or tyrants at the table. How much tyranny is acceptable IS a matter of culture. A friend told me a story that illustrates this point.

My friend is Irish. He grew up a meat and potatoes guy, just like my grandfather. That's perfectly acceptable there - it's practically the norm. (Many Irish consider rice exotic). His wife happens to be French. So when their families got together for a celebration in France, he noticed a vivid contrast between the French and Irish children at the table. The French children happily ate everything put in front of them, including snails, stinky cheeses and all manner of vegetables. The Irish children burst into tears at the sight of the meal, baffling their French in-laws.

He also noticed a difference in the reaction of the parents. The Irish parents had great trepidation over each food presented to their children. Whenever the kids turned their noses up at something they offered them an alternative, often frozen pizza. To be blunt, they expected their kids to be picky, were visibly anxious about it, then rewarded it with pizza. Most kids would trade a plate of veggies for pizza if they had the option. Hell, I would have, and I wasn't even a fussy eater. The French parents, on the other hand, presented foods to their children as "le bon this" and "le bon that." Something good and special the children were getting the chance to try. The parental expectation was clearly that the children would understand they were being given the chance to participate in something wonderful. Turning your nose up at something was unthinkable - this is a celebration, and everything here is something fine and special. The children behaved accordingly.

Perhaps this is simply a manifestation of my own lack of tolerance, but I think there's a lesson there. Kids test limits. A kid with the propensity toward being picky will use the dining table as a chance to test limits, if it occurs to them that's a option. How food is presented to them might just determine their view of opportunities along these lines. Even kids allowed to pass on specific dishes are unlikely to reject a Thanksgiving dinner. Why? Because it's presented to them as something special, wonderful and fine. They don't notice that the turkey is dry or the gravy is lumpy. Or if they do they eat it anyway, because it's special. And it's likely they'll grow up to be sentimental about it, regardless of grandma's cooking ability.

Every meal you have with your family is special. You can see to it that every dish on the table is wonderful and fine, even the simplest things. You can shape a child's perception of a meal. The French do it. So can you. I did it with stepsons eager to find new foods to reject. I couldn't work miracles, but those boys were thrilled to sit down to a plate of cabrito guisado because they knew damned well it was something wonderful, special and fine.

I have nieces who would disagree - they know What They Won't Eat. I've told them I disapprove, and they can keep it to themselves. If they want to be that way at home they're welcome to, but I'm not having any of it. They still excitedly come to visit, and fortunately we can all agree when it comes to Cantonese food. Seems to run in the family.

Kitchen Gizmos I Actually Use

There are tons of kitchen gizmos out there, and plenty of them are crap. I'm not kidding. Utter crap. Egg crackers (can't crack an egg?), garlic presses, electric can openers (really?), bread machines (automatically make supermarket style bread at home? I don't get it). I've spent much of my cooking life avoiding these things, but at 42 years old I've managed to collect a few gizmos that have proven useful... to me, at least. Living in a NYC apartment where storage and counter space are limited means I have to be ruthless about which ones make the cut. But it's surprising how many I have. It's almost embarrassing to admit how dependent I've become on the following:

Gaggia espresso machine & burr grinder: I finally buckled on this one when I managed to get the machine at a garage sale price. Too good a deal to pass up. I tried using both cheap coffee and a whirling blade grinder, but neither worked with it. The thing was sensitive enough to tell when I was trying to cut corners, and rewarded my efforts with lousy shots. Had to up my game, shelling out the bucks for the burr grinder and good coffee. The result? Espresso as good as a coffee shop at home, for about one-third the cost. Tough to argue with for a household that drinks eight shots a day, minimum. Quite a step up after years of drinking Cafe Bustelo made in an aluminum Bialetti machine. Yes, I've tried the Nespresso rig. It's good - easy and foolproof. But my Gaggia blows its doors off (when fed Counter Culture espresso), in spite of taking up quite a bit of counter real estate along with the burr grinder. Plus the idea of throwing away a plastic capsule after each shot I pull seems wasteful, and I can't stand that.

Pressure cooker: (AKA the WWII microwave). For 20 years I avoided this one, in spite of endorsements from friends and grandmothers who knew what they were talking about. Useless for braising, but fantastic for soups, curries and stews. (Even roasts, though they'll never turn out the same way as they would in the oven). Any long-simmering dish can be made in one-third the time or less in one of these things. It doesn't work miracles, but it allows one to casually make dishes on a weeknight that otherwise would require the kind of time most people only have on a weekend. I'm a convert, using the thing twice a week, sometimes more. Mine is gigantic, as I was advised: You can make a small meal in a big pressure cooker, but you can't make a large meal in a small one. I've cooked for 12 with it, even though most of the time I'm making dinner for two. Today's models have safety valves built into them, so you're not going to replicate those stories you've heard about blowing the lid off and hot food spraying everywhere.

Rice cooker: I'm happy to own the cheapest, meanest example of a rice cooker possible. The kind that was popular in Japan a generation ago, at least. The one that goes for under $25. I love it. Whenever I'm cooking Chinese I can let the rice cook itself while I prep and cook all the dishes. It does a good enough job that I use it for other times I need rice, including Latino and South Asian meals. Only useful if you eat white rice often. I do. Unapologetically.

Electric Griddle/Sandwich press: It's supposed to be an electric grill as well. I wouldn't know; I just use it to make panini and other pressed sandwiches. Pretty much only in the summer, but that's enough to justify the space the thing takes up. If you have a source for good bread and good stuff to put in it this thing allows one to make fancy sandwiches much cheaper (and better, once you figure out what you're doing) than going out for them. Current fave: coppa ham and cheese (Pawlet, from Vermont) on ciabatta bread. Pure indulgence, I know, but affordable indulgence. (My favorite kind).

Immersion blender: I've lived with one of these and without. With is better. It's good for smooth soups and pasta sauces, and if you get one with a powerful enough motor it can also be your food processor and blender. My wife bought one like that, in spite of our inability to find a good reason to give Wolfgang Puck's empire a penny. (His name is on it). Got it from overstock.com. I have no idea how it'll hold up under heavy use, but it takes less space than having an immersion blender, food processor and blender. So far it does all of those functions, in spite of its attachments seeming a little flimsy. Its motor is very powerful. And it was cheaper than replacing the food processor when it died.

Spice grinder: It's an old whirling blade coffee grinder dedicated to spices. Buying whole spices means they last longer. Grinding them as needed only takes a minute, and results in better flavor. Coming up with your own blends is fun. (Amazing how much coriander I go through doing that). I'd recommend this to anyone.

Kitchen radio: Laugh if you like, but my Tivoli Model Two brings me more pleasure in the kitchen than any other gadget. I like good sound in the kitchen. (A sound engineer friend swears by an old KLH, and the Tivoli is just the modern riff on that concept). And it has a small footprint. When radio programming fails me I just plug in a computer or mp3 player and I'm good to go. Can't cook without music. I love this thing.

What about other gizmos? Slow cookers (crock pots) make sense, in spite of most recipes for them sharing a determination to undermine their respectability. They're not for me, but I completely understand where their fans are coming from. If I worked a 9 to 5 job I'd probably have one. What else? I'm not nearly enough of a geek to get a sous vide setup (yet), but I can't argue with its cleverness or usefulness. I loathe microwave ovens, but they are useful for reheating leftovers and thawing frozen blocks of food (and not else, in my opinion). I have yet to throw mine away, although its days are numbered. Also, I'm married to a woman who happens to be a very good baker, and she's fond of her red Kitchen Aid mixer. I've never touched the thing, but it looks good and she gets use out of it. She's even using it to grind grain and roll oats. Currently we're without a toaster (or toaster-oven), which means our oven broiler gets used very inefficiently every now and then. We're not the kind of people who need toasted bread to start the day. If we were, the microwave would already be gone, and there'd be a toaster-oven in its place. If we had more room I'd get a salad spinner, too, because those things are useful. Just can't fit it in. Life in the Big City.

Oh, and we have a kitchen thermometer, because my wife prefers her meat med-rare, over my tendency is to serve it bleu. Now we can debate which temperature constitutes the right level of done-ness, self always advocating a lower number, her having none of it.

Vinho Verde

This is a light, simple wine from Portugal meant to be drunk young. Low in alcohol (usually 10-11%), slightly effervescent, pale in color, light bodied and on the dry side (if less than completely dry) - it's more of a traditional wine than a fine wine, and often priced accordingly. Unfortunately, if you don't happen to live near a Portugese community (such as those in Newark, NJ or Rochester, NY) it can be hard to find. And when you do find it what you come across may clearly show you why it isn't considered a fine wine. Nice examples do exist, and at its best vinho verde is refreshing on its own and pairs well with simple, light summer food. The slight effervescence makes it easy to pair.

This summer I've been drinking Famega Vinho Verde. It's everything likeable about this style of wine, including cheap. It costs me $8 a bottle in NYC. Worth seeking out for the dog days of summer. Serve it good and cold before a meal, with a meal or as an afternoon tipple.

Life may be too short to drink bad wine, but cheap, simple wines have their place. Famega is such a wine, and it's place is at my summer table. I know I'm not the only one who feels this way; my wine shop blows through several cases a week of the stuff.

Gazpacho!

I'll be honest: up until recently I wasn't a fan of the stuff. I think I've figured out the reasons why. Serving size is one. Gazpacho is a bit intense for American super sized portions. It's best served in small bowls. It's really not a meal; it's a starter course, a snack or a side dish. I also have difficulty wrapping my head around the idea of a cold crunchy raw soup. That just doesn't work for me. It's served like a soup, but gazpacho is really a finely chopped salad in a liquid dressing. One that you happen to eat with a spoon. If I think about it this way it makes more sense to me.

And I enjoy it. I like is how it slows me down. I'm generally too quick of an eater. Breaking a meal into several courses works for me because it forces me to slow down a bit and really enjoy myself at the table. Few things slow me down like a bowl of gazpacho on a hot day. A small bowl takes me ten minutes to finish; it refuses to be wolfed down.

It's easy to make bad gazpacho - just use less than perfect veggies and you'll have it. The tomato is most important, but don't neglect the cucumber. Don't use gigantic watery waxed cucumbers, with their horrible giant seeds. Farm fresh kirbys, Persian cucumbers or (in a pinch) those greenhouse English seedless will do. I like red or yellow bell pepper instead of green. If you have a garden use your garden vegetables. If you don't get your ingredients from a farmer's market. Don't even bother making this with supermerket tomatoes or cucumbers. (You can get away with supermarket onion, garlic and bell pepper).

Where can you cheat? Not with chopping the veggies! Don't use a food processor. You want your gazpacho to have little nuggets of crunch, not end up all bruised somewhere along the way a puree. Grab your sharpest knife and chop the veggies into fine little pieces. It only takes a few minutes. A place to cut corners would be using tomato juice as part of the liquid. If your veggies are good a little commercial tomato juice won't undermine the result. The stuff is also pretty heavily salted, so it eliminates the need to add extra salt.

Then there's the matter of serving. It's popular to serve the liquid in individual bowls with each chopped ingredient in it's own bowl. Diners then add how much of each element they want to their own bowl. This is "correct" in that it's frequently served that way in Spain. It's a nice flourish, but I'd rather dispense with it for the improved result when all the flavors have a chance to marry for an hour or so in the fridge.

One more thing: there ought to be no such thing as leftover gazpacho. We're talking tomatoes, cucumber and onion in a salty vinegar based liquid. That will get nasty after a night in the fridge.

This recipe will make two medium sized bowls of gazpacho.

1 perfect ripe tomato, finely diced
1 cup cucumber, finely diced
1/2 small red onion, finely chopped
1/2 red bell pepper, finely chopped
small clove garlic, minced
scant 1/4 tsp ground cumin (too much and it'll taste like salsa)
1/2 cup tomato juice
1/3 cup white vinegar
few drops hot sauce, to taste
drizzle of good olive oil, to finish

Mix together all ingredients in a bowl. Go light on the olive oil so your result isn't too rich. Chill in fridge for 20 min to an hour before serving.
Photo by Cynthia Lamb

Kimchi Noodles Redux

Kimchi comes in jars too big to use in a single meal. So here's another kimchi noodle dish, this time a cold salad with some chicken added to make it more of a meal. Traditionally soba would probably be the noodle of choice for this, but I used udon and it worked very well. I neglected the sesame seed garnish because I was out of sesame seeds. This dish has a level of spice that both burns and lingers, but it's nowhere near hot enough to make you cry. Unless you're a total wuss about hot food. Then it might. Regardless, this sharp and spicy noodle dish is great in hot weather.

This recipe will serve three or four.

1 lb bag fresh udon noodles, boiled and rinsed
meat from a chicken leg and thigh (or half a breast), cut into bite sized pieces
1 Tbs soy sauce
1 Tbs sugar
1 Tbs toasted sesame oil
2 Tbs vinegar (white or rice wine)
1 carrot, grated
1 Tbs Asian hot sauce (such as Sriracha), or more to taste
1/2 cup kimchi
oil for frying

Fry the chicken in a pan. When it's nearly cooked add the soy sauce. Once it's cooked through cut the heat, drain off the liquid and set aside. In serving bowl mix together the sugar, sesame oil, vinegar, carrot and hot sauce until sugar is dissolved. Add noodles, kimchi and cooked chicken. Toss to evenly mix ingredients together.

This dish can sit covered in the fridge for a day; it might even be better on day two. Garnish with sesame seeds if you like.

Photo by Cynthia Lamb

A New Fave Summer White

The wine that started my appreciation of whites was a Sancerre that an investment banker friend pulled out from his cellar during a party at his posh Grammercy Park town house. For years after that I ignorantly joked that I really only liked white wines I couldn't afford. That's no longer the case, but my appreciation for whites with citrus notes that give way to clean acid and low residual sugar remains. Sancerre (and other Sauvignon Blancs in a similar style) remains a favorite white wine for me.

So it was wonderful to turn up in Spain a couple days ago to play FIB and get turned on to a new favorite (and affordable) white wine: Rueda. It's a regional name; the main grape used is Verdejo. The story is that this grape was traditionally used to make not very fashionable oxidized whites until Riscal started making a modern version a few decades ago. The result is lots of up front citrus (and even some wildflowers), good acidity and a finish just dry enough to keep my interest. A great sipper and perfect pairing with seafood.

Rueda from Spain. The Riscal is great, but a little pricey. There are many not so pricey examples out there. Worth looking for in the summer heat.

(I'm typing this in Portugal. Summer festival tour is nearly over for me, so expect more regular updates to start in the next week or two).

Udon with Chicken and Kimchi in Spicy Miso Broth

It's important for home cooks to have a few dishes up their sleeve that can be thrown together in ten minutes. They don't have to be our best work, nor do they have to be the healthiest meals in our repetoire. They simply have to be better than ordering a pizza (or getting take out) when you're hungry and pressed for time. I trot this recipe out when the hour gets late, we've not managed to eat supper and going out is not in the cards. It also makes a satisfying lunch. Substituite tofu for the chicken and you could feed it to a vegan without compromising much in the way of flavor.

This recipe is salty enough for me, but some may prefer a higher sodium level. Going heavier on the miso would provide that, while adding texture to the broth.

Exotic ingredients you'll need:

Kimchi - Korean spicy pickled cabbage, sold in jars in Asian markets. Keeps for over a month in the fridge. Tasty as a side dish or appetizer, but not for everyone. Good ingredient for Korean stews and fried rice, if you can manage to keep from snacking on it. When cooked it loses its aggressiveness, adding rich flavor and a hint of spice to a dish.

Miso - Health food nuts and fans of Japanese cuisine probably have this in their fridge already. I recommend white or red miso; both make delicious soup. Keeps for months in the fridge. Also pops up in Korean cooking, and makes a decent substitute for Chinese fermented soybean paste.

Toasted Sesame Oil - You don't need it for this dish, but it adds one more layer of flavor. And you may as well pick it up when you get the miso, since a few drops go well in miso soup. This seasoning is added at the last minute in very small amounts.

Udon Noodles - Fresh or frozen, these are useful to have around. This will be the third recipe I've given for them on this blog, and you can easily find many more. Sometimes nothing is better than a bowl of noodles, and you'll probably find these where you find the other ingredients on this list.

This recipe makes two large bowls of soup:

meat from a chicken leg and thigh, cut into bite sized pieces
4-5 cups water
3 scallions, cut into rounds
generous 3/4 cup kimchi
generous tbs miso
tsp sugar
1/4 -1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
pinch salt
oil for frying
few drops sesame oil
1/2 lb cooked udon noodles, rinsed

Heat water in pot with kinchi. Stir in miso once it's hot. Bring to a boil and remove from heat. In a small pan fry chicken with salt, sugar and cayenne pepper. When meat is cooked add scallions and remove from heat. Divide the noodles between two bowls, and top with a few drops sesame oil. Ladle hot miso-kinchi broth over noodles, then top with chicken-scallion mixture.

Baked Red Snapper

Fish. I've met some folks who really don't like it. Others claim to like it as long as it isn't "fishy". Some folks I know enjoy fish just fine, but can't handle it appearing on the serving plate with the head and tail intact. We all have our hangups. Fish is not one of mine. In fact, I'll take it over beef or chicken in most instances. (Nothing wins out against pork and lamb in my world, but a nice piece of fish is hard to beat).

The problem for many who would eat fish more often is how to go about it. How do you know which fish is a good one? How do you cook it? We live in a world where sushi joints have their fish flown in, so even those in land locked places can shell out the bucks to enjoy good quality raw fish. Farmed salmon and tilapia are everywhere, along with tuna and sea bass, but try finding fresh flounder in the Southwest. For all of our interconnectedness the fish counter often smacks of regionalism, if only in its pricing. That's not entirely a bad thing. I'm happy to eat lobster in Maine, Dungeness Crab in the Northwest and Blue Point Oysters in NYC. I want Blue Crabs in Maryland and catfish in the Deep South, but no matter where I happen to be I don't want to go too long without a fish dinner. Blame it on being raised Catholic.

Fortunately one of our best fishes is fairly ubiquitous: the red snapper. Very tasty fish. This fish makes Europeans jealous. They have their sea bream and their Dover sole, but the red snapper is about as good a fish as they come. The meat is delicate, yet it can stand up to bold flavors. It's forgiving - it can be prepared in a variety of ways, all equally good. And best of all it's relatively inexpensive, as far as fish goes. I got one yesterday that was just under three pounds, easily enough to feed five or six (or in my case four, with leftovers) for $15. Depending on where you live it may be a little more expensive, but it's not nearly as pricey as trendier choices, such as ahi tuna or Chilean Sea Bass.

I had my fishmonger scale and gut the snapper, leaving the head and tail on. This is standard issue, and I don't know how to ask for it any other way in Cantonese (or Mandarin, for that matter), so that's how I get it. That's how I recommend getting it, unless looking at a whole fish on a plate squicks you. Season it just about any way you like: butter & lemon, Cajun style, Caribbean style, whatever. The fish picks up the flavor of whatever it's baked with. I wanted simple and elegant, so I used onion, celery and rosemary, which worked beautifully. Thyme would have worked equally well. Along the center of the fish the fillets will be mostly free of bones. Meat from the top and bottom will be richer, but bonier. All of it will be delicious. Use a knife and a spatula to serve.

2-3 lb whole red snapper, scaled and cleaned
small onion, chopped
2-3 ribs celery, chopped
4-6 sprigs rosemary
Olive oil, salt and pepper

Heat oven to 375 degrees. Mix together onion, celery and most of the rosemary in a bowl, with a splash of olive oil, salt and pepper. Lay remaining sprigs of rosemary on baking dish, and place fish on top of them. Fill the cavity of the fish with the vegetable mixture, then use remainder to cover fish. Bake for about 35 minutes, or until meat flakes with a fork.

Serve with roasted tomatoes, potatoes or rice, a salad and dry white (or rose) wine. Leftovers can be reheated the next day, or served as a cold salad in vinaigrette.

Enjoy your fish. (The aftermath won't be so bad, as long as you get to the baking dish right after eating, and remember to take the garbage out that night!)

Rigatoni with Sausage and Peas

Lavagna in NYC's East Village: a nearly perfect neighborhood Italian joint offering wood oven pizza, pasta and a number of secondi all done to a much higher standard than one would expect when thinking "pizza and pasta". A friend who claims not to be a fan of most seafood dishes swears by their fish specials. The place is consistent: you could order completely at random and get a great meal, with service and decor to match. For less than high end Italian places charge, which fits the neighborhood joint perfectly. That would be plenty to distinguish itself, but Lavagna also has a (not so) secret weapon in its arsenal: a dish that has attracted a cult following. Tell someone in the know you're heading to Lavagna for the first time and they'll tell you, "Get the rigatoni." The last time I was there my server joked that it ought to have its own Facebook page.

The first time I had the rigatoni at Lavagna I thought, "This is one step short of sinful." It's rich enough that a half-portion will satisfy all but the most voracious appetite, but the turkey sausage makes it seem deceptively light. About halfway through my plate I realized I could reverse engineer it in my own kitchen. I also realized I'd be better off using less cream and avoiding the pat of butter that was most likely involved in saucing the pasta. I don't mind rich, but I don't need to eat restaurant rich at home.

So here is my home cooking version of rigatoni with sausage and peas, inspired by Lavagna. Mine is much lighter than theirs, so much so that you may want to substitute penne for the rigatoni if you're particular about the shape of pasta matching the weight of the sauce. I still use rigatoni as an homage. (I go heavier on the peas as well). While it's no substitute for a visit to Lavagna, this dish will impress your guests. It pairs equally well with white or a medium bodied red wine.

This recipe is for half a pound of pasta, which will satisfy two hungry people with a little leftover. To serve four or five double the recipe. If you're cooking efficiently this will take about half an hour to make.

3 Tbs olive oil, plus a little for frying
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
pinch crushed red pepper (or more, to taste)
15 oz can whole tomatoes, drained and broken up by hand
3 1/2 oz vodka
1 Tbs tomato paste
heavy cream
freshly ground black pepper
2 Italian style turkey sausages, meat removed from casings (casings discarded)*
1/2 lb dried Rigatoni
3/4 cup frozen peas
shaved Parmasean cheese, to garnish

In a saucepan heat olive oil and fry garlic (do not brown). Add tomatoes, crushed red pepper, a generous amound of black pepper, vodka and tomato paste. Gently simmer for 20 min to cook off the alcohol (which neutralizes the acid of the tomatoes so the cream won't curdle). While sauce is simmering fry sausage in a small pan with a little olive oil. Break up the cooked sausage and add to sauce. Bring your pasta pot filled with salted water to a boil. Taste the sauce to make sure all alcohol has cooked off. (If it tastes remotely like a bloody mary it needs to simmer longer). Remove sauce from heat and stir in cream until sauce is pink in color. Boil pasta for five minutes, then add peas and cook until pasta is al dente. Drain, return pasta and peas to pot and stir in sauce. Plate immediately, and garnish with a generous amount of shaved Parmasean.

*Chicken sausage works equally well. If you use the "hot" kind you may not need the crushed red peppper. Poultry sausage is generally much saltier than pork sausage, which is the reason I add no salt to the sauce; it comes out salty enough, especially when garnished with Parmasean.

Sichuan Noodle Soup (Dan Dan)

Reader JonnyH commented that he didn't get the variety of foods I have available in NYC in Sydney. That left me a little surprised, having just visited Sydney on tour with Julian Casablancas. It's a world class food town. The good people from Frontier took us out for some of the best Thai I've had in my life at Arun Thai in Kings Cross. Of course, left to my own devices before a show I'm usually on the lookout for a hole in the wall serving up something exotic and tasty on the cheap. Which is how I ended up at Yee King on Sussex, right around the corner from BBQ King, where I had to stop for some takeaway BBQ pork. The Dan Dan noodles at Yee King were an inspiration. I've had many variations on this dish, but theirs sent me into my own kitchen immediately upon arriving home, where I reverse engineered the dish to my own specs. My wife was amused until she took her first taste. "Where did you learn to make this?" "Sydney," I replied.

Exotic ingredients you'll need:

Noodles - The hand pulled noodles at Yee King were good, but none of us are likely to pull noodles in our own kitchen. Japanese udon are a good substitute - the size and shape may be different, but the taste and texture are very similar. I use 1/4 lb cooked noodles per serving.

Chili Bean Sauce (Toban Djan) - Found in jars in Asian markets. Keeps well in fridge once opened. Also useful for making MaPo Tofu, which is my favorite tofu dish.

Chinese Chicken Broth - You can buy chicken broth in the supermarket, then turn it Chinese by simmering it with a pinch of sugar and a chunk of fresh peeled ginger. Alternately you can boil some chicken backs (or bones) for 45 min in enough water to cover with ginger, a pinch of sugar, salt and a glug of Chinese rice wine. Any leftover broth can be frozen for future use.

Shitake mushrooms: I prefer the fat ones from the Chinese greengrocer's, but the skinny Japanese style ones from the supermarket will work fine.

(This recipe makes two bowls of incredibly pedestrian, yet delicious noodle soup)

1/2 pound udon noodles, cooked, rinsed and divided between two bowls
1/3 pound ground pork
Tbs chopped ginger
2 Tbs Chili Bean Paste (or more to taste)
1 bunch scallions, chopped into thin rounds
4 shitake mushrooms, chopped
small handful of chopped peanuts
scant 3 cups Chinese chicken broth
oil for frying

Bring broth to a low simmer. In a small pan heat frying oil. Fry mushrooms over high heat until nearly cooked. Add ground pork and ginger and continue to fry until pork is nearly cooked. Add chili bean sauce, scallions and peanuts. Remove from heat. Pour hot broth over noodles in bowls, then divide fried mixture between the bowls. Eat with both chopsticks and a spoon, so as to enjoy every bit.

My Happy (?) Medium

Like so many, I find reading Michael Pollan exciting. It's like having your suspicions validated by someone who actually went out and bothered to do the research. After all, it's hard to look at the way we produce food today in America without coming to the conclusion that much of it flies in the face of common sense. A food chain based on corn and petrochemicals seems absurd, and when that extends to how we produce meat it's not only disgusting, it's also ethically difficult territory.

The locavore movement attempts to address this, but it's riddled with problems. It's tough to eat a varied diet of fresh foods when most Americans live in places with limited growing seasons. Considering this in the Business section of last Sunday's New York Times, Damon Darlin compared to locavore movement to Mao's Great Leap Forward with regard to steel production. By decreeing steel production be relegated to cottage industry he assured that many resources were wasted in the production of useless pig iron. Substitute the kale in your CSA basket for pig iron and you get the comparison. Darlin concluded that we have to find the happy medium between these extremes. Easier said than done.

Quite a bit of money has been spent to convince those with enough disposable income that buying "organic" was that happy medium. Unfortunately "organic" has become an increasingly meaningless label placed on products that aren't that different from those produced in a business as usual fashion. Same goes for "free range". Do terms like "carbon footprint" and "food miles" have any meaning? How do we make decisions about food that incorporate concerns about tastiness, ethics and healthfulness when we have no clear criteria for judging such things?

I'm with Pollan on eating real foods - only things someone's great grandmother would recognize - avoiding industrially processed crap whenever possible. That's a bit of work, but probably worth it. It'd be quite the leap of faith to assume new creations of food science and marketing are more wholesome than traditional foods. The last century's record hasn't been that great. What is there to put faith in? Breakfast cereal? Oleo? Baby formula? TV dinners? Spray on cheese? "Instant" whatever? Soda pop? HFCS? No thank you, unless I'm on the road, doing the best I can.

Meat is more troublesome. My wife has pretty much decided that she wants no part of corporate meat at home. Thankfully, all bets are off when we go out to eat. I don't see it as too different from neighbors of ours who keep kosher kitchens, but go out for a cheeseburger once in a while. Still, it has upped our food costs.

I go along with this because supermarket meat really doesn't always cut it. Aside from the ethics issues that bother my wife, there are quality issues that bother me even more. Flavorless chicken with a weird texture doesn't appeal to me, regardless of how cheap it is. I'd go so far as to say supermarket chicken kinda sucks. Fortunately I live right next to Chinatown, and many Chinese seem to feel the same way. This means I can get heritage breed (and ostensibly free range, locally raised) birds at Chinatown prices. These taste and smell like the chicken I remember from my childhood. Not much of a big deal to get used to buying them with the head and feet still on. I'd recommend that anyone looking to up their game on the chicken front without breaking the bank check out their local Chinatown (or their local Asian markets).

What about beef? We don't eat much beef at home, but I'm torn nonetheless. I don't think cows should be fed corn when grass is what they're supposed to eat. It isn't good for the cows or the environment, and I don't think it makes their meat good for us to eat. But... corn fed prime steaks taste good, so once in a while I'll buy them (from the butcher). For me they're in the same category as foie gras - an ethically murky treat that isn't exactly healthy, but you eat it once in a while anyway. The rest of our beef these days is expensive, grass-fed and best braised or stewed.

We do spend the extra $$$ for butter and cheese made from the milk of grass fed cows, but we don't consume enough butter and cheese for that to be much of a big deal, cost-wise. (Many imported dairy products qualify, since we're one of the few countries crazy enough to feed corn to our cows). Haven't made the switch as far as milk is concerned, but we do buy the hormone free milk, which is at least a start. The farmer's market, specialty shops and a locavore cheesemonger serve as sources for these things.

What about pork (my go-to meat)? Here the wife and I disagree. I say pigs are omnivores, so it doesn't matter what you feed them. Corporate hogs might not be pleasant to think about, but they taste fine. My wife wants happy pigs. I get this, since they're probably the smartest things we eat. Perhaps their misery is of higher value than that of dumber beasts? I don't know. They are cute. She buys the pork at the farmer's market. If she doesn't buy it often enough I'll still buy corporate pork, even if it means getting static from her. She's in the process upping the static level to the point where I stop. I expect this will take a while to play out. She'll very likely get her way, but I will have impressed upon her the importance of pig meat being ever at the ready in my kitchen. I can go weeks without beef or chicken, but only days without pork.

Lamb is another fine line. Lamb and goat are the only meats I'll still buy at the supermarket on a regular basis, but I get the good stuff at the butcher. I don't think they've figured out how to feed corn to lambs yet. That doesn't stop my wife from buying lamb at the farmer's market, too. We're eating the stuff more often, but in small portions. It is rich.

Fish is murky. Farmed fish is fed corn, and wild caught fish comes with varying ethical problems related to overfishing and environmental concerns. Some fish is even toxic! What do you do? I don't know. We still eat fish, though. Mostly flounder, canned tuna and sardines. We're not eating salmon like I used to...

What about veggies? Local is good, so is fresh. In season local is the best of both worlds. Unfortunately in the Northeast our seasons are pretty short. We eat too many veggies to go completely local. I appreciate eating seasonally, so I don't eat things like slicing tomatoes, summer fruits or asparagus out of season. Winter is about cabbages and root veggies, anyways. I try to minimize the amount of California produce I buy, as I'm not convinced trucking it across the country is a good thing for flavor or the environment. I'm still buying most of my fruits and veggies from the supermarket or my neighborhood greengrocers. I'm not averse to paying twice as much to support local agriculture in season, but I'm not ready to get dogmatic about it.

Specialty items like coffee, wine, olive oil and the like are off the table as far as ethical shopping goes. The best coffee I can get my hands on (from Counter Culture) happens to be labeled "fair trade" and "sustainable", but I have no idea whether those labels are in any way meaningful. Nor do I care. Being a home cook is already a part time job. Trying to be so "aware" only complicates complicates it. I guess it's worth it, though. My wife is no longer queasy about the meat we eat. My food tastes good and I have every reason to think it might be a little healthier.

The fact that I'm frugal means we can afford to do this without our grocery bill going through the roof. A day's worth of eating for the two of us (lunch and dinner) still rarely exceeds $12 (before wine), usually coming in under $7. (I'm not one to be zealot about my ethics, but I will be about my food costs!)

This is a far as I'm willing to go at the moment. I guess it constitutes my "happy medium". I don't know if "happy" is really the right word. Pain in the ass is more like it.

Linguine, Greek Style

A good friend of mine once described Greek food as tasting like "prehistoric Italian". This was one of the dishes that led to that pronouncement. A plate of linguine with a rich meaty sauce is comfort food, to be sure, but the use of lamb and sweet spices clearly took the dish outside of his comfort zone. It's squarely in my own, and has been in pretty heavy rotation this winter in my kitchen. Using a pressure cooker this can be made in under an hour. If you don't have a pressure cooker it'll probably take the greater part of two hours' simmering to get the meat to fall off the bone. One taste will show that it's time well spent. If you want to make a quick version you could substitute ground lamb for the shank. It won't be as rich, but it will cut the cooking time down to about half an hour.

(Serves two with leftovers or three without).

1 meaty lamb shank
2 onions, chopped
4-5 cloves garlic, chopped
4 carrots, chopped
28oz can crushed tomatoes
salt and pepper, to taste
1 tsp ground coriander
scant 1/4 tsp cinnamon (or one stick)
1/4 tsp allspice
pinch ground cloves
oil for frying

1/2 lb linguine

Brown shank in heavy bottomed pot with a pinch of salt and pepper. Add onions and carrots, and fry until onions are nearly translucent. Add garlic and fry for a minute more. Add tomatoes and spices. Thin down with a little water (6-8oz). Bring to a simmer and cover. Reduce heat to just maintain simmer. Stir every 15 min or so, to keep from sticking to the bottom of the pot. You may need to thin it down with a little extra water as it cooks if it starts getting too thick (which would make it burn). When the meat is nearly falling off the bone bring pasta water to a boil and cook pasta until just before al dente. Remove bone from sauce, break up the meat. Drain pasta and sauce it with just over half the sauce for a minute over low heat until pasta is al dente. Plate the pasta and top with remaining sauce. Serve immediately. You can tart it up with finely chopped parsley or grated cheese to garnish.

I would pair this with a rustic red wine (think dark fruit and medium to heavy body) and a salad. (If rustic reds aren't your thing a restrained Bordeaux is an easy to find choice that would pair equally well).

Fried Rice

Got a wok? Going to be home for lunch? How about fried rice? Make too much rice for dinner the night before, then put the leftovers in the fridge. Next day you're ready to go. This is a wildly adaptable dish, and frugal as all get out. Most of us are familiar with the pork fried rice from Chinese take out joints. That's just the tip of the iceberg. Whatever you have lying around can be thrown in, but some combinations work better than others. Here are a few favorites:

Chinatown $1 cart special: carrots, peas, onion, egg, soy sauce
Korean style: chopped up hot dog, kimchi, soy sauce
Southeast Asia style: pork or shrimp, onion, hot pepper, garlic, ginger, fish sauce, egg, pinch sugar (top with chopped peanuts and cilantro)
My Winter lunch: cabbage, onion, carrot, garlic, egg, soy sauce.
My wife's favorite: leftover salmon, onion, garlic, peas, green onion, soy sauce

This is a dish for using up leftovers, so protein from previous meals (pork, shrimp, chicken, fish) can be chopped up and thrown in. If you make fried rice frequently you'll find yourself making a little too much protein at dinner, and squirreling some away just for this purpose.

My preference is to really load the rice with vegetables, so the finished result is about a 2:1 rice to veggies ratio. I think of it like this: in frontier camps scurvy was common among westerners, yet rare among Chinese laborers. Why? Because the Chinese tended to eat their vegetables. I make it a point to eat mine.

If you've tried making fried rice before and it didn't work out you probably missed one or more of these critical factors:

- Wok must be hot before the oil hits it (the thinner the metal the faster it'll heat, and gas burners generally heat a wok quicker than electric)
- Use a little more oil for fried rice than a stir-fry; you want the veggies to fry, not saute
- Rice must be cold
- Once rice hits the wok it shouldn't be in there for more than 20-30 seconds
- While in wok rice must be kept moving or it will stick (it will stick a little anyways)

Method:

Heat wok. Add oil. Add veggies in order of how long they take to cook - longest (onion, cabbage, carrot, pepper) first. If using egg, push veggies to sides of wok once they're cooked, then crack egg into center. Scramble quickly, then mix into veggies. It's OK if a little bit of egg sticks to bottom of wok. If using, add chopped pieces of leftover protein. Break up cold rice and toss into wok with a splash or two of soy sauce. Keep rice moving in wok to heat rice through and mix everything together. The rice will want to stick to the wok; your job is to keep it moving fast enough so it only sticks a little. Cut the heat and get the rice out of wok immediately.

I serve the rice with a dollop of chili garlic sauce on top.

Tip: The wok is easiest to clean while it's still hot. Pour in a liter or so of water, and let sit for few minutes. Dump out most of the water and clean wok with a sponge. Do not use soap. Use your thumbnail or a scrubber (gently) to remove any stuck bits. Rinse and dry. Use a paper towel to coat inside of wok with a small amount of oil. Bring it back up to heat, then let it cool. Your wok can now be put away, and you've made sure it'll be ready to go the next time you need it.

I find fried rice fulfilling aesthetically and philosophically. It tastes good. It uses up leftovers. It costs next to nothing. It takes very little time to make. There's a strategy involved, as you scan your fridge and larder to determine just what you're going to use for today's batch. Clean up is quick. And while I'm well aware fried rice will never be considered health food, it's healthier than many other quick lunch options. Not to mention how a bowl of fried rice will keep you going for half a day, at least.

Brand Name Stuff I'll Admit to Buying

Most of the grocery items I buy don't come with brand names on them. On principle I try to avoid giving a dime of my money to companies like PepsiCo, Coca-Cola, General Mills, Kraft, Tyson, Nestle or any of their ilk. Most of what they have to offer is simply not what I want to eat, and I'm not convinced it's even good to eat. I'm lucky enough to live in a place where I'm not at the mercy of my local supermarket; I can buy veggies at the greengrocer or farmer's market, meat from the butcher, coffee from the roaster, spices from the spice shop, fish from the fishmonger and cheese and other dairy products from the cheesemonger. I consider the ability to shop like this a privilege that comes with the astronomical cost of a Manhattan apartment. But as American it's nearly impossible to sidestep Big Food altogether, and I'd rather save a buck or two at my local supermarket than burn my money at Whole Foods.

So here's a list of brand name products I'm happy to buy. I'm sure you've seen some or all of them in your supermarket. In my mind these represent decent value and quality, making them worth a try:

Goya Beans: Yes, I have a pressure cooker and cook my own beans. But sometimes I'll pay more for the convenience of just opening a can and having the beans already cooked for me, in spite of them being saltier than if I'd cooked them. Goya black beans are a classic. Their cannellini beans are very good as well, as long as they're rinsed before using.

Goya Capers/Olives: I use both, and Goya capers and Spanish olives are good quality and cheaper than many other brands.

Cafe Bustelo: I keep this around for when I run out of the good stuff. Makes an acceptable cafe con leche and iced coffee. Somewhere between cheap coffee and good coffee, with an almost chocolaty bold taste. It's espresso, but not as heavily roasted as Italian or French style. It's also hard to beat the graphics on the can.

Don Francisco's Espresso: Found this when I was on the West Coast. It's like Cafe Bustelo, but better. Great stuff to feed a Bialetti machine.

Dijon Mustard: For years I bought the French brand Maille, which is a little pricey. I still like it, but have discovered that I like Grey Poupon almost as well, and Roland Extra Strong maybe even a little better. Emeril even has his own Dijon out there that's perfectly acceptable (and often on sale). I tear through quite a bit of the stuff.

Garofalo Pasta: I normally buy the cheapest 100% Durum pasta I can get, because I'm not entirely convinced there is that much difference between one dried pasta and another. This brand actually seems to be a little better, however, and not obscenely expensive (about $2.50 a lb.). I might be making a switch.

Pearl River Bridge Soy Sauce: This is my go to Chinese soy sauce. Helps to live on the edge of Chinatown.

Squid Brand Fish Sauce: This is a mild take on fish sauce. That's fine by me, as the stuff can sometimes be quite strong. If you never cook Southeast Asian food this is useless to you.

San Pellegrino Sparkling Water: I blame Ryan Adams for getting me into this stuff. Now I consider it essential backstage, and it often finds its way into my fridge at home. Yes, it costs three times more than a bottle of seltzer, but to me it's an affordable indulgence. I need something to drink with a meal when coffee, wine or beer are the wrong choices. No one can convince me this stuff isn't rock and roll.

Genova Tonno: I've written about this one before. The premium label from Chicken of the Sea. Made to look like the more expensive Italian tuna, and like the Italian stuff it's packed with olive oil and sea salt. Another affordable indulgence. Twice the price of a can of cheap tuna mush, and about twice as good.

PG Tips Tea: I don't drink a ton of tea, but this is about as good as bag tea gets if you're looking for English style.

Huy Fong Chili Garlic Sauce: My favorite spicy table condiment, especially for Asian food: great combination of flavor and heat. I like the fact that it's chunky as well. Rooster on jar.

Butternut Squash Soup

Simple but elegant, this is a great fall/winter first course or light lunch (with salad and bread). It's perfect way to dress up a simple meal, and will make your kitchen smell nice. As is the case with many simple things the quality of the ingredients is important. I splurge on flavorful bright yellow butter from a local farm where the cows are feed on grass and hay instead of mass produced butter, which is made from the milk of cows fed mostly corn. Not only does it taste better, but I use it a bit more liberally, as I'm convinced it's healthier. (Something about Omega 3's, I've been told). As one who doesn't use much butter I figure why not splurge on the good stuff when I do? Only use sherry you'd actually drink, as opposed to whatever the hell is in those bottles labeled "cooking sherry". If you use a fino sherry you may want to add a pinch of sugar, but a cream or amontillado will add enough sweetness on its own. (Using an oloroso would be decadent, but might result in the soup being over sweet. Then again, if you have both the budget and a sweet tooth go for it). The squash itself is most important; if you can get one from a farmer's market so much the better. Fortunately this is a sturdy vegetable, meaning even those that have been sitting for god knows how long in your supermarket will make a good soup. Good butter, cream and sherry work magic.

The use of curry powder in this soup can go either way: for years I made it without the curry, but when I decided to include it I found myself making this soup more often. Depending on my mood I'll vary the amount, sometimes making the soup slightly aromatic, other times making it almost spicy. The squash has enough flavor to stand up to quite a bit of curry powder, but it's wise to remember the purpose of this soup is to show off the flavor of the squash. If curry isn't your thing you could substitute very small amounts of sweet spices (clove, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice), which will work, but push the flavor of the soup more in the direction of pumpkin pie.

This recipe will make enough for two large bowls of soup, or four smaller ones as a first course.

One small butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into small pieces
One onion, chopped
2 Tbs good butter
1/4 cup sherry
Pinch salt
Pinch sugar (optional)
1 Tbs curry powder (or more to taste)
Generous glug of heavy cream

Heat heavy bottomed soup pot. Saute the onion in butter with a pinch of salt until soft. Add squash and continue for another minute or two. Add sherry, sugar (if using) and curry powder. If you want small servings of thick, intense soup add just a little more water than you need to cover the squash. If you want a thinner lighter soup add twice that amount. If you have no idea what you want just measure two large soup bowls' worth of water into the pot and go with that. Bring to a boil. Cover and simmer until squash is tender (about 40 min, or 20 if your soup pot happens to be a pressure cooker). Mash all solids into the liquid with a potato masher, or one of those fancy hand mixers (if you have one). Cut the heat, add cream and taste. You may want to adjust the amount of salt.

This soup can be reheated, but be careful not to boil it when reheating, as the cream will curdle.

Fish in Black Bean Sauce

I love black bean sauce. I love fish. The two together are tough to beat. This is some real Chinese food you can make at home. Any white fish will work. I like flounder, so it's what I used. You could fry it or steam it. I gave it a quick fry, then made the sauce in the same pan. The actual cooking will go by pretty quickly, so do all the prep work before you start. The fermented black beans and the rice wine should be easily found in an Asian market. They're inexpensive and keep well. This will feed two or three with rice as a main dish, or more as part of a more intricate meal.

1lb flounder fillets (or any white fish)
5-7 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1/2 inch piece ginger, peeled, mashed and chopped
15-20 Chinese fermented black beans, soaked in 1/4 cup Chinese rice wine
1 bunch scallions, chopped
1 hot pepper, chopped (or more to taste)
pinch sugar
dash soy sauce
cornstarch dissolved in water (to thicken)
oil for frying

Fry flounder quickly in a little more oil than you need. The fillets tend to be thin, so they will cook in about two minutes. Get them onto a warm plate before they fall apart in the pan. Keep the heat on the pan. Add ginger, garlic, hot pepper and scallions and fry, adding more oil if needed to keep from burning. After another two minutes add black beans with rice wine, sugar and a small dash of soy sauce. When the liquid comes to a boil stir in the cornstarch and water slowly until sauce is as thick as gravy. Pour sauce over the flounder and serve immediately with white rice and a vegetable.