Table for One

Is it me or does it seem like it takes a bit of moxie to dine out alone?

Less so at lunch time, my preferred solo dining time slot, than dinner.  Eating alone at lunch feels more casual for sure.  Regardless, both options offer a fine opportunity for people watching, and my other favorite pastime...inventing stories and backgrounds for the occasional passerby. (Oh, look, a group of girlfriends at a a table together...a Sex in the City assortment of friends?  no, they seem extra animated and the wardrobe's been dialed up an extra notch.  It's graduation/reunion season...they all went to college together.  That's it.  Now, the one on the left...she seems quiet...she had an affair with her friend's boyfriend...yeah...)

But eating at home, alone.  That's a different category.
There's the comfort level.  Your favorite slouchy jeans, pj bottoms or, dare I say it...sweatpants.  A t-shirt and the ratty old dad sweater.  Check.
Dog trailing your every move with laser beam focus.  (She's headed for the kitchen.  Things are looking good. )  Check.
There's the thought of eating while sitting in front of the tv.  All god.  Your mother's not here, you're an adult and you get to do whatever you want!  Wheeeeeee!

And then there's the question of food.
Some of us experience a certain giddiness when faced with the idea of eating whatever we want without compromising our cravings for the sake of our partners, significant others, roommates, etc...  S., a friend at work, sat down across from me at lunch the other day with the most delicious-looking curry and naan.  You know it...Indian food leftovers because her spouse, who emphatically does not like Indian food, had been away on a business trip.  Another friend, dials exuberantly for local Chinese food takeout -- Beef with Broccoli -- whenever her partner, a vegetarian, is away.

I know for a fact that given an evening home alone, my husband does not even begin to think about what he is going to eat until he has already unscrewed the lid to the jar of peanut butter, his go-to form out nourishment.  To each his own.

Me, not so much a "cold food" person.  A sandwich is not going to happen as my solo dinner.  Unless that sandwich is a grilled cheese.  And it comes with a cup of tomato soup...straight out of the box.  No shame in that.

The thing is, I LIKE to cook something at the ned of a long day.  It helps me unwind.  And eating alone wallows a certain selfishness free reign.  If YOU want to eat a banana split for dinner, then so be it!  Livining with a vegetarian?  I think a juicy steak is in order!  Partner can't take heat?  Use jalapeños with abandon!

Judith Jones, Julia Childs' legendary editor at Knopf, has even devoted a book to creating perfect meals for yourself.  In The Pleasure of Cooking for One she makes the very excellent point that you are free to experiment when cooking alone.  You are free to fail and it doesn't have to be perfect.  If things don't go as planned, there's always takeout and the best part:  no one is the wiser.

My solo cooking escapades are burly based on in-the-moment cravings.  Steve likes to tell the story of being away on a golf trip and calling me during dinnertime.  He and his brothers were getting ready to head for a burger.  I, in the meantime was steaming a single lobster and had opened a beer, having already pulled the TV up closer to the dining room table.  (You don't want to be cracking lobster claws sitting the floor eating on the coffee table!)
Solo dining perfection!

A regular favorite now that asparagus is in season, is to plate up a raft of steamed asparagus, drape it in Serrano ham (or prosciutto...your preference!) and top it with a soft-boiled or poached egg.   A lovely piece of toasted bread rubbed with a garlic clove while still warm is optional and gives you an excellent tool for mopping up the egg yolk.

The closest I'll get to a "cold" meal is reserved for those nights when, teetering on the brink of complete exhaustion...the best I can do is stop by my favorite butcher shop/charcuterie, The Fatted Calf, for some help with a cheese and cracker plate.  A couple nice cheeses, oh, and maybe some zippy salami with a few olives and those little pickled pappadew peppers make for a perfectly relaxing dinner for one.  Cue last week's episode of Modern Family, please.

Which brings me to tell you about a recipe I've been obsessing over recently.  It's the cover shot of this month's Bon Appetit:  a gigantic seared beauty of a Porterhouse steak.  With little captions that tease (ten minutes ago this porterhouse was frozen solid).
Zoinks!
Another headline above the recipe reads:
We wouldn't tell you to score, season, chill, freeze, fry, slow roast, baste and refry a steak if it wasn't worth it.

Gah!  That's like every possible cooking technique known to man, applied to this piece of meat!  Things get curiouser and curiouser!  You can read more about it here.  My brain's been humming ever since I set eyes on this craziness.  Steve is not as much of a beef lover as I am...and the calendar shows potential...(his next scheduled beer-with-the-boys night!).  This crazy steak experiment WILL HAPPEN!

Is this indeed crazy?
How does one stand a giant porterhouse on its side, upright, in the freezer?
I have 'fear of frying'.  Will I be able to overcome it with this quest?
Answers to these questions...and more...soon.

I'll report back.

Weeknight Cooking

 I read an article today about cooking at home by my latest hero, Michael Ruhlman.  He makes the case for taking an hour at the end of the day to cook something and sit down to eat it, together.  His point is that "fast and easy" an idea pushed by popular food magazines, tv shows and the 'big food' industry is not really what the goal should be.  And I agree, to a point...

We all have those days.  I had one this week.  You know the ones where you're just simply tapped out by the end of the day?  Drained of energy, the thought of creating a meal is the furthest thing from your mind.  It's exhausting in and of itself.  Just the thinking part.  Familiar, right?  That's when "fast and easy" comes into play.  The way I try to get around the exhaustion is by picturing what I'd love to have someone (umm, that person will most likely be me...) put on a plate in front of me.  What am I hungry for?  What do I crave?  Just the act of picturing what I'd like to eat is usually enough to get me thinking...and then calculating what we have in the refrigerator or pantry...and then whether I should swing by the store for supplemental ingredients on the way home.  And before you know it, I've successfully avoided the dreaded Trader-Joe's-Frozen-Pizza trap.  No shame in that.  We've all been there.  But we can do better.

So, here's some 'fast-and-easy' and I'm not embarrassed to tell you about it, because I've had it in restaurants.  For those of you who live and die by the microwave.  Listen up.
You WILL NOT be needing Mr. Wave tonight.  Walk right past and put a small saucepan of water on the stove over medium heat and keep reading.

Lately, we seem to always have asparagus in the refrigerator.  (A sure sign that it's spring.)
You can too, if you store it the way I do.   I think I remember seeing this on an episode of  Julia Child years ago.  (I searched for it, but couldn't find it, so here's one that is just plain fun to watch.)  Depending on how large your bunch of asparagus is, use a small mixing bowl, or glass measuring cup and fill with an inch of water.  Prop up your asparagus in the water, like a bouquet of flowers and cover loosely with the plastic veggie bag you brought them home in.  They will keep like this, in your refrigerator, for at least a week.

This next part perhaps says more about us than I'm comfortable with, but what the heck.  We almost always have some prosciutto in the fridge...or, even better in my opinion, Serrano ham.  I can't explain the direct correlation between being a happy person and having prosciutto at the ready, but that's the eternal mystery of the joy of cured pork products.  They just bring Happy into the house.

So, now we have asparagus, some kind of ham deliciousness and the third component is even easier.  Eggs.  The ultimate super food.  I LOVE eggs.  Or, as Woody Allen says to Diane Keaton at some point in Annie Hall..."I luuuuurve you".   I mean 'them'.  Eggs.  You know what I mean...

These are your three main ingredients.  What you will do is roast the asparagus in a super hot oven (after tossing them with a teaspoon of olive oil and some salt and pepper) for a mere seven to eight minutes.  (If you'd like to get fancy, you may toss a small handful of chopped shallot over the asparagus in the remaining minute or two of roasting--I've talked about this before...the fragrance of roasted shallot is heavenly and totally worth keeping a couple shallots on hand at all times.)

In the meantime you will poach, or soft-boil an egg.  (My favorite methods are below.)

Open your package of ham or prosciutto and then plate things up in this order:
Asparagus.  Top with egg.  Drape the ham.  Drizzle with extra-virgin olive oil and then a sprinkle of balsamic or sherry or champagne vinegar.  (Don't mock me -- I am a vinegar freak and keep almost every variety of the stuff known to mankind on hand.)  Add a sprinkle salt and pepper, to taste.  Sometimes I even add a little dab of Dijon mustard, which then mixes into a little dressing almost when you break into the egg for that first bite.  Very tasty.

A nice crusty bread is delicious with this.  Or, if you're like me, you toast up the two-day old french loaf sitting on the counter and slather with butter.

Ta- dahhh.  YOU are now eating something delicious that did indeed only take but a few minutes to prepare, but is NOT a frozen pizza.  Just looking at this plate is enough to lift your spirits and those of your loved ones.

So, a definite yes to cooking at home... and if it's 'fast-and-easy' on occasion, that's okay by me.

Soft-Boiled Eggs 
adapted from David Tanis' A Platter of Figs
Heat a small pot of water over medium heat and when the water approaches a gentle simmer, slip the eggs carefully into the water.  Keep at just a bare simmer for 10 minutes.  Meanwhile, fill a medium mixing bowl with some ice cubes and cold water.  Remove the eggs and place into the bowl ice water.  Cool for a minute.  Take the eggs out and crack on all sides -- do not peel just yet -- before returning to the water for another couple minutes.  (This way the peel practically slides off.)  Quarter and place over your asparagus.

Poached Egg
(don't worry, it's not as tricky as you think)
Half fill a wide pan with about 4 inches of unsalted water.  Add a couple tablespoons of white vinegar, and bring to a boil.  Break an egg into a ramekin or small bowl and tip it gently into the pan at the point where the water is bubbling.  Repeat with your other eggs (but don't poach more than four at a time).  Poach for about 2 minutes.

Using a slotted spoon or small skimmer, lift out the first egg and press the outside edge lightly to check if it's cooked enough.

Poached eggs get those little extra swirls or strands of white on the outer edges so I usually put them on a plate and just trim the edges with some kitchen shears or a knife.  Voila.  The egg is ready to top your asparagus.

 
Bon Appetit Everyone!

A Farewell Dinner

Last month Conde Nast announced the closing of several of their publications, one of which was Gourmet, and the news left me genuinely stunned and somehow...bereft.  Sure, I didn't quite know what to make of the magazine over the past several years and I had even let my subscription lapse for a year around the time Ruth Reichl was named editor.  But, don't laugh, I've been reading Gourmet since I was a geeky teenager.

My collection spans decades and was probably the main reason the weight the moving company calculated for our belongings was in tons.  I have issues I nabbed from my mother when I was in college.  I have the years from the late 60s to early 70s which belonged to my husband's grandmother.  Gourmet introduced me to one of my favorite food writers of all time, Laurie Colwin, for which I will be eternally grateful.  It's difficult to put into words the genuine shaping influence it had over the way I think about cooking, eating, travel, entertaining...and about life really.  

How could a publication that had been such an enormous part of my life education simply go away?  It felt wrong.  I needed to mourn.  The answer was to cook...(but of course!) and to cook with people who might somehow understand.    So, the big cartoon light bulb over my head turned on...it was time to "walk the walk".

*     *     *

In recent years, Gourmet had, uh, let's say "evolved".  Into what, I'm not really sure.  Where there used to be highly styled photos of food on tables laden with lavish dishes, silver and flowers in empty dining rooms, or on deserted terraces, there were now attractive models with great clothes enjoying the food and cavorting (does that make me sound Victorian?) in festive, Elle Decor-like settings.  The colors seemed extra-saturated and the photos not too brightly lit.  For the most part, issue after issue, there was rarely anything that I actually wanted to cook.

There were a couple exceptions...one of which was the November 2008 issue.  Last year, having just completed the big move from Chicago, we gave up our usual Thanksgiving hosting duties and instead drove down the coast to Santa Monica to spend the holiday with Steve's brothers.  And, wouldn't you know it?  I bring along my November issue on the trip, and there, in the main menu...the "centerfold" meal, as I like to call it, was something I wanted to cook.  It was a menu featuring twelve dishes that integrated "bold Latino flavors" into a traditional Thanksgiving feast.  Chipotle Meatballs and Mango Pomegranate Guacamole with Plantain Chips kicked things off.  There was a Clementine Jicama Salad... turkey marinated in a chile and spice paste...Corn Bread and Chorizo Stuffing...and the clincher:  a potato gratin layered with roasted poblano peppers.   Mouth watering and mind racing, I was consumed with an almost greedy need...to cook all of it and to taste all of it.  But how?  Ha!  Why not host a Thanksgiving dinner in the off-season, so to speak?  When no one is expecting roast turkey and the trimmings?  I marked the pages and thought "I'll just do Thanksgiving...next July!"  (It's freezing in San Francisco in the summer, so it would have been perfectly fitting.)

July came and went.  August and September too.  Work was busy.  Who had time to figure out how to cook twelve, count 'em, TWELVE, dishes?!  And then.  The News.  As, I said...it was time to "walk the walk."

Luckily, I had shared my wacky idea back in the summer with three very dear friends.  It may even have been on the evening we all went to see Julie & Julia together, and then came back to our place for Seafood Quiche straight from the pages of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  My friends--all supremely talented cooks--were intrigued.  They thought it would be fun.   And, here's the most wonderful part...they wanted to help cook.

The announcement of Gourmet's demise provided a perfect opportunity.  A date was quickly agreed upon, I dug out my post-it covered issue and sent photocopies to the group.

So, a few Saturday's ago, we all convened in my kitchen and put together a feast of epic proportions, that looked just like the pictures!!   It was a magical, delightful way to spend an evening together and I say that as a genuine skeptic when it comes to gourmet clubs and pot-luck dinners.  We created a meal both gorgeous and delicious.  T., who normally creates recipes, brilliant cook and trained chef that she is, followed recipes in this case, with stupendous results.  F.  who insists she is not a dessert-baking type created pies that were phenomenal and picture-perfect.  And, J. whipped up magazine-worthy perfection, effortlessly.  We all cooked in ways and with ingredients we'd never tried before.  In some way, this all made me even more sad that the magazine is no longer around.

But wait a second...
there is that lovely springtime Menu for a Pool Party from April 1972...

Thank you, Gourmet.

*    *    *    *

Here's the full menu (yes--all twelve dishes!) with links to the recipes on Gourmet's web site, which is still up, as well as some cook's notes on each. 

Gourmet Entertains from the November 2008 issue

Chipotle Meatballs

These were incredible.  Zesty and delicious...but then again, I've never met a meatball I didn't like.

Mango Pomegranate Guacamole

Absolutely perfect.  The smoothness of the avocado gets a nice zing from the tartness of the pomegranate.

Plantain Chips

A crowd favorite.  Perfect flavor to balance the guacamole.  Addictive.  And, yes...T. had never bought or cooked with a plantain...ever.

Clementine Jicama Salad

One of the best salads in recent memory.  I will be making this again...and again.  It's a keeper.

Adobo Turkey with Red-Chile Gravy

 I can't believe I made an adobo sauce, from scratch.   I can't believe Steve found both dried guajillo and ancho chiles for me.  The smell of this marinade is transporting and it gave the turkey a gorgeous color.

Corn Bread and Chorizo Stuffing

This was the one dish I somehow wished was better.  The ingredients sounded great to me, but in the end, I think I realized, I'm just not a cornbread stuffing gal.  Maybe it's the texture.

Cranberry Pineapple Salsa

J.'s mega-hit crowd-pleaser.  There was not a speck of it left at the end of the evening.  'Nuf said.

Roasted Chayotes with Garlic

Chayote?  You say...what's a Chayote? Ah haa! Well, here you go... it's kind of like a squash-gourd thing-y.  Relatively simple preparation, but boy oh boy, follow their suggestion and wear gloves when peeling.  F. lost a layer of skin on her hands because she didn't.

Sweet-Potato Coconut Puree

Yet another huge hit from J.  Everyone was crazy about this, and I think I may add it to my Thanksgiving menu in a few weeks.

Poblano Potato Gratin

This was super delicious.  The smokiness of the charred poblanos, the creaminess of the potatoes...heaven.

Lattice Apple Pie with Mexican Brown Sugar

F. insists she's never made a lattice, so clearly she's gifted.  This pie was spectacular.  

Rum Ice Cream

I gave Steve an ice cream maker for his birthday and this was one of his first few tries.  Good times ahead, for sure.

Chocolate Cinnamon Cream Pie

Nothing to say but, yuuuuuuuummmmmmm.

High Noon in Oklahoma

I'm driving down a desolate stretch of highway just outside of Tulsa for work. It's raining. The car is a rental...a hulking Dodge Charger in an odd shade of minty green. (The man at the Avis desk seemed disappointed by my blank look when he told me the type of vehicle I was getting as an upgrade. )

There isn't much around. Some refineries. Occasional scraggly trees and mildly rolling hills. And those mysterious rural aluminum structures that resemble oversized tool sheds.

I'm starving and with 20 minutes to get to the location for a shoot, and no prospect of eating in the next 8-10 hours, the outlook for lunch is dicey.

Normally I pick up a bag of nuts at the airport, or just carry my own in a little ziploc and of course, I forgot to pack them on this trip. But what looms on the horizon virtually every couple miles? That tall McDonald's sign. The one they put next to highways so you can see it from really far away. I sort of know I'm doomed. There is no choice. I ask a guy at the gas station if there is a grocery store anywhere nearby since the deli counter can be a good alternative in small towns. Nope, but he tells me, but there IS a SuperWal-Mart a couple towns over. Yeaayy.
sigh.
So, I make the decision. I'm going to go for it. It's been some time...probably four, maybe five years since I've eaten McDonald's. Why not treat it as an experiment? Or, epicurean research? I've heard that McDonald's has changed. They have salads now.

Since I'm short on time, it makes perfect sense to just go the whole nine yards, and do the drive-thru. As I sit in the car, studying the very busy board/menu, the kid on the other end of the microphone is getting edgy. I am clearly taking too long. The more I ponder the options, the less I know what to order so, starting to panic, I see a familiar phrase. The Quarter-Pounder. Right. Sign me up. The speaker crackles something unintelligible, but I figure not much has changed and I am supposed to pull around. I pick up my meal and pull into a parking space. You KNOW it. I am eating in my car. That's part of the deal, right?

The fast food experience is hard to resist. It's cheap. You don't have to leave your automobile. The food is hot. In this case, I am happy to note, it is impeccably packaged in biodegradeable, recycled cartons and paper. Oh, and, it is soooo bad-good.

The first thing I notice is how salty it all is. Maybe that's what contributes to the sudden rush of greedy hunger that prompts me to eat much faster than I normally do. (Or, maybe it's that odd, furtive feeling I get eating in the car.)
Anyway, I am gulping down big bites of the burger like I have not eaten in days.

And the fries. They are magnificent. Perfectly hot and crisp and, yes, salty. (You may already know that rarely do I meet frites I don't like.)

There is also a gigantic Coke, of which I am only able to drink about a third. How do people manage to put away such quantities of liquid? Admittedly, the carbonated sweetness pairs nicely with the fries.

My solitary lunch is consumed in about four minutes. I quietly belch in the privacy of my vehicle.

Time to go to work.