recipe: Marion's sticky buns

Marion Cunningham is the goddess of breakfast.

Last week I had a hankering for cinnamon rolls, so I decided to make them for Sunday, when I had to drop off brunch at a friend's house.  I scavenged through my books and the world wide web for a trusty recipe--one that wouldn't be too dense or dry.  I hate it when you spend two days on yeasted breakfast goodies only to pull them out of the oven and have them be bready.  Ugh.

I narrowed my choices down to

this

and

this

, but at the last minute, I remembered my trusty

Breakfast Book

, the one that has never done me wrong, and I switched gears and committed to Marion.

It was the right choice.  The dough was light and buttery, and there was no shortage of gooeiness.  In fact, the rolls might have been a little too gooey, if that's possible.  Next time, with a few little changes, like toasting the pecans first, maybe using some white sugar and burning the caramel a bit, and perhaps even adding a pinch of cinnamon (which Marion outlaws) these could become the dreamiest things ever to grace my breakfast table.  

Caramel-Pecan Sticky Buns

adapted from Marion Cunningham's

The Breakfast Book

makes two dozen buns

for the dough

1/2 cup warm water

4 1/2 teaspoons active yeast (2 packages)

2 cups milk, warmed

1 stick (4 oz.) butter, room temperature

6 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoons salt

2 eggs, room temperature

6 cups flour, more or less

for the caramel glaze

2 sticks (8 oz.) butter

3 cups brown sugar

1/2 cup light corn syrup

3 cups broken pecan or walnut pieces

a heck of a lot of salt

if you want, some cinnamon

Put the water in a small bowl and sprinkle the yeast over.  Stir and let stand for 5 minutes to dissolve.

Put the warm milk, room temperature butter, sugar, salt, and eggs in a large mixing bowl and beat until well blended.  Add the yeast and 4 cups flour.  Mix vigorously.  Add only enough flour to make a soft, manageable dough.  Sprinkle a board with flour and turn dough out onto it.  Knead for 1 minute.  Let the dough rest for 10 minutes.  Resume kneading until the dough is smooth and elastic.  Put the dough in a greased bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise until double in bulk.  

Make the caramel glaze.  Put the butter, brown sugar, and corn syrup in a heavy-bottomed saucepan.  Put the pan over medium heat and stir often until the butter is melted, the sugar is dissolved, and the mixture is well blended.  Add generous amounts of salt (I use Maldon or sel gris) to balance out the sweetness and saltiness.  If using cinnamon, add some to taste, maybe about one teaspoon.  Remove from the heat and pour one cup of the glaze into a small bowl.  Set aside.  Spread the remaining 2 cups glaze over the bottoms of three 8-inch cake pans.  

Toast the pecans or walnuts in a dry cast iron pan over medium-low heat, constantly stirring, or in a 350°F oven, until they are lightly golden, then sprinkle 1 cup of nuts over the glaze in each of the pans.  

Punch the dough down and divide into thirds; while you work with one part, cover the remaining pieces of dough.  Roll the first third of dough into a rectangle about 8 by 12 inches.  Spread 1/3 cup of the caramel glaze that has been set aside over the rectangle.  Loosely roll the rectangle from the wide side, making a long tube.  Cut into eight pieces, eace 1 1/2 inches thick.  Place the rounds, flat side down, in one of the cake pans.  Repeat with each remaining third of the dough.  Cover the pans loosely with plastic wrap, and if you want, at this point you can refrigerate overnight (heck, you could probably freeze some at this point, too).  Let the shaped dough rise for about 35 to 45 minutes, or until the dough looks a little puffy.  If pulling out of the fridge or freezer, naturally, this will take longer to achieve.  

Preheat the oven to 375°F.  Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean when inserted into the center bun--there should be no dough clinging to the skewer.  Run a knife along the edge of the pans and invert onto a plate, or onto racks with waxed paper underneath to catch the dripping glaze.  

Serve warm.  

this last shot is by dave levin

Tartine Afterhours: Tuesday, May 22nd

Happy Birthday to us!  Two years ago this month we had our first Afterhours dinner, and we are thrilled to invite you to our birthday party.  Woo-hoo!

I was thinking of making a Momofuku-inspired dinner, but when my slow-cooked egg experiment went seriously awry, I decided that I should practice for a few more months before trying to force a captive audience to eat something I can't stand confidently behind.  But do take note: a bo ssam dinner is on its way to you at some point in the near future!

Anyway, I went back to the drawing board to figure out what we would have, and it didn't take me long to remember that it's finally wild salmon season around these parts.  I've been obsessed with Francis Mallman's Seven Fires, so I might roast the fish whole in a bed of salt, or I might slow-cook whole filets on fig leaves, but whatever it is, come enjoy this first-of-the-season delicacy with us.  Nate's talking about making some special breads, and I might reprise the green garlic and herb loaf I made for the Kinfolk brunch a couple of weeks ago.  There's no telling what we'll end up with, but I can promise that the menu will be a celebration of our springtime bounty.  

photo from edible selby

The Details

WHO: the fab folks at tartine and me

WHAT: a springtime feast celebrating the second birthday of Tartine Afterhours

WHERE: tartine bakery (600 guerrero st. sf, ca)

WHEN: tuesday, may 22nd at 8pm

WHY: to highlight the joy of good food and good company

HOW MUCH: $55 plus wine and gratuity. cash only, please!

TO RESERVE: please fill out this form to submit your name into the lottery. due to the overwhelming popularity of our dinners, space is extremely limited so we now select guests by performing a lottery. we'll email lottery winners by wednesday, may 16th; if you don't hear back from us, please try again next month!

favism.

did you know there's a disease called favism?  it's quite unrelated to fauvism, and it actually can be sorta serious, but sometimes its symptoms are as mild as itchy hands after touching favas.

if i'd known about it, i might have wished for favism as a child, because it might have been the only excuse palpable enough to get me out of one of my most dreaded chores: popping and peeling piles of raw fava beans.  favas, or baghali, are a favorite ingredient in the persian kitchen, and some of our most classic (and delicious) springtime dishes are made with these epic pains-in-the-butt.  now you know why iranians have big families--so they can force their kids to peel the abundant raw favas necessary for their canonical recipes.  

i love baghali polo, which is fava bean and dill rice, traditionally made on seezdeh-bedar, the thirteeth day of the new year, which usually works out to be april first or second.  i love it most when some of the favas favas fry in a bit of oil and become embedded in the tahdig, the crisp web of rice that forms at the bottom and edges of the pot.  somehow, they caramelize without burning, and they turn soft and creamy on the inside.  it's exquisite.  

but, baghali polo, and baghala ghatogh, a fava bean stew with eggs and dill, like pretty much every other persian dish, are incredibly labor intensive and time-consuming to prepare, so i rarely make them.  instead, i find myself using favas like i learned to at chez panisse, in pastas, salads, or other vegetable dishes, barely cooked or even raw, more often an accent than the focus of the dish.  in french and california cooking, the beans are popped from their soft, accomodating sleeping bags and then plunged into boiling water before being shocked in a bowl of ice.  talk about a rude awakening.  then, they're popped out of their skins and either served as-is, or gently heated and then taken where they're needed to go.  

it must be the brutal grasp of nostalgia that keeps me from truly loving favas served in this way.  i much prefer them cooked long and slow, until they are soft and sweet, drowned with herbs and olive oil.  something inexplicable happens to them (and all vegetables, i think) when they're tended to with heat, time and a gentle hand.  but then my californian tendencies get the best of me and i always end up balancing the depth and sweetness with some bright acidity, good salt, and a handful of fresh herbs.  

balancing labor and remembrance, ancestry and geography, new and old is at the heart of the way i cook. with those things in mind, i've been making this bastardized version of baghala ghatogh with all of the sweet favas popping up at the market: sweet, stewed favas with green garlic and dill smeared generously on toast and topped with a poached egg, good oil and a showering of garden herbs.  

Fava Bean and Dill Crostino with a Poached Egg

• Four cups shelled and peeled fava beans, or roughly five pounds of pods
• One big bunch of dill, or two little bunches, chopped finely
• Two white spring onions
• One bunch green garlic
• Good olive oil
• Salt
• Lemon
• Parsley, and cilantro if you like, chopped
• Four thick slices country bread
• Four farm eggs
• A little white vinegar

Pop and peel the favas.  You can either peel them raw or dip them into boiling water for a few seconds until their skins loosen and then chill them in ice water before peeling.

Clean and thinly slice the spring onions and green garlic, then stew with olive oil and a bit of water in a saute pan until tender.  Add a little salt.  It's ok if they start to color a little bit, but don't let them get too brown.

When all of that is soft, add the favas and another splash of water.  A good guzzle of olive oil and three quarters of the chopped dill.  Cook over medium-low heat, stirring often enough to prevent it from burning.  Use the back of a wooden spoon to smash the beans as they soften and encourage it all to turn into a paste.  Taste and adjust the salt.  Add more olive oil if it starts to look dry and pasty.

Toast the bread and, if you have one, swipe with a clove of garlic.  Smear with generous amounts of fava paste and sprinkle, if you have it, with some light, flaky salt such as Maldon.  Give the whole thing a squeeze of lemon, too.

Bring a small saucepot with at least two inches of water in it to a boil, then turn down to a hard simmer.  Add a few drops of vinegar.  Crack the eggs into coffee cups and poach.  Some people like to create a little whirlpool in the pot with a spoon before laying in the eggs, but it's not required.  I like to poach in pretty hot water, until the whites are just set.  

Remove the eggs from the water and dry the bottoms on a clean kitchen towel, then place on the toast.  Drizzle with a bright olive oil and shower with remaining dill, parsley and cilantro.  Serve immediately.  

recipe: green garlic and herb loaf

on saturday, kinfolk came to town for a little brunch.  while chad and i were brainstorming for a couple of days on a way to collaborate on a little contribution to the meal, he remembered something that margaret at manka's used to make.

when chad and liz were up in point reyes, for a period he baked only every other day, so margaret had to come up with creative ways to serve the bread on the second day.  she started making with this breathtakingly beautiful version of garlic bread, where she scored the entire loaf and then slathered it from the inside with garlic and herb butter.  after she baked it for about twenty minutes, she pulled it from the oven and jammed tons more fresh herbs into the slots before bringing the whole loaf to the table.  can you say yum?

so in an effort to do the memory justice, i got armfuls of green garlic that i stewed and mixed into cultured butter with piles of chopped herbs (including some crumbled fried sage) and lots of crunchy sel gris.  i wrapped the bread in foil, and at the brunch they heated it in the oven before serving.  we had to skip the herb salad part for logistical reasons, but i had prepared parsley leaves, long bits of chives, and chervil to toss with meyer lemon, good oil, a bit of parmesan and salt before stuffing into the bread.  i'd also considered just jamming a ton of fried rosemary and sage in there, but figured that the salad version was a bit more spring-y.

i made way too much of the garlic and herb butter, so i've been spreading it on my morning toast with a poached egg.  so, so, so tasty.

green garlic and herb loaf

• a loaf of day- or days-old country bread (chad's loaves are about 3 pounds, so this is for a BIG country loaf.  you can make a lesser amount of the herb butter for a smaller loaf)
• 3 sticks unsalted butter (my favorite butter right now is this vat-cultured butter from the sierra nevada cheese company) at room temperature
• 6 stalks green garlic
• 1 bunch parsley, picked
• few sprigs of thyme, picked
• handful of sage leaves
• 1 bunch chives
• 1 bunch chervil, picked (optional)
• if you want, you can use arugula or wild arugula instead of herbs for the salad
• parmesan
• lemon or meyer lemon
• good olive oil
• crunchy salt

preheat oven to 400°F.

first, clean the green garlic by removing the tough outer layer of skin.  then halve it lengthwise and slice thinly.  rinse to remove all grit, then stew with some olive oil, water and a pinch of salt over low heat until tender, about 15 minutes.  let it cool for a few minutes.  

finely chop half of the parsley, half of the chives, and all of the thyme.  if you want to fry the sage, you can do it in a small pan of hot olive oil.  just heat the oil, then drop in the picked sage leaves and let them cook until they stop bubbling.  stir them around so that they cook evenly, then remove them from the oil, let them crisp up, and then crumble into little pieces.  you could also just chop the sage and add it to the other herbs.  

either in a large bowl or in a the bowl of a stand mixer, combine the soft butter, the stewed garlic, and the chopped herbs.  add a generous pinch of sel gris or other crunchy salt and mix until even.  

score the loaf of bread into thickish slices, but don't cut all the way down.  spread the butter evenly on the slices, doing your best to get down into the deepest parts of the loaf.  i just spread on one side of each slot.  wrap with foil.

when you're ready to bake, throw the bread into the oven for about 20 minutes, maybe longer, until the insides of the bread are steamy and hot.  for a little something extra, you can unwrap the loaf a bit and bake unwrapped for another five minutes or so to get a really nice crust on top.  

while the loaf is finishing up, combine the remaining parsley, the remaining chives, cut into one-inch lengths, and the chervil (if using) with some good salt, a squeeze of lemon or meyer lemon, and some good olive oil.  you can also shave some parmesan on there with a rasp or vegetable peeler.  toss to combine.  taste and adjust salt and acid as needed.

pull the bread from the oven and stuff the salad into the crevasses.  serve immediately.  

New Home Ec Classes

photo by vovo

I'm teaching six Home Ec cooking classes on Sundays this summer at Pizzaiolo in Oakland.  Here are the details...sign up soon, as these classes will definitely sell out!

home ec: rice and beans

photo courtesy of Erin Scott at

Yummy Supper

in the

pantry basics and knife skills class

newly added to the

home ec

class series, we cook rice and beans together as part of our dinner, but i've neglected to include the recipe and method for either of those dishes in the handout.  so, for all you faithful home ec students building up your pantries and cooking like grandmas, and for all of you other hungry, frugal folks out there, i present: rice & beans.

the base of both dishes is soffritto, about which

entire books

have been written.  there's no way i could adequately describe the importance of a proper soffritto in the margins of another recipe, so i won't start.  but, as a reminder, a traditional soffritto in italy consists of two parts red onion, one part carrot, and one part celery, each individually chopped until very, very fine, then combined and fried gently in olive oil until tender and golden.  the cooking part should take at least 20 minutes, if not 40.  don't rush it--this is where all of the flavor comes from.

other countries and cuisines have their own preferred proportions for

soffritto

(or

sofrito

): in spain, the celery and carrot are replaced by garlic and tomatoes.  in cuba, it becomes a mixture of onion, garlic and bell pepper.  whatever the combination, it's always minced finely and cooked till soft and caramelized.  in class, because we work with onion, carrot and celery for other reasons, we make the rice and beans with that italianate soffritto.  here, i'll write the recipes with a cuban-style sofrito.  if bell peppers are not in season (and they are often not in season), i'll replace them with celery and sneak in a jalapeño.

sofrito

• 3 small (or one large) red onions, peeled
• 2 green bell peppers, cored and seeded
• 4 large cloves garlic, peeled
• olive oil

Separately, chop all three items until very fine.  If you end up using a food processor, chop them all separately, pulsing and stopping often to scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula.  I prefer to do this by hand since the cell walls of the veggies are preserved with greater integrity when chopped by hand, preventing them (and you) from weeping too much.

Heat a saute pan over medium heat, then add generous amounts of olive oil.  Once the oil is warm, add the vegetables and stir to combine.  Let them start to brown a bit before turning down the heat.  Stir as often as you need to to keep the sofrito from sticking or burning.  Cook until soft and golden brown, about 30 minutes.

mexican rice

serves 4-6

• 2 cups long grain rice, such as basmati
• salt
• 1 small can of tomatoes (usually these are 14.5 ounce cans)--it doesn't matter if they are whole, chopped, or diced.  and if you don't have tomatoes but do have tomato paste, we can make that work, too.
• half the sofrito you made above
• cumin
• olive oil
• water or stock
• cilantro, if you like

Before you start, measure out the liquid.  Most basmati rice can take 2 cups of liquid for every cup of rice, though some long grain rices take only 1.5 cups per.  Look at the package to determine the proper ratio for your rice, and if you don't know, just go with 2:1 and if the rice is a little mushy, make a mental note to adjust the ratio next time.

The liquid in which you cook rice is ripe with opportunity to flavor the dish, so pack in as much tastiness here as you can.  I almost always cook my rice in chicken stock at home (because I'm almost always up to my ears in stock), but here the tomatoes serve as a portion of the liquid, bringing with them some extra flavor as well.  Open the can of tomatoes, and if they are not chopped, squeeze or chop them to break them up.  Dump the entire thing, including the juice, into a liquid measuring cup.  It'll probably be somewhere around a cup and a half (if you are using tomato paste, simply dissolve a few tablespoons of tomato paste in water or stock and dump that into your measuring cup).  Now, knowing that you need 4 cups total liquid, top off the tomatoes with the appropriate amount of stock or water to get you to 4 cups.  Set this aside.

Heat a pan or small pot for which you have a lid, adding a splash of olive oil as it becomes warm.  Pour in your rice and stir it around, letting it toast slightly and become lightly golden.  When you are satisfied with how toasty the rice is, add the sofrito and stir, then a pinch or two of ground or whole cumin seed.  Let that all fry together for a minute.  Add some salt, then add the measured out liquid.

Crank up the heat and bring it all to a boil, then taste and adjust the salt.  It's probably gonna need a lot of salt, folks.  This is pretty much your only chance to get the thing properly seasoned, because you want the rice to get seasoned from the inside, and the only way to do that is to ensure that the liquid it's absorbing as it cooks is properly seasoned.  You want to be just barely uncomfortable with how salty it is, because all of that starchy rice is gonna need more salt than you think to get seasoned to the right point.  If you don't salt it enough now, you can of course add more salt right before you serve it, but it won't be the same.

Once it's come to a boil and you've salted it properly, cover with a lid and reduce the heat so it's just barely simmering.  Let the rice cook until it's absorbed all of the liquid.  Depending on the variety of rice, this may take anywhere from 20-45 minutes (and if you are doing this with Massa brown rice, which is SO TASTY prepared this way, it'll take over an hour).  When all of the liquid has been absorbed, taste a few grains of rice...they should be cooked through and seasoned nicely.  If for some reason there is any crunch remaining, add another splash of water or stock and let it continue to cook until absorbed.

When the rice is cooked through, stir in the tomatoes that have floated to the top, taste for salt and adjust if necessary.  Serve with a little chopped cilantro, if you like.

beans

serves 4-6

• 1/2 pound beans.  i pretty much always use heirloom beans, but you can use whatever you like.  in previous classes we have used vaquero and good mother stallard varieties from rancho gordo, but honestly, they are all good!
• a little epazote, dry or fresh
• if you have one, half an onion
• salt
• if you're superstitious like me, a pinch of baking soda
• the rest of the sofrito
• olive oil

if you can, soak the beans overnight in three times as much water.  i even add a handful of salt at this point.  if you can't do it overnight, a few hours is better than nothing.  if you are in a big, huge legume rush, cover the beans with water and bring the pot to a boil.  let it sit for fifteen minutes, then change the water and continue with the recipe.

if you've soaked the beans overnight, unless a huge clod of dirt has made itself apparent in the bowl, just use the same soaking water to cook the beans, topping off with more water as necessary.  add a couple pinches of dry epazote or a sprig or two of fresh, and if you have it, half an onion.  season with salt.  add that pinch of baking soda, if you want.

bring the pot to a boil, then reduce to a simmer.  skim any scum that rises to the top with a ladle, topping off with more water as necessary to ensure that the beans are covered at all times.  cook until tender.  for fresher dried beans this may take about 60-90 minutes, while for older dried beans this can take upward of three hours.  don't rush it.

when the beans are tender, turn off the heat.

heat another pot, then add a splash of oil and the other half of your sofrito.  let it sizzle for a moment or two, then start scooping the beans into this pot with a slotted spoon or spider.  get all of the beans in there, and then start adding some of the bean liquid.  you want the beans to be wet but not drowning in juice.  let it all come together for a few minutes, then taste and adjust the salt.

if you want, garnish with salsa, chopped chilies, raw onion, or cilantro.  up the cumin if you like, or serve with cheese and crema.  get some fresh tortillas and make a meal of it.

Tartine Afterhours: Wednesday, April 18th

When I started writing the menu for this month, all I could think about was torta pasqualina, one of my favorite dishes from Liguria.  This traditional Easter dish is a beautiful double-crusted pie filled with spinach, fresh ricotta, and whole hard-cooked eggs, and I've been wanting to make a Tartine-ized version of it for a while now.  I mean, can you even begin to imagine how beautiful it'd be with a gorgeous puff pastry crust?!?

I tried to build a Ligurian springtime menu around the torta, but couldn't make it work.  Then I expanded my territory to Provence, but still couldn't get all of the pieces to fit.  You see, there are just so many things to consider when I put together the menus for these dinners, from stove capacity at the bakery (not much), to which ingredients I can get from my favorite local farmers without blowing the budget, to how much I can realistically get done in the few hours I have after I arrive at Tartine in the afternoon, to which types of dishes hold up to, and even flourish in, a family-style service.  I do my best to cook simple, honest food, but counterintuitively the simplest things can often require a frustratingly immense amount of work and forethought.  

I finally found inspiration at Canal House Cooks Lunch, one of my favorite blogs.  I haven't been able to get this image out of my head for a month, and when I glimpsed back at it this morning, the theme for the dinner became clear: The Chicken and the Egg.  What could be more perfect for celebrating springtime? 

We'll finally have that torta pasqualina, some delicious version of roast chicken, piles of spring vegetables and if the stars align, soufflé for dessert.  Come join us for dinner!

photo credit: the year in food, by kimberley hasselbrink

the details

who: the fab folks at tartine and me

what: The Chicken & The Egg: a three course family-style dinner celebrating the harbingers of spring

where: tartine bakery (600 guerrero st. sf, ca)

when: wednesday, april 18th at 8pm

why: to highlight the joy of good food and good company

how much: $50 plus wine and gratuity. cash only, please!

to reserve: please fill out this form to submit your name into the lottery. due to the overwhelming popularity of our dinners, space is extremely limited so we now select guests by performing a lottery. we'll email lottery winners by wednesday, april 11th; if you don't hear back from us, please try again next month!

Persian New Year at Tartine Afterhours: Wednesday, March 21st

Persian New Year, or No Ruz, has always been the only holiday my family has observed together, and as a child i was steeped in the ancient traditions of this meaningful celebration. From planting sprouts in early March to jumping over fires as the old year draws to an end to cleanse our souls, something about the many symbols and rituals of this special holiday has made it the most important time of year for me. The fact that food plays an prominent role in many of its customs makes it even better.  Come join us at Tartine Afterhours for our second annual Persian New Year dinner, inspired by the foods of spring and the flavors of Iran. 

the details

who: the fab folks at tartine and me

what: a three course family-style Cal-Persian feast celebrating NoRuz

where: tartine bakery (600 guerrero st.  sf, ca)

when: wednesday, march 21st at 8pm

why: to highlight the joy of good food and good company 
how much: $65 plus wine and gratuity.  cash only, please!
to reserve: please fill out this form to submit your name into the lottery.  due to the overwhelming popularity of our dinners, space is extremely limited so we now select guests by performing a lottery.  we'll email lottery winners by friday, march 16th; if you don't hear back from us, please try again next month!

Home Ec: How to Shop for Olive Oil

When I was first learning how to cook, Chez Panisse held a contest, open to all employees, seeking a better (tastier? more clever? more original?) tomato sauce recipe (using canned tomatoes) for use through the winter months.  There weren't many rules beyond this: we were to use only ingredients that were readily available in the CP kitchen (i.e. local, seasonal and organic).

Having only just started to cook, I was too intimidated to enter myself and felt like I had too little authority to even try, but it felt like pretty much everyone else, from bussers and wine runners to porters and, of course, cooks, submitted a recipe.  The prize was $500 and having your name on the menu every time the sauce was featured, so people got really into it, as you might be able to imagine.

Entrants were instructed to bring in their sauces for a blind tasting on a weekday afternoon, and a team of impartial judges (a.k.a. the chefs and Alice) set about the arduous task of trying the veritable panoply of sauces. Some had seasoned their sauces with dried oregano, others fresh marjoram.  Some crushed their canned tomatoes by hand while others painstakingly seeded and diced them.  Others added chili flake while still yet others channeled their inner nonnas and pureed their sauces, pomorola-style.  It was tomato mayhem, and in the kitchen we were all atwitter, waiting to hear who the finalists were.

At one point, Russ came back into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and I'll never forget what he said when we asked him how things were going:

"There are a lot of great entries.  So many, in fact, that it's hard to narrow them down. But it's a shame that some of the particularly good recipes were made with bad olive oil."  

What they couldn't understand, and understandably so, was why all of the employees wouldn't have cooked with good olive oil, especially when it was always available to us to buy at cost through the restaurant.  

While some of the chefs were able to imagine cooking a sauce made with bad olive oil with better ingredients at the restaurant, Alice, he said, in particular, couldn't get past it, because her palate was so sensitive.  She couldn't separate the "what is" from the "what might be."

Never before had it occurred to me that olive oil, or any oil--the cooking medium itself--would have much effect on the flavor of a dish.  This was my first glimpse of understanding that not only did it have an effect, but that as the foundational ingredient, the flavor of olive oil pervades every single molecule of a dish.  

So, in the same way that an onion cooked in butter tastes different than an onion cooked in olive oil, an onion cooked in good olive oil tastes different (and in this case, better) than one cooked in a lesser quality oil.

So, before considering even one of the many political/health/outside reasons for using a better olive oil in your cooking, know that the way your olive oil tastes is directly related to how your food will taste.

Choosing an olive oil can be a daunting task.  Just at my local food market, there are probably four dozen different brands of extra virgin olive oil on display.  Then, there are all of the virgin and pure oils.  If I hadn't had the good fortune of living in Italy, where I got to familiarize myself with some of the most talented oil producers throughout the country, I'd probably have adverse reactions to olive oil shopping, traceable back to the levels of stress they'd cause in my body.  I mean, virgin or extra virgin?  Italy or France?  Organic or not?  Is that olive oil on sale any good?  Why is some olive oil $30 for 750ml while another is $10 for a liter?  What is going on?  And how can you tell the difference?

I get it.  I mean, I usually know what I'm looking for and I still get an accelerated heartbeat every time I enter that aisle at Berkeley Bowl.  Sheesh.

It's why when Jen asked me to help her learn how to choose an oil, I figured there must be more folks out there wanting to know the same information, and I took the opportunity to dive headlong into answering the age-old question of how to know what olive oil to buy.

---

How to Choose an Olive Oil

Photo of Tenuta di Capezzana in Tuscany by Ira Block for National Geographic. (Image Source)

Taste.  Taste.  Taste.

 Taste, not price, is your best guide in choosing an olive oil.  This might require a leap of faith on your part if you don't know what you're tasting for.  All of those words, like fruity, pungent, spicy and bright might seem confounding if you've never considered that olive oil can taste like much of anything besides, well, oil, but it's true, a good olive oil has multiple dimensions.  The only way to familiarize yourself with them is by tasting, and paying attention to what you sense.  If you taste something expensive and don't like it, then it's not for you.  If you find a ten dollar bottle that's delicious, then you've scored!  In this way, olive oil shopping is much like wine shopping.

Before you bother with anything else, taste and trust yourself.  You have to taste, and ultimately, you have to let your own taste buds be the judge, because food is alive, and ever-changing, and inconsistent, and magical, and even an olive oil that I or another cook may rant or rave about is different from bottle to bottle, batch to batch.

I will say, though, that while it's harder for me to tell you what a "good" oil might taste like, it's fairly simple for me to describe a "bad" one.  There are several main reasons why I won't buy an olive oil, including: bitterness (to the point that I'm coughing or gagging), overwhelming spiciness, a "dirty" or "smelly" flavor, and rancidity.  These are all deal-breakers.  There's a place in my pantry for almost all other flavor-manifestations of olive oil.

Once you are comfortable with a brand and you are confident that you know what a "good" oil tastes like, then hopefully you'll feel empowered to take a risk and try a different oil, and over time you can familiarize yourself with the characteristics of different oils and different regions.  I've found that coastal olives produce milder, sweeter oils (like that Ligurian one below), and oils from the Tuscan hills are peppery, bright, and powerful.  But even within a region, oil can differ widely, so again, we return to the ultimate arbiter to help us judge: the palate.

Ay, there's the rub.  

How can you taste an olive oil before you spend twenty bucks on a bottle?

 Well, you can't.  So sometimes you have to take a blind leap.  Some markets might host tastings or let you try a product before purchasing.  Other markets will let you return items if you're not pleased with them.  And finally, by all means, before spending big bucks on a bulk tin of oil, buy a small bottle to experiment with.   If you don't go through olive oil quite as quickly as I might, it might be smarter to buy it in smaller amounts anyway (or to split a larger bottle or tin with a friend or two) so that you can use up the oil before it goes rancid.

For olive oil, unfortunately, the term "organic" is practically meaningless, since international regulation of organic standards is totally irregular.  Unless an olive oil is coming from an organic farmer or producer who you are already familiar with, don't let this be an indicator of whether or not to buy (though I will say that the organic Costco oil is tastier than the regular, and when buying oil from a producer of that size, I'd prefer something to nothing in terms of regulation).  Instead of "organic," there are a few other things to look for on the label of a bottle of olive oil that may suggest higher quality, including:

• A harvest date.  Olive oil is good for about a year--fourteen months max--before it goes rancid. If you're spending thirty bucks on a bottle of oil, make sure it's from the current press.  Olives are pressed in November, sometimes December, so the current press right now is 2011.  The harvest date is not the same as the "use by" or "sell by" date, so take a careful look.
• A dark green glass bottle or a stainless steel tin. Keeping olive oil out of direct sunlight, and purchasing olive oil that has been kept out of direct sunlight are of utmost importance since the light accelerates loss of nuanced flavor and leads to rancidity.  
• A DOP seal for European oils or a California Olive Oil Council (COOC) seal for California Oils.  A DOP is a Protected Denomination of Origin, which is a type of government-regulated quality control that actually means something.  Other examples of DOP (sometimes called AOC, DOC, DOCG, etc.) foods throughout Europe that you may be familiar with are Parmigiano-Reggiano, Chianti Classico, Jamón Serrano, and Prosciutto di Parma.  The California Olive Oil Council is a trade association with certified olive oil standards meant to help raise the quality of California oils on the shelves, promote producers, and protect customers.  
• A specific producer name and location.  Though the location can be hard to recognize if you're not a pro at reading Italian addresses and deciphering all of the insane two letter abbreviations (FI = Firenze, SI= Siena, etc.), it's worth it to try, and to at least be sure that the oil is made in a particular place in Italy (or Spain, or France).  As Tom Mueller writes, "Made in Italy" is not the same thing as "Product of Italy."  Most of the big olive oil brands, like Bertolli and Filippo Berio have admitted to buying olives from other countries (such as Tunisia, Greece, or Spain), importing them into Italy, and pressing the oil there only to sell it as "Made in Italy."  Though there isn't anything innately wrong with olives grown in any of those countries, since the fruit is picked and then transported over such great distances, it's safe to say that it's not at its peak when being pressed into oil (and imagine the fermentation happening on the bottom of those truckloads of olives!).  Most of the small olive oil producers, like Capezzana, who I visited when I lived in Italy had their own frantoios (or olive mills) on the premises, so that olives could be pressed within hours of picking.  Something like only four percent of olive oil exported from Italy is a made exclusively of Italian olives, so look for the name of the producer, the location, and/or the words "Product of Italy" to ensure you're getting the real thing.

Things that aren't a necessarily indicator of quality:

• Color of the olive oil.  Light oils can be delicious.  Dark, green oils can be gross.  And vice versa.  Color, in and of iteself, doesn't matter, so don't make a decision based on it.
• Unfiltered vs. filtered.  Unfiltered olive oil is simply...unfiltered.  Not better, not worse, just unfiltered.  
• Single-varietals vs. blends.  As with wine, a blend can be truly delicious.  Just because an oil is made of a single cultivar of olive doesn't make it "better" in any way, so don't fall for that.  Let taste be your guide.

What to do with it after you bring it home:

• Keep your oil out of direct sunlight.  And don't store it above or too close to your stove, as temperature fluctuations will negatively affect flavor and encourage oxidation, which leads to rancidity.  

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Glossary of terms

Extra-virgin--this is the highest quality (and usually most expensive) oil derived from olives.  Extra-virgin is always made by pressing raw olives soon after they are harvested.  It's low in acid, and often offers the widest range of flavors, so it's best used unadulterated, in things like salads and condiments, since heating it up will change its chemical makeup and diminish its delicate flavors.

Virgin--this is also a high-quality oil, which is produced by the same exact methods as extra virgin.  The only difference is that it tests at a higher acidity level so it cannot technically be called extra virgin.  Virgin oils are also good for salad dressings, mayonnaises, condiments and light cooking.

(Pure) Olive oil--When a label reads "pure olive oil," or simply "olive oil," it usually means that the bottle consists mostly of refined oil, which has been treated with heat and/or chemicals to balance out the flaws and neutralize flavors, with a small percentage of virgin or extra virgin oil added back in for flavor. It's usually pretty light in color.  Since it doesn't have much going on, flavor-wise, this oil is great for browning meats for braises and making anything long-cooked.  I also sometimes use it as a base for mayonnaise and then go back and add good oil to finish.  It's a great, affordable, neutral cooking oil.

Extra light olive oil--Similar to pure, but without any good oil added back in for flavor.  This means that this oil is totally refined and basically void of any of the characteristics that make olive oil olive oil.  It's not bad, just not really anything special.  Would be good for browning meats for braises or slow-roasted anything.  The "extra light" doesn't denote that it has any less caloric value--it's just as fattening as regular old olive oil.

Cold pressed--the olives and oil were not heated above a certain point during processing, resulting in an oil with more integrity of flavor and nutrients.

First pressed--the oil is the product of the first press of the olives.  Sometimes olives are pressed a second time, and the resultant oil is of lesser quality (a second press will usually yield "pure" or "extra light" oil).

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What & Where to Buy

Image Source

What I use at home:

I'm always changing things up, based on availability, curiosity, the current state of my finances, and of course whim.  But the one constant is taste--I won't buy crappy olive oil.  These are all great olive oils that I rotate through the kitchen.  I usually have a few on hand, but for most home cooks who don't toe the line of insanity like I do, one cooking oil and one fancy oil are enough.

Take a look at these oils, and if one seems to catch your interest, familiarize yourself with its label and maybe you'll find it on the shelf of your local natural or specialty foods store.  If you trust me and my taste buds, spend the money, buy the oil, and bring it home to taste and cook with.

Where to buy olive oil:

Many of these olive oil producers sell to distributors who import throughout the US, so most of these are going to be somewhat easy to find in a shop like Bi-Rite, The Pasta Shop, Dean & Deluca, or Zingermans.  In the Bay Area, local grocery stores like Rainbow, Berkeley Bowl, and Monterey Market have great selections of olive oil, as does Genova Delicatessen.

Even though I've noticed that Whole Foods has a huge selection of high quality olive oils, I wouldn't buy fancy oil there unless pressed to, because I think most of those bottles just sit on the shelves for a really long time, aging and creeping ever-closer to rancidity, which is inevitable in olive oil around the 14 month mark.  Since you're paying a premium for good oil, it's worth it to make sure you're buying from a retailer with quick turnover.

I have my own issues with and try not to shop at Trader Joe's because of their lack of transparency, and their behavior throughout the whole Immokalee situation (even though I suppose it's technically been resolved), but I totally get that for a lot of people it's the best or only option, or that they just plain like it.  The thing is, since most everything is a house brand there, there's no way of knowing what you're getting, really, until you buy it and taste.  But since things are pretty affordable there, it's an easy way to put your taste buds to the test.

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Olive Oils I Use & Love

California

• Katz: Chef's pick is a fantastic deal and well-balanced.  I usually have a bottle of this around for both cooking and salads.
• McEvoy Ranch
• Yolo Press
• O Olive Oil

Sardinia

San Giuliano Oils: Affordable and relatively mild, these oils have been the mainstay cooking oils in my kitchen for the past few years.  I like their pure and their extra virgin, as well as the delicious Cannonau red wine vinegar.  I use the neutral pure oil for browning roasts, all-purpose, and things like mayonnaise base that I then finish with better, more full-bodied oils.

Sicily

• Mastri di San Basilio: I particularly like Due Sicilie and usually have a bottle of this soft-spoken, yet delicious oil on hand for salad dressings and salsas where I don't want the oil to have too much personality.
• Olio Verde: one word--delicious

Tuscany

• Stephen Singer Olio: This is the oil that has been at the base of CP cooking for decades, though now there is a lot of California oil in that kitchen as well.  My favorites here are the San Giusto and the flagship oil.
• Badia a Coltibuono
• Tenuta di Capezzana
• Frantoio di Sommaia
• Laudemio Frescobaldi
• Tiger Brand: This is a pure olive oil I LOVE to use for cooking because it's so neutral and affordable.

Puglia

Francesco de Padova: The 5 Liter tin is a STEAL!  Howard Case has had a relationship with these Pugliese producers for years, and imports these oils and sells them himself, keeping costs relatively low.  I really like these oils--the pure is great for cooking and the extra virgin is a wonderful all-purpose oil.

Liguria

Costa dei Rosmarini: I went through a seriously obsessive phase with this olive oil in 2004 and it remains a favorite.

Spain

Siurana olive oil: This isn't a brand, but rather a DOP.  Kelly brought me some Siurana olive oil recently, and it's delicious.  I'm not really educated when it comes to olive oils from beyond the borders of Italy or California, so this was a really great introduction to high-quality Spanish oil.  Thank you, Kelly!

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Resources

• California Olive Oil Council
• 8 Tips for Choosing and Using Olive Oil by David Lebovitz
• Yolo County Olive Oils: I've heard that Yolo Press makes some excellent, affordable oil, but they are all worth tasting.
• AmorOlio: Nancy Harmon Jenkins' Olive Oil Intensive in Tuscany
• Olive Oil Source: lots of great information if you have the time to dig around

Articles & Books

• Slippery Business by Tom Mueller in the New Yorker
• Extra Virginity: The Sublime and Scandalous World of Olive Oil by Tom Mueller
• Michael Pollan uses Organic Costco Extra Virgin Olive Oil for everyday cooking at home in an interview with Emily Thelin in the Wall Street Journal (I used to really raise my nose at this, but I have to say, for everyday olive oil, it's totally fine.)
• California's Olive Oils Challenge Europe's: Julia Moskin's excellent piece on California Olive Oils in the New York Times
• The Olive Oil Secret, a pretty good document with a thorough shopping and tasting guide
• Olive Oil: From Tree to Table by Peggy Knickerbocker

remember this.

More and more the desire grows in me simply to walk around, greet people, sit up on their doorsteps, play ball, throw water, and be known as someone who wants to live with them. It is a privilege to have time to practice the simple ministry of presence. Still, it is not as simple as it seems. My own desire to be useful, to do something significant, and to be a part of some impressive project is so strong, that soon my time is taken up by meetings, conferences, study groups and workshops that prevent me from walking the streets. It is difficult not to have plans; not to organize people around an urgent cause; not to feel that you are working directly with social progress—but I wonder more and more if the first thing shouldn’t be to know people by name, to eat and drink with them, to listen to their stories and to tell your own. To let them know with words, handshakes, and hugs that you do not simply like them but you really love them.

--Henri Nouwen

collecting quotes

Part of what I do all day in this office is read.  A lot.  I read something, which leads me to something else, and then I decide that I need to become an expert in some arcane field of research so I ask my grad student friends to order books through the inter-library loan for me, and then I read more and more and more.

I suddenly understand why it takes some people twenty years to finish their Ph.D.s  I mean, I couldn't possibly write even a sentence on how people learn and become proficient in a skill without first consulting The Cambridge Handbook of Expertise and Expert Performance (only 899 pages), right?  (If you're curious, that's the paper on which Malcolm Gladwell based his 10,000 hour rule.)  Shoot me now.

Anyway, in all of this reading, I'm coming across some really lovely thoughts on food and cooking.  I've been recording them on sheets of butcher paper I've hung on the walls and stuck to my desktop, but I keep wanting to share them with you, and also to type them up and have them somewhere so I can refer to them.  So I think I'm going to start posting them here from time to time.

I hope they inspire and teach you as they have done for me.

Recipes do not make food taste good; people do.
--Judy Rodgers, The Zuni Cafe Cookbook

Experience is a good predictor of how you'll need to season and adjust food, but it is no substitute for vigilant tasting.  --Judy Rodgers, The Zuni Cafe Cookbook

This is not a manual of cookery, but a book about enjoying food....Anyone who loves to eat, can soon learn to cook well.
--Jane Grigson, Good Things

No amount of cooking skill in the kitchen can produce a fine meal on the table, unless it is preceded by selective skill in the market.
--Roy Andries de Groot, Feasts for All Seasons


p.s. I actually only have to read two short chapters in the big book.  I'm not that insane.

Resource Guide for Home Ec: Understanding Salt

image source

A list of resources and links I find really informative:


Articles & Blogs
That's So Salty!  It's Not Salty Enough! by Jill Santopietro on Chow.com
In Salts, a Pinch of Bali or a Dash of Spain by Harold McGee in the New York Times
Salt of the Earth about Judy Rodgers by Russ Parsons in the LA Times
An Introduction to Gourmet Salt by Mark Bitterman (pdf version here)

Books
Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky
Salted by Mark Bitterman
The Zuni Cafe Cookbook by Judy Rodgers
On Food and Cooking by Harold McGee

Purveyors
San Francisco
Little Vine
Bi-Rite Market
Boulette's Larder
Rainbow Grocery

East Bay
The Country Cheese Shop
The Pasta Shop
Berkeley Bowl
Monterey Market
The Spanish Table

Purchase Online
The Meadow: the Mecca of Salt, a shop in Portland, Oregon
SaltWorks: pretty much sells every kind of salt, ever
Celtic Sea Salt, aka sel gris: buy the big bag and use it for everything
Bulk Maldon Salt


and finally:

Tartine Afterhours: Wednesday, February 29th

It took me a little longer than usual to figure out this month's menu, but when I got it, I really got it! Inspired by French street food, we'll be making merguez sausage sandwiches on special Tartine buns and for dessert, stacks and stacks of sweet crêpes, served with all sorts of toppings and garnishes for you to choose from at the table. I'm gonna see if we can find an accordionist to come play, too! I. CANNOT. WAIT! Come eat with us!

image source

THE DETAILS

WHO:  the fab folks at tartine and me
WHAT: a three course family-style feast inspired by French street food
WHERE: tartine bakery (600 guerrero st. sf, ca)
WHEN: wednesday, february 29th at 8pm
WHY: to highlight the joy of good food and good company
HOW MUCH: $45 plus wine and gratuity. cash only, please!
TO RESERVE: please fill out this form to submit your name into the lottery. due to the overwhelming popularity of our dinners, space is extremely limited so we now select guests by performing a lottery. we'll email lottery winners by wednesday, february 22nd; if you don't hear back from us, please try again next month!

Creative Growth Fundraiser: Friday, March 16th

Come join me, Charlie and Cal, along with all of these other fabulous people, on Friday, March 16th for a fashion show and fundraiser in support of Creative Growth.

Lauren McIntosh is gonna totally yak the place out, we'll be cooking all sorts of delicious things, and I heard a rumor that there's even gonna be a parade, one unlike any other you've ever experienced.  Trust me, it's gonna be awesome.

If you are interested in volunteering with me for this event, please send me an email at ciao {at} saminnosrat {dot} you know.

something out of nothing: cabbage slaw

Festive Slaw

, a photo by 

PeaSoupEats

 on Flickr.

if you've ever been over to my house for dinner, you have probably eaten some version of this slaw. it's a variation of the slaw they make in the chez panisse cafe, and hence, a variation of alison's slaw over at bakesale betty.

at this time of year, when a little brightness on the plate is something we can all use, it's a great addition to anything from a humble dinner of beans and rice, a scrambled egg with tortilla, fish tacos, or even a steak. if you were to use a bit of rice wine vinegar, sesame oil, and ginger instead of red wine vinegar, and olive oil, you could serve it with any number of asian-inspired dishes.

slaw. so clean. so good. basically made out of nothing.

bright cabbage slaw

serves 4-6 people as a side dish

1 small head of cabbage--red, green, napa, or any combination of the three is fine

1 small red onion

2 jalapeños

1 small bunch cilantro

red wine vinegar

1 lime

1 lemon

salt

good olive oil

Halve the head of cabbage, remove the core from each half with a V-shaped incision, and slice thinly. Place in a big salad bowl and sprinkle generously with salt.

Let the cabbage sit for at least 20 minutes to release some of its water.

In the meantime, peel and halve the onion. Remove the stem end and slice thinly. Macerate with red wine vinegar.

Halve, seed, and slice the peppers.

Roughly chop the cilantro. Both leaves and stems are delicious, but trim any woody ends the stems might have before chopping.

When the cabbage has released a good amount of water, drain it, then add the onion (but not the vinegar), cilantro, and appropriate amount of peppers for your liking.

Dress with olive oil.

Now comes my favorite part: layering the acids. You've already introduced some acid with the macerated red onion, and vinegar is a sort of heavier form of acid, so try to balance it out with lime and lemon juice. Probably the entire lime and half the lemon is a good amount to start with.

Taste, adjust salt and oil if needed. Then, start to tinker with the acids. Does it need more vinegar? More lemon? Taste and adjust, taste and adjust, taste and adjust.

I like my slaw on the acidic side, since I usually serve it with fried or rich foods as a foil. If you're just eating slaw and say, grilled chicken or fish, it might not need quite as much acid. It's all about context, you know?

best.granola.ever.

"there's a new granola on the block."

the block, that is, being the internet.

that's what i told aaron, shelley and seamus a couple of weeks ago when we were having brunch at nopa, where shelley and seamus ordered granola and pronounced it delicious.

i'd just seen this recipe for nekisia davis' farmhand's choice granola on food52 and decided to make it. i was putty in the hands of all of those pecans and coconut shards. and, i've recently fallen for pumpkin seeds.  a week later, when  orangette posted about it, i knew i was onto something.

unsurprisingly, i have very strong feelings about what should be used to sweeten granola, and honey is not on the list.

and, i replace canola oil with olive oil reflexively in recipes, so the fact that this one starts with olive oil was a positive.

also, as i'm sure you know by now, i'm all about salt, and this recipe certainly doesn't ask me to control my natural urges.

let me clarify something, though: i don't really like granola to begin with. never have. that's what makes the fact that i've had a bowl of granola every day since i made a batch of this stuff last week even more incredible. it's just so salty, nutty, toasty and sweet. it's so crunchy it stands up to the straus yogurt i drown it in for over half an hour.  i'm eating a bowl of it at my desk as i type this.

and, the recipe is really well-tested, fitting exactly on a single cookie sheet and cooking exactly as long as it says. considering that i think most recipes are worthless, this should serve as the ultimate endorsement.

the only thing i might change next time is to reduce the sugar and maple syrup. as much as i love sweet things, this is a little too sweet for me, but i'm posting the original recipe below for you to try and judge for yourself.

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Nekisia Davis' Olive Oil and Maple Granola

adapted slightly from food52

Makes about 7 cups

3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats

1 cup raw pumpkin seeds, hulled

1 cup raw sunflower seeds, hulled

1 cup unsweetened coconut chips

1 1/4 cup raw pecans, left whole or coarsely chopped (I like to leave them whole)

3/4 cup pure maple syrup (Grade B is best)

1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1/2 cup packed light-brown sugar

Coarse salt.  I used sel gris, but kosher salt is fine, too!

Heat oven to 300°F.

Place everything in a large bowl and mix until well combined. Spread granola mixture in an even layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Transfer to oven and bake, stirring every 10-15 minutes, until granola is toasted, about 45 minutes.  I was making this right before I went to be, and I got lazy at the end, so I turned my oven off and left the granola in there overnight to get really dry and crisp.

Remove granola from oven and season with more salt to taste. Let cool completely before serving or storing in an airtight container for up to 1 month.

Vin D’Orange

I'm not quite sure that I remember the first time I tasted vin d'orange, but one thing I do know is that it must have been related, in some way, to Chez Panisse.

Current and former employees of the restaurant alike are obsessed with it.  Bottle corkers have been purchased by the dozen, it's poured liberally at practically every dinner party and celebration, and I think a Seville orange tree might have been planted at the Edible Schoolyard expressly for the promise of future vintages of vin d'orange  (ok, ok--marmalade too).

Vin d'orange is a Provençal apéritif traditionally made with lumpy, bitter, seedy Seville oranges.  I grew up thinking the only use for these sour oranges was as a foil for fried fish, as is done in Iran, but when I began cooking I saw them appear from time to time in the sweet kitchen.  After a little snooping around, I learned the history of the Seville orange as the original citrus used in British marmalades, and the last time I was in Iran, I spent a couple of days picking their nauseatingly fragrant blossoms with my aunt and grandmother in our family orchards so we could distill some orange flower water.  But definitely, the easiest and most elegant use for these fruits is a batch of vin d'orange.

Last week, Martin browbeat me into buying a case of Sevilles from him, and since I don't have the time to make marmalade, Suzanne came over and we made vin d'orange.  Maybe I'll serve it at the next New Year's Eve at Tartine?

Using rosé will yield a really special vin d'orange, but since I try to do this on the cheap, I don't usually bother spending the money.  Jug wine is totally fine for this, since you'll be adding so much sugar, vodka, and of course, oranges.  

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Vin d'orange

Adapted from a recipe by Tracy Bates and Suzanne Drexhage

Ingredients:

5 liters crisp, bright white wine such as sauvignon blanc.  You can use rosé if you're a high roller.

1 liter vodka

1 1/2 pounds (681 grams or about 3 1/3 cups) sugar

1 vanilla bean, split

12 Seville or Bouquet de Fleur oranges

1 orange (you can also use a blood or Cara Cara orange here)

1 lemon

Rinse all of the citrus.  Cut all of the fruit into chunks.  I usually cut the oranges in half, then quarter the halves.  This isn't so much about juice as it is about exposed surface area of the fruit.  In fact, juice will make the final product cloudy.

Place everything in a big bucket, give it a stir to dissolve the sugar, cover, and put in a cool space for 30 to 42 days.  I believe that traditionally, it's left for 40 nights, but each batch is different, so it's important to taste it from time to time to see how it's progressing.

I try to fit it all in the back of the fridge, but if that's not possible for you, a cool closet or basement should be fine.  Check on the vin every few days, adjusting the sugar if necessary, and plucking out a few pieces of orange if you notice it's getting too bitter too quickly.

Sometime between 30 to 42 days, when the vin d’orange tastes pleasantly orangey and bitter enough, remove the solids and strain through double layered cheesecloth into bottles, being careful not to pour in the sediment from the bottom of the bucket.  If your vin is especially cloudy, and you're feeling patient, try straining it through a coffee filter.

We usually just collect old wine bottles and remove the labels, then use a corker to cork them back up.  You could also just use a mason jar!

If you used the corker, you can store the vin d'orange at room temperature.  If it's in a mason jar or other unsealed bottle, then keep it in the fridge for up to a year.  The reason why I think it's worth going to the extra trouble to cork it is this: as time passes, the flavors of the wine will mellow and come together.  

Vin d'orange gets better after a few months, and if you can wait, it's really good after a year.  I had a friend who misplaced a few bottles and found them four years later--that was the best batch we'd ever tasted!

Serve chilled, poured over a couple ice cubes, with a twist of orange--the perfect summer aperitif.

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Resources

This really cool flow chart of citrus ancestry

Bottle corkers, corks, etc. 

The Oak Barrel

Where to find Seville oranges in the Bay Area:

Monterey Market

Bi-Rite Market

Berkeley Bowl

DeSantis Farm, which goes to Alemany Farmers Market and the Heart of the City Farmers Market

Martin Bournhonesque

Where to find Seville oranges online:

Melissa's

An Alternative:

A recipe for vin d'orange made with sweet oranges, in case you can't get your hands on any Sevilles.

home ec: bean resources

"Maxibelle" Heirloom Beans Dried

, a photo by 

Chiot's Run

 on Flickr.

in preparation for my pantry class at

18 reasons

in a couple of weeks, i've been spending a lot more time than usual (which is already more than some might consider normal) thinking about beans.

beans, my favorite vegetable.  ok, legume.  but still, you know what i mean.

i am most adamantly not a vegetarian, but inadvertently, i pretty much am one at home, other than the occasional roast chicken and resulting stock.  oh, and

fra'mani breakfast sausages

(why are they so good?).

since beans, eggs, yogurt and cheese are my go-to daily sources of protein, i'm okay with spending a bit more for the really good stuff.  out of context, $6 or $7 for a dozen pastured eggs or half-pound of heirloom beans might seem exorbitant, but looking at an dinner built around vegetables, an artisan bread or whole grain, and some good beans and eggs tells a different version of the same story, one where a delicious, local, organic and balanced meal for four people can cost under ten dollars.

the deal with heirloom beans

here's the thing: non-heirloom dried beans are really, really good, too.  for me, spending the extra money makes sense because it brings me joy to get to know (a.k.a. totally geek out on) all of the different types of  beans out there, to see how pretty they are in jars on my shelves, and to watch them transform as they cook.  i also try to know where my food comes from, and to support people doing good work, so a couple bucks on fancy heirloom beans is money i'm glad to spend.

you can find great non-fancy beans at the market, too.  but try to look for beans that aren't super old and withery, so if the bulk section at your local shop looks like it hasn't been perused in a couple of years, maybe skip the bean bin.  the thing is, the fresher your dried beans, the more quickly and evenly they will cook, the creamier they'll be, and the better they will taste.  i try to buy and use all of my dried beans within two years of harvest, and knowing the people who grew the beans in the first place helps me meet that goal.

cooking beans is super-simple:

1. buy good beans.
2. cover with water and soak overnight, or at least 4 hours.
3. add an onion, some salt and any herbs you like.  a splash of olive oil won't hurt.
4. bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer until tender.  this can take anywhere from 45 minutes to a couple of hours.  skim any foam that appears.  add water, if needed, to make sure they are always immersed. 
5. season and eat.  or refry.  or turn into soup, cassoulet, or any one of a million delicious things!
6. though i don't have a crock pot, i think one might be ideal for bean cookery.  i just use my old, rusty le creuset pot.  aaron is obsessed with using clay pots for his beans, in an effort to bring a little bit of the old country to cedar street, i guess.  really, anything will work.  

bean resources

how to cook dried beans

a basic recipe

bean myths, dispelled

(i LOVE this page for so many reasons!)

heidi swanson's cover

of

nopa's

delicious wood-oven baked

rancho gordo beans

(three favorites in one!)

laurence jossel's black bean burger

(perhaps i should be embarrassed, but i am a little obsessed with homemade bean and veggie burgers)

lori de mori's great article on mangia-fagioli

, or bean-eaters, the derogatory nickname for tuscans.

where to buy great heirloom beans

online

rancho gordo

phipps country store

zürsun heirloom beans

in the bay area

bi-rite market

berkeley bowl

avedano's

the pasta shop

annabelle

dirty girl produce

phipps country store

rancho gordo

toby's feed barn

rainbow grocery

has bulk rancho gordo beans!  wahoo!

grow your own heirloom beans

seeds savers

baker creek heirloom seeds

native seeds

"on being a gourmet"

St. Teresa of Avila.  Bodega Bay, CA

I spent a couple of days in Bodega Bay this past weekend, where I found some lovely things in a couple of the antique shops, including a book by Roy Andries de Groot, the author of one of my favorite cookbooks, The Auberge of the Flowering Hearth.

I had no idea that he'd written more than one book on food, so when I saw an early edition copy of Feasts for All Seasons, I snatched it up.  As I flip through it each evening, I continue to fall deeper in love with the message of this beautiful book.

Before there were foodies or food blogs, celebrity chefs or the molecular gastronomers, there were gourmets.  Over time, the meaning of the word, I fear, has changed, been diluted.  But the epilogue to this book is a gorgeous, timeless treatise for the gourmet, and frankly anyone who is appreciative of quality (or as my 11th grade English teacher Tom Dorman might say, Quality).

On Being a Gourmet

We began this book by defining a gourmet as a perfectionist--in the market, in the kitchen, and at the table.  The essence of the gourmet's attitude is expressed by two basic qualities of living: respect and integrity. When friends enter the circle of our hospitality, the care we take in preparing the food is a measure of our respect for our guests.  To achieve the final perfection at the table, we must begin with respect for the gift of Nature's raw materials.  Respect demands that good meat, for example, shall not be spoiled in the oven; that it shall be brought to the table at the proper temperature; that it shall be carefully carved to preserve its texture and served in such a way as to enhance its natural flavors.  In the market, the gourmet has a right to demand integrity in the growing and distribution of food, whether it be the farmer cultivating his peaches for flavor rather than size, or the butcher cutting his carcasses for maximum quality rather than maximum profit, or the grocer taking care to store his eggs at the right temperature.  When fresh fruits and vegetables are allowed to deteriorate through incompetent handling, when the contents of a can fail to fulfill the promise of the label, when a package is deliberately designed to mislead the shopper, these are all reflections of that lack of respect for the customer which is implicit in the phrase "the public won't know the difference." 

We believe it to be the responsibility of the gourmet to demonstrate in every possible way that the public does know the difference and to demand respect for the good taste and intelligence of the consumer.  It should never be too much trouble to write a letter to the president of a manufacturing company demanding the replacement of a poor-quality product.  If the first taste of a bottle of wine shows it to be inferior, the bottle should be recorked at once and returned to the wine merchant with a demand for a refund.  Above all, the gourmet makes demands upon himself: he must continually raise his own standards and resist the multitude of compromises that are constantly offered to tempt him. 

It is perhaps a strange twist that it was an Englishman, not a Frenchman, who expressed the ultimate definition of the attitude of the gourmet.  It was Dr. Samuel Johnson who said: "He who does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else."

--Roy Andries de Groot, 1966

Tartine Afterhours: Wednesday, January 25th

Though we're still recovering from our most excellent, completely raucous New Year's Eve, it's time to announce our next dinner.  I'm not yet sure what we'll be cooking--could be lasagna, or maybe some sort of warm, comforting soup.  I've also been having a hankering for spaghetti alle vongole lately, so maybe I'll extrude some noodles and we'll have that.  Whatever it is, I promise it'll be delicious!

photo by peden+munk

the details

who: the fab folks at tartine and me

what: a three-course family-style feast

where: tartine bakery (600 guerrero st.  sf, ca)

when: wednesday, january 25th at 8pm

why: to highlight the joy of good food and good company

to reserve: this dinner has sold out.  please join the mailing list by entering your name in the box on the sidebar to receive notice of our next dinner and enter the lottery.

how much: $45 plus wine and gratuity (cash only, please!)