Tag Archives: fooood

the pie that didn’t want to be born

Like an idiot, I volunteered to bring a banana cream pie to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. Of all the desserts in my admittedly basic repertoire, the cream pies are the biggest pains in the ass, and this evening’s stayed true to form.

Things I learned over the three+ hours of wrestling with this fucker:

  1. If one ever happens upon a quick, easy recipe for butter pie crust, one should bookmark it so as to prevent having to settle for an inferior, ass-pain of a recipe next time one plans to make one.
  2. If one is looking for a novel upper-body workout, rolling the dough from one of these inferior recipes is surprisingly effective.
  3. If strange little brown flakes start appearing in your boiling vat of pie filling, it’s probably because it’s carmelizing at the bottom of the pan.
  4. It’s not a banana cream pie if you forget to add the bananas!
  5. Don’t walk away from your baking timer until you’ve checked to make sure it’s actually working.

But in the end, it’s all worth it, ’cause look how pretty it is!

"I'm a pretty, pretty pie," said in Teen Girl Squad voice.

 

With love, from Germany

One of my favorite things to come home to after a long, slightly demoralizing day at work is a  package from Carita, who left DC for an extended Stuttgartian adventure just about a year ago.

Yesterday was one of these lucky days. Among the wonders contained therein: Katzenzungen, chocolates that might or might not be made in whole or in part out of fluffy kittens.

Behold, bitches!

Two great tastes.

A few of my favorite things

Oh, hi, rosemary caramel and whiskey truffle and calvados ganache and...

Volted!

Last night, two of my favorite lady friends and I hiked up to Frederick, Maryland, for an evening at Volt.

For those of you who are not Top  Chef whores, Volt is the restaurant of Bryan Voltaggio, last season’s runner up and the kinder, hunkier bro-testant.

"Oh, hi, dreamy food-making man."

How to begin my food porn vignette?

Our foodventure began inauspiciously. One of the servers brought us each a complimentary amuse bouche, a brussle sprout shell filled with cheese foam and topped with caviar that he promised would “give us a sense of what was to come.” While the foam was a nice balance of textural delicacy and potent flavor, the caviar was curiously undetectable–odd given the generous amount that had been sprinkled atop the bite–and the foam overwhelmed the nice bitterness of the brussel sprout. If this was a taste of what was to come, I feared a rather spendy bout with disappointment.

As it turned out, the amuse bouche was the only off bite of the night. The ladies and I agreed to each order a full four courses, and we chose items we were all kind of hot to try, so we could sample as much as possible without making our guts explode. (I am still waiting for someone to invent the detachable supplemental stomach, thus eliminating the eyes-bigger-than-stomach dilemma forever.)

Here’s the scorecard:

Course 1: Our contenders were a shitaake mushroom voloute (which I had no idea was a soup until the waiter set up a big spoon before it arrived … ah, French and its pesky Frenchy words), a tuna tartare, and a beet and goat cheesed salad with goat cheese made at a really awesome local dairy. Each of these courses was lovely, but the real standouts were the tuna tartare, which was topped with avocado and this insane stuff called “soy air” and just enough chili oil to give it a definitive kick, and the marvelously mushroomy soup, accented with pine nut and chili oil.

Round 1 Winner: mushroom voloute.

Course 2 contained the plate that came closest to being a dud–a scallop and cauliflower dish that, while not at all offensive, lacked acidity. My second course was a plate of veal sweetbreads, fried in a slightly cakey batter that accentuated the suppleness of the sweetbreads and accented with traces of kalamata olive, lemon, and raisin. Even better was the pork belly, which was basically a three dimensional hunk of the most marvelous bacony goodness you could imagine.

Round 2 Winner: The pork belly

Course 3: Here, one of my friends and I both went for the pork tenderloin, pepper crusted and served with brussel sprouts and sweet potato puree. I think this dish was the sleeper hit of the night. My first few bites were pleasant enough, but by the time I was finishing it up, I didn’t want it to end. It was a dish I could eat every night for the rest of my life and be a pretty happy girl. We also got to taste the rabbit four ways, which included a bit of that sous vide business that always seems to make or break the reality show cheftestants.  (Our very awesome waiter explained to us how to sous vide at home, too, which was cool of him, though I’m not sure my Tombstone-pizza-toasting-arse will be giving it a go anytime soon.)

Course 3 winner: I admit a bias, but I’m going with the pork here.

Course 4: Ahhh, dessert. We had the textures of chocolate, the dulce de leche, and chocolate torte with clementine sorbet. The textures of chocoate was a bit sweet for my tastes, but my chocolate/clementine dessert was a wonderful combination of bitter/tart/sweetness. The big winner here was the dulce de leche, though–which, despite the name, consisted primarily of wonderfully tangy goat cheese cake and a granny smith apple sorbet that I wish was sold by the pint. Oh, heavens.

Course 4 goes to: dulce de leche

In addition to all this yumminess, we were treated to some pretty kick ass house-made biscuits (mine was seasoned with bacon and thyme, and doubled as a pretty awesome soup ladle while it lasted) and a complimentary plate of the tiniest of ice cream sandwiches, each made with quarter-sized cookies. The service ranged from fine to excellent, with my two major complaints being that 1) we waited way too long for our wine bottle to arrive at our table and 2) the hostesses lacked the polish that you’d expect at a fancy place like this, even if it is the kind of  fancy-but-deliberately-laid-back place where all the waiters wear chucks with their dress shirts and pants.

The final verdict: Well worth the trip to east-bumble-Frederick, well worth the hundred buckos a person, and, yes, well worth getting to catch a glimpse of a Voltaggio as you scooted past the kitchen on the way to the powder room.

google image of the day

It’s been a while, kids.

I feel so bad about it I baked you a cake. An “obscene astronaut cake,” courtesy of NASA’s “Women in Space” celebration:

What Sally Ride was riding.

Wonderfully inappropriate image courtesy of Cake Wrecks.

Things that make me happy, #76

When I’m baking and realize I just happen to have all the ingredients to try a recipe that’s way cooler than the one I had originally planned to use.

shakazulu!

On a lighter note…

Pastafari

Ty and I made pasta from scratch last week.

It was a lot like playing with my old Play-Doh Fun Factory, except I didn’t get yelled at for eating the dough.

(Play-Doh was delicious.)

This is our pile of reference books, none of which seemed to agree with each other…

These were our reference books…

… and this pile o’pasta is the fruit of our labors.
…and this pile o’pasta was the fruit of our labors.