pâté and salad

Dinner tonight was just right- a good balance of something heavy with a light, healthy salad. I brought home a small slab of pâté de campagne from work today, and assembled a quick and easy tartine (open-faced sandwich). A slice of toasted country white bread, then a smear of mayo and whole grain mustard, layered with slices of pâté and pickled pearl onions. All I needed was a glass of red wine, but sadly, my cabinets and wine rack are pretty bare bones at the moment since the moving began.

I like pork and pork products such as pâté, cured meats, scrapple, sausages... They certainly don't help me lower my borderline-high cholesterol, that's for sure. So in an effort to bring in some sort of vegetal component into my dinner, I threw together a quick salad of glazed carrots and wheatberries. Glazed with maple syrup and vanilla, the sweetness of the salad gave just the right balance to the acidity of the mustard and pickled onions. Wheatberries are not my favorite thing to eat, since they have a hard chewy texture that makes my jaw ache. But they are healthy, high in both protein and fiber. Be sure to cook them through thoroughly, and serve warm so that they still have some tenderness and bite to them.


Maple-Vanilla Glazed Carrot and Wheatberry Salad

2 medium carrots, peeled and julienned
3/4 cup - 1 cup cooked wheatberries
1/2 cup chicken broth, or water
seeds from 1/2 of a vanilla bean
2 Tbsp maple syrup
1 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 Tbsp balsamic vinegar
salt and pepper to taste
parsley, for garnish

1. To a small saucepan, add carrots, broth or water, vanilla, maple syrup and butter. You may need more or less broth, depending on the amount of carrots and the size of your pan. Basically you want to cover the carrots with liquid, just barely. Bring to a boil, and turn down to a simmer. Cook for 6-8 minutes until carrots are tender.

2. Remove carrots with a slotted spoon and add to the cooked wheatberries in a bowl. Reduce the cooking liquid down further over low heat to thicken it up. When it's the desired consistency, pour over the carrots, along with the vinegar and parsley. Add salt and pepper to taste. Toss well and serve warm.

fractured prune

How is it possible that a small piece of fried dough can make my day immensely better and that much more worth living? If it were socially acceptable, "donut" would be my middle name. I am that attached to these dunkers. I have countless boxes of Krispy Kremes to thank for getting me through many an all-nighter study session the day before midterms. It was always so tormentful buying a dozen warm, gooey-glazed donuts and having them sit next to me in the car, just waiting to be devoured back in the dorms.

I was bored and listless at work this morning, that is, until my thoughtul and generous boss walked in, carrying two dozen warm, only-minutes-ago fried to order donuts. Like bees to a honeypot, we jumped her and fought her to the ground. They were from Fractured Prune, a mid-Atlantic chain of small shops that fries and glazes donuts for the sugar-starved masses, on the spot! You pick your glazes and toppings, and within minutes, you're out the door with a warm, sugary dozen (or more). They're smaller than your average donut, about 3" across, rather than 4"-5", but what they lack in size, they make up for in bling. Toppings range from mini chocolate chips (these are sooo good because they melt from the warmth of the donut) to peanut butter to a blueberry glaze that is literally a throwback to my 1980's metallic spandex leotards.

"Blueberry Hill"

I liked all the flavors I tried, but after numerous taste tests, my top 3 still remain the French Toast (maple glaze with cinnamon sugar),


the Reese Cup (PB glaze with mini chips),

and the Banana Nut Bread (banana glaze with chopped peanuts and cinnamon sugar.



Fractured Prune
(various locations)
6308 York Road
Towson, MD 21212

wokked pods

Warning: These wokked little pods are highly addictive.

During a recent chat about fun eateries (what else?) with a London-er, I was informed about a fast-food type eatery serving up delicious Japanese homestyle dishes called Wagamama. Its menu is based around speedy noodle and rice offerings, and uses fresh ingredients like shrimp, cod, and tofu. Since the first few branches opened in London, a slew of outposts have sprang up all over the world, from Sydney to Amsterdam. There are even two in Boston.

This prompted me to buy the Wagamama cookbook, with a says-it-all front cover photo of a hungry diner with his head buried in a giant bowl of soup noodles. The recipes are easy for the home cook, very straightforward with common ingredients that can be found in any supermarket. A wok is required, as is high heat, but not a lot of time, since Wagamama food is based on efficiency with a whole lot of flavor.

My wok got some hot, spicy action tonight for dinner, as did my mouth. I've never had flavored edamame before, and from now on, I don't think I'll have it any other way! My twist on the dish is the addition of a dash of Chinese five spice powder for an extra bit of flavor. Enjoy, you'll never look at the edamame the same way again.


Edamame with Chile
adapted from The Wagamama Cookbook

8 oz edamame in their pods
1 red chile, trimmed, seeded and finely chopped
1 Tbsp vegetable oil
1 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp Chinese five spice powder
1 tsp sesame oil

1. If using frozen edamame, defrost, and steam the pods either in a steamer or in the microwave for about 1 minute, until firm but still with a bite. Drain thoroughly.

2. Heat up the vegetable oil in a wok over high. Add the edamame, chile and salt, and stir-fry for 1 minute. Stir in the five spice powder and sesame oil. Turn the heat off, and serve warm. Sprinkle with additional salt, if needed.

monkey-ing around

My mom used to make a version of monkey bread for me when I was little in her trusty bundt pan that we bought together at a yard sale. We didn't even bother removing the bread from the pan after it was done; we'd pick away at it while it was still piping hot. What'd normally ensue was a sticky, messy situation involving stacks of napkins and usually a run to the washing machine afterward.

I'm perplexed as to why it's called "monkey" bread. My most astute guess is that monkeys eat by picking at their food, which is how a monkey bread is usually eaten, by being pulled apart. Oh, of course, opposable thumbs! Surely, this bread would make a monkey's mouth water, all that doughyness, each surrounded by a crunchy cinnamon-sugar crust. I suppose the addition of mashed ripe bananas to the dough makes this even more appealing to our primate friend, and to us! It makes the bread moist, and doesn't interfere with the rise at all.

This time when I made the bread, I used the same pan that my mom had used years ago. It turned out beautifully, without a hitch. And once again, I found myself barefoot in the kitchen, caught red-handed with sticky fingers.


Monkey Bread
adapted from Better Homes and Gardens, February 1999

3 1/4 to 3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 pkg active dry yeast
1/4 cup milk
1/4 cup butter
2 Tbsp sugar
2 Tbsp light corn syrup
1/2 tsp salt
2 ripe mashed bananas (3/4 cup)
1 egg
2/3 cup chopped pecans
1 cup sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 cup butter, melted
1/2 cup caramel ice-cream topping
2 Tbsp maple syrup

1. In a large bowl, stir together 1 cup of the flour and yeast. In a saucepan, heat and stir milk, 1/4 cup butter, 2 Tbsp sugar, corn syrup and salt until just warm (120F). Add this to the dry mixture. Stir in banana and egg. Beat the batter for about 3 minutes on high. With a wooden spoon, stir in the remaining flour, working into a lump. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead 6-8 minutes into an elastic dough. Place in a greased bowl, cover, and let rise until doubled (1 1/2 hours).


2. Grease a 10" bundt (tube) pan with butter. Sprinkle half the pecans on the bottom. Stir together the 1 cup sugar and 1 tsp cinnamon, set aside.

3. Preheat oven to 350F. Punch dough down. Turn dough out onto your work surface and roll out into a large flat rectangle. Cut dough into 1-inch pieces. You will end up with about 40-50 small lumps. Gently knead each piece into a ball, tucking edges beneath. Roll each ball in the melted butter, then roll in the cinnamon sugar, and place in the prepared pan. Repeat this with the rest of the dough, gently stacking the balls up in the pan. Cover, and let rise until nearly double, about 45 minutes.


4. Sprinkle remaining pecans on top. Stir together caramel topping and maple syrup; drizzle on top. Bake for 35-38 minutes until the bread is golden brown on top. Let stand for 5-10 minutes, and invert onto a serving dish. Spoon any remaining topping or nuts over the bread. Serve warm.

bento, minus the box

For dinner tonight, I assembled a bento box meal of shiozake (salted salmon), asparagus in dashi broth with egg, and steamed rice topped with furikake (rice seasoning). Of course it would have been more authentic if everything had been nicely compartmentalized within a cute bento box, but alas, none to be found in my kitchen amidst all the packing.

I salted the salmon yesterday, a fresh wild-caught piece from Whole Foods, with a generous rub of sea salt. I prefer it not overly salted, so instead of letting it sit any longer than 24 hours, I cooked it up tonight. The skin was delightfully crispy and the flesh was subtly salted and somewhat sweet. I rinsed off the rest of the pieces, patted them dry, and wrapped them in wax paper and a freezer bag to be frozen and eaten later on.


The asparagus is my take on a vegetarian donburi, steamed rice covered in a pork/rice/shrimp and simmered egg mixture. The ultimate comfort food. I flavored the broth with a mix of dashi, mirin, soy, sake and sugar. The combination of all these ingredients make a umami experience that's mind-blowing. Like a savory flavor explosion in your mouth. Good dish to down rice with.

The furikake, that I bought from the asian store. If you aren't familiar with this flavoring, it's a dry mix of seaweed, bonito flakes, sesame, soy and sugar. It adds another level to the taste and texture of just plain rice. Furikake comes in all sorts of fun flavors, like salmon, nori, wasabi, or nuts, and is sometimes even colored a pale pastel of green (wasabi) or pink (salmon).

It was really the perfect dinner for one. Just me tonight, as Mr.S is off far far away in new-job-training-land. So I kind of stunk up my small apartment with the smell of pan-fried fish, but it was worth it for a meal that really hit the spot, and was even well-balanced and quite healthy!


Asparagus-Don (Asparagus simmered in dashi with egg)
serves 2

1 small bunch asparagus, trimmed and cleaned
1 small onion, slivered
3 stalks scallion, chopped on the bias, green and white parts both
1 Tbsp slivered ginger
1/3 cup dashi broth
1 Tbsp soy sauce
1 Tbsp mirin
1 Tbsp sake
1 Tbsp sugar
1 egg, beaten

1. Heat 1 Tbsp of oil in a wok, and add scallion, ginger and onion. Cook for 1 minute, until fragrant. Add the asparagus, cooking for another 2 minutes or so until they become slightly tender and bright green.

2. Meanwhile, in a small bowl, mix together the dashi, soy, mirin, sake, and sugar. Add this mixture to the asparagus. Simmer over low heat for about 5 minutes to thicken the broth.

3. Stir in the beaten egg to incorporate into the broth. It will start to curdle, and look like egg drop soup. Cook for another minute, until the strings of egg have set up and somewhat solidified. Serve over steamed rice.

remembrance

January 17, 1926 - April 21, 2008

I never realized how lucky I was to have all four of my grandparents alive and healthy for so long. Illness and death were such intangible notions that never crossed my mind. Four years ago, when my grandmother had her first stroke, I remember being confused, fervently denying to myself that this was it. Well, I suppose it was the beginning- of personal growth, physical decline, and the loss of a long battle for life. She, along with the rest of our family, lost the good fight two weeks ago.

When I think of my grandma, I think of this photo that we snapped of her during her first visit to the U.S. It's my favorite picture of her. It captures the woman that she was- beautiful, innocent, happy. During her year-long stay, we took her on several mini-vacations, Ocean City, the Poconos to ski, historic Williamsburg, and took her to most of the museums in DC. My favorite outing, however, was an apple picking trip to a pick-your-own orchard during the fall.


It was one of those bright, crisp fall days that makes you want to roll around in a pile of leaves. We asked her to pose for a picture, and instead of standing and smiling, she began to hop around, blowing on the fuzzies from dandelions. We caught her mid-laugh, mid-hop. She was always so happy like that, so positive. There was a beautiful, beaming, rosy-cheeked child in her that was rare and precious. Though she had this side to her, she liked to be mother hen to her family. She loved her brood above all else. She cared so much for my grandfather after years of marriage. She must have had a million things going on inside her head at all times, just fretting and worrying about everyone in the family.

I miss her. I've missed her for four years. She was bedridden during this time, from her paralysis, and for the latter half, her condition gradually worsened, with her loss of vision from glaucoma, and the final loss of any lung function and the ability of speak. Her once robust appetite withered away and her stomach shrank, accepting only pureed foods, then medicine only. I remember baking her shortbread cookies, blending them down with water, and feeding it to her through her food tube. She couldn't speak, but she'd squeeze my hand.

She had one hell of a sweet tooth. She loved ice cream; any flavor, but her favorites were strawberry, coffee, and red bean popsicles. When I was really little, she'd always buy me a cone when we were out, and one for herself too. (I have a sinking suspicion she sometimes used me as an excuse to get herself ice cream!) At the end of her US stay, she'd put on quite a bit of weight, her face was so full and round, her skin became shiny and taut. We let herself indulge in all sorts of junky foods- pizza, ice cream, chips, cake. She lived it up; when would she ever get the chance again?

During this time, I regret most my not letting her love me to the fullest, by pushing her away. I was a teen, and going through that awkward "I'm too cool for parental units" phase. I walked home everyday from school, and she'd come meet me halfway, but I'd often ignore her and walk many paces ahead. She'd come home and laugh it off. She never got angry with me, which made me more mad. I regret not letting her more into my life, because she could have taught me alot. It wasn't until years later that I realized my mistakes.

I remember her laugh, a deep almost silent, drawn-out laugh emanating from the depths of her diaphragm. She'd try to talk but no words would come out. Her eyes would tear up, and more silent chuckling would erupt into fits of coughing and laughing mixed together. She was funny like that.

I'm remembering all these things about her, nothing of which bears any resemblance to the invalid who she was for the past four years. Though that time proved to be a huge challenge in all our lives, and forced me to grow up in more ways than I can imagine, I want to remember her as my laughing, playful, hopping and skipping grandmother. The woman who knit me sweaters, fix the buttons on my blouses, who ate her ice cream and left traces all over her lips and face.


I wanted to make her a special dessert that I could also enjoy, while thinking of her. She'd probably love it too. I think she would be really proud of my cooking, since none of the women on my mom's side of the family can. She was proud of all her grandkids, no matter how big or small the achievement. I think of her now, and I'm glad she's finally at peace. Us kids are all grown up now, and she's finally free of any suffering. I hope she's really happy somewhere, maybe watching over us, maybe not, with a lot of good ice cream, and plenty of space to play in. What a strong spirit she had for her to have held on as long as she had. My iron grandma, with steely will and stubborn strength. I'm like her in this way, and so is my mom.

Before I left Beijing this time, my aunt gave me the biggest compliment of my life. She told me how mature I am- that I always put others before myself. I was extremely proud because this is how my grandma always was too. For her, her children and family came first. The sacrifices she made throughout her life for us weren't sacrifices for her, they were a joy for her because of the happiness she could impart on others.

Being able to write and cook these few days after the funeral has given me some sort of peace. It has allowed me to organize all of the jumbled thoughts like thick weeds that have crowded my mind for the past couple weeks. Grieving is difficult. My way thus far of coping has been through writing and cooking. Somehow, it all starts and ends in the kitchen for me.



Sweet Cream Ice Cream with Red Bean Sauce
yields 1 quart

Sweet Cream Ice Cream:
2 cups heavy cream
1 cup whole milk
3/4 cup sugar
4 egg yolks

1. In a heavy saucepan, heat milk, cream and 1/2 cup sugar over medium heat to 175F, stirring often. Remove from heat. Meanwhile, whisk together yolks and remaining 1/4 cup sugar until pale and thick. While whisking, pour in half of the hot milk mixture. Pour this back into the saucepan, and back onto the burner.

2. Over low heat, stir with a wooden spoon, and heat mixture to 180F. At this point, the milk should be thick and coat the back of the spoon. Remove from heat, and let come to room temperature.

3. Strain the mixture and pour into your ice cream maker, and let it churn and chill. Pour the contents into a quart size freezer container, and let harden in the freezer.


Red Bean Sauce

1 cup dried red beans (adzuki beans)
8-9 cups water
1/2 cup sugar
2 strips orange peel

1. Soak beans in water overnight. Drain in the morning.

2. Combine beans and water in a large pot, and let come to a boil. Turn heat down to a simmer, and cook for 2-3 hours (depending on how soft you like them), adding in the orange peel halfway through. The beans are done when they are soft, and give no resistance.

3. Stir in the sugar and cook for 10 more minutes. Let come to room temperature and refrigerate. Serve chilled over ice cream, or by itself.