Growing your own
New York Times, slowly catching on to the trends we pioneer here, has an article up about urban food gardens. Very interesting, if you can get past the “recession fill-in-the-blank” meme.
On the topic of recession gardening, though, I’ll mention a book that every impoverished gourmet should read - Lean Years, Happy Years, by Angelo Pellegrini - essentially a manifesto for downturn inspired reconnection with food sources. Get it for free from your library or buy a used copy.
Bulgur Breakfast
Inspired by the Minimalist Mark Bittman’s New York Times column a while back, I’ve been experimenting with bulgur as a hot breakfast cereal. I find it a little quicker and more painless than oatmeal, but still amazing with brown sugar, a little milk, and fruit of your choice. 1 part bulgur, 2 parts water, boil, cover, and simmer for 10 minutes or until the water is gone. No stirring, no clumps, delicious breakfast. Plus, if you have leftovers, it makes a wonderful savory side for dinner.
Upside-down herbs
March 26th, 2009
It’s always been a source of great frustration to me to have to spend astronomical prices per pound for fresh herbs at the grocery store that I know would grow like weeds if I just had a place for them to grow. In a small, 5th story apartment, such places don’t abound. Most herbs are okay indoor and will expand in a big enough pot, but honestly I don’t really even have that much windowsill space. Enter the upside down hanger!
- Empty plastic bottles - $0.00. Scavenged from recycling bins on my way to the nursery.
- Culinary herbs - $2.95 a piece. The cost less living than they do dead!
- Potting soil - $5.00.
With the bottom cut from the bottle, a little duct-tape to reinforce the holes I punched in each of the four sides, and a little struggling to get the plant fed through the neck, I have a reasonably elegant and space-saving upside-down hanger. Worried about drips? My mints, growing directly below, are happy to get the water.
Apparently, this technique works well for tomatoes, and the internet abounds with advice on upside-down planters.
Tiramisu is not the Irish afterlife
Tiramisu is not the the Irish afterlife; in fact, tira-mi-su is an Italian phrase that literally means “pick-me-up”.
(everyone knows the Irish afterlife is a delicious drink made of eggs, cream, rum and nutmeg)
A sunny sip for springtime Sundays.
March 15th, 2009
Created after I hurriedly grabbed a bottle of white wine for cooking a risotto with only to discover Moscato d’Asti was a sweet bubbly - no good for my risotto, and bound to sit sadly in the fridge going flat.
As an impoverished gourmet, I couldn’t let that happen, so in the grand tradition of morning-after-champagne-cocktails, I employed the citrus maneouver. My current citrus of choice is the meyer lemon, which combines all the best parts of a kumquat (mild, sweet rind), a lime (floral bouqet), and a lemon (lemonyness). The juice of one of my meyer lemons mellowed out the Moscato, whose sweetness in turn brought out the full flavor of the lemon. A spritz of club soda on the top brought the drink from ‘puckering’ to ‘quenching’.
Michelada
November 22nd, 2007
Michelada
Michelada
- Juice from half a lime
- Coarse salt
- A dash Tabasco
- A dash Worcestershire Sauce
- Ice
- Negro Modelo
Rim a highball glass or tumbler with lime and salt. Squeeze lime into the bottom of the glass, then add Tabasco and Worcestershire; mix. Fill glass with ice. Carefully pour in beer — it’ll want to foam over. Enjoy, topping off the beer as necessary.
Fermented Cacao
November 18th, 2007
In Tyler’s post about the origins of chocolate, he wonders about the nature of fermenting cacao. The comments resulted in some salivation over Dagoba Xocolatl. Now, the New Yorker’s food impressario Bill Buford tell us about both. Ostensibly a profile of Dagoba’s founder Frederick Schilling, the his article leads the reader through expositions, alchemistry, assassinations, plantations, sex, mythology, history, and finally into a steaming vat of steaming cacao:
“Badaró then removed his clothes. He landed with an awkward splash. Three of us were in a trough that might comfortable accommodate an adult pig, and the fermenting cacao was up to our necks. Badaró had taken to invoking some god, humming in his deep voice. “We must immerse ourselves and connect to the Aztec gods,” he said. He disappeared, sinking below the surface.
Unfortunately for the eager reader, Extreme Chocolate: the quest for the perfect bean, from the October 29th magazine is not available online; and those unable to find this work of gonzo gastronomy in print must content themselves with NPR’s interview with Buford and a few pictures.