Cravings

A series of cravings kept me in the kitchen for several hours last weekend. First, I wanted a burger. I have had quite a few burger cravings recently, and I satisfy them by sending Josh to Red Mill. Last time, however, there was too much cardamom in the secret sauce, so I decided to make my own burgers this time around. We still have meat from our 1/4-steer! I ordered it in October of 2009. I suppose that, in order to truly enjoy the beef in a timely fashion, I should have thought of it more like an Argentinian would. As in: Hm. I have this high-quality, grass-fed beef that is high in the right kinds of omegas and that does not have all that heart-stopping garbage that corn-fed beef has. I should eat it every day! I was taking more of a moderation sort of tack. As in: One serving of beef per week, thank you. There is some that I have no idea what to do with. Forgive me if I mentioned this before, but what the hell is a cube steak?

Anyway, my burger was fabulous. As per usual I was too shy on the salt, but once I added a bit divinity was definitely present. I mixed chimichurri into the burgers themselves. Oh, you don't make that? You must. It's good with everything! I'll put the recipe at the bottom. Mix some with burger meat, dump it on meatloaf, dress roasted veggies with it ... salmon, chicken, pizza sauce, savory crepe filling with mushrooms ... I could go on. The best way to have it with the burger is to make sure that you toast some buttered bread as your bun.

Naturally, fries were part of the craving. I make a mean oven fry. The trick to great texture is soaking the potatoes in hot water for 20 minutes. That pulls out just the right amount of starch. Red Mill has good fries, too. They are pretty thick and not greasy. My oven fries are much better, of course.

The final craving was for nutella. I know, I know. That is easy - just buy some! But I really want to cut back on how much my family contributes to King GMO Corn and the petro-chemical industry who, together with heir apparent GMO soy, have taken over the US agricultural landscape. And there is corn in everything! Homemade nutella is good, not as smooth and not as spreadable as the jarred stuff, but definitely the real deal. I'll give you the recipe to that, too.

When I lived in Spain I was told how kids have nutella as a snack on bread when they come home from school, or in the late afternoon, or whatever. I thought it indulgent and silly. Then I pondered the peanut butter that I had for lunch often. It dawned on me that Nutella merely combines a nut butter with chocolate. If you get the right kind of chocolate, it's good for you. I've come around, is what I'm saying. I no longer think those Nutella-loving Spaniards, Italians, and French so bizarre and gluttonous.

Chimichurri:

1 cup cilantro

1/4 cup parsley

6 scallions

1 T oregano (or 1 tsp. dried)

1 head roasted garlic (roast 30 minutes at 375)

2 T red wine vinegar

1/4 cup olive oil

salt and pepper and a little cayenne to taste

Whir it all in a food processor. You can drizzle in the oil, if you like.

Nutella:

1/3 cup toasted hazelnuts

1/2 cup heavy cream

3 oz. high-quality dark or bittersweet chocolate (I use Ghirardelli bittersweet chips)

3 T brown sugar

1/2 tsp. vanilla

pinch of salt

If you have to toast your own hazelnuts, go for 350 and check them after 8 minutes. Total 10-15 minutes. They are really easy to burn and taste awful when they get that far. Take the hazelnuts and process them until you make nut butter - 5 minutes, maybe more! It's hard to get it truly smooth. Warm the cream until little bubbles form on the edges - don't boil. Then add the sugar, vanilla and salt to dissolve all that. Take it off the heat and pour in the chocolate bits to melt. Dump that concoction in with the nut butter and puree until you get nutella!

Happy Birthday to Me! (and Rick Schroeder and Thomas Jefferson)

I attempted to post this on my birthday, the 13th, but was foiled first by iPhoto, then by our internet connection, finally by travel plans. So, without further ado, it's Jen's birthday menu: pizza, artichokes with bagna cauda, and ice cream.

I started with the ice cream a of couple days before My Big Day because, of course, you have to chill the mixture overnight, then again after you make the ice cream because it's like soft serve out of the ice cream maker and I just like it a little harder.

I chose "burnt cream" ice cream, and had to make a caramel for that. I knew that once it started to caramelize, I wasn't supposed to touch it. I'm not sure what happens if you do touch it, but I wasn't planning on finding out. The instructions say to go ahead and stir it until it melts. I figured out, after I had stirred it several times, that that is not such a good idea. The whole thing clumped and then I had to let it get far too brown in order to get all the sugar to melt.

AND, the whole process of melting probably took 30 or 40 minutes. Too long. Step two took even longer. You are supposed to add warm milk to the caramel while stirring. The instructions give a couple scenarios resulting from this mixing: foaming, bubbling, hissing, clumping. Mine did all of the above. The clumping was the worst part because I had a solid block of caramel on the bottom of the pan that took an hour to "melt" into the milk. In the end, it's a good ice cream with a very creamy texture. In the future, however, I will simply buy Ben and Jerry's Creme Brulee when I have the hankering. How do they do those chunks? I suppose I could pour caramel onto a silpat, let it harden, then break it up. Yes, that's the ticket. It was nice to have homemade dessert on my birthday, though. I was going to pair the ice cream with chocolate souffles, but couldn't for lack of time. Ice cream was certainly enough.

I thought I was going to be much more melancholy about the fact that I was making dinner and cleaning and packing on my birthday. I was kind of freaking out on the 12th. I didn't really make a big deal out of 30 - and I recall Josh being surprised by this - but 35 carries more psychological weight, for whatever reason. I found myself thinking down a path that was very Western, goal-oriented, and linear. I guess those adjectives are all pejorative because, really, if the follow-up to that is "and it made me feel bad," then, well, I need to find another way of looking at things.

Did someone say something about pizza earlier? I think I remember that.

I made the dough and proceeded to top it with pesto, roasted red peppers, roasted garlic, sun-dried tomatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and spicy sausage ... oh, and cheese, naturally. I highly recommend this combination.

I hand stretch my dough (as opposed to using a rolling pin) and don't make it enough to be good at it. It's never quite round, I always need to patch a couple of holes, and I usually have one really thick end, or arc, since it's a circle. I used my pizza stone for this, thinking that that is best, as opposed to the sheet pan I have been using, but I definitely don't do this often enough either. What I need to have the knack for in order to properly utilize the stone is transporting my packed pie from the cutting board to the oven on a peel. I just don't have the wrist flick and bravado to pull it off quite yet. So I build the pizza as fast as I can directly on the stone, pulling it out of the oven to do so. I can then use the peel to transport the cooked pie to the cutting board to slice. Kind of clunky, but it works.

Finally, the artichokes. So, I'm from California and we Californians love our artichokes. I always liked them, but they fell out of favor with my palate about mid-1998. I guess what I didn't like were my dipping options: garlic butter or mayonnaise. And I certainly was not going to eat them straight up.

Enter the bagna cauda.

A specialty of Piedmont, Italy, it means "hot bath." And what a tasty bath your vegetables will get with this sauce. Quite easy and quite delicious. It makes the artichoke experience nearly sublime. But it's not for the feint of heart.

Bagna Cauda:

3 heads of garlic, cloves separated and UNpeeled

3T butter

one 2oz. tin anchovies, drained and chopped

1/2 cup e.v. olive oil

Put the cloves in a medium saucepan and cover with water by one inch. Bring to a boil, then turn heat to low, cover, and simmer until the cloves are soft, about 25 minutes. Drain. When cool enough to handle, squeeze the cloves out and mash to a smooth paste. Melt the butter in a small saucepan, over medium heat. Add the chopped anchovies and cook, while mashing into the butter, for one minute. Add the garlic and the oil, stir to sort of combine (it won't emulsify) and let simmer for 10 minutes to let the flavors meld. Serve with artichokes or other veggies. Or, hey, use it as a pizza sauce!