Open Your Face and Eat This Sandwich

Disclaimer: This is not an "actual" post. (As I was reminded by the Sous Chef) This is what results from 3 days of house arrest and no access to inventive groceries. Coming soon... this morning's half-eaten bowl of cereal...
The term open-face is sort of annoying to me. I had an open-faced tuna melt sandwich once on a weirdly mammoth english muffin at a diner on 86th and 2nd and it was like eating a polymorphic tuna-flavored sponge. I ate it and then promptly regretted it. It was not my finest moment. The trick to open facing is maneuverability. Rule #1: the sandwich cannot be bigger than your actual face. Rule #2: All sandwich ingredients must be firmly anchored onto the bread in some fashion. Rule #3: The bread must be crispy (this is non negotiable) or toasted.
When executed properly, the open-faced sandwich is a delightfully carefree way to eat your lunch. If you are feeling particularly cavalier, you may eat it with one hand.

Open Face Sandwich: Green Olive Tapenade, Zucchini and Mozzarella on Whole Wheat Nut Bread.

Pie Season

Pie is the kind of dessert that I think pretty much everybody secretly loves, but that not many people think to bake anymore. I rarely see pie on dessert menus in restaurants anymore. It's far more fashionable to bake a tart, or a flourless cake or the frenetically-popular new york cupcake. Fruit pies speak the language of summer, but of a bygone summer... So, while baking this blueberry pie (which is my mother's favorite pie), I imagined I was ten years old again, with my friends, wandering through the woods of vermont, collecting wild blueberries in paper cups, hoping collectively that we had enough to present to the kitchen, which would then magically transform our late summer treasure into the perfect pie.

Port Wine Tomato Sauce

This is a slightly sweeter tomato sauce than I usually make. Lots of grated carrots, fresh basil, crushed red pepper and a generous splash of port wine create a lovely warmth and subtle complexity.

Indoor Garden Update

On the left: new snap pea sprouts on the go!
On the right: peas very tall and ready for the sunshine.... any day now......

Spicy Soy Glazed Candied Almonds

I highly recommend this for snacking.

2 c. whole almonds
1/4 c. soy sauce
1/4 c. canola oil
1/4 c. light brown sugar
1 T. cayenne
1 T. garlic powder
2 t. ground dried ginger
Sesame seeds

Mix all ingredients except canola oil and sesame seeds together in saucepan. Add almonds. Bring to a boil and stir frequently until mixture has caramelized and coats/is absorbed into the almonds. Take mixture off heat. stir in the canola oil. Spread mixture onto a greased cookie sheet or sheet of aluminum foil and roast at 250 degrees for ten minutes. Sprinkle with sesame seeds to finish. Allow to cool. Good with cheeseplates or on their own, or maybe over a salad.

Philadelphia is to Die For

Yes folks, you are correct. These are gallons of Cheese Whiz. Gallons. Of Whiz. I'm not kidding. And behind this window display there is another mind-blowing, supermarket-sized tower of whiz. Now, let it be known that I do not endorse "the whiz" in any way. I will not buy it. I will not eat it. I probably wouldn't even spackle with it. However, I am not utterly insensitive to regional culinary trends and, after all, I was born in Philly. That means pretty much one thing to me. Cheesesteak. (cue choir of pearly-voiced angels in the rafters) Yes, the cheesesteak. One of the wonders of the junk food world, there is an undeniable allure to its unapologetic, in your face attitude (if there ever were an argument for food having attitude, well my friends, this is it).

The Sous Chef had never been to Philly, and we just happened to be passing through over the weekend.... and we were starving. Not the peckish, "oh, I could probably eat something if it were on my plate" kind of hunger. We are talking, "get the F$%# out of my way, I am going to eat the closest thing to my face" kind of hunger pangs. There was only one option for us at this point. Chopped caramelized onions, melted cheese and thinly sliced steak were parading through my mind in a choreographed vision of torture. Obviously, we needed to make a pit stop/detour. I ordered a "provolone, wit" from a very large greasy man standing next to the cans of whiz... btw: "wit" means "with onions" and "whiz wit" means, well, you know... the Sous Chef ordered some bastardization of a cheesesteak that doesn't merit further explanation. (They put other jazzier options on the menu for tourists) Both of us opted out of the whiz factor, which most likely alienated us from the typical cheesesteak consumer, but I am personally ok with that. Cheese comes from a cow not a can. Moo.

"This is the Best Thing That's Come Around In a While"

...said the Sous Chef last Friday night over a dinner of blue cheese portobello mushroom wellingtons with brown butter white wine sauce, rosemary polenta and sauteed yellow beans.

This was a bold statement. But I suppose I was flattered because in truth, this dinner was a bit of an experiment. Our good friends were over for an impromptu dinner party and I was charged with creating something a) vegetarian b) sans onions and c) (hopefully) delicious. I had been to a terrific pioneer vegetarian restaurant in Seattle, Washington several years ago called Cafe Flora and had something similar. Now, I am not a total novice -- I have had a bit of experience with vegetarian cuisine. I think it must be requisite to dabble in vegetarianism if you spend any extended period of time on the West Coast. I spent about 2 meat-free years in the wild west. Being vegetarian, and by that I mean being a "good vegetarian" i.e. conscious of proteins and fats and necessary dietary components is obviously the most challenging part of being successfully meat-free. But equally challenging for me was achieving the same complexity of flavor in vegetarian cooking as its carnivorous counterpart. When I was veggie, I was young and relatively unschooled in the nuances of kitchen alchemy. Hence, most of my dishes were one dimensional. Having a better handle on the chemistry of things these days, I set out to create a complex multi-layered, multi textured vegetarian dinner that was as satisfying to the average meat eater as it was to my extremely conscientious meat-free friend/dinner guest.
The first thought I had when composing the menu was puff pastry. Who says vegetarian has to be low-cal? (Thankfully my friend was not vegan because the key component to this dinner was butter) The second thought I had was to stuff a smallish portobello cap with a delicate mixture of minced shitake mushrooms, shallots, thyme, white wine and butter, top it off with a chunk of baley hazen blue cheese and wrap it all up in puff pastry. The rosemary polenta was pretty tasty too, though polenta is always tasty, in my opinion. I was informed by the Sous Chef that he could eat a "pile of it". Well put.

Apricot Fig Ginger Bars

I created these charming little squares to accompany Sarah's egg salad sandwich (see below). It was harder than I thought it would be to identify the perfect dessert for a simple sandwich. Brownies came to mind, but something lighter and more reminiscent of my grandmother's kitchen seemed appropriate. I created the filling out of reconstituted dried apricots, fig jam and fresh ginger.... Oatmeal and crushed almonds top it off.

The Miraculous Story of how Sarah's Egg Salad Sandwich got to Brooklyn

Somewhere south of the Mason-Dixon, curves a dusty road, sleepy and protected by the sweeping overhang of strong, centuries-old branches hung thick with the burgeoning green beginnings and fat-blossoms-to-be of the coming summer days. Nearby, creek waters pass deliberately by the faintest lick of sand and narrow grassy shore. This is where the chickens live. Red feathers rustled and lulled to sleep by the salty hum of the early evening breeze, the chickens rest. These are the quiet days, before the balmy nights, the crack of bonfire and summer madness seeps into the soil and turns to frenzy. Hesitant shifts of morning light creep up the hill and slip through the fence posts, nudging each chicken further away from their chicken dreams and into the day. Beneath the soft tuft of russet feathers, if you are lucky and if the air is sweet and salty, you will find an egg. These eggs were a gift. They made their way north after dark, slipping past the clenched jaw of the FDA and into my Brooklyn kitchen.

There are varying schools of thought on how best to prepare an egg. The temptation to whisk, fry, sauté or soufflé is undeniable. Perfect in its simplicity however, I would argue the best preparation is the humble hard boil. Adding nothing and taking away nothing, the hard-boiled egg preserves the ingenuity of nature in its most complete manifestation.

Recently I had an amusing conversation with my friend Sarah about egg salad sandwiches (ESS). She is unapologetic in her admiration for egg salad; especially NYC deli egg salad (yes, there is a difference). For the record, I have always been a fan of the ESS. Somewhere along the line, I had a damn fine ESS and I was sold. However, I realize that some may turn their nose, ruined by elementary memories of grayish egg salad, barely held together by a single flaccid sliver of iceberg lettuce and two nutritionally-bereft thin and soggier-by-the-nanosecond pieces of white bread. This is hospital fare, cafeteria fodder and airport food. This is not a sandwich!

Having been presented with a carton of lovely farm eggs, my path was clear. I would create the perfect Egg Salad Sandwich.

All sandwiches begin with the bread. So I went to the grocery store and stood in the bread aisle for longer than most people should stand in the bread aisle, contemplating my options. I was unmoved. I couldn't create the perfect ESS and then stuff it between two pre-packaged, pre-sliced pieces of bread (even the HFCS-free variety). It occurred to me that I really only had one option so I tossed a few packages of active dry yeast into my basket... I would bake my own.

It didn't matter to me that it was nearly 70 degrees outside and I was preparing to crank my oven up to 400 and sweat it out at 2pm in anticipation of dinner. Spiritual quests demand a higher level of concentration.



My loaf pans were also a gift. They belonged to the Sous Chef's family and were passed down to us this winter. They have the well-loved patina of a simpler day and a healthier table. I used a basic home-style white recipe. Slighty sweet and fluffy on the inside, crusty and light brown on the outside, this would make a noble destiny for the egg salad.



While I let the bread cool I went to work on the egg salad. I decided to make a lemon tarragon egg salad with lots of cracked black pepper. There is something about the fresh tarragon and the sweet yeastiness of the crust that transcends all preconceived notions of ESS. Since I created this dinner out of the kindness of others, I thought it apt to bring Sarah a gift as well: the perfect Egg Salad Sandwich.

Lemon Tarragon Egg Salad Sandwich

8 farm-fresh hard boiled eggs
1/2 c. mayonnaise
Juice of one lemon
1 tsp lemon zest
1 tsp dijon mustard
one bunch of fresh tarragon, finely chopped
1 T. red onion, minced
Salt & Cracked Pepper
lettuce, tomato, thinly-sliced cucumber
hand-sliced, home-style white bread

Brooklyn Peas

I am starting my garden early and inside (note the nasty rainy weather outside). Here are my lovely peas climbing along. They are about 12 inches tall right now and as soon as it gets a touch warmer they will be moving outside to enjoy the summer sunshine.

Mother's Day Trifecta

Cucumber & Watermelon Gazpacho and Deviled Quail Eggs....
Blackberry Granité....
Birthday Nachos...

Mother's Day brunch at the James Beard Foundation followed by a birthday guilty pleasure.

A pretty good argument for why grilling is an outdoor sport.

About a year ago, my mother mailed me a crazy contraption she had located for $5 at a yard sale. The Indoor Grill (left). Fashioned to sit directly on the open gas flame of your stovetop, this nifty kitchen gadget uses steam heat (there is a little water moat thingy underneath the grill surface) to deliver perfectly seared steaks, veggies and fish-- and fast. Up until this point, I have used it to cook many a dinner. It is a true go-to item, perfect for a cold December evening when you are tired of pastas, roasts, soups and lusting for a summer day and perfectly-grilled flank steak. Last night, however, I discovered a glitch in my otherwise perfect plan. The smoke factor. I have 2 kitchen fans, but not even those, plus 2 open windows and an open door could prepare me for the sheer volume of smoke that emerged from this simple dinner. The culprit? Sesame oil. When paired with olive oil, and cooked over an open flame, watch out! We took turns fanning the smoke alarm and making sure the cat didn't escape. After about 5-7 minutes of this we finally sat down to a delicious dinner of grilled shrimp, zucchini and scallions over rice.

QIM's "Outdoor Only" Asian Grill Marinade
1/2 c. olive oil
4 teaspoons sesame oil
2 Tablespoons of Soy Sauce
2 Tablespoons grated fresh ginger
2 Tablespoons minced garlic
Hefty pinch of Chinese 5 Spice Powder
Fresh Ground Pepper
(let sit for a couple hours for veggies/seafood- longer for meats)

I'm a Believer

"The Mexi-Quin Lasagnerole"

So upon the Quinologist's departure I realized that I had nearly a whole bag of quinoa in my pantry. Rather than be undone by my own quinophobia, I consulted the quinologist briefly on quinoa's textural attributes and casserole suitability and scanned the fridge for the supporting cast. What resulted was a deliciously complex, chock-full-of-protein casserole. Here were the layers involved: Spicy cumin tomato quinoa, cilantro garlic cheese, peppers onions and beans and queso blanco. Baked nicely until golden brown, about 45 minutes at 350. I think I am officially over my irrational Q phobia. There's no turning back now....

Lessons from a visiting Quinologist

Please pardon my brief absence from the blogisphere -- I have been digesting...

Gluttony
noun
1.	habitual eating to excess
2.	eating to excess (personified as one of the deadly sins)

see also: depictions of gluttony in art

It all began fairly innocently with a visit from my dear friend, the Quinologist. Our intention was to do some cooking together and tour the city's notable culinary hot spots. What ensued was an unrivaled and oft epic culinary trek to the boundaries of human consumption.....

Day One: A Dairy Queen's Delight

The Egg: quite possibly Nature's perfect food, and also a choice eatery in Brooklyn. So, it was apt that we began the day here and with this: Deviled Egg Salad and Country Ham Biscuit. If you look closely you can see the layers of sharp cheddar cheese and fig jam co-existing in perfect harmony.


We traveled on... and though not having fully digested breakfast, we could not resist one of Manhattan's finest cheese emporiums. While there we picked up a mini jar of white cow yogurt, sweetened only with honey and vanilla beans. Tart and tangy with the smoothness of natural honey, this protein lift prepared us for what was next...

The apothecary! Seriously. Shelf after shelf of herbs, spices and other aromatics... which was perfect because we had already begun to assemble our menu for the coming days... that, and I had ground my very last peppercorn the previous night.

"The Re-Animator"

What can I say. ..Quin/quichology is exhausting... and we needed a pick me up. And we weren't too proud to step into quite possibly the cheesiest bar in the west village. Desperate times my friend. However, the Quinologist is a braver soul than I. Only the universe can know for sure what was in that cocktail but it cannot be argued - whatever it was provided the essential fuel to steamroll ahead.

This is where things started to get ugly. Not only did we wait in line for a cupcake, we did so with gusto and only narrowly avoided an altercation with a like-minded cupcake seeker. Clearly others were harried in their way out the door because we spotted this!

(The shot above depicts the gruesome aftermath of a take away cupcake's fate on the mean streets of Manhattan. Let this be a lesson to you folks -- they give you the box for a reason. Cupcakes are meant to be savored while standing still, not gobbled on the go)

This is "The Map." Few possess the ability to navigate the map, but those that have this rare gift are able to unlock the secrets of the west village. That is all I will say.

After a day of thorough culinary investigation, we met up with the Sous Chef and had some of the best burgers in the city. The photo depicts all that was left the moment we remembered to document dinner. We were too wrapped up with the eating of the burgers to actually take a decent photo. Just imagine a flame broiled burger with cheese, bacon, lettuce, tomato, pickle, onion on a bun. Simple, sublime. But, we were still hungry....

We returned to Brooklyn and made a pit stop at the local cheese emporium -- which is far stinkier than the Manhattan equivalent and therefore better, in my humble opinion. We stocked up as if there were no tomorrow. Lucky for us there was a tomorrow and it included french toast stuffed with what else! Cheese!

Day Two: In the Market for Astronomically-Priced Vegetation

Industrious that we are, we let the baguette sit in a heavenly bath of sweet custard overnight in order to assemble a most-delicious baked french toast, stuffed with mascarpone cheese and strawberries. Made even more perfect with a Bellini.


Russ & Daughters is quite possibly the best place in the city for smoked fish and appetizing. Not only is it family-owned and pristine, it has the finest selection of smoked salmon I have seen. We picked up gravlax and and irish smoked, some whitefish salad and a tin of smoked trout for the Sous Chef for kindly depositing us in the LES. It should be noted that we stopped at R&D after consuming breakfast only to obtain breakfast for the following day. See: industrious.

I am not ashamed to admit that lunch took place almost immediately after breakfast and consisted of pommes frites with pesto mayo and mexican ketchup dipping sauces. The mystery container in the top right corner was also delicious, however shall remain our gluttonous little New York secret.



I talk about the farmers market a lot. It is by far my favorite place in Manhattan. I try to go every Saturday morning and let the market decide what's for dinner. What better way to educate the Quinologist on the delights of big city cooking than at the market... With a feast in mind we obtained lamb chops from a Pennsylvania farmer, beautiful shallots, fresh herbs and the most expensive bag of chard in the history of vegetables, see below:

I will not tell you how much this bag of organic baby rainbow chard cost. I will tell you however, that every stalk was exquisite and hand selected.

Necessary sidebar #1: The Mint Julep. As cool and refreshing as the brisk clip of a thoroughbred on a dewy Kentucky morning, or the familiar waft of a breezy spring afternoon in Bushwick, Brooklyn. You pick.

Necessary sidebar #2. Quinoa. Pronounced (keen-wa)... This was part of our dinner. Not the photo above, but the grain itself. Admittedly, I had a bit of a mental block with this newcomer to my kitchen. However, thanks to the visiting Quinologist, all was made clear and this protein-packed grain made a welcome accompaniment to the rest of the dinner pictured below.

Quinoa Uncut: An Interview with the visiting Quinologist.

Q: Please tell us a little about yourself.

A: Well, I met the Quichologist in junior high school, where we bonded
over our mutual love of translating epic novels from the Latin, as
well as our mutual loathing of the small cow towns we grew up in.
Years later, on a trip to Greece, we found ourselves collectively
swooning over a crepe stand in Rhodes, and our pursuit of gastronomic
greatness began. Today, we are the best of buddies, and though we
sadly live too far apart to cook together frequently, we oft share our
stories of our culinary triumphs and failures in our own respective
cities.

Q: What the hell is quinoa?

A: I have always known quinoa (prounounced keen-wah) as an 'alternative'
grain, although a quick search of Wikipedia over the weekend, when I
was heatedly defending my choice of side dish to the hotly doubting
Quichologist, revealed that it is not a true cereal since it does not
come from a grass. Rather, quinoa is the seeds of a plant called
goosefoot. Who knew?

Q: How did you become an expert on this elusive super-grain?

A: I happen to be an acupuncturist by vocation (so not only were my
gracious hosts subjected to my cooking of hippie food over the
weekend, both the Quichologist and Sous Chef were newly exposed to the
wonderful world of needle treatment as well). From a holistic
nutrition perspective, quinoa is often touted as one of the world's
perfect foods. It is high in protein, gluten-free, and has a lower
glycemic index than most cereal grains, as well as packing a
respectable amino acid balance. And, as the Quichologist learned,
despite her initial misgivings ... it tastes darn good.

Q: What is your favorite quinoa recipe?

A: I've never really cooked quinoa from a recipe ... usually I just cook
it and throw in whatever I have in the kitchen that sounds good at the
time, occasionally despite the disgruntled mumblings of my doubtful
but loving friends (ehem). It is very good with any kind of chopped
dried fruit, such as raisins or apricots, toasted nuts, and a little
fruit juice or wine. I also like it plain with nothing more than
butter, parmesan cheese, and maybe a little salt and pepper. This
time I dry toasted the seeds before boiling them, which really brought
out the nutty flavor of the grain.

Q: What coping mechanisms or treatments do you recommend for one who is
quinophobic?

A: A good swift kick in the pants by a crunchy new-age holism-promoting
friend. I am available for consultations and pro-quinoa admonitions
by phone for a small fee.

Q: What do you think quinoa can offer the 2008 Democratic Presidential nominee?

A: Clearly, a sense of being reconnected to the earth from which these
plants sprout forth to nourish us. And, as quinoa has been an
important staple in South America for thousands of years, and is still
produced there in large quantities, public displays of affection for
quinoa can also promote positive foreign relations. Not that I can
imagine why our country would need a boost in the foreign relations
department ....

Thank you Quinologist for that thought-provoking inside look into the oft overlooked underbelly of quinoa. -QIM


Organic Pennsylvania lamb chops with a dried cherry and port wine reduction. Served with a sauteed rainbow chard and roasted beet salad and caramelized onion and white wine quinoa.

Lavender-infused chocolate honey tart. Served with Port. Divine.

Day Three: Quattro de Bagel?

I have a soft spot for a true New Yorker's breakfast. Smoked salmon, gravlax, tomato, onion, capers, cream cheese and fresh bagels. Maybe it's the water as they say... or maybe it was the hard earned trek through the bowels of Manhattan to obtain our gorgeous spread. Either way, this breakfast always wins my heart. Maybe it's genetic :)

So we were a day shy of Cinco de Mayo... it was still an occasion worthy of festivity. Homemade guacamole, homemade tortilla chips and a peach-nectar salsa accompanied a garlic and cilantro marinated steak and my queso blanco grilled corn-on-the-cob.


And thus concluded our three day tour of plenty. With weary feet and expanding waistlines we surrendered our forks...