When we cook, we use ingredients and we employ techniques. There is an abundance of information about these ingredients and techniques; some of it we know, some we could really stand to learn. When does an ingredient perform best? How does it behave in different combinations and conditions? When is a given technique best employed? Which steps are absolutely necessary and which can be skipped in a pinch?
We know much of this information already. To give a few examples:
- Eggs make dishes lighter. Whipping the egg whites? Even more so.
- Onions and garlic contain a lot of natural sugar that will caramelize and mellow when heated.
- Applesauce and yogurt are viable alternatives to the fatty liquids in baked goods.
There’s a lot of other information we could really stand to learn. Here are some things I’m thankful to have learned from cookbooks, food articles, and plain old trial-and-error:
- a good dish balances the five dimensions of taste: sweet, sour, salty, hot, and umami (i.e. glutamate, which rounds out the other flavors)
- baking powder contains its own acidic agent; baking soda needs some sort of acid to be activated.
- Lots of time, little yeast, and no kneading can produce one of the best loaves of bread ever invented.
So you see, there’s a lot of knowledge floating around out there about what we eat and how we make it. Recipes can be useful in providing bite-sized chunks of information in digestible form (no more food metaphors). But here’s the thing about recipes: they transmit that information so absolutely, so authoritatively, that the cook feels reluctant, even scared, to change anything. Recipes are what make you stand by the oven, wiping your brow, because your quiche didn’t cook in the half-hour promised. They’re what make you think twice about even making a quiche, if you don’t have the requisite amount of mushrooms for the mushroom one, cheddar for the cheddar one, etc. You could run to the grocery store at the last minute and buy exactly 2 1/2 cups of mushrooms, a mix of button, cremini and portabello as called for. Alternatively, you could save yourself the headache and improvise.
Improvisation: friend, not foe.
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Nothing announces the end of gloomy winter and the coming of bright, bloomy Spring like ramps. Ramps resemble baby leeks, and taste like a cross between garlic and onion, only less pungent, more delicate green. Unlike leeks, ramps’ green stalks are soft and can should be eaten. They’re certainly Spring’s hot item among chefs and gourmandes, and the most ramp-obsessed folks have been known to shell out as much as 20 bucks a pound for ’em. Now, you won’t find me telling you they’re worth that much — after all, they were once mistaken as weeds and people spent time trying to rid their gardens of them — but they are mighty tasty, and quite versatile. However, as they’re expensive, I’d use them wisely.
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Now that farmers’ markets are fully stocked and hot weather is creeping up on us, I’ll be kissing my oven goodbye and putting it to sleep for a few months. I don’t know about you, but it costs us an arm and a leg to pump the A/C into our apartment enough that I don’t faint from oversweating; the last thing I want to do is make it harder for our little cooling engine that couldn’t. So long as I can hack it, I’ll be making salads regularly. Summer’s produce is fresh, juicy, flavorful, and tasty without any heat applied. Why make stew when tomatoes are perfect, yes perfect, with just some olive oil and salt? And when I’m making salads, I’m using avocados in almost every one of them.
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by rivka
on April 28, 2008
If you love Passover, close your ears for a second…
YAAAYYY it’s done! we can eat bread again!
Ok. It’s out of my system.
Linzer Sables are fantastic. The fact that they involve water, flour, and a nice long baking time is just icing on the cake. I’ve always loved Linzer Torte — that fantastically dense and buttery torte made of almond flour and filled with black raspberry jam — and these cookies share those rich, buttery, nutty flavors, but they’re lighter, crispy, and compact. They’ve also got a fair amount of spice, and I like to add some orange zest, which I find really binds the flavors together. If you’ve got a scalloped cookie cutter, use it to make these cookies look more decorative (and sprinkle them with confectioners sugar for some extra zing.)
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by rivka
on April 23, 2008
Because it’s Passover, and my fridge is completely empty, save for two trays of leftover chicken and a huge bag of chocolate chip cookies and marshmallow brownies graciously donated care-packaged by D’s family. Thank heavens, we won’t starve. But I’ll be hiding out in my cave until Passover is over, at which point I promise more delicious treats and recipes. Hang in there!
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by rivka
on April 17, 2008
It’s that time of year again, folks…the time when desserts all begin “flourless…”
To ease the pain of a cookie-less cake-less week, I’ll share a fantastic post by awesome blogger Deb over at Smitten Kitchen. She offers 17 dessert ideas for Passover — let’s face it, who ever knew there were even that many possibilities? — and they all look completely scrumptious. Go on, have a look!
Meanwhile, if you’re still itching for ideas, be sure to check out Susie Fishbein’s new cookbook, Passover by Design — you can buy it straight from here by clicking the picture in the sidebar right next to this post. I’ve already given three as pesach/seder presents, and have made three balebustas very happy. Have a wonderful holiday!
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by rivka
on April 15, 2008
When it comes to brownies, everyone has his or her preference. Some prefer cakey (though god knows why), others prefer raw, yet others favor the fudgey dense sort — there’s a recipe for everyone. I even know someone who made a habit of mixing up two full batches each time she made brownies: one to bake, and one to eat raw, straight from the mixing bowl. If that’s not enough to make your stomach turn, I don’t know what is.
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by rivka
on April 13, 2008
Let’s see, where did we leave off? Have you already forgotten that more tales of molecular gastronomy and showmanship were in store for you? This is the final installment of the Minibar saga. So as not to reveal all my (their) cards, I’ll cover only highlights of the remaining courses, leaving some of the show to your imagination (should you choose to explore this restaurant yourself).
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