Weekend Treats

We stopped by Dahlia Bakery on our way back from the Sculpture Park. Actually, I stopped because I really wanted to go on the way, but we wanted to make sure we got lots of good time at the park, and we ended up meeting a photographer and Sam might be in the New York Times because he is so very cute ... anyway, we went to the bakery on the way back. This was my first time and the place is eensy-weensy - you definitely cannot swing a cat in there. Since I write Yelp! reviews I am almost always in that critical frame of mind from the second I walk in to, well, anywhere. Some people would say that's a bad thing, or perhaps find it tiring if I am openly in critique mode. I generally keep things to myself until I sit down to Yelp!. I bring this up because, from the moment I walked into DB, my critique motor was firing on all cylinders: (1) So small that the two hefty people waiting for their orders were taking up, no joke, half the space, such that I couldn't get a look at all the pretty items on display. I hate getting to the counter when I haven't seen everything - how can I order when I'm not fully informed? (2) The gal asked if I wanted our order on a plate. A plate? Where am I going to go with it? Out onto the street? Now, in fairness, there are a couple of tables outside, but it was freezing out and, hello! March in Seattle? 50 degrees is considered really warm. (3) Everything is really expensive. I get it. They do because they can, but do they have to? And then, since I didn't have enough cash for the enormous bill for three whole items, I used my credit card and saw a tip line in the printout. For what? For gingerly placing my eclair in the box? No. When did this tipping thing get so completely out of hand? Josh insisted that the line is valid because they make coffee drinks and this takes skill, thus, tip line. Fine.

So I'm kind of grumbling as I climb back into the car. But I'm also very excited about these items. There is quite a bit of hype about DB, and I'm always into checking out those sorts of establishments. Mostly because I hope I can excoriate them.

Holy moly! So, I love eclairs. Who doesn't, you ask? No, no. I mean love with a deep appreciation and understanding of what The Eclair is supposed to be. And let me tell you: this was The Best Eclair Ever. I don't say these things lightly. I know what I am putting out there into the world. You could see the flecks of vanilla in the cream center! The ganache was so perfect in the texture and flavor. Have you ever thought of texture with your eclair top? I hadn't really, but this eclair makes you realize that it matters, people. It matters. And don't even get me started on the crunch and lift in that pate a choux.

Double holy moly! I also love all desserts and pastries with pear. And, excuse my superlatives, this is the pear pastry that I will measure all pear pastries by until I die. The pastry, the pear, the pastry cream. I mean. I mean .... Perhaps you are thinking what I did about that caramel sauce, as in, What gives? Superfluous. Oh, no, friends. It elevates. Elevates. It becomes transcendent and sublime.

Sam even got something: a fig bar. Move over Sir Newton, there's a new fig sheriff in town. Yeah, that's a lot of f-f-f-fig. It was great. It was also $2! May I please draw your attention to the prettiest egg wash on the planet. The egg wash that all egg washes aspire to be. I am no stranger to egg washes, but I haphazardly slap mine on whatever I'm baking and think, Eh, who cares? Now I know why I should care. Elevate.

In the end, Dahlia Bakery got five stars from me. All my grumbling faded in a fog of perfect pastry.

Meals of Folly, or, It's All in the Sauce, Dummy

I believe this was the best browning job I have thus far done on short ribs. I used my nose to tell me when to turn them! Skills! I've been thinking, with every short rib meal I make, that they are one of the best cuts of beef. I might just like them better than steak. There. I said it. Although, the dishes one makes with this cut are rather like chocolate mousse in that you start eating thinking that it's the best thing on earth and that your serving is way too small and that there better be more because you are going to plow through this plate like no one's business. And then you hit your halfway mark and you think, "Huh, maybe it was the right serving size after all." Finally, you are a mere four bites from Clean Plate Club membership, now realizing "Lord have mercy! I am so full and should have stopped several bites ago." This is my experience with short ribs (and chocolate desserts), anyway.

So, what gives with the title? Where is the folly in this dish? Well, Dear Reader, we all know that you roast these bad boys for a couple hours in a nice sauce. Of course. We all know that it's all in the sauce - and this sauce is a good one, albeit unique: onion, celery, beef broth, vinegar, sugar, dry mustard, and ketchup. The line item actually says "ketchup or chili sauce." Please note, it does not say "hot" chili sauce. I'm sure you see where I'm going with this one.

So I don't have very much ketchup. In fact, I have 1/3 cup ketchup and I need 1 cup. I start squirting Sriracha hot chili sauce into my measuring cup thinking Maybe I should limit this to 1/4 cup and make up the difference with tomato sauce. Hmmm. But I do not stay my hand, nooooo, I continue to merrily squirt until the 3/4 cup mark. Hmmmmm. Folly.

It's a good dish. And it's good spicy. And my way was really spicy.

Folly Part II: Chicken Stew, by Dave Lieberman.

I have already bagged on Simply Ming, now I will have my verbal way with Dave L, that simp, that sorry excuse for a celebrity chef, that, that....

Again, I knew this sauce was going to suck. I knew that you just can't keep carrots boiling away for that long and actually expect them to be good enough to eat in the end product. The only liquid called for is water. I put in a little chicken broth - this would be the only place where I trusted my instincts. But the wreckage continued: onions became unrecognizable, carrots deteriorated, potatoes fell apart, the liquid was flavorless, the green beans were over-cooked. Well, that last part was my fault because I forgot to set the timer. The whole experience was awful. I thought, when I read the recipe, it sounded flavorless. I thought, as I put the ingredients in the pot, it sounded flavorless. I was so prescient and I did nothing to stop it! Nothing!

I think this is why I wasn't upset. Normally, Josh would have returned from putting Sam to bed to see me in a ball on the kitchen floor, cursing, raging, pondering the point of it all if I just can't get dinner right. But I knew what right was. I just didn't make it happen. I was calm and collected when I suggested we order pizza.

But Josh wanted to salvage it. He busted out the food processor and a sieve and made a really ugly, really plain, soup. I plan to add bacon and caramelized onion ... and Sriracha.

The moral of the story is: Trust your instincts, humble home chefs. You know what you're doing. Don't let the voice of self-doubt (and loathing?) creep in there and mess with your dinner!

Spaghetti and Clam Sauce

I realized that this was my first time working with live clams! Not that I am new to clam sauce, no, it's just that I always used the canned variety. Nor was I shopping for a "new" recipe, per se, I already have two that are quite good and quite different. But this one appeared in my life when the time was right.

My first clam sauce recipe is my mother's recipe. She's classic Americana - meatloaf, pot roast - I don't know that clam sauce is Americana, per se, but her recipe involves a stick of butter, canned clams, and a dusting of "parmesan." The parm in quotes is definitely Americana because, in my childhood home, this always meant the big green jar of shakeable cheese product that was not refrigerated. Hmmm. I have "updated" Mom's recipe with real Parmesan, but the rest stays as it is because it's delicious and I certainly have nothing against canned clams. The second recipe is from Jacques Pepin and is really a spring vegetable and clam sauce, therefore distinct and only to be used at the beginning of spring with those veggies that he calls for. This third recipe is fun and delicious, and has no butter at all *gasp*, so it also has a place in my book.

Uwajimaya was able to somewhat redeem itself with this bunch of bivalves. You may recall that Asian Papa and his fishmonger cohorts were in the doghouse after selling me 2 busted oysters out of a mere 12. Lame. Well, one was busted and one was AWOL. But this time EVERY SINGLE CLAM opened. These Manila clams are gorgeous; there was just a little slime to scrub off, but no barnacles or anything crazy like on oysters. And no beards like on mussels. And no sand in my sauce! Perhaps I am a clam-cooking savant.

One of these days I am going to make Clams Casino. I have always wanted to. As well as Oysters Rockefeller. Since we are on the topic of bivalves, I have come to terms with the fact that I do not like mussels. I know! I have ordered them often enough, prepared them myself ... what gives? I don't like the flavor and you can't argue with my taste buds; they are very insistent. Well, a qualifier, I can eat about two mussels before my tongue screams foul. If it's a really good sauce like the now-defunct Mandalay restaurant's, then I can share a bowl. Those were the best mussels ever, and you can't turn down the best of anything ever, can you? Nope. But you can't truly love something when you place all these qualifiers on it, now can you? Oysters, however, need no qualifiers - I can eat those all day! We'll see if U can truly redeem itself when I go back for some of those and say, "I need to look at them because last time ...." I should get a couple extra thrown in, free of charge, don't you think?

Serves 4

3lbs. clams

1/2 cup e.v. olive oil

8 garlic cloves, sliced

1/2 cup dry white wine

1/4 cup parsley (plus more for garnish)

1/4 cup lemon juice

Parmesan for grating

1 lb. spaghetti

Cook spaghetti to your liking. Heat evoo in a large skillet (that has a lid), over medium heat. Add the garlic slices and saute until just golden brown. Add the clams and parsley and stir. Pour in wine and let simmer for two minutes. Pour in lemon juice and put on the lid, cooking the clams until they open, about 6 minutes. Serve over spaghetti with as much grated Parmesan as you like. Nice with garlic bread and a salad. Oh yeah, if any clams don't open, throw them out.

Ode to a Toddler Plate

Your four chambers make me feel

Infinitely safe and calm and appeal

To the OCD within that does remark,

"Ne'er shall your food embark

To touch, to mix, to intermingle."

The effect of this makes me tingle

Because I like my food

Divided, conquered, and subdued.

Each course in its own spot -

Here the peas, there the fish, and here the tater tot.

I cannot fathom the plate or bowl -

As if the identity of each food you stole

And combined to render them much more

Than the parts - But what are they for

If not to enjoy in their own singular expression?

All this mixing fills me with a deep depression

For I love the carrot, the peas, the fish stick - all!

Yet if they touch on my plate I'll simply fall

Out of my chair and onto the floor in a snit.

This will provoke in my mother quite a fit

Because about her food she has some sensitivity.

I hate to provoke apoplexy with my proclivity.

So I beg you: around meal time have some sense,

And keep all my courses in their respective compartments.

Cheers,

Sam