Heavenly Onion Galette with Mustard Cream

In my early days of belonging to a co-op, C and I lived in Brooklyn and subscribed to Urban Organic, a home delivery service of organic vegetables and herbs. This was heaven, now that I look back on it. Imagine stepping into your lobby after work once every week to find a box full of organic vegetables, all of them a surprise. In all fairness, I suppose you could have just about anything delivered to your door in New York City (not that I know anything about that), but this took the cake as far as I was concerned. We learned to cook together based on whatever the farm happened to send our way.

Some of the vegetables delivered to us were a little exotic, of course. When faced with an mystery vegetable, we would consult Deborah Madison’s Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. A common thing to hear us say went like this.

One of us: “What should I do with . . . dinosaur kale?”

The other: “I don’t know. What would Debbie do?”

As it turns out, Debbie would do just about anything with a vegetable. She subscribes to the nonpartisan “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” school of thought when it comes to the omnivore’s dilemma. (Are you a . . . vegetarian? Shh, it doesn’t matter!) Every dish in her book pairs effortlessly with a meat course or stands gracefully on its own. With her cooking, there’s no need to choose a side.

Here’s the recipe for her Onion Galette with Mustard Cream. I have made this mothership of a galette twice now. Both times, it was for a party, and both to great success. You know you made something delicious when partygoers find you to say good things about your food.

Given how easy it was the first time I made it, perhaps I had a bit of overconfidence in my step. I went to the grocery store without a list. Of course, I forgot something, and it was the bread to make breadcrumbs. Given that I’m eating so well these days, I didn’t have any bread on hand. Without it, I feared the onions might be overpowering, wouldn’t stay bound together, or some other worse fate. So instead, I substituted rolled oats. Yep, that’s right. And guess what? Couldn’t even tell.

When making this, do yourself a favor and remember to schedule enough time to bring the milk and butter to room temperature before starting. Also, lean in to check out the dough after it rises. At a close enough distance, the darn thing seems like it is breathing. Last but not least, be sure to save close to the higher end of the 2- to 3-inch border when piling the onions in the dough. In the galette pictured above, I didn’t save quite enough. It’s forgiving, though. (Of course, it is.)

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Yeasted Tart Dough with Butter

• 2 teaspoons active dry yeast
• ½ teaspoon sugar
• ½ cup warm milk or water
• 1 egg at room temperature
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• 2 cups flour, approximately
• 4 tablespoons soft butter

Dissolve the yeast and sugar in the milk in a mixing bowl and let stand until bubbly, about 10 minutes. Stir in the egg and salt, then begin adding the flour ½ cup at a time. After you’ve added a cup, beat in the butter, then continue adding flour until the dough pulls away from the edge of the bowl. Turn it out onto a counter and knead until shiny and smooth, after a few minutes. Add more flour as needed to prevent sticking.

Transfer the dough to a lightly buttered bowl, cover with a towel, and let rise until doubled in bulk, 45 minutes to an hour.

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Onion Galette with Mustard Cream

• 3 tablespoons butter
• 6 cups thinly sliced yellow onion
• 1 tablespoon chopped thyme or rosemary
• ½ cup dry white wine
• Salt and freshly milled pepper
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard mixed with ¼ cup cream
• ¼ cup grated pecorino Romano or Parmesan

Make the dough and set it aside.

Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and thyme and cook, stirring occasionally, until they soften and turn golden, about 15 minutes. Add the wine, cook until it has reduced, then season with salt and pepper.

In a bowl, combine all but 2 tablespoons of the egg with mustard and cream. Stir in the onion, bread crumbs, and cheese.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Roll the dough in to a 14-inch circle. Put the onion on the dough, leaving a 2- to 3-inch edge. Fold the dough over the onion and brush with the reserved egg. Bake until shiny and golden, about 25 minutes.

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Foodbuzz 24, 24, 24: "Minnesota Chic" New Year’s Eve

As a selected blogger for foodbuzz.com’s 24, 24, 24 event, I honored 2008 by throwing a unique party hosted by foodbuzz. Despite the fact that those of us in Minnesota live in an icebox this time of year, I decided that 1) all of the food and drink I served at this party would be a local product, and 2) the food experience would be classier because of it.

Between you and me, I went into this agreement wondering how I would create a party-worthy spread with local products in the middle of a snowy Minnesota winter. (Have you heard how much snow we’ve had?) I imagined hours of online research and driving from shop to shop and co-op to co-op to see what’s fresh, discover the good sources, and gather the information I needed to throw a fantastic party.

Au contraire. Sometimes when you think you have limitations, you actually have opportunities. With a trip to Golden Fig, Mississippi Market, and an afternoon of online sleuthing, I created a party spread involving numerous classy items and two custom-made cocktails. And here’s the winningest part: All of the food and drink was grown, raised, produced, or bottled in Minnesota or Wisconsin. In fact, I bought everything on Grand Avenue within 2 miles of my home.

Here is the menu for the evening, which involved 21 of my closest friends in my apartment in St. Paul. It turns out that the bigger challenge of throwing this party is that I live in a vintage outfitted with a pint-sized stove with just one oven rack. (Dear landlord, I will email this post to you when I ask for a better stove.)

Food

Roasted Root Vegetables with Maple Sage Glaze

Creamy Parsnip and Wild Rice Hotdish with General Mills Crunchy Topping (aka, Crispix)

Winter Squash Galette

Onion Galette with Mustard Cream

Wasabi-Miso Marinated Top Sirloin

Baguettes with Roasted Garlic Cheese Spread

Minnesota Fireside Apple Tarts

Drinks

Minnesota Nice: Honey-oat infused Shakers vodka with half and half and fresh nutmeg

Peace Coffee Minnetini: Peace Coffee-infused Shakers vodka with half and half, espresso, and Kahlua

And that, my friends, I find terribly Minnesota Chic!

Let me start by describing the drinks, both of which quickly worked their way into my heart (and taught me a few useful things about vodka). I wanted something homey but classy, which led me to this article at the Washington Post. To honor the winter season, the folks at Blue Hill Farm in New York infuse vodka with two pantry items: oats and honey. I was intrigued by this combination, and given that I wanted to serve a Peace Coffee drink, I decided to do two vodka infusions: one with Peace Coffee, and the other with extra virgin raw honey (from Wolf Honey Farm) and rolled oats (from the bulk section at the co-op).

Coffee-infused vodka

The instructions online for coffee-infused vodka are lacking, so I had to wing it with a little common sense. (There is this description, but it never mentions how much coffee to use.) The process for this infusion is still a little mysterious, but in my experience, you can infuse roughly two cups of coffee (broken to pieces under a towel), a liter of vodka, and a tablespoon of sugar. Put everything in a seal-tight jar and tuck it into the corner of your kitchen. For four to five days, shake it and have a taste each day to monitor its progress. You will know when it is done. Strain vodka from bean using a tea strainer and a funnel.

Before

During

After

For the Peace Coffee Minnetini, I shook equal parts of coffee-infused vodka, Kahlua, chilled espresso, and half and half over ice and strained it into a glass. (Of course, martini glasses might be ideal, but I find them to be fussy party vessels.) The drink was creamy and sweet with a nice punch of coffee-alcohol happiness. It was a definite crowd (and hostess) pleaser.

Honey-oat infused vodka

Everything about the cocktail I called Minnesota Nice is like wrapping yourself in a big down blanket in the middle of winter. It’s warm, easy, comforting, and humble. And just when you get so proud of yourself for making such a nice cocktail, you remember, “Oh yeah, there’s oats in here” and it brings you back down to size.

I followed this recipe at Chow, and you should too. Infuse two cups of rolled oats, 3/4 cups raw honey, and 1 liter of vodka. Monitor your infusion patiently and taste it as you go. As with the coffee, the smile on your face will indicate when you are done. The recipe talks about straining it multiple times, but I found that just once was enough.

To make the cocktail, shake equal parts honey-oat vodka and half and half over ice. Strain into a glass and grate fresh nutmeg on the top. (Don’t skimp on this step!) I called it Minnesota Nice because it’s easy to love, but eventually knocks you off your feet. Everyone loved this cocktail and one friend likened it to a sunny cup of breakfast. I can’t say enough what a glorious concoction this was. Here I am toasting the New Year with a Minnesota Nice, my new favoritest drink.

The food

Of course, we also needed some food to wash down our booze!

In my research trip to the co-op, I found good onions and squash, which led me to make Deborah Madison’s galettes as described in Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, one of my most-loved cookbooks. Whenever I am faced with a vegetable I’m not sure what to do with, I simply say, “What would Debbie do” (WWDD?) and consult her book. She will not let you down, and I considered the galettes the star of the show.

The provisions

Winter Squash Galette

The recipe has been described nicely at A Chow Life, so you can get it there if you’d like. It involves handmade yeasted tart dough (so easy), roasted squash, garlic, onion, sage, parmesan, and egg.

Onion Galette with Mustard Cream

The onion galette involves six cups of yellow onion, thyme, white wine, Dijon mustard, cream, eggs, bread crumbs, and Parmesan.

Making the squash galette was very straightforward, but I did wonder a bit about cooking 6 cups of onion in my saute pan for the onion galette. The onions were piled so high, I wondered if they’d be evenly and thoroughly cooked. There was no need to worry. I just added a little olive oil to the onions as they cooked if they got dry. The result was quite a tasty mess of onions.

Of course, both of these beauties were delicious, and you can never go wrong with serving a well-prepared squash. However, this onion galette (pictured in the forefront), with its heavenly mustard cream balanced out by sharp onions, cheese, and yeasty crust, almost had us dancing in the streets.

Harmony Valley Roasted Root Vegetables

I especially like Harmony Valley for the lovable bag of mixed root vegetables they offer throughout the fall and winter seasons. It’s a three-pound bag of rutabaga, parsnip, turnip, and orange and purple carrots. It’s so easy to make these things taste like candy (well, savory candy, of course).

Clean three pounds of root vegetables. Cut off all of the tops and bottoms and lightly peel the vegetables. Cut into coarse pieces. In a bowl, mix the vegetables with two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil (or just enough to lightly coat everything). Stir in salt, cracked pepper, and two tablespoons of fresh sage. Roast in a 400-degree oven for 20 minutes, then flip all of the vegetables (the undersides will be dark and glazed). Roast for 20 minutes more, then coat with 3 to 4 tablespoons of maple syrup and roast for approximately another 10 minutes.

Creamy Parsnip, Pear, and Minnesota Wild Rice Hotdish (with General Mills Crunchy Topping, aka, Crispix)

Here is my nod to classic hotdish so known in the state of Minnesota. I thought it would only be wise to include a wild rice hotdish in our menu, and imagined it paired with seasonal parsnips. This logic led me to a recipe at recipetips.com.

As with these types of Grandma-friendly traditional recipes, you might want to take few liberties. Angela and I* added some extra nutmeg and a few cloves of crushed garlic. This is a tasty hotdish, but not quite a thing of beauty given that the wild rice makes for a dark brown casserole. S’ok, though, as we polished off the whole thing.

Wasabi-Miso Marinated Thousand Hills Top Sirloin

When it came to serving the meat, I wanted to throw in an extra element of some kind. Given that I live close to University Avenue, I decided I would use my Asian fridge items to kick up the spice level of the Thousand Hills meat. I followed this recipe at myrecipes.com, which involves a marinade of yellow miso, mirin, rice vinegar, wasabi powder, and white wine. I adjusted the portions to match the extra servings and marinated everything for a full day in a ziplock bag.

The results were acceptable, but were comprised by my aforementioned pint-sized stove. I couldn’t get the thick grill pan to sit close enough to the broiler flame, so I transferred it to the stovetop (eek). By the time the burner and pan were up to speed, I lost the momentum and didn’t have the wonderful seared meat I expected. Regardless, there were no complaints, and we polished off the whole plate.

Breadsmith Baguettes with Roasted Garlic Cheese Spread

The organic garlic from Harmony Valley made for plump cloves of golden garlic, which I paired with a Wisconsin-made raw Cheddar Cheese spread.

Minnesota Fireside Apple Tarts with Sonny’s Vanilla Ice Cream

For dessert, I wanted a simple way to serve the bag of Fireside apples I got at the co-op, so I used this recipe for a thin French apple tart. We ate these with local Sonny’s vanilla ice cream, which is for the best, given that I was too busy shaking cocktails and being all Minnesota Nice Nice to remember to glaze the tarts with vanilla and honey before serving. What a shame!

Oh yeah. Given all the cooking I did, I all but forgot that we were also honoring the turn to 2009. A number friends brought champagne. We played some Tchaikovsky in the lead-up to midnight as we toasted, hugged, and sang Auld Lang Syne. I wish I could write more about everyone who came, but a Flickr photo montage will have to do. Thank you to all my friends who came to celebrate. No party would be Minnesota Chic without you!

PS: Every party has a few addendums, and these are the things I learned.

• If ever in doubt, buy the better booze.

Truth be told, I infused one round of vodka with top-shelf Shakers and a second round with lower-shelf Philips. Although both local products, the results were very different. During the infusion process, I smiled after tasting the Shakers. When I tried the Philips vodka, I involuntary shook my head like my cat does when she gets something stuck in her mouth. It was rough around the edges, and of course, so were the cocktails.

• $300 is not enough money to throw a party for 21 people.

By all accounts, the party was lovely. We all ate one serving of food, had a couple cocktails, and enjoyed the bottles of wine everyone contributed. But being a bit of a perfectionista, I would have loved more of the top-shelf cocktails, another three pounds of root vegetables, and about four (ok, five) more of the onion galettes. In other words, we partied well on a small budget. And get this. I had no leftovers!

• Follow the Alton Brown school of kitchen gadgetry.

To grate the nutmeg, I bought a microplane with a slide-off top and underlying nutmeg container. Eh. I should have bought a straight-up baby microplane instead. Like Alton Brown says, keep it simple when it comes to kitchen equipment.

And with that, I think we should roll the credits!

Baguettes: Breadsmith

Top Sirloin Steak: Thousand Hills Cattle Company, Cannon Falls, MN

Fireside apples: LaCrescent, MN

Castle Rock Organic Farms cream line milk: Osseo, WI

Raw milk Brunkow cheddar cheese: Darlington, WI

Sartori Sarvecchio cheese: Antigo, WI

MinneSalsa: Hugo, MN

Organic Tortilla Chips: Whole Grain Milling Company, Welcome, MN

Garlic and root vegetables: Harmony Valley Farm, Viroqua, WI

Sugarloaf, Carnival, and Acorn Squash and organic half and half: Organic Valley, La Farge, WI

Minnesota Wild Rice: Clearbrook, MN

Koop’s Dijon Mustard: Pleasant Prairie, MN

Hope Creamery butter: Hope, MN

Transitional yellow onions, MN

Grenada nutmeg and Sumatra cinnamon: Penzey’s, Wauwatosa, WI

* Thank you to Aaron, for suggesting the party’s theme in the first place. (The New Year Sushi Dance Party wouldn’t have nearly the same charm.) To Angela, for coming early to be the trusted sous chef. And to Michael, for coming early to do the aesthetic thing he does so well (and for bringing the ice cream, too).

"Minnesota Chic" New Year’s Eve Party

Given that I am a foodbuzz featured writer, I entered something foodbuzz calls simply “24, 24, 24.” It’s an event in which 24 bloggers produce 24 meals all within the same 24 hours anywhere around the world. The best part about it? Foodbuzz is the virtual host, so they pay for the event (with a cap, of course).

To be considered, bloggers pitched their best ideas for “the most creative way to honor 2008″ and promised to write a great post about it. Based upon the fine merits of my proposal (ahem, tossed together at the brink of the deadline), I was chosen as one of the 24 bloggers. That means that I get reimbursed to throw a party. Yes, I believe you heard that right. We eat and be merry — and foodbuzz pays for it.

With a little help from my friends (hats off to Aaron and his admirable ecofootprint), I turned our event into a challenge. I proposed a “Minnesota Chic” New Year’s Eve party showcasing as many local foods as possible — which of course might get a bit hairy here in the heart of winter. Local food, local music, and local booze — all with my favorite local peeps around me to kick off 2009.

We have quite a few ideas brewing, including a Minne-tini (Peace Coffee and Shakers vodka), risotto, soup, and trout from Star Prairie. Bread from Rustica. Tortillas from La Perla. Who knows, really. The menu is up in the air until I gather some more information.

For now, please let me know if you have any ideas to help this night take shape. I’m defining “local” in a very lofty way for the evening — as thoroughly Minnesota as possible. What local products do you love? Where will I get the grains? What dairy farmers are still cranking in this deep snow? What producers are distributing frozen produce from the growing season? What local companies have products you are proud of?

Also, if you are a local eco-foodie, please drop me a line at ediblecities.msp@gmail.com if you’d like to be invited.

Two of the Peoples in My Neighborhood

Before the rain that spat on us today started to turn into ice and make the sidewalks impossible to walk on, there was plenty of time to take advantage of the day. I had to pick up the MFK Fisher books I had on hold at the library, get groceries, exercise, and generally get stuff done. (Speaking of practical, er, not, don’t ask me how I managed to have an eight-dollar cup of coffee downtown last night.) This particular Sunday was brought to you by…

Dunn Brothers on Grand and Snelling

If I’m on my way home from the gym or if Nina’s is feeling a little too genteel, I love to grab a seat at Dunn Brothers on Grand near St. Thomas. It has a great vibe and is probably the most social coffee shop in the area. Aside from the main counter, there is also a designated bean counter and cashier in the back of the store who packages up fresh pounds of coffee at your command. In the two hours I spent reading, about 15 people stopped to ask what was fresh and to buy a couple pounds. With the good selection, freshness, and the counter rapport, it feels like a place where the cognoscenti go to buy their beans.

Breadsmith, also on Grand and Snelling

Next door is another of my favorites, Breadsmith, close to my heart because it is a Milwaukee company. Even though Great Harvest is walking distance from where I live, I don’t like the doughy, undercooked taste of their loaves. Breadsmith, however, has it in spades, with toothy loaf of whole grain that I wouldn’t exactly call humble. It’s as wide as a dinner plate and, when you cut it open, springs up like a jack in a box ready to show off its perfect texture. To make it even better, it has a price tag of just 4 dollars.

Inspired by the bread, I suppose, I made some of the most satisfying hummus I’ve ever had. I guess there was nothing unusual about it. Maybe I just brought all the usual variations together in the most effective way. The ingredients are large can of chickpeas, 2 tablespoons of tahini, the juice of one lemon, a few glugs of olive oil, two plump cloves of garlic, salt, cayenne, and dry basil, for fun.

My two preferred tricks in hummus-making are to first boil the chickpeas until they are warm. It’s not that the beans need to be cooked. It’s that putting warm beans in the food processor along with all the other ingredients heats everything just so and brings out the life of the party. Second, I save about a half cup of the cooking water (maybe less) to add to the hummus as it processes, which ensures a nice, creamy texture.

Et voilà, a couple of drizzles of arbequina olive oil and paprika pulls it all together in the end.

Bobotie, Coming Soon to a State Near You

Given that I’m a somewhat recent transplant to MSP, I’m still amused by the peculiarities indigenous to the state of Minnesota. As I see it, the main differences between Wisconsin (my home state) and Minnesota have to do with handguns and booze. Classy, right? When I first saw the signs in MSP that read HANDGUNS BANNED ON THESE PREMISES, I was more than a little freaked out. I lived in both Chicago and a not-so-lovely corner of Brooklyn called Bedford-Stuyvesant, and no one talked about handguns there!

We’re forthright about our handguns, but we’re more than a little weird about our booze, with three-two beer (which even my lifelong MSP friends don’t understand entirely), grocery stores that can’t sell liquor, and a ban on liquor sales on the most spirited day of the week. I’m from working-class Milwaukee, where there is a bar on every residential street, we take brewery tours just to guzzle down free beer afterward, and the in-store liquor selection at Pick ‘n Save is just as vast as the produce section.

Of course, as we all know, once you cross the border from Wisco into Minneso-ota, another peculiar thing happens. Casserole turns into hotdish. I’m no stranger to casserole. The dish I remember most from my mom’s homey collection of recipes is something called Super Supper: a bubbling, baked collection of whipped potatoes with sour cream, beef seasoned with pre-packaged BBQ spices, corn, and pre-shredded cheddar cheese. This is straightforward if not also rib-sticking delicious, even though half the time she didn’t even put the corn in because my brother wouldn’t eat it. It shows you just how exotic we were.

Last weekend, when I made bobotie for Lisa’s South African-themed dinner party, I couldn’t help but be charmed by all the unique ingredients that go into this meal. This is a traditional South African recipe with 1,001 permutations that reveals just how much our food says about who we are. Compare South African traditions (bright, spicy, exotic) and Midwestern traditions (creamy, packaged, and hold those spices and the wild fruits!). Bobotie is your Midwestern grandmother’s hotdish hallucination.

I followed this recipe I found at Gastronomy Domine, which I highly recommend. It contains the following.

Beef and white bread. (I used half beef, half veal for variety.)

Milk and eggs.

Lemon juice, garlic, ginger, cumin, coriander, bay leaves, curry, AND garam masala.

Dried apricots, sultanas, and chutney. (I substituted pineapple for chutney, which works nicely.)

This is all pressed into a baking dish and topped with an egg/milk combination that forms a savory tent of custard on the top when baked. Whew!

To accompany it, I made yellow rice a la Emeril, which I have made another two times this week. I stock the leftover rice and love using it to make my own renditions of fried rice with whatever fresh stuff I have on hand.

To drink, we had a few bottles of Pinotage, which Stefanie and I mostly enjoyed but couldn’t pinpoint what we didn’t love about it.

For dessert, Lisa made soetkoekies, which are traditional South African sweet cookies. Given her wild crush on desserts, she didn’t love the subtle flavors. Lucky for me, because I did, and she sent me home with plenty of cookies, which I ate not-so-judiciously with coffee the next day.

In fact, I write this with a stiff cup of coffee and a soetkoekie this morning, a little taste of the exotic here in the homey Midwest.

Hot Buttered Pretzels

The name is humble, yet sexy. Elisabeth calls them one of the best things she has ever eaten. The recipe refers to them as ethereal. I have to tell you, there was a lot of preemptory build-up involved when I decided to make these hot buttered pretzels. But they were worth every accolade they received. What other food do you get to tie up, bathe in hot butter, and slowly untwist and eat?

When I saw Elisabeth’s post about making the King Arthur flour Hot Buttered Pretzels recipe . . . well, I wanted one. Badly. I also wanted to serve them with chili. About a week later, I got an invitation to Angela’s chili dinner party, so my hot buttered pretzels and I would be there. Angela is famous for making chili, soup, and stew, loading them up as she does with potato, jalapeno, vegetables, and fresh herbs from her backyard garden, and she has never met a dry bean she doesn’t like. That a girl. I whipped up two batches of pretzel dough and headed to her place.

The recipe is so easy. Using the food processor, I mixed in the flour, salt, sugar, yeast, and water and pulsed as directed. The dough quickly came together as it should, as if by its own intelligence, to make me feel like quite the smug pretzelmaker. I had both Gold Medal white flour and King Arthur whole wheat flour on hand, so I made a batch of each. Unfortunately, I got only this awkward picture of a whole wheat pretzel, so you have to trust me when I say that the white pretzels were gems – a pillow on the inside with a slight crunch on the outside. Don’t even mess around with whole wheat flour. Eating the whole wheat pretzel was like sleeping on one of those cumbersome buckwheat pillows rather than on a light cloud of down. You can get used to it, but why bother?

We ate too much for our own good, including the bakery Stefanie is known for, this time with whiskey cream. (Hey Stef, can we get that cake recipe? I don’t remember if it was pumpkin or carrot.)

Next, we went to The Triple Rock to see DW, my no-longer date, rock out as lead guitar in Shit Sandwich, his Spinal Tap cover band, all clad in leopard print, red pleather pants, wild wigs, and headbands. Given the stories I had heard of these guys’ indiscretions, barely practicing, losing drummers, and gaining them again, the last thing I expected was this:

Which of the guys do you suppose Martha-ed out before the show and bought 12 identical pumpkins in which to carve their name and place glowing votive candles?

As for the rest of it, DW was obviously the star of the show, playing with a raw Jimi Hendrix style of communion, which of course traveled straight from his guitar and into my heart – despite my common sense. It’s a cautionary tale, I suppose, as I was warned about the inherent perils by DW from the start. But being the good protagonist I am, I disregarded the warnings, which led to the unpleasant denouement – standing around a dive bar at 2 am falling under the influence of a lead guitar whose new girlfriend was all but a few feet away. And what a hot buttered shit sandwich that is.

Almost-Vegan Date with a Side of Mixed Emotions

Level: Intermediate

Active time: 6 hours

Servings: Two

Ingredients: 1 man. 1 woman. Many good intentions and a healthy dash of ego.

Directions: Mix everything together and hope for the best.

Ten minutes ahead of schedule, DW called and said “I’m standing outside by a beautiful cathedral.” That meant he had arrived, so I went downstairs to let him in. We hadn’t seen each other in awhile, and with the prospect of this dinner date, there was a good spark in the air that continued throughout the evening . . . or at least most of it.

Given that our connection was new and we weren’t eager to define anything, we never put any terms to our relationship. I knew he had a date earlier in the week, so I was planning my playful inquisition to get some of the details. I would wait until the end of the meal.

For the night’s menu, I instinctually decided to use figs as my guide. They’re so sweet and sensual, and on some level I thought their history as a sacred fruit might appeal to a literary bohemian who doesn’t eat meat or cheese. And I was right. He even got nostalgic when he saw the package. He said he used to eat figs all the time, but considered them empty calories and decided to eat nuts instead. Go figure. He also eats eggs raw because it is faster and healthier than cooking them. (And with that disclosure, he suspiciously seems like a guy who has no need for a chef-girl in his life, don’t you think?)

One of my favorite food combinations is white beans and sage, so to start, I made pan-fried white bean fritters. I mixed a batter of flour and cornmeal with cannellini beans, peppadew peppers (I love those things), and sage. I pan-fried it by the tablespoon on high heat. With a dusting of salt, I had a flirty fall appetizer. Share, dip, repeat.

To dress up the sacred fruit, I made fig and fennel pizza starting with a creme fraiche base that included lemon zest, cinnamon, cayenne, and a little sugar. On top of this base, I added fennel (sliced thinly and caramelized in balsamic), steamed spinach, figs, garlic, and rosemary. This combination proves strange enough to get anyone’s attention but satisfying enough to be eaten indiscriminately.

Toward the end of dinner at what seemed like an appropriate juncture, I decided to say, “So? How was your date?”

He paused. “Do we have to talk about that now? I think we should just enjoy the moment,” he said, diving back into his meal.

Uh oh.

Nutritional information: On a short-term basis, the undefined Almost-Vegan Date is very good for you. Long-term potential should be defined in traditional terms for maximum health benefits.

Planning an Appropriate Dinner

I had a long and productive late-night conversation with DW last night, and at the end of things, we decided we’re happy to continue seeing each other. “You know what this means,” I said. “I’ll have to make dinner for you.” The connection between us has been fun and carefree. We’ve gone for walks and attended book events, but not once have we been to a restaurant or shared a one-on-one meal. If he could, he might live on literature alone, with a big side of guitar.

One night at his place, he decided that he wanted to fix us a snack. In a few minutes, he showed up in the living room of his apartment with hummus (“Egyptian homos,” he said like an American, pointing to the package and laughing, imagining a group of gay men from Egypt), pita, and a few stalks of raw asparagus poking out of each of his clenched fists. This was an endearing moment, standing next to his canon of serious books like a happy kid with something to share. He gave us three stalks each.

“I’ve never really ate raw asparagus,” I said, more surprised than anything. He enthused about its virtues, telling me to chew it for a long time for better enzyme action, and apologizing that he accidentally bought white pita. What a curious guy, I thought. He’s not all that interested in food (and doesn’t eat cheese or much meat), but he is concerned about whole grains and discussing the finer points of digestion.

So back to last night, as I tried to fall asleep, mostly wide awake and disoriented from the late call, I put aside the bigger questions of the evening and wondered what this guy might want for dinner.

Maybe what I made tonight, but fancier? There’s nothing flirtatious about a practical one-bowl meal, but I was awfully impressed with this humorous concoction of Italian-Asian fusion. I mixed the Italian elements of broccoli rabe, basil, chickpeas, lemon, and white wine together with the Asian elements of coconut milk, bamboo rice, ginger, and cayenne. And it worked! There was no fighting and no culture shock. In fact, all parties joined hands and came together into a harmonious meal, no unilateralism in the abundant spices, and no preemptive measures amongst the vegetables and legumes. I hope my orecchiette still love me in the morning.

The Ghetto Gourmet (A bunch of "crazy plates")

A recent article in the Times, The Artful Dodger, has quickly been marked as one of my favorites. Diane Root so casually writes about a family meal she shared as a young girl in Nice, France, with no one other than . . . Picasso.

First, she describes their meal: pissaladière, mounds of moules marinières, a flurry of pommes frites, brandade de morue (the “requisite” ratatouille), aioli to slather on bread, and multiple bottles of pélure d’oignon, a regional rosé.

Then, she writes about Picasso’s antics. As they ate, he mischievously distracted her with his charming drawings as he, of all things, quietly stole food right off of her plate!

When her father later asked what she thought of Picasso, she said, “He’s one heckuva pique-assiette.” I think this translates directly into “crazy plate,” and indirectly as “one who eats from other plates.”

Oh, if we all could be so famous for our mischievousness. It makes me think of the crazy cast of characters LRK channeled at the recent event where I saw her speak, and of the ambitious, semi-subversive plans of The Ghetto Gourmet. Have you heard of it? When Angela, my food-loving pal, and I got wind of it, we quickly adopted the Minneapolis-St Paul chapter, the GGMSP. “The Ghet” has a few mottos and taglines worth noting.

• The Ghet is “a dinnerparty network for lovers of fine cookin’, cool art, and new friends.” The idea is to eat well and impishly mix together new people through the elixirs of wine, music, food, and art.
• “Hold on to your forks!” Diners must hold on to their forks because the meals, which serve dozens, take place in people’s home, studios, galleries, and other spaces. In other words, forks are at a premium. Don’t let yours be bussed away.
• “All sinners welcome.” Well. Whatever the story is behind this one, let’s try not to complain.

In the spirit of the thing, at the first dinner, Angela and I cooked a five-course meal for 18 friends and strategically paired personalities at the tables. Along with the gracious attentiveness of our server, Michael, we turned a vintage apartment into a rockin’ restaurant for the night. (The other thing about The Ghet is that diners pay for their meal. We squeak by through asking for 20 bucks per person.) We ate butternut squash and green apple soup with curry garnish. Pink lady apple cups with celeraic cherry slaw. Argula salad with fennel, baked ricotta, and saffron. Cassoulet (with white beans, tomatoes, lamb, duck, and sausage). And pots of chocolate with orange polenta cookies.

All of this is made from scratch by us, of course, the Ghetto Girls. We go through quite a round of collaboration before deciding on the menu, meeting over cookbooks, emailing recipes back and forth, and often making courses we never saw recipes for in the first place.

At the second one, we intended to transform a backyard into a romantic dinner garden, but the rain interfered with our plans. Retreating to Plan B, we gathered inside and ate carrot coconut soup. Butterleaf salad with feta, Medjool dates, orange slices, and pistachios. Roasted garlic and butternut squash spread with pear and Parmesan. Mini toast with ricotta, fig, Marcona almonds, and honey. Seafood stew (mussels, Chilean sea bass, and salmon) in creamy white wine sauce. Apple upside down cake with vanilla ice cream.

Both of these dinners were fun. Lots of tasty, chatty, liquored-up fun.

At this point, ambitions intact, we’re looking to stir things up by inviting new people, as any gathering is only a reflection of the people you invite.

We’re also hoping to find a better venue. We have quickly hit our limits in terms of kitchen space and seating. Given that we are two crazy plates ourselves, we wonder if anyone in MSP may have similar ambitions. We’d like to meet a dinner benefactor, of sorts, an instigator, someone with access to a kitchen and accompanying large seating area.

Also, could we invite a local chef? Could we feature local products at a discount? Could we host a group of burlesque dancers to spin turns around the tables?

Also yet, could we be hired to host your own dinner party? We’re not sure yet. The only thing we know is that there seems to be a lot of potential behind the idea of creative people coming together to meet, eat, and get to know one another at the level of an intimate meal. Raise your hand if you’d like in on the next one.

Spinach Is the New Meat

I thought I was going to keep it simple tonight. I was going to make a spinach salad with apples, Parmesan, and the remaining Marcona almonds from the Ghetto Gourmet. Fast, fresh, and raw.

But do you know what happens once the fridge door opens? All of the food starts to dance around for your attention because it wants out of there. It’s as bad as seeing the cute kittens trapped at the shelter, and before I know it, everything in my refrigerator has been freed, and now I’m toasting bread, grating Gouda and Parmesan cheese, chopping garlic, poaching eggs, and searing salmon on high heat. On top of that, Orangette’s Pleasantly Sogged post is whispering in my ear, and now my spinach, the curliest, thickest I’ve ever seen that I was looking forward to eating raw (I know it’s not kale, but is there a such thing as dinosaur spinach?), has been boiled until soft and kissed by garlic and olive oil.

All this talk about what I did leads me to something else I wasn’t going to do. Share pictures of the food I cook. It feels too precious and self-important. Food is meant to be cooked, so why are we so impressed when we <gasp> cook it?

Can someone answer a question for me? Do the French take delightfully staged pictures of their dinner to share with their food-loving French friends? See, I’ve heard that cooking comes naturally to them, and that eating well is a way of life. I wonder if they just cook it, eat it, and call it a day. Thanks. I’ve been wanting to know.