All posts filed under: Food Musings

Top It Off

With Independence Day and a long weekend of picnics and BBQs just around the corner, it seems like the perfect time to talk about condiments. Whether sweet, sour, spicy or a tad salty, these toppings have added flavor and flare to food for centuries. While ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise still reign supreme, there are plenty of unusual dressings to spice up your summer meals. Love some heat with your meat? Spoon on the fiery, North African condiment harissa. This crimson sauce consists of hot chilies, garlic, cumin, caraway seeds and sea salt. As an indicator of just how spicy it can be, commercially produced harissa comes in cans decorated with erupting volcanoes. Usually harissa accompanies couscous. In Tunisia, though, it’s used as a sandwich spread. It also gives an extra kick to vegetables and seafood. Some cooks add a little yogurt to their harissa and offer it as a dip. If harissa sounds too searing, try the milder North African chermoula. It starts with a base of cilantro, parsley, garlic, lemon juice and olive oil …

Tantalizing Tagines

Mention Morocco and visions of sweeping sand dunes, loping camels and bustling marketplaces spring to mind. Mention this exotic North African country to me, and I think of russet colored tagines. For me, Morocco is the land of succulent stews and the shallow, clay containers in which they simmer. Once you spot a tagine in a bustling North African souk or Western cookware shop, you’ll never mistake it for another pot. It consists of two parts: a circular, shallow pan and the large, conical-topped cover that fits inside the base. The cone shape allows condensation to cascade back down to the casserole, creating a rich, reduced sauce. The lid has a small knob on the top, providing cooks with something to grasp when removing the cover to check on the bubbling contents within. Thanks to its unique design, the tagine encourages low, slow simmering of its contents. Simmering allows diverse flavors to meld together and ensures a tender, juicy, aromatic meal. Cooks must be vigilant, though, and add water as needed. Otherwise, they will end …

Salt of the Sea

During a recent visit to Portugal I had the thrill of eating an impressive but quite simple-to-make Mediterranean dish – whole fish baked on a bed of salt. On that evening the server had wheeled a cart over to our table and, with a flourish, revealed a white dome of sea salt. After cracking open the top with a knife and peeling back the crust, he then skinned, filleted and doled out our bass table-side. Seeing the mounds of coarse salt encasing the fish, I assumed that our entrees would taste as salty as the sea. One bite proved how wrong assumptions can be. The flesh had a subtle, almost meaty flavor and lacked any hint of saltiness. Soft and succulent, it was undoubtedly the most delectable and memorable meal on this journey. It was also one that I would feel compelled to replicate in my own kitchen. Back at home I amassed approximately 4 1/2 pounds of coarse sea salt and 2 pounds of whole lane snapper. I would have preferred to use a …

Dough!

Time to make the doughnuts or, at the very least, eat them. Yes, folks, today is National Doughnut Day. We can thank one of my former employers, the Salvation Army, for creating this special holiday. Originating from a Salvation Army fundraiser in 1938, the event honored women volunteers who had handed out doughnuts to World War I soldiers in France. Some may deem a day dedicated to rings of deep-fried dough silly. Yet, when you consider classic American foods, the doughnut invariably springs to mind. With its moist, yielding interior, delicate, sugary crust and ease of portability it has been dazzling and sustaining diners for centuries. Truthfully, it’s about time that the doughnut has its day. In the 21st century National Doughnut Day means free treats for everyone. Krispy Kreme is giving away one doughnut per customer, no purchase necessary, while Dunkin’ Donuts is offering a free doughnut with any beverage bought. While Dunkin Donuts and Krispy Kreme may have become somewhat synonymous with this delicious sweet, neither receives the credit for inventing it. Who …

Bundt It

The Bundt cake. For some sweets lovers it’s the ultimate retro dessert. Still others write off this dense confection as pure kitsch. At times I’ve found myself in both camps. One look at that perfectly fluted ring and I flashback to elementary school and all the Bundt coffee cakes that my mother would bake. Iced with a mixture of confectioner’s sugar, milk and florescent yellow, orange or red food coloring, these day-glo treats were the psychedelic stars of her late 1970’s kitchen. Chances are that Bundt cakes popped up my grandmothers’ kitchens, too. In 1949 the Minnesota-based cookware company Nordic Ware produced its first Bundt pan. Crafted from heavy cast aluminum, the 10-cup mold was derived from a ceramic, German cake pan. Unique to the Nordic Ware creation, the form’s fluted sides allowed for even, easy slicing. Initially, consumers baked pound cakes in the pan. As the years passed, cooks discovered other uses. Quick breads, molded salads, Jello, steamed puddings and ice cream cakes could all be made in it. Although I’ve yet to shape …

Let’s Talk Toffee

As a kid, I thought of toffee only as the dark, crunchy center found in those chocolaty Hershey’s treats, Heath bars. It wasn’t until adulthood, when I ventured into Scotland, the land of sweeties and sticky toffee pudding, that I realized how versatile and tasty this confection could be. Although my toffee epiphany happened in the UK, the sweet itself comes not from Great Britain but from Canada. There a 16th century French educator, Marguerite Bourgeoys, created a molasses candy to attract, as she reputedly called students, the “little savages” to her French Canadian school. While Bourgeoys’s toffee featured molasses as its main ingredient, British and American versions use a combination of sugar, butter and water or cream. The three are boiled together in a large saucepan until they reach a temperature of anywhere from 260 to 300 degrees Fahrenheit. The higher temperature produces a brittle, tawny candy while the lower yields a luscious, amber syrup. If firm candy is the goal, the hot toffee is poured out to set. Once it has hardened, it …

Fabulous Falafel Burgers

I have an embarrassing confession. Although I spend my workdays researching and writing about exotic, far flung foods, I eat the same lunch pretty much every afternoon. And just what is my inevitable meal? It’s a black bean veggie burger with organic ketchup on a slice of high fiber wheat toast. Delicious? Not really. Quick and easy? Absolutely. After months of dining on this not-so-tasty repast I finally caved in and started considering other fast, protein-rich, high fiber, low fat lunch options. Salads didn’t quite fit the protein criteria. Plus, a few hours after eating a salad, I felt hungry again. Tuna sandwiches proved more satisfying but they didn’t offer much in the fiber front. What ultimately saved me from a lifetime of black beans was the slender “Meatless Burgers” cookbook. Written by Louise Hagler, “Meatless Burgers” (BPC, 1999) offers over 50 easy, international recipes for this quintessentially American dish. With nutritional values provided at the end of each recipe I had a wealth of healthful lunch options right at my fingertips. As I love …

Ramping up for a Zesty Meal

This year’s final tribute to spring produce brings me to a pungent little perennial that grows wild in eastern North America. Known as a wild leek or ramp, this delicate-looking vegetable possesses small, white bulbs, slender, pink stalks, and broad, green leaves. While this petite plant may appear fragile, the flavor and aroma that it imparts pack powerful punches. Think of the combined bold scents of garlic and onion. Add to these an earthy, lingering aspect and you have the potent smell and taste of a ramp. Wildly popular in the Appalachian region, ramps are heralded for their culinary as well as medicinal uses. In the latter case locals employ them as seasonal tonics to stimulate dormant appetites and open sinuses long blocked by winter’s chill. Beyond their role in folk medicine, ramps star in a series of springtime food festivals held throughout West Virginia. At fairs such as the Feast of Ramson in Richwood, W.Va. they are cooked in bacon fat and served alongside ham, beans, potatoes and cornbread. At the International Ramp Cook-off …

Spring Produce Redux

After an endless winter of eating root vegetables and dreaming of lighter cuisine I now am basking in the bounty of spring. So much color, crispness and flavor! So many different seasonal offerings. It’s no wonder that my kitchen counter overflows with the produce of the season. While curved fiddlehead ferns, honeycombed morel mushrooms and ruby red rhubarb may catch my eye, several of the more traditional foods have stolen my heart. My main heartthrob? The plump, piquant lemon. Ever present in the produce aisle, it hits its prime in the springtime. A relative of the lime and citron, the lemon performs multiple roles in the kitchen. Wedges serve as as a garnish for seafood and drinks while the zest acts as a flavor enhancer in stuffing and baked goods. Its juice pumps up the flavor in such fruits as peaches, nectarines, guava and papaya. It also balances out rich sauces and vinaigrettes and works as a preservative and anti-browning agent for fragile foods. Talk about a versatile fruit! Lemons keep at room temperature for …

Spring for the Season’s Stranger Produce

This Earth Day I’m hitting the farmers’ market. To me, nothing says “green living” or springtime like locally grown food. From familiar spring vegetables such as asparagus and leeks to the rare morel and rhubarb the market provides a wealth of vibrant, flavorful produce for my dinner plate. Of all the vernal offerings the most unusual has to be the fiddlehead fern. Resembling the carved head of a violin, fiddleheads are the unfurled shoots of an ostrich fern. One of the last true wild, foraged foods, they grow in moist woods, floodplains and, in my case, in the damp soil bordering my 19th century farmhouse. When told by a neighbor that the two-inch long, tightly coiled fern leaves tasted like a cross between asparagus, artichokes, and okra, I assumed that he was joking. Making fun of the city slicker, eh? What would he say next? That sautéed maple leaves reminded him of syrup? Skepticism aside, I gave fiddlehead ferns a try. Boiled in lightly salted water for 10 minutes or steamed for 20, they do …