Last Thursday Tom showed TV personality Jesse Jones how to make and cook plin at Palace Kitchen. First Tom showed Jesse how to grind the slow-cooked milk roasted pork to make the filling. Then our Pasta Goddess, Martha Francis showed Jesse how to pipe the filling onto freshly made pasta sheets and shape the plin. Then Tom showed Jesse how to cook the plin and finish them in sage butter. The segment aired on King 5 TV last Friday at 11pm. Here’s the link.
Jesse also tests a stain remover called Blox to see if it works. Tom helpfully splashed red wine all over Jesse’s apron for the test.
April 19th, 2010 | 3 Comments »
About 3 years ago my husband, Frank, and I took a culinary tour of Istanbul led by Ana Sortun, a friend and the chef/owner of Boston’s Oleana restaurant. This trip transformed my understanding and appreciation of Turkish food. Under Ana’s enthusiastic tutelage, which exposed us to a wide variety tastes throughout the city of Istanbul, I came to understand Turkish cuisine for what it really is- the culmination of centuries of history and culture in a very large country that geographically cuts a wide swath and shares culinary influences from from places such as Georgia, Syria, Iraq, Greece, Armenia, Lebanon… a cuisine with an astonishing range of subtlety and complexity…. perhaps my favorite cuisine in the world.
One of the most eye opening of our culinary adventures was a trip across the Bosphorus to the Asian side of the city and the neighborhood of Kadikoy where Musa Dagdeviren’s restaurant Ciya is located. (One of the many amazing things about Istanbul is the fact that that the city straddles both Asia and Europe.) There we watched Musa and his cooks make pide, flatbread, lamb “pizza” (or lahmacun) and pilaf in bridal veil in the wood burning oven, then we were seated in the restauarant for a long tasting menu (23 items! including many unfamiliar dishes like “candied green walnut, tomato, and bitter orange in kaymak.”)
All of this is to explain my deep sense of pleasure in an article called “Letter from Istanbul: The Memory Kitchen,” by Elif Batuman in the April 19 issue of The New Yorker. Batuman’s parents were both born in Turkey, and though Batuman herself lives abroad (in San Francisco for example) as a writer and academic, her family history gives her special insight into Musa’s mission which can be described this way:
“Tapping into a powerful vein of collective food memory, Ciya was producing the kind of Turkish cuisine that Turkey itself, racing toward the West and the future seemed to have abandoned.”
(I can only link to an abstract of the article, not to the article itself, however, here’s an enchanting slide show with voice-over by Batuman that you must watch.)
Bautman goes on to report that:
“There is a wide gap in Turkey between restaurant food- grilled kebab or fish , and meat pastries like borek and lahmacun, all of which are typically prepared by men- and the food that people eat at home: stews, pilafs, dolmas, typically prepared by women. Perhaps this disjunction explains some of the cathartic experiences of Ciya customers. ‘Sometimes one of them will start crying and it spreads to other tables,’ Musa said.”
I already knew that Musa and his wife publish a quarterly magazine called Yemek ve Kultur (Food and Culture). I have a print of the cover of one of the issues of this magazine framed and hanging in my kitchen, as a souvenir of our trip. Ciya restaurant and the magazine are all part of Musa’s ambitious effort to “document, restore, and reinvent Turkish food culture.” But a new thing I learned from the article is that Musa is getting close to his big dream of opening a Turkish Culinary Institute which will include “a school, a library, a research institute, and a publishing house.”
I learned much more from this article- much that is interesting, remarkable, eye-opening, moving and beautiful. But since I am not anywhere near as accomplished a writer as Elif Batuman, I urge you to pick up a copy of the magazine and read the whole article for yourself.
The photos, from my trip to Istanbul:
top: Ciya
second from top: Musa showing us how to make cacek (cucumber yogurt)
third from top: flatbreads and lahmacun from the woodburning oven
bottom: candied fruits, vegetables, nuts, olives etc from the refrigerted case at Ciya
April 18th, 2010 | 1 Comment »
What a surprise to encounter this sublime chocolate shop located on a strip of Westlake Ave that does not instantly spring to mind when you think: chic retail. (Though clearly this area will be changing rapidly with the upcoming development of South Lake Union.) Robyn and I strolled inside and were greeted by the manager and chocolate maven, Marie-Francoise Barnhart (photo bottom), who filled us in on the Claudio Corallo story. Apparently Claudio himself has been growing cacao pods on the tiny African island of Principe for a decade, giving the cacao pods the same careful attention usually given to “olives that produce great olive oil or grapes that yield fine wine.” The chocolate is made right on the island where the cacao pods are grown- no small feat involving many generators and much patience since there is no electricity.
Claudio Corallo chocolates are sold retail at various shops including this flagship store where you can taste the chocolates before you pick some up for yourself. The quality is truly world class. We tasted the 100% chocolate- which means no sugar and therefore not one most people would nibble on- yet no bitterness at all- completely suave and smooth. The 73.5% was the most delicious for chocolate enjoyment, and some of these chocolates were flavored with things like orange and raisins. The gengibre (ginger) is mind-blowing. Ginger is a strong flavor, yet it was perfectly balanced by the smooth, mouth-filling chocolate. Their cocoa nibs were exceptional also- again very mild and not at all bitter. Perhaps the most amazing tastes were the special large, shelled cocoa beans that Marie showed us- similar to the nibs but not cracked into bits. She handed one to each of us and said “they taste like olives.” I thought that was pretty hard to believe- then I got the haunting olive taste at the edge of my palate. Remarkable! Marie suggested they would be good on a cheese plate, and I think she’s right.
Another beautiful item was a small box of chocolate discs with bits of ginger, orange zest, and hazelnuts embedded in them. What a sensational hostess gift! Marie also offered us luscious tastes of chocolate macarons and brownies that were made with Claudio Corallo chocolate.
Stop by the shop soon and taste this top quality artisan chocolate which I believe must rate among the very best chocolates in the world. And here it is available right in our own backyard! On Westlake Ave!
April 15th, 2010 | No Comments »
Not halibut baked in paper… that was later.
Not the bread… that was later
Not the pie… that was later.
Growing up in Montreal, soup was always there. Every meal, every day of the week, you always started with soup.
So that’s probably what I made for the first time.
Shop for a soup bone or a chicken carcass. Throw in all those vegetables. Make a nice stock. It has to be a vegetable soup: carrots, celery, onions, tomatoes… We used everything in season- just like we do now. Serve with a nice crusty baguette and that would be your meal!
(Editor’s note: This is our 9th entry in the staff blog contest- “The First Thing I Learned to Cook.”)
April 15th, 2010 | No Comments »
Tom Douglas was emcee at a gala sold out event at the Paramount last night celebrating Seattle Weekly’s Voracious food awards. Multiple restaurants served their best bites, and multiple bars offered up unique cocktails. Tom was emcee of the Chef Showdown between Jason Stratton (Spinasse) and Seth Caswell (Emmer & Rye). Each chef was paired with a student from the Art Institute of Seattle, and Seth won the competititon.
April 15th, 2010 | No Comments »
All that mobile food talk motivated me to swing by the new taco truck on 3rd avenue between Bell and Blanchard (just south of the dog park, in the vacant lot on the other side of Dan’s Belltown Grocery.) It looks appropriately ramshackle, behind a chain link fence, and already bits of the signage have fallen down. What caught my eye was the beef tongue tacos. Then the beef cheek. I ordered both, plus a sangria flavored Mexican soft drink at the guy’s suggestion (not bad- and I usually HATE soft drinks). Anyway, for a buck-fifty apiece, they were great. Fresh corn tortillas, green tomatillo sauce, shredded cabbage and lettuce for crunch, some fresh cilantro. Sliced lemons and nicely pickled peppers for garnish. All very good. The cheeks are definitely the best flavor-for-the-money thing going on in Belltown. The truck is called Tacos El Campesino. The guy says he’s only been there about two weeks. He was very nice and helpful. I should have asked his name. The only worry is the truck was desserted at noon… I hope more people catch on. I better blog it!
(Editor’s note: check out Seattle Foodies under “Blog Buddies” to your right.)
April 14th, 2010 | No Comments »
Cake in my easy bake oven!! How fascinating that 2 light bulbs could turn a gooey batter into a little warm cake!!!
(Editor’s note: Robyn is the 8th winner in our staff blog contest: The First Thing I Learned to Cook.)
April 14th, 2010 | 5 Comments »
Spring in the Skagit Vallet, and every good Northwesterner knows that means just one thing: fish and chips at La Conner Pub. It’s practically a ritual rite of the season. Sure, these days there are any number of charming bakeries, bistros, and brewpubs around town, but this dear old stand-by has an honesty and dedication to fried food that deserves a hearty “hello!” from hungry visitors.
We settled into our window table and watched a harbor seal paddling around in the Swinomish Channel. First came our two glasses of cold, cheap white wine and then lunch. I had fish and chips, thick battered and brown from the deep fryer, all snuggled next to hot, hot fries and a plastic cup of fresh, dilly tartar sauce. Extra tartar sauce is mandatory, and our cheery server made sure I had plenty. My wife went for fried scallops, and they were a good contrast to my fish: crunchy and crisp and bursting with steaming scallop juice. I’d have let out a war hoop of joy, but the bar crowd was watching a Fred Astaire movie on TV and one should be careful not to interrupt other rituals in progress.
Someone said somethign about a few tulips around La Conner right now, but fried food at the Pub is a pretty tough act to follow. Plan accordingly.
April 14th, 2010 | 1 Comment »
Jeff and I just returned from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, and were so thrilled to find a wide diversity of all kinds of different cuisines! We even had some remarkably great and authentic Thai food. One of our main objectives though was to find “The Great Taco Stand,” and we found it! Fortunately, too: it was just half a block away from our hotel and right by the beach.
What made it so marveous was not only how simple the ingredients were, how good quality they were, but it was all made with love by 2 beautiful women. You would place your order, and the mother would take the maize dough, form it into a ball, then press it in between a plastic sheet between 2 heavy slabs of wood with a lever. The the daughter would oversee the tortillas on the griddle as athey heated up and cooked and then prepare the meat to go on top of it. During our visits, it would be common to see the mother sitting at one of the tables with the grilled chicken in a bowl and shredding it while she talked to the few other workers. It was a good sensation to feel like you were in momma’s kitchen.
My favorites would be to typically order 2 chicken and 2 pork tacos, add some hot red sauce, a little tomatillo salsa, and then a generous squeeze of fresh lime. They only garnished it with minced onions and chopped cilantro, and we would request that they top them with a little bit of their whole beans. The ceramic pot on the griddle contained the beans so that they remained warm. The beans had a marvelous al dente firmness.
Little did we know at first, but we would eat at this stand every single day: 7 days in a row! Even on our last day, we ate a large breakfast before getting a cab to the airport, but we had to have our last meal of tacos- the trip would not have been the same. After we gobbled down our precious tacos, and since Jeff is tremendously more fluent in Spanish than I, he told them how much we enjoyed eating there every day, how delicious the food was, and that it really was one of the highlights of our trip. They were so sweet, and it was really sad to say goodbye to some people and food that really enhanced our travels. Jeff didn’t know it at the time, but I got tears in my eyes as we had to cross the street to leave. Good food experiences are the highlight of my life.
April 13th, 2010 | 1 Comment »
Most of my favorite childhood memories take place next to my mother in our warm, narrow kitchen. I’ve been cooking with her since I was tall enough, with the help of a worn, wooden stool, to reach the counter tops. I’m still not sure what I learned to cook first, maybe her sweet spaghetti sauce, tangy chicken picatta, or our Christmas morning tradition of corned chipped beef. The most vivid memory, and the one that has come in handy more times than I can count, is Pesto Days.
Pesto Days are called such because it was a day long process. I have made pesto so many times as a cook, and I know that it hardly takes more than ten minutes, but with my mother it was an event. We would wake up early on a summer morning, hop into the Volvo, and head down to River Road in Puyallup. It’s lined with a patchwork of farms and vegetable stands with the season’s best advertised in hand painted signs. My mother and I would pull into her favorite, Terry’s Berries, a large stand with a myriad of fresh fruit, flowers, veggies, and herbs. I would run around poking and prodding, picking up gourds and stalks. The smell of hot ground and produce sends me back there no matter where I am. Mama would talk to the owners, people she had undoubtedly created relationships with from years of being a loyal patron. We would leave a sack of random things that I had picked out, and two or three overflowing paper grocery bags of fragrant, sweet basil.
Waiting at home there was a huge block of Parmesan to be grated and a bag of pine nuts (or sunflower seeds when money was tight) that she had gotten from Costco the day before. We would pull out the ancient food processor, some lemons, and the olive oil and go to work. We would stuff the basil into the processor with the cheese on top. After painstakingly peeling countless cloves of garlic and tossing them in the mix, we’d slowly add the lemon juice, pine nuts, salt, and finally the oil until the pesto was “done.”
I’d always ask her how many nuts went in, or how much cheese she used, and I would always get an answer that still rings throughout the kitchen at home and here at Dahlia: “Until it’s good, until it’s done.” This would repeat itself for hours, interrupted only by iced coffee breaks in the back yard and toasting bread for samples. The house would be filled with the scent of fresh basil and toasty pine nuts for what seemed like a week.
Our freezer would suddenly be filled with all shapes and sizes of Tupperware filled with the delicious green paste. Whenever we thawed a container, my mind would blissfully float back to our wonderful summer ritual. Thankfully that memory has stuck with me, and every time I make pesto for the Tuscan Bread Salad, a smile creeps across my lips and I think of my favorite days, Pesto Days.
(Editor’s notes: this is the 7th entry in our staff blog contest, “The First Thing I Learned to Cook.”
Photos courtesy “Terry’s Berries” website)
April 13th, 2010 | No Comments »
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