Cooking by the book

So here I was on Friday, cooking up a storm. Boss man wanted things done, and he wanted them done in a timely fashion, so that he could get home before sundown. "We need two soups, a grain, a vegetable, and a bean." Wow. Looks like we really are running through the stuff, and will have to make more. So I set to work.

The first thing that popped into my head was biriyani. It's a North Indian dish involving basmati rice, lots of fragrant spices, lots of yummy vegetables, and lots and lots and lots of fat. OK, so maybe that's not the best fit for Chow, seeing as how everything here is on the healthy side of things. He'll never ask me to go fat free on something, but Boss Man cringes when I start to break out the heavier hand when it comes to fats. So I chose to go the route of pilaf instead. Far fewer vegetables, a hint of saffron, some other fragrant spices, and that ever so lovely Basmati rice. I typed out the recipe for myself, and showed it to Cliff. He said, "You know what you're doing. Go for it."

Here's the thing. Although Cliff and I are highly creative when it comes to the kitchen, we're very careful to write down the recipes first, for various reasons. For one thing, when it's all laid out in front of you in black and white, you can quickly cost it out. It's part of the reason that the biriyani would never work: on paper, it's a fairly expensive and fatty dish. It'd have hit the cutting room floor as soon as he saw how much oil it calls for.

Another reason is so that one of us can hand it off to the next person, if need be. If I don't know what he's doing precisely, I won't step in to do more than stir the pot really quick, or turn down the heat if he asks me to. If it's all written down in detail, then we can jump in and take over if one of us has to dash off and take care of something else.

Of course, when it's written down, you have a roadmap to the dish. You tend not to forget things, like that pinch of nutmeg, or that dash of black pepper that just make the dish sing. And, when all is said and done, you can look over your work, and see if it all came out as expected. Unless there's some sort of starting point, there's really no sense of where to tweak to fix it. And how many of you can actually remember exactly how much of something you put into the pot? And what if you want to repeat your results? Any good chef (and scientist) knows that if you don’t record everything, there’ll be a step that you missed. There’s a few things that I’ve made so many times that I’ve got it memorised. Even so, I’ll still pull the recipe when I’m at Chow, because I can’t afford to be inconsistent with the results, or to lose an ingredient. (At home is a different story; I tend to be a little lazy when at home.)

However, all this said, Cliff does trust my judgement, and will give his opinion only if he thinks I’m making a choice that’s not good for Chow.

All that being said, I didn’t bother to write down a recipe for the soup (black eyed peas with collard greens, and the other was an African groundnut stew). All those things that I said would go right when you have something in front of you went wrong when I made the soups. The pilaf went off without a hitch, because there was still a fair bit of time. But then, time started ticking, and I had to get a move on. Soup number one came out just fine, because I had the time to do it. Soup number two came out fantastic, but I had to do it all myself. This meant that I couldn’t really pass on the baton to the next person, until it was at a point where it was “OK, when the timer goes off, turn off the stove.” D’oh! This meant that I wasn’t out the door till fairly late on, compared to when I’m usually out.

Lesson for the day: write it down!

So there I am, toasting the spices, toasting the basmati rice, simmering those veggies for the groundnut soup, simmering the beans for the other soup, and making the whole place smell lovely, and just generally grooving to the cooking vibe, when Cliff and I got to talking about the spices I was using. The spices I was using for the pilaf were: cumin, coriander, nutmeg, salt, pepper, fennel, cardamom, and saffron. All of them would have been equally happy on Cliff’s pantry, just as it would be in my own. It’s not because we’re both into International cooking, but because both of us come from cultures that love complex flavours! Aside from the saffron and cardamom, all the rest of those spices could be found in any home with a reasonably stocked pantry.

It’s interesting how we do come from far-flung corners of the globe, but here in the USA, we’ve all brought a little taste of home back with us, and now people in middle america are familiar with coriander (the spice and the herb!), which was unheard of 50 years ago. We borrow from each other, and take what we like from each others’ cultures. It’s a wonderful thing, because we’ve got so much to learn from each other, and it all starts when we come together and vibe to it.

Event went as planned

We had an event on Sunday, and it looks like it went off without a hitch!

Hi Dino,

I just wanted to thank you and Cliff (and Henriette, who was wonderful!) for an amazing evening! Everything worked out beautifully, just as I had hoped. The talk was fascinating, the food was delicious, the participants were enthused and engaged. I also wanted to share with you that quite a few people mentioned to me that they really enjoyed their meal, and that they're planning to come back on their own in the future.

Again, thank you for helping us make this happen - I'm only sorry that I didn't get a chance to meet you and thank you in person!
All the best,
Naomi

(I think she meant Harriet, but aside from that, everything else is accurate.)

Kosher Veg list: http://heebnvegan.blogspot.com/2009/11/veg-friendly-kosher-restaurants-in-nyc.html

Correction for Thanksgiving.

Hey all. I need to make a correction on the Thanksgiving closing hour. We close at 5:30, not at 10. Sorry for the mistake.

the sleep world!

okay, time 4 bed, i tell hux. he says, "b4 we sleep, let's go under the covers daddy and make a tent-tunnel, a cavernous cavey place, and use the computer 2 light it up and warm it up." so we do. and it is warm and it is lit up under here. it is cozy and nice. okay, time 4 sleep hux. hux says, "off in2 space life in a dream!" and then, "i am the g-d, g-d, g-d of all, all, all things, and i say off w the computer or time 4 a big knuckle sandwich. time 4 the sleep world. cyclonic double breath kick. hyper point. chomp along critical punch. special power attack. 550 damage scorch bomb. warrior seeds. eye-ball up monster. pinch whippie. eee, eee, eee. ppp, ppp, ppp. rahrr, rahrr, rahrr."

never give up!

when putting 2gether the seitan roast 2day, dino and i wanted 2 stuff it w spinach-basil-arugula... a green leafy pesto concoction, which is the traditional way 2 go about makin' pesto; however, we were on the short side of the green leafy vegetables. "what should we do?" he asked. just so u all know, this question is a kinda larger life question if u wax philosophical; meaning, never give up, there's always a way 2 find what ur lookin' 4. as a matter of fact, there r many ways 2 the answer, just dont fret 4 2 long, chronology is a tickin' away. but re: this pesto question, we steamed some carrots and made one-mean heady, delicious carrot pesto. yup, heady and delish!

vegan pesto

green leafy veg, or steamed root veg, bean, tuber (just dont use a veg that is liquidy.)

nutritional yeast

sweet white miso (omit is want soy free.)

toasted nuts or seeds (watch out 4 chinese pine nuts or u might come down w pine mouth!)

minced garlic

xv olive oil

fresh lemon juice

salt

pepper

all in2 food processor til creamy smooth.

tiny israel: sidewalk, nyc.

VEGAN Cupcakes!

From Andreas T.

Yummy VEGAN Cupcakes (from Sacred Chow)! at Think Coffee.

Seitan Massage

Boss Man's back in the kitchen, with that giant mass of wheat, just whacking away to massage the seitan into being. The first time I'd seen him at the task was years back when I started working here, and he was doing office work, plating work, washing dishes, cleaning the kitchen, and doing everything else, except breathe or rest. It was nuts, but someone had to do it, right? In those days, I was only obliquely aware of the goings on in the kitchen, because I was busy waiting tables.

The thing about running a business is that you need to use everyone's talents to the peak of its abilities. If there is someone else who can easily replace your job, you shouldn't be doing it, if indeed there are more advanced level things you could (and should) be doing to move said business forward. In other words, neither of us was doing those special "only you" sort of things, and we were both ending up tired. AND the customers weren't coming. And we weren't fulfilling orders on time. ANNNNND we couldn't do special stuff.

It all took me back, because I was chatting to Boss Man about making the seitan (not the one from vital wheat gluten; the one from wheat flour that you massage until all the starch is washed out) on a regular basis only a couple of months ago, before he plunged headfirst into the kitchen. He got a gleam in his eye, as he described the process. He described how you lovingly removed off all those layers of starch, and you shaped it into what it'd become.

"Why not just pitch it in the stand mixer?"

"No! It has to be done by hand." He looked affronted.

It dawned on me why he didn't use machinery except when absolutely necessary. Everything was done by hand, because that way, everything has character. Although the food is consistent, it's not homogenised, by any stretch of the imagination. Heck, what's the point of doing everything organic, and fair trade, and using the best quality ingredients, if you're not going to take a little time to make it just so? Sure, the food processor will churn it out faster. But will it make it better? If the answer is no, then Chef P opts to do it by hand.

Unfortunately, before he'd gotten comfortable in the role of head chef (which means being that guy who has to lay down the law, and who is the front of the line when things go south), he didn't have the mental or physical energy to fathom handling that large heft of seitan on a regular basis. "It's such a superb dish, but it's a drag to make, because it's so much work that you end up exhausted at the end."

I reassured him, "Well, it's not gluten free anyway."

"Yeah," he sighed.

He'd make it on rare occasions, but not on a regular basis.

And this is why I brought all this up. Because I saw him in the kitchen today, wrangling that seitan for the third time in a month! I gave him a significant look of concern, and he laughed. "It's easy, Dino. And look at how beautiful it is." And beautiful it was.

What a change just a little bit of time can make. He used to speak fondly of making the seitan brisket, just like his grandma would make, with apples, and dates, and spices, and carrots and other veggies. But he hated doing the actual seitan part, because it felt like (to him at the time) a lot of work. Now, I see him cranking out that seitan quite happily.

Which means that he'll be able to put it on the menu more frequently, so that people can come in and enjoy it. It's the sort of thing that you won't and can't get anywhere else, which is fine, because we're here to bring it to you.

Sacred Chow showed up, defying our pessimism!

Read the full story here.

Sacred Chow on Sullivan Street in the West Village was Biella’s second choice. It’s vegan, organic, kosher, using locally grown produce where possible and Fairtrade where not. On their website, which features a cartoon cow in lotus position, they also claim to follow “an ethical attitude to work and wages”.

The best dishes are small plates, tapas-style at $5.75 each or 3 for $15. Biella eats here often, so I asked her to pick a good selection. I let her choice of tofu through, despite a long-standing aversion, though I did stand my ground and veto the Brussels sprouts. How did Brussels sprouts inveigle their way into the edible vegetable category?

We had no complaints about the service ... Biella had been surprised they agreed to deliver – “it’s such a small operation” – so I was prepared for a long wait.

As I was about to express my disappointment that I was flying to London next morning when I should clearly be on my way to San Francisco, Sacred Chow showed up, defying our pessimism by delivering in good time.

We’d ordered five small dishes. The pumpkin risotto was delightful on flavour ...

I was surprised to be won over by the tofu. This wasn’t superfluous chunks of gunk meant to serve as some sort of meat substitute but rather lightly grilled with taste and texture.

We’d ordered the shitake mushrooms and the broccoli in place of the Brussels sprouts I’d banned. The broccoli was steamed and gently curried and the mushrooms firm, though the sauce was a little too tart. The sunflower lentil paté, Biella’s favourite, was also good.

Risotto Croquettes

On Demetrius's request, I'd like to take a moment to talk about risotto croquettes. It's based on this Italian recipe to use up leftover risotto. You see, risotto is a quite delicious, but also quite filling, and often times, one has enough left over for one or two servings, tops, but not enough to take the effort of reheating it the next day. Instead, one makes little deep fried croquettes, and leaves them out on the counter the next day for the family to snack on during the day. It's quite a popular treat in bars and cafes in Italy. They're crispy on the outside, creamy on the inside, and heaven all around.

In the original recipe, one makes a pot of risotto. One serves it along with a generous helping of green salad, some freshly ground black pepper, and plenty of lovely wine. Of course, with all Italian food, it is required that one have over a large group of family or friends to share it with. It is absolutely required that one tell stories, laugh, and joke, and have a wonderful time while eating it. You do not eat risotto quickly. You savour every creamy dreamy bite. You taste all the subtle flavours that the cook took time in developing slowly. After eating your fill, you sit back, and enjoy the company of your friends, the cool crisp wine, the pleasant breezes, and just let everything settle before getting up to do anything else.

The next day, you rummage around your fridge for a snack, and find that little box of risotto that you had left over from your meal the previous night. But you also look at your expanding waist line, and realise that maybe having little balls of deep fried risotto wouldn't be the kindest thing to do to your wardrobe. You want to continue to fit into it as much as possible.

What to do?

Bake!

At Chow, we don't use left over risotto. We make a fresh batch. We let it cool thoroughly (and get downright chilled). Then, on a lightly oiled parchment-lined baking sheet, we form the risotto into little 2-bite rounds, and space them apart evenly. They get quickly flattened out, to maximise the crispy surface area. Finally, they go into the oven till they're golden brown and crispy on the outside, and tender and creamy on the inside. They're allowed to cool to room temperature before removing from the parchment, and are arranged on a plate, ready to be devoured. It's quite delicious with any tomato or mustard based dressing or sauce. And, just like our Italian teachers, they are best eaten in the company of good friends.