Short Orders

My most recent food writing assignment, write 3 100-word paragraphs on a product, restaurant dish, and ingredient of my choosing. Is anyone shocked that gin, french fries, and bacon are heralded?

Spiritual Awakening

Gin is a wonderful spirit. If the desire to actually taste the alcohol in your beverage makes you avoid vodka in favor of something like gin, consider buying a bottle of Hendrick’s. Distilled in Scotland, Hendrick’s Gin is infused with a special blend of greenery including cucumber and rose petals, giving it very unique floral and vegetal notes. Instead of a lime wedge, garnish a Hendrick’s gin and tonic with thinly sliced cucumber. Try one of the unconventional recipes on the Hendrick’s website like the Blueberry Thyme, where the subtle floral flavors of the gin are heightened by the addition of more fruit and herbs. No matter the concoction, you will feel very, very classy.
Available at most liquor stores, www.hendricksgin.com.

Cheese Fries, Reborn

Instead of putting off the inevitable alcohol-induced decision to eat something deliciously deep-fried until evening’s end, make cheese fries an essential part of your night on the town. Head to Deep Ellum in Allston and order the Truffled Gorgonzola French Fries ($6). You will feel more sophisticated than the normal nacho cheese crowd as you indulge in perfectly salted, crisp fries nestled beneath a creamy, white truffle-infused, Gorgonzola sauce. Plenty for two to share, this starter is easy enough on the wallet to guiltlessly enjoy one or two of Deep Ellum’s classic cocktails or a couple beers from their rotating draft menu. Your taste buds and your wallet will not be disappointed.
Deep Ellum Bar, 477 Cambridge Street, Allston, 617-787-BEER, www.deepellum-boston.com.

Smoke It

Oh Bacon. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Your porky goodness adds a smoky surprise to stews, pep to pastas, and substance to breakfast. Minnesota-based Prairie Pride Farm provides the discerning pork fan with traditional hickory smoked (in a real smoker!) bacon. For an extra zing, order “The BEST Black Pepper Bacon you have ever had” ($10.95/ lb.). With no MSG and no nitrates, this bacon is easy to reconcile with your newest health kick if you can’t bear to be without the smokiness that gives such a unique flavor to whatever you deem worthy. You don’t need to be too adventurous, though. Just imagine what farmhouse bacon does to a BLT!
Prairie Pride Farm, 59597 185th St., Mankato, MN, 1-866-245-PORK, www.prairiepridemn.com

The Deal

Here's what I'm going to do...I'm going to post my food writing assignments on this here blog therefore updating it while simultaneously getting my work done. Oh, I am a sly one, am I not?

After-School Viewing Pleasure

Of all the cooking shows I used to watch, I most fondly remember the “Great Chefs” series. After elementary and middle school, I would hop on the bus home and spend the ride wondering what each chef would make. I was absolutely thrilled when the cameras would take me to kitchens in France, Spain, Italy, and just about anywhere. My mom, on the other hand, said that watching any given episode of “Great Chefs” was like watching paint dry. Three different, often non-English speaking chefs would wordlessly construct an appetizer, entree, and dessert in his or her restaurant’s kitchen. Pots and pans would clatter in the background and somewhere else unseen, the nondescript hum of an appliance would drone through the entire segment.

I watched the “Great Chefs” series as it moved across the United States and throughout the world. It inspired me to go on journeys in my own kitchen; to cook and to watch my mom cook, to ask her questions like, “is that pasta al dente?” or “did you know that if you deglaze that pan, all that stuff on the bottom will make a great sauce?” I bet she just loved listening to her young daughter’s culinary pointers. From “Great Chefs” I learned words like creme fraiche, ganache, macerate, sear, garnish, ramekin…I could go on and on. I would beg my parents to take me to restaurants where I could procure such strange and novel things. No, the diner was no longer good enough for this budding gourmand.

It was on “Great Chefs” where I first saw creme brulee. I blame it for my longstanding obsession with the stuff. Delicate vanilla custard topped with sugar…and torched! It fascinated me. I wanted to see and taste it myself. I rattled on about it for months and my parents, realizing that I was slightly different than the average “mac and cheese from a box is all I want” child, decided to indulge me on a family trip to Disney World. It is not the Peter Pan ride or my picture with Mickey that I remember from that trip. I remember the creme brulee. Not every eight-year-old walks into Disney’s Bocuse-owned French restaurant, shuns the kids’ menu and orders such stuff as dreams are made on. I, however, was not every eight-year-old.

I began with a poached salmon mousse, scented with dill, topped with wafer-thin cucumber slices, presented on a fresh baguette. My parents laughed, the waiter looked on in disbelief, and I devoured the entire thing. The dessert menu arrived and even though I read it several times, marveling at all the things I had seen only on television, I knew what I wanted. I ordered my creme brulee and a decaf coffee. This was followed by more stares by our bewildered French waiter, first at me, then at my parents to make sure that I was in my right mind. When all was settled, it arrived. A pristine ramekin, the caramelized sugar coating, the custard just beneath. A single spoon lay next to it. I knew what to do. Crack the sugary glaze; scoop it and some custard into a single spoonful, taste and savor. I still remember how it felt when it reached my tongue. A burnt, sugary crunch. A cool, creamy custard. Oh, that custard. How the pure white was flecked with vanilla bean. How the layer nearest to the sugar was still warm from the torch. How it all combined to become the greatest sensation of my short life. My eyes widened, I smiled uncontrollably, the French waiter patted me on the head and said, “she must be French.” My parents smiled, too, now convinced that I was not going to be a lawyer. As we left, the taste lingering in my mouth, I could not help but hum the theme of “Great Chefs.”

boston v. montreal

Okay,
I know this is technically a food blog, and what I have to say is only slightly food-related, but I'm going for it anyway. Mainly because I think a grand total 3 people read this thing and I am highly amused by the current goings on in my fair city. It is snowing. As I write this, teeny tiny flakes are swirling about the big tree outside of my window. I am watching them somewhat nostalgically, remembering my window seat in my last apartment in Montreal, gazing at very a very similar scene while nibbling on a chocolate-almond croissant from La Gascogne and sipping a cappuccino...see? There's your food reference.

The funny thing is, when Boston is supposed to get a foot of snow, people freak out! The newscasters talk about it for days, predicting the exact time that the first snowflake will touch down. People talk about it for days, too, wondering if they will have to go to work, how much longer it will take to get there, and whether or not it will actually happen. Well, I'll be darned, it's happening. Now, the funny thing is, Boston is a mere five hours from Montreal, where a foot of snow is never newsworthy and believe you me, a snow day just means a day with snow. Restaurants and grocery stores don't bat an eye, the streets are plowed and the sidewalks are vacuumed while the city sleeps, and school (at least McGill) is never, ever canceled. Besides the school part, I really liked that about Montreal. It fully accepts the elements as part of daily life and refuses to be affected by a little (or a lot) of snow.

The scene in Boston is a wee bit different, as I have discovered firsthand:

1) My job interview was postponed. Even though the weathermen had come to the conclusion that the snow would not start until around 1:00, which I am impressed, was rather accurate, and even though my interview was at 9:00 this morning, much worry and frantic emailing ensued resulting in what will most likely be one of the longest and least enjoyable weekends of my life.

2) Apparently a foot of snow = the apocalypse for the Whole Foods clientele. I attempted to pop in during work hours to avoid the usual evening crowd only to be met by empty shelves, hoards of stressed out yuppies, and an overall tenseness in the air that lead to a rather unpleasant shopping experience dotted by old ladies devouring hot meals in the middle of the cereal aisle (I hate public eaters), a severe lack of shopping carts and baskets, and check-out lines through all the way to the back of the store only to be met by lines spanning the entire butcher/cheese counter vicinity. Feeling overwhelmed and somewhat superior, I grabbed what I needed and hightailed it to the express counter and somehow managed to get in and out of the store in under 20 minutes. The sympathetic check-out guy told me to make a daring escape through the entrance as I wished him luck as I'm sure it would only get worse once the masses realized how low they were running on 365 Organic Bottled Water.

What have I to conclude from all of this? Montreal has made me strong. I found the snow to be downright enjoyable as I walked home with my snow storm essentials (tonic water for my gin, potato chips, some ingredients for easy rice and bean patties, and hot chocolate mix) in hand. I know this is all a part of adjusting to a new place and new mannerisms among its residents. I feel lucky to have been able to see how the snow-accustomed live and to learn from those experiences in preparation for hours of enjoyment watching frantic Bostonians fight over that last wedge of brie as outside, the snow begins to fall.

- Rachel B.

Eating Boston.

So I know this is probably long overdue, but the truth is, when you move, it takes a while to figure out the gastronomic standouts of a city. I have been here only three months and in some ways it's gone fast and in some ways it's been infinitely slow. I currently work a crappy part-time retail job, which leaves little money to spend on food and even less to spend on booze. What kind of a life away from Long Island is that? Anyway, I'm doing the best I can and to prove it, here's a little epicurean rundown of life in Boston so far...

Good Eats -
1) Orinoco, Brookline Village.
They call it "Latin Kitchen," but I was told the food is more Venezuelan than anything else; and it is fabulous. They don't take reservations, so I would recommend getting there at least an hour earlier than you'd actually like to sit down and eat. Get real cozy with the other hoards in the tiny alcove, because it's cold out and the waiting area is small. Chances are, you will end up like me, handing menus out to your hungry neighbors. However, the service is fantastic, the hosts are sympathetic, and the food and drink are well worth the wait. My roommate had a delicious mojito-esque concoction of golden rum, muddled mint and cranberries, and ginger syrup. I had an equally tasty gin drink though the ingredients escape me, as this was a month or so ago. Of all the antojitos (little cravings), empanadas, and arepas (little grilled corn pocket sandwiches), the datiles were definitely standouts. "Bacon-wrapped, almond-filled dates" barely does the dish justice. The bacon was perfectly cooked, delightfully smoky and a great compliment the sweet dates. The almonds were yet another perfect layer of flaver and texture making for an appetizer that I almost wished was my main course. To continue, I had Polvorosa de Pollo, a shredded chicken stew nestled inside a flaky muffin-shaped dough. The stew was dotted with corn and red peppers and though a little on the sweet side, was still very good. We skipped dessert as it was flan and I don't care for wiggly things. However, I highly recommend Orinoco, especially if you don't mind a wait.

2) Green Street, Cambridge
I just happened to find out that Green Street lays claim to Boston's longest standing liquor license! So if you go drink at Green Street, you are in effect, doing something historical. It was basically a local bar until it was reopened in 2006 as one of many emerging "gastro-pub" type places. They do the seasonal, locally produced food thing, which is fine by me. There's something fulfilling about knowing that the food your eating came from neighboring states. It's like learning the lay of the land by eating it. Kind of cool, kind of grotesque; me likey.

They do take reservations there, and I definitely recommend them. It is pretty small. As we waiting for the last member of our party to arrive, we had some drinks at the bar, made skillfully by a couple of very friendly bartenders. I had a Bohemian: gin, st. germain elderflower liquor, grapefruit juice, and peychaud's bitters. Yummy. The cocktail menu is definitely a throwback to the Green Street's early days, with ingredients like rye, Applejack, and chartreuse. Boston does cocktails well. When we were seated, there was a definitely decline in the speed and quality of service. Our waitress was pretty brusque and seemed to forget about us a few times. Good luck getting the bill without a fight. However, the food was very, very good. Standouts included the "fry of the day" on the snacks menu, which was melt-in-your-mouth oysters. Those more daring can try the Offal special, but we were not quite in the mood for brains that evening. We also had a salt cod and sweet potato croquette appetizer served with chive aioli, which was spectacular. Moving on to the main course, braised pork shoulder flavored with rosemary and red wine served atop a nearly unnaturally creamy mascarpone polenta was a hit. The diver scallops with roasted brussels sprouts in a bacon lemon brown butter and chestnut puree were also delightfully sweet and smoky. The hanger steak was a little on the chewy side. For dessert, one of my favorites: tres leches cake, was very well executed and when split amongst the table, was consumed with vigor. It did take a while to arrive, though. All in all, delicious food, good bartending, and service that needs a little improvement. That would not stop me from going back, though.

3) Tremont 647, South End/Theatre District.
There is definitely a reason why chef Andy Husbands' restaurant has been in business for over 10 years. It is pretty damn good. The website's animated welcome screen describes Tremont 647 as "Adventurous American cuisine," whatever that means. What I found were modern, unpretentious interpretations of soul food, texmex, and general comfort foods. I admit, these are currently my favorite kinds of restaurants to frequent. It may be the ungodly craving I've been having for fried chicken, which was delicously gratified here. Service was out of this world. Everyone was friendly, polite, and even though a member of our party was late, we were seated without protest and allowed to mull over the menu for as long as we wanted.

We began with one of the appetizer specials, skirt steak atop a spicy salad concoction. The steak was cooked perfectly, and was very tender. I had buttermilk fried chicken, which was served with spectacular collards (not a hint of bitterness!), gravy, and a grilled biscuit. I know, I really need to go south to try the best of the best, but in the mean time, this did the trick. The chicken, though boneless white meat, was not dry or overcooked and the gravy was rich and chickeny. The biscuit was kind of dry, as biscuits can be, but that could have been allevieated had it been served with butter. We ordered rosemary-scented, fontina-stuffed tater tots for the table, which appeared to be under salted, but anything filled with melted cheese is okay in my book. Pastry chef Anne Taylor really impressed us with her "almost famous donuts." Brought to the table in a paper bag presumably filled with cinnamon-sugar, the bag is vigorously shaken by our server before poured atop a plate decorated with ramekins of fresh pumpkin marshmallow and cranberry compote. Oh they are good, they are great, they are hot, sweet bits of fried dough that you dip into fluff-textured pumpkin marshmallow and tart cranberry compote. I'd go back just for them.

4) Yoma, Allston.
Mmm. Burmese food. Here is a perfect example of more of a local haunt. Tiny and filled with panoramas of Burma, Yoma is family owned as far as I can tell and corners the Burmese market in Boston. “The food of Burma (now Myanmar) is an amalgam of Indian, Chinese, and Southeast Asian cuisines and reminds me most of Thai, Vietnamese, and Cambodian cooking," says the website. What you can go in expecting then, is lemongrass, chili, dried shrimp, etc...The service is welcoming, friendly, and efficient. It helped that one of my fellow diners is so much a regular, that they know her name and order both in the front of house and in the kitchen. Start with the Tofu Jaw, a concoction of chickpea flour dough surrounding the lightest, fluffiest tofu I have ever tasted. It's served with a spicy/sweet dipping sauce. If you can, do wait a few minutes when it arrives or your taste buds will be treated with hot, molten tofu, numbing them for the remainder of the meal. It is a tough wait, though. I continued on with the roasted chicken salad. Delicious "roasted chicken mixed with lemon grass, lime, shredded cabbage, cucumber, tomato, fresh shallot, roasted chili flake, garlic, cilantro, and crispy grounded sweet rice." At $6.95, it is a poor gal's dream. Make sure you ask for some cane sugar to finish the meal. Little brown chunks of sugary goodness that apparently help with digestion but taste darn good either way.

Yoma is also conveniently located next door to my favorite bar in town, Deep Ellum. So I will definitely be going back. Perhaps tonight as writing this little summary has really got me craving some Tofu Jaw.



Good Drinks -
1) Deep Ellum, Allston.
This is my favorite bar, as mentioned above. It has a fabulous cocktail menu filled with depression-era treats like sloe gin fizzes, mint juleps, and of course, the traditional absinthe cocktail. The rotating draft list is always exciting. They play good music, they aren't sporty though as this is Boston, if there is a game, it is on TV. The bartenders are nice, helpful, and full of their favorite recommendations.

What I also love about Deep Ellum is their accompanying bar menu. Parmesan crusted fries with truffled mayo are a standout and remind me of my Montreal days. It's so hard to find a place that serves mayo with fries! The truffled Gorgonzola fries are also a standout. Hot pretzels with hot beer cheese accompany just about any drink perfectly. The menu ranges from a plain old hot dog to a fancy cheese plate. There are daily sausage specials available in appetizer and entree size, called "the best wurst plate." They even have a twist on the New Orleans classic muffaletta. Someday I will get around to trying it all. Also, their brunch is apparently to die for, so I will be dragging myself down there if I ever wake up early enough to do so.




In looking at this sampling of the places I've been since I moved here, I haven't done too badly and I have an explanation as to where all of my money is going. What I have deduced about eating in Boston is that there is plenty of good food here, but it does require a little more looking than in a place like Montreal or New York. When you do find it though, it is totally worth the effort.

- Rachel B.


PS - Thank you to Jacqueline for making me write this.

it's what's for breakfast...

i was just about to begin writing about the wonders of apricot almond danish when an ad for the new season of "the next food network star," appeared during the commercial break of "a cook's tour," on in the background as i write this. the binaries are uncountable, and i'm sure tony is twitching in his seat as he sees that the new season features bobby flay, doing something that is not what he should be doing, which is cooking. come on bobby, "the next food network star?" it makes me sad and nostalgic for the food network good old days. does anyone besides rachel and myself remember "taste" with david rosengarten? or the delightfully awkward "chef du jour," or "molto mario," for that matter? i don't blame bobby, i'd much rather blame rachael ray (did i mention she spells her name wrong?) anyway, before this entry actually turns into a bourdain-inspired rant, i will return the original topic of discussion: danish.

rachel and i love making danish. flaky and delicious, reminiscent of puff pastry but slightly less puffy, the long rise is worth the wait. the recipe we used was inspired by the one that appears in baking with julia, by the queen, herself. and oh, is it good. the mixture of tangy sweet apricot with cool, nutty almond paste all nestled between beneath a pinwheel of danish is mouth-watering even in times new roman. we highly recommend you try your hand at them. here's the photographic evidence of our latest culinary conquest:


i know i said it's what's for breakfast, but you know what? make that lunch, dinner, dessert or midnight snack. i seriously cannot get enough of these.

- Rachel B.

Alton Brown and New York

Last Thursday, Rachel and I went into Manhattan with the main purpose of meeting Alton Brown at the book signing for Feasting on Asphalt - The River Run, which we very happily accomplished. Not that I had any doubt in my mind at the cordiality of our favorite foodie, but in the few seconds we were allotted to talk with him, he was very, very nice. He also seemed to thoroughly enjoy meeting best friends named Rachel and signed our books accordingly. (See photo). Frankly, it just made me wish we had enough food blog cred. (or food cred. of any kind) to actually sit down and talk to him about how on earth to break into what has become one of the must lucrative of emergent industries in the past twenty years. Oh well, I am personally more inspired than ever to persevere and press on through the trail to professional foodie-dom.


After our swift jaunt in midtown, Rachel and I made our usual pilgrimage to Chelsea Market, this time eating at the Thai restaurant there, which was particularly tasty having the slightest tinge of post-meeting AB euphoria. After that, we went on to Rocco's bakery on Bleecker, and had some of the best desserts this side of the Hudson, baba au rhum and sfogliatelle. The baba was light and fluffy on the inside, soaked thoroughly with a delightful rum syrup, sliced right down the center and filled to the brim with smooth, cool French custard. The sfogilatelle had an outer crust - layer upon layer of thinly rolled dough, so delicate in appearance, yet a substantially sturdy and crunchy contrast to the orange-flavored ricotta it was filled with. Since you cannot feast, feast your eyes:


In the immortal words of Ina Garten, "how bad can that be?"

Many people living in the tristate area go to New York City to catch a matinee, then they eat at any of several loathsome restaurants in Times Square, stop at Bloomingdale's, and finally call it a day. I go to New York to eat. It's a tradition my mom and I began years ago. Bypass midtown and head directly to Bleecker. Pop into Murray's cheese shop and behold the wonders. Rocco's and Amy's for baked goods that I haven't dared to conquer quite yet, dinner can be anything from pizza in little Italy to dim sum in Chinatown. Then there's the Polish owned Peter Pan Bakery in Greepoint, Brooklyn with the best donuts I've ever tasted. Try a crumb creme - your taste buds will never be the same. I could go on, but suffice it to say, you haven't really eaten until you've eaten New York. Oh and don't forget to go to Gus's on the lower east side for the finest pickles money can buy.

- Rachel B.

Meringue is a Beautiful Thing

There are many wonderful cookies in this world. I should know; I've baked and eaten a good majority of them. Cookies are perhaps the most perfect expression of baked good-ness. They're more often than not the simplest things to bake, they go from mere epicurean thought to finished product in next to no time and they have so many possibilities for experimentation. Needless to say, I truly love cookies.

Also, I love meringue. Equally pliable, fast (well, except for the baking time, sometimes) and delicious, meringue in all its glorious permutations is a favorite in my household. Now given my professed love for cookies and sweetened and beaten egg whites, it makes sense that I would occasionally combine the two and make meringue cookies. I like to flavor meringue cookies with almond extract, but that's just me. You can use anything you like: vanilla, lemon, chocolate chips...whatever. My favorite characteristic of these cookies, however, is the fact that they can be piped into any shape you desire. I, in fact, recently made bone shaped cookies. That's right...bone shaped. I assure you there was a reason for this decidedly odd shape. It was a present for a friend who had recently undergone surgery. Slightly, bizarre, I know but what can I say...it was a longstanding joke. The point is meringue cookies are pretty much culinary clay...they can be shaped into anything you'd like, even something as strange as a bone.

-Rachel L.