Sassy Radish

I am often accused of having a too-refined a palate. Sure, I could wax poetic about foie gras or drone interminably about different ways to prepare a port reduction, but throw a bag of Cheetos my way and some Fanta (hey, orange is a good theme!) and I’m a happy woman. I say, there is a time and place for everything. And perfection in things both elevated and pedestrian.

Last weekend, the BF and I took a trip up north to meet my parents (him, silly not me, I’ve met them, duh.) and to spend some time with his friends who are lucky enough to experience the wonder of wonders that is Salem, MA. Being a New England patriot that I am (and yes, I am devastated about the Pats losing to the Colts, but that’s another matter), I adore Salem and its neighboring towns – this is, after all, where I grew up.

Mere minutes after we started to drive on West Side highway, the BF turned to me and said “You know, this roadtrip is a perfect opportunity to snack at a Cracker Barrell.”

A what? I thought Cracker Barrell was that tub of simulated butter you saw in commercials where a man and a woman’s hands were characters and you overheard their voices while the hands were gesticulating about how they should eat more of that buttery spread because they’re (gasp!) expecting an addition to their family.

Apparently not. My scope of chain restaurants wasn’t worldly enough to realize that Cracker Barrell was also name or a chain where you could eat. I saw some of those places on highways, but often thought they sold the spread. And while I couldn’t ever figure out why you needed an entire store to carry one brand of buttery spread, nevermind not carrying real butter, I didn’t pause to think that there could be more to this mysterious establishment.

And so lo and behold, we pulled over to one CB en route to Boston and to the very same one on the way back to New York. And I totally got a kick out of both of them. And I had a pulled pork sandwich too! And some eggs and bacon! And coffee! And the whole thing cost me like $6!! I couldn’t even buy a Happy Meal with $6 nowadays.

So of course, I thought the whole experience was so unique and fun that I blurted out in the car “This is SO going on the blog!!” to which the BF, who prefers to stay the nameless mystery that he is, balked.

“You know, you might want to mention Chanterelle too, while you’re writing about Cracker Barrel, or your readers might get the wrong impression about me.”

Which is true. I’d never want to send the wrong impression about a man who took me to what is probably the most incredible meal of my life at Chanterelle. It’s just that, we both have these palates, where one day (for a special occasion, of course) we’re eating the most divine potato stuffed ravioli in white truffle sauce, among other things, and then a few weeks later, we’re stuffing our pie holes with chicken fried steak at Cracker Barrel. This is how we roll, people.

And in our efforts to be financially savvy and responsible, we’ve been cooking up a storm together. We’ve even made tomato sauce from scratch in order to prevent mushy tomatoes from going completely spoiled and thus thrown out. Our inner Italian mama was so so proud of us.

So from Chanterelle to Cracker Barrell – from one shining “C” to the other, we eat whatever our palates crave at that instant. Cheesy poufs one day; foie gras the next. We like variety, what can I say?

Call me a purist, but I recoil in horror whenever I’m offered anything to dress an oyster. Few things are so perfect and precious as oysters are and to add anything to a quality oyster is just plain wrong, people. As for mediocre oysters, I say why bother?

It has generally thus been with me and salmon. I know that the world is divided into salmon lovers and salmon haters (well, maybe it’s a bit more complicated than people who love or hate a fish, but humor me for a minute here). I’ve always been a fan of the fish for its sheer ability to transform a bagel from ordinary into a feast. But I’ve always felt that lox has unfairly claimed center stage to its less known, but tastier cousin – gravlax.

Nothing more illustrious than just salt-cured fish, gravlax possesses the kind of pure, clean taste a fresh oyster does. It’s delicate to the palate, unmistakably raw, caressed by a blend of sea salt and dill. Put that on a bagel and you have an exotic, celebratory breakfast. And on poached eggs with hollandaise, it’s simply breathtaking.

And the best part of all – making it is a cinch. A third-grader could do it. Someone who’ve never cooked, never mind never cooked fish could do it. All you need is a little bit of patience, for gravlax is a thing of a few days in the making, and a few ingredients.

I must admit though that while I thought my gravlax was redefining sublime, the BF tried it with trepidation, worrying that the fishy might have gone bad and I was en route to giving us both food poisoning. Thus, after having a few pieces, unable to consume a pound or raw, salt-cured fish, the whole issue was put to rest, and then eventually, to trash. Still, had I been home more to consume food, and not stuck in the office (can you see how I haven’t posted in ages?) eating take-out dinners, this salmon wouldn’t have met its maker via the trash bin route.

Continue reading fishy, fishy in the sea.

In the days leading up to me starting my new job, I was in a perpetual state of lamentation like woe is me, when will I ever find time to cook? What’s to become of my blog that I’ve maintained in my two months of leisure? What would I feed the boyfriend if I am coming home at 9 o’clock at night thinking of little besides Lean Cuisine?

In one of those particular stretches of despair, I found myself casually flipping through a Williams Sonoma catalog, wishing I could just wave a magic wand and the entire contents of the store would magically outfit my kitchen. I should be so lucky. Plus, my ant-sized kitchen can barely fit a few pots, nevermind an arsenal of cookware and cutlery. And as I was about to flip another page, regretting my budget and my limited shelf space, I spied a recipe so good, I paused to read it, and made mental note: mozzarella stuffed meatballs!! Bliss, happiness, melted cheese! Can anything be more perfect and breathtaking? And then I got distracted by a photograph of a ladle. And flipped the page.

A few hours later, after the boyfriend, flipping through the same catalog mentioned the recipe to me, my heart was set on making the meatballs. Soon, I promised him, maybe Tuesday. And sure enough he wasn’t about to let me forget. “Is it meatballs night,” he wrote Tuesday morning.

After running my pre-work errands that evening, I stopped at Bazzini to pick up the ingredients. I will tell you now, that I modified the recipe – so if you go and look up the stuffed meatballs recipe on Williams Sonoma website, you will get a slightly different version than I have here. Personally, I think mine’s a lot better, but that’s just me here. I’ll tell you what I did differently. I omitted the parsley and instead finely chopped an onion – I think it gives the meat deeper taste. Secondly, instead of beef, I opted for turkey. I figured with equal parts of veal and pork, beef would be maybe a little too rough in flavor and that turkey would give it a gentler taste, not to mention make it a tad healthier. So those have been my changes. I stand by them and think you ought to make your stuffed meatballs my way.

But then again, you have the right to have those balls any way you like.*

*The author is in no way, shape or form suggesting anything lewd and is shocked and appalled that your mind would even go there. ;-)

Continue reading rhymes with “falls”.

While 2006 was a good, albeit a challenging year on all fronts, 2007 is looking good already. With a new job starting soon, I feel that treating myself to a new toy is a reasonable, festive thing to do. It’s a shame that I haven’t bought this lens already, being that it’s the most basic and probably one of the most versatile lenses around. Slightly over $100, this is quite a bargain in the world of SLR photography. Of course, having this 50mm baby, makes me want the 60mm macro, but the costs on the macro lens are 4x of the 50mm one.

However, the strong desire to shoot food well at close angles might win over a need for winter boots. After all, clothing wears and tears, but the lenses will last me a lifetime. I suppose that my mother, upon reading the above, will rush to the phone to impress upon me the importance of dressing warmly for winter.

I apologize for lack of recipe. Or lack of cooking initiative, though I did make stellar guacamole for the soiree last night. It’s been a holiday week and I, sequestered in the Hamptons, was a bit lazy on the kitchen front. Nonetheless, with a new year, and a soon-to-be-acquired new lens, I will be posting recipes accompanied by (hopefully) better pictures.

Happy New Year everyone! I hope you’re taking the day today to recover and nap.