A cool note on Pate au choux

Listening to Colameco's food talk show on the radio this morning, his guest (the pastry chef at Gotham Bar & Grill) mentions that a great way to know whether a choux pastry has been beaten sufficiently (a choux pastry is made by boiling water or milk, adding butter, then flour, then cooking the newly formed ball until it dries over the heat, and then beating yolks into the mixture) is that it falls off, rather than sticks to, the Kitchen-Aid paddle or whisk.

Thoughts for the Day

1. The increase in the number and sophistication of food blogs since I was last writing actively in 2005 is staggering.

1a. I have no value add in the world of (a) describe recipe (b) take picture of recipe. I'll still do that, because I enjoy it, but there are people who are better at both elements than I am.

1b. My value add in this market (to the extent I have one) is in depth of knowledge, and lively but formal, writing. Target is Steingarten rather than, say, Clotilde. Which is to say, in the things I used to write on the old Crescat Sententia. Whether that effort is popular or not, I don't know/care.

2. Aran has made a beautiful Japanese inflected opera. If I had to make a criticism (and I would probably be better off not), I would say the layers of cake are thicker, and the layers of cream thinner, than I would like. But it is beautiful nonetheless.

Colameco has a radio show?

One of the least appreciated food personalities in New York, Mike Colameco, apparently has a radio show! It's wonderful, and it's archived.

Queso Fresco

To jump onto an old soapbox of mine, Belle of John & Belle draws our attention to the success of a small cheese maker in Mexico with microfinance. I don't really have much of an opinion about the main issue of "for-profit" lenders getting into the microfinance business, but I do want to note that our own FDA thinks that Alejandra Abúndez's cheeses (among others) are unsafe to eat (see the bottom of the handout). Forget whether she'll survive paying 90% interest - at least Mexico lets her try.

Weekend Meal

Possibly my favorite way with fish (other, of course, than the fryer, but I'm not supposed to admit that, I think) is to cook it in pappillote - that is to say, in a parchment paper envelope. The fish steams perfectly, seemingly without effort, a ready made sauce is made from the lemon and olive oil one uses to dress the fish and vegetables, and clean-up is almost instantaneous. The actual mix of fish, veg, and accompaniments are entirely up to you and what's available at the fishmonger, of course, but in this case I used some nice grouper, small sweet peppers, bok choi, and dandelion leaves. Some potatoes cut into thick coins and then baked for an hour for a golden, dark, crust were the perfect side dish.

Wedding Cake

In the comments below there is a brief discussion of wedding cake. In fact, I was supposed to think about the issue, and come up with cakes other than the traditional tiered cake, and other than my initial thoughts of Opera and Sachertorte.

I've thought about it, and am sad to report that I have no new ideas.

I guess the initial point is that I think that traditional wedding cakes are just awful, a pointless combination of airy fluff and American style buttercream. I have never eaten such a cake other than because I had to. I realize that you can't stack too many other kinds of cakes to make the spectacular displays brides expect, but I have to confess that every time I've seen some bride to-be gushing about the cake on one of those wedding shows my sister makes me watch when we're together, I really don't understand what they're talking about. Yes, it's a chocolate/yellow butter cake with [Put in your UNIQUE cream here]. Like a Duncan Hines. Yes, even the one from Soutine's. Woot.

So, what to do? You want something festive and different. So out go the brownies, the cookies (except as additions, where they are very nice to have) pies, quickbreads, and tarts. I'm not sure which of the canonical French cakes, traditionally served individually, one can have, except that I could imagine a very large Paris-Brest working. I also played with the thought of a dense, raisin-rich, carrot cake, which I think would be very nice, though I suppose some people might well complain. But in the end, if it was me, and if I was stuck in New York, I think I would call Payard and talk them into making a very large Opera.


UPDATE: Ah. You don't have to talk them into doing anything. They offer Opera for up to 100 people.

The Modern World

In honor of the various articles about annoying iphone users

My girlfriend and I were supposed to meet some friends at Luca Lounge on Friday night, putatively at 13th Street and B Avenue here in Manhattan. Stupidly, I didn't call to make sure they were open. It wouldn't have mattered, because they were. Just, no longer at 13th Street and B Avenue, but elsewhere entirely.

By the time we found out, I was already at Union Square, a shortish walk to Luca Lounge, and our guests were on their way. So as I walked along 14th Street towards Avenue B in the desperate knowledge that we might end up at the local taco place, I pulled out my iphone and logged onto chowhound. A search for "Avenue B" turned up Back Forty, one of the leading "back to the farm" restaurants in New York. Google maps told me it was less than half a mile away from where Luca Lounge used to be, so I called my girlfriend, who was still on the train in Astoria, to redirect her, had her check in with her friends, called the restaurant from the imbedded link in the post discussing Back Forty at chowhound to discover that they don't accept reservations, and then opened the menu to figure out what to get. I did all of this before I got to Avenue A. I got to the restaurant, realized I had to wait because everyone else was late, watched a couple of politics related youtubes, and then had dinner. I took a picture of the place with the phone's camera, and then spent the trip home drafting a blog post about the dinner I just had.

Is all this a good thing? I have no idea. But there's no doubt that even five years ago, we would have been left with our guests standing like idiots in front of the closed restaurant, with no idea where to eat, our night would have been ruined, and everyone would have felt awful. Instead, we had fun. At least this time, technology was a net positive.

Parts of me that I don't like much

I got into the elevator here at work yesterday, and pressed the button to head down to the lobby for lunch. Two girls jumped in just as the door was closing and pushed the button for our top floor. Whoops! They were headed the wrong way. I was just about to tell them about their mistake when I heard:

"I just can't eat pigs, you know? I don't mind eating cows, but pigs, you know, are smart and stuff".

And I shut my mouth.

Bread and Chocolate

In addition to the pizza lunch below, over the weekend I tried my hand at Michael Laiskonis's "Chocolate Olive Oil". This was my first foray into even the fringes of so-called "molecular cuisine". I am firmly ensconsed in the homey side of the world, and what Wylie Dufresne is doing at WD-50 has little superficial appeal to me.

At the threshold, I've decided that I need to not do food photography with my iphone. It's a wonderful tool, but it really sells my food a little short, compared to all the other pictures floating around on the internet. But moving on to the chocolate olive oil, the finished product was delicious, but I think I made two mistakes.

1. There were small pockets of gummy something in the middle of the individual chocolate packages. I believe they must have been undisolved agar agar, but I'd like to know for sure.

2. I omitted the glucose syrup, which I think is responsible for the relatively matte finish.

Also note, of course, that I hadn't made bread, so I used a crostini instead, and I think that fleur de sel would be better on the chocolate than the sea salt I used. Nonetheless, it was a delightful experiment.

Saturday Lunch, wishing for July

Lunch yesterday was a sort of desperate yearning for July - tomatoes, cold italian style dishes, pizza. Really none of which was at its prime right now. But my pizza is good, the bean dip tasty, and the company, as always, magnificent. Now, when exactly am I going to be able to build a wood fired stove outside, so my pizza hits the next, splinteringly hot, level? Alas for Astoria.

Valomilk! Valomilk! Valomilk!

I've been looking for Sifer's Valomilks (a famous but regional candy) ever since I read Candy Freak two years ago. Today, finally, victory! While I was looking for Agar Agar at Wholefoods Columbus Circle, I ran into a whole display of Valomilks, piled six foot high. I set aside my plans to buy sea salt, grabbed four packages, and ran at a half waddle, half sprint back to my office to crunch into the dribbly, marshmallowy deliciousness. In the first picture, you can see the characteristic leakage of marshmallow filling from the hand filled valomilks, which never achieve the perfect, antiseptic seal of a Reese's peanut butter cup. And in the second, well, you can see why they say, When it runs down your chin, you know it’s a VALOMILK.” .

Ah, Pectin

So, I realize I'm being a smart-ass, but something tickled me about the quote below from an article today in the Wall Street Journal about famed baseball manager Joe Torre:


"There's something in jelly that makes it jelly", says Mr. James, senior baseball operations adviser with the Boston Red Sox. "Without that, it's runny grape juice with a lot of sugar in it".

Umm, well, there is something in jelly, he's right. Joe Torre as the pectin in the Dodgers jelly?

Petits Fours

It turns out that petits fours are extremely difficult to make, at least when you're a) incompetent and b) tired. Or, so I discovered when I made them as part of my fancy-pants valentine's day meal. Also, it is extremely difficult to pipe straight lines of chocolate icing onto a napoleon when your piping bag has ripped, and you're forced to use paper cones instead. Just for reference, since it's not obvious what I made, these are two kinds of truffles (Valrhona chocolate, covered in cocoa and in roasted almonds), and mini-napoleons, the making of which counts as one of the grand debacles of my cooking career to date.




To make up for these, I present some sweets I had on my last visit to Paris, a few weeks ago.

Olive Oil Madeleines

Cannelle & Vanille has made beautiful olive oil madeleines, which she proposes to give away. I don't have much more to say, other than to encourage any readers to compete for them.

Croissants made by Robots

The New York Times reports a croissant made by robots in New York, which supposedly helps make the croissants more tender. Color me unimpressed, but I'll go try them.

Amuses Bouches - Branzino Fumet, chanterelle, and Shrimp

I recently made this amuses bouches for my girlfriend on Valentine's Day. I'm working on a much longer post about the meal, but the idea was to attempt super fancy restaurant food as an experiment. This dish was based on a fumet made of branzino bones, flavored with chanterelle mushrooms (from Oregon) and garnished with a steamed jumbo shrimp.

Should you give your kids alcohol?

Eric Asimov, the New York Times wine columnist, asks whether parents should give their children alcohol at an early age to stave off potential abuse later on.

I don't have much to add to this, other than to say that wine, beer, etc, should obviously be introduced as early as possible just as a matter of common sense, because they're not big deals, and are part (for many people) of civilized life. Why we insist on fetishizing the whole issue is quite beyond me.

UPDATE: Read Michael Ruhlman's post on this, as he struggles with what to do with his 12 year old daughter.

How far would you go

My comment on going out of one's way for a special meal or food at Bitten had been posted as one of the "Comments of the Moment", so I'll just link here.


Being a city person, the question for me is “how far am I willing to walk?” for a particular food. I think there’s a certain charm in allowing oneself to eat anything, no matter how off diet, so long as one walks to get it. So far, my record is 3 miles for a particularly wonderful eclair made in the old way in Paris, but I’m always looking for excuses to beat that effort.

Bread with Chocolate

Michael Laiskonis, pastry chef at the wonderful Le Bernardin (where my girlfriend and I recently had a terrific meal, asks why we Americans don't have a native born combination of bread (and bread defined narrowly, as yeast, and flour and water, rather than a muffin or quickbread) and chocolate. France, he says, has the pain au chocolat, but what is our equivalent?

I would have thought that the obvious answer was the chocolate glazed donut. It is, of course, a bread. A somewhat sweet bread, though made properly no more sweet than a croissant. And, of course, it includes chocolate, and, as far as I know, is basically indigenous in this form to the United States. I realize it is fried, and the focus is on fat, in some sense, rather than bread, but on the other hand, I can think of nothing more primal than fried dough and chocolate.

UPDATE: Incidentally, Michael's recipe for chocolate ganache thickened with agar agar and served with bread looks astonishing. I will try it (and probably fail!).

The ivory tower

Ezra Klein says that meat ought to be more expensive. By which he means, presumably, that the country should move toward more humane husbandry. When pushed on the obvious problem (well, what are people who don't have a ton of money supposed to eat?), his answer is that they ought to eat more vegetables.

Obviously, everyone should eat more vegetables. But for one thing, the post entirely ignores the fact that the wide availability of (admittedly) inferior meat is one of the great advances of the last century. Meat used to all be organic, and free range, and humane, and so on. And it was available to a sliver of mankind, who were physically bigger, stronger, and better developed than the rest. Providing meat to the masses was actually a terrific equalizing accomplishment, and it is surprising that a self-described "progressive" would miss this point in an effort to be au courant with currently trendy food localism.

But let's say Klein and people who agree succeed, and somehow, humane husbandry is imposed across the board, and meat prices soar. Klein says that "other things would be cheaper". How does he know this? And how does he know that the newly deprived will make the choices he'd like them to make about food? While Klein may know that tofu is cheaper than chicken (depends on the tofu, and on the chicken, actually, as with most things, and in any case, is it really obvious that cheap genetically modified, pesticidey, tofu is better than cheap chicken?), chips are cheaper than both. As George Orwell observed in his wonderful "Road to Wigan Pier",

"Would it not be better if they [the poor] spent more money on wholesome things like oranges and whole-meal bread . . . ? Yes, it would, but the point is that no ordinary human being is ever going to do such a thing. And the peculiar evil is this, that the less money you have, the less inclined you feel to spend it on wholesome food. . . .When you are unemployed, which is to say when you are underfed, harassed, bored and miserable, you don't want to eat dull wholesome food. A millionaire may enjoy breakfasting off orange juice and Ryvita biscuits; an unemployed man doesn't. You want something a little bit tasty. . . . White bread and margarine and sugared tea don't nourish you to any extent, but they are nicer (at least most people think so) than brown bread and dripping and cold water."

And in any case, while humane beef is all well and good, that movement is all part and parcel with establishing proper agriculture. For someone posturing from Klein's position, all food is too cheap. So under a proper food regime, stripped of subsidies, not only would the grains the poor people are supposed to eat be more expensive (assuming they even knew how to cook them in a tasty way, which I understand from friends who work with food charities in poorer areas is actually a ludicrous supposition) but everything else would too. Milk, cheese, butter, all manner of leaves (Would Klein be cooking "asian asparagus" in February in DC if people ate properly? Umm, no) vegetables, cooking oil.

Now, it might be that the simpler world of less, expensive, food is a better one. We might well be healthier from a fat perspective. Our animals would be happier, and we'd all ingest less pesticides. But it is a much different world than the one we inhabit today, and I suspect it is one people like Klein would not like very much at all.