abooja

Thank you!

Thanks! I know that Wegmans is a quality organization because they wouldn't hire me. Good for them.

You're a doll. Thanks!

It's 2:15 a.m. Howard has been asleep for two hours. You think it's about time I wrap this thing up? Many thanks to Pam R. and the rest of the eGullet crew for allowing me such a great opportunity. I'm sorry that I couldn't get to many things that I foolishly thought I would get to, including the sugar free brownie sundae (bought the liquid lecithin and everything), and the Christmas cookies for Howard's colleagues. We're actually putting that off until January. I need some time to recover. It may have been the five-day, $50 pastrami jerky debacle that pushed me over the edge. Thanks, also, to Howard for washing dishes all week, and for putting up with the late dinners and general nonsense. He is a sweetheart. -- Now I feel guilty for throwing him under the bus about the whole ashy pastrami issue. I look forward to reading the next blog.

Tonight's dinner was crab chowder. More specifically, it was "San Francisco Crab 'Meatball' Chowder" from Jasper White's 50 Chowders, a dish I have prepared once or twice before and really enjoyed. This time, of course, it would be gluten free. As preparing this chowder was a last minute decision, I had to run out and buy some ingredients, like crab legs, crab meat, butter (Yukon Gold) potatoes, bacon, and gluten free crackers. The recipe calls for crushed oyster or Pilot crackers. Glutino crackers have about the same texture. These were vegetable flavored. Wegmans was, once again, out of the originals, and I wasn't willing to sacrifice the box I usually reserve for cheddar with crackers and pear. -- Yes, that's low fat, lactose free milk. There also wasn't a chance in hell that I was going to make crab stock this particular evening, so I used canned, low sodium chicken broth. After nixing the idea of pancetta, normal sliced bacon took the place of slab. There was crab in both the chowder and the "meatballs" that accompanied it. The chowder part began its life as a bacon-y mirepoix. (Can you have one of those without carrots?) This was a helluva sight cuter than the crab meatball mixture, which was lent a sickly, Velveeta hue from the gluten free crackers. This photo makes it look more like tuna salad. Dinner was served at around 9:15 p.m. I'm happy to report that it turned out great. If it had not, I would have lied to you just now and told you that it absolutely turned out great. It's not like you'd ever be able to prove otherwise.

We chose our last two apartments based, in large part, on the proximity of a Wegmans. We didn't know Lawrenceville, New Jersey from a hole in the wall, so Howard got the brilliant idea to visit the nearest supermarket and check out the clientele. We walked by a bonsai tree just to get in the front door, where a couple in horseback riding boots and breeches stood talking. That sold us on the neighborhood. When we moved to Pennsylvania, I looked up all the local Wegmans online, and focused our apartment search in those areas. One hundred percent fact. Here are some photos of our current Wegmans, taken a short while ago with my Droid. They should be at least clear enough to convey what it is that I love so much about this store. It's the happiest place on earth, even in the rain. Brussels sprouts, on the branch, are a new offering. As is this mushroom growing display. Actual truffles for sale. I've yet to buy these. Howard's accountant thanks me. A blurry partial shot of the pastry display case. I *believe* they also carry Pierre Herme chocolates. And another of a section of the cheese shop, including a caviar case. An insane amount of olives. Finally, a wine kiosk. Pennsylvania has some funky laws about alcohol. To compare, I used to do most of my food shopping at this place in Queens. Their displays looked more like this. To complete the series, dinner will be late again tonight. I will blog about it much later, after Dexter. Why ruin a good streak?

Thank you! And I hope you guys get some resolution with this. We've had our own cooking challenges in this household. Howard was allergic to nuts, seeds, beans, and corn for 20+ years. He is no longer so, blessedly, but he is still diabetic. This week wreaked havoc on his blood glucose levels.

No, thank you! I am particularly flattered that you would say that.

Thank you! I've never made gnocchi before this, and was similarly intimidated, but you shouldn't be. Cooking them properly is much more difficult, in my opinion. Give it a try!

Thank you! I think it's insane that every pasta aficionado on earth hasn't tried this sauce at least once. But then, some people are too lazy to even open a jar of sauce, preferring takeout or a frozen dinner, even if it tastes like crap. I find this endlessly fascinating.

Thank you! You are very kind. I know this isn't groundbreaking stuff here, but a learning process. I know a couple of more things about food today than I knew last week. Works for me.

Thanks! We've got around a pound left in the freezer. I'm so glad I made extra.

Howard took me to Paris this year for the first time. The highlights, for me, were visiting Père Lachaise Cemetery, and eating pastry, including my first real macaron. We didn't go anywhere special to get it -- a PAUL bakery in a shopping mall across the street from the hotel. It was a transforming experience. Served cold, the macaron had refined good looks, and the familiar, fudgy chew of a great brownie. Howard, who was dreading the coconuty moistness of a Passover macaroon, was pleasantly surprised to find that he really enjoyed it. Fast forward six months. I found myself daydreaming about Paris, and being able to wander into random patisseries to sample whatever morsels I'd like. I am grateful that I did not discover my gluten problem until after Paris. That would have killed it for me. But macarons are made with nut meal, not flour. I could still enjoy them right here in suburban Philadelphia. I just needed to make them myself. Macaron ingredients are really quite simple. Powdered sugar, ground almonds, granulated sugar, aged egg whites, and cocoa powder. I ground the almonds as finely as I could, added powdered sugar and cocoa, then ground them some more. I beat the egg whites separately, along with the granulated sugar. I couldn't decide if these peaks were stiff enough, so I beat them some more after this photo. Folding the dry ingredients into the meringue was impossible to do without deflating the egg whites, but I persisted. I scraped the batter into my bootleg pastry bag, held upside down in a tall, kitchen glass. I piped out circles of batter about an inch wide. Rapping the pan on the counter to smooth out the tops did nothing, since the batter was too thick, so I smooshed them a bit with wet fingers. I let them sit for thirty minutes, then baked them. They were a bumpy, chunky mess, but, hey, they had legs! I forged ahead with the filling prep. More of those Ghirardelli 60% chips (they're just too convenient not to use), some heavy cream, corn syrup, and butter. The resulting ganache was still thin after cooling to room temperature, so I chilled it for a couple of minutes in an ice bath. It was now thick enough to schmear, but lost its shine. One of the finished cookies in the background has some of this shiny ganache. Unfortunately, it also has a crack. Both the taste and texture of the macarons were pretty fantastic. I didn't so much mind the ragged appearance, but will try to make improvements. I'll remember to sift out the chunks after grinding the almonds. I'll only add as much almond mixture as necessary to achieve a more magma-like flow of batter. I'll also pipe on the filling next time, and skip the ice bath. It was late when I finally reached this stage of the process, and I rushed. I'll want these to look significantly better if I decide to include them in the Christmas cookie rotation. Not much time to practice. I'm off to Wegmans in a short while, for ingredients and photographs. Crab chowder tonight...

When I first got the idea to prepare gluten free gnocchi for this blog, I imagined serving them three ways -- with pesto, sage and brown butter, and tomato sauces. They would be artfully photographed, perhaps with sprigs of basil and sage in a jar of water, off in the distance. I woke up from that dream at around 7 p.m. tonight. I still had photos to edit and macarons to fill. And, as it turns out, there was no leftover pesto in the freezer from last summer. I never even bought the sage. Tomato sauce, it was. Fortunately, I was serving these gnocchi with Marcella Hazan's tomato and butter sauce, which I can eat with a fork. Who knew tomato sauce didn't have to involve garlic and basil and be cooked for hours? This sauce is so good, its aroma makes my mouth water. It also comes together in less than an hour, and you don't even have to chop the onion. I boiled and strained the gnocchi, heated up some olive oil in a cast iron skillet, and sauteed them until they were golden brown. Not sure why, except that I read about this technique for the first time today, and it sounded tasty. The gnocchi were sauced, and served. Grated parmigiano reggiano accompanied. Oh, and I, uh...I meant to make a salad like this... ...but ran out of time and wound up serving microwaved Green Giant frozen steam-in-the-bag veggies, with broccoli, carrots, and bell peppers. We ate that salad the other day with the pot pies, but I forgot to mention it. Okay, so...how was the gnocchi? They had really good flavor, but I simply overcooked them. I thought I boiled plenty of water, but it took far too long to come back to temperature. I should not have waited that long. Next time, I'll boil them for at least a minute or two less. This may even call for a tougher dough. I prefer my gnocchi on the al dente side. As for the frying idea, I loved it! Browning the gnocchi kept them from being too soft. However, I think browned gnocchi pair better with other sauces, such as the sage and brown butter. I wonder if I could have browned them without first boiling them. Certainly not straight out of the freezer. I could also shock them in ice water post-boil. Whatever it takes. I must have that chewy bite. Next time. And that will happen. Gnocchi are too much fun to make just once.

*Warning: Dull Filler Material We had a late lunch of tuna salad sandwiches. I ate mine on toasted gluten free bread with seasoned tomatoes, while Howard had his on rye, no tomato, with a kosher pickle. Next: Gluten Free Gnocchi Verdict

Thank you! Let's hope he remembers them before they resemble a science project.

Thank you! So is Howard, by the way. (Both cute, and looking forward to the meal.) He's been given the one-hour warning. -- Hey, macaron baking and photography take time!

Like a lot of folks with no social lives, I spent Friday night making gnocchi. I thought of gnocchi when first contemplating the enormity of a life without gluten. "They're made out of potato!", I thought. Perfectly safe. Except, they're not. Wheat flour is generally added. I was bummed that no gluten free varieties were available nearby, then remembered I could easily make my own. After all, Andy Garcia was able to make gnocchi, while also making his cousin, Sophia Coppola, in Godfather, Part III. How hard could it be? Turns out, it's pretty easy. I baked a few russet potatoes, then assembled the rest of the ingredients. I used potato starch and brown rice flour as my fillers, along with xanthan gum, some eggs, and salt. While the potatoes were still hot, I pressed each half, cut-side down, in the ricer. This resulted in a pile of potato fluff... ...and a stack of potato skin coasters, which Howard saved for future snacking. I whisked the dry ingredients, tossed them with the potato fluff, then added beaten eggs. After adding substantially more flour to get a pliable dough, I scaled out dozens of 9-gram balls and began to shape the gnocchi. After some practice, I developed this little system. I was pleased with the results. Boy, do I love staring at dough. When they were fully frozen, I bagged and weighed them. 30 ounces of gnocchi...goodness? I'll report back after we eat them later tonight. A bit of a break, then I begin the chocolate macarons.

You are just too sweet. Thank you!

Good morning! Here is a shot of my kitchen as it looks right now, pre-chaos. We rent, but the kitchen in this townhouse is easily bigger than any I've had before, including that of my parents. We made it more usable by replacing a low-hanging lamp on the right, which once hovered above a kitchen table by the deck doors, with one that you could actually walk beneath. We extended the counter space by adding a black and stainless steel Ikea cabinet with wall shelving directly above it. Spice shelves are to the right of that, with my cookbooks completing the wall. The only drawback of this setup was poor lighting, so Howard added plugin xenon light strips on the left and right. Now, it's perfect. I have plenty of space to cook, plus I can stare at the silly birds and squirrels eating on the deck right outside while I'm waiting for a loaf of bread to emerge from the oven. Next up: Making Gluten Free Gnocchi

Thanks! That means a lot, coming from you. Whether or not I make the bread again will depend entirely on my willpower. I felt fine after the one piece of rye bread last night, so I cheated again this evening by having steamed pork dumplings and a small portion of egg roll. -- Yes, I'm weak. I miss wheat too much, which doesn't exactly compel me to run into the kitchen to bake another loaf of gluten free bread anytime soon, however good it may be. I believe I may have tried the 7-layer cake of which you speak. Over the years, we've bought many such cakes, usually in supermarkets. There was this one cake from a kosher bakery somewhere in New York that Howard could eat, back when he was allergic to all sorts of things, including nuts, seeds, beans and corn. This cake was made with vegetable shortening and potato starch, among other things. I remembered it when dreaming up the concept of my own gluten free 7-layer cake, which is partly what led me to think it could work. Small world!

Aw, thanks, but don't be so impressed. Some recipe ideas are borrowed, while others were easily adapted, thanks to the efforts of those who came before me.

Why, thank you! Glad you're enjoying it.

This story has a much sweeter ending. In fact, the amount of gut-busting butter and eggs in this cake could level a small town. If only the pastrami had as much fat. This is decidedly not the carb-friendly dessert I promised earlier in the week. Seven layer cake is something I grew up eating. Good Jewish bakeries abounded in Brooklyn in the 1970s, but my mother favored Stern's on Avenue J. Their seven layer cake, an American version of the dobos torte and usually reserved for the adults, was a rare treat for me. I remember it looking a lot like this. Thirty years later, I found myself on a mission to recreate the seven layer cake of my childhood. Jewish bakeries were dwindling. I managed to find one in Philadelphia that sold such a cake, but even they trucked it over from their sister store in Brooklyn. Over the years, I have baked a few iterations, even writing about it here, but never achieved seven layer cake nirvana. Then I had to change my diet and lose all the gluten. Then this blog happened and, after a quick misfiring of the synapses, I decided to reinvigorate my quest, but with a gluten free spin. It shouldn't be too difficult, I reasoned. The cake is a thick, eggy batter that bakes up thin. Volume wouldn't be an issue, especially with all those eggs. I went forward. The original recipe calls for bread flour, which is noted for its higher gluten content. Most gluten free bread flour blends that I favor include millet and other whole grains, which would have been too heavy, so I used a brown rice/potato/tapioca flour mixture and added extra xanthan gum to get the binding effect of a bread flour. All other ingredients remained the same. A bit of lemon zest gave the cake part of the cake exactly the flavor profile I remember. This recipe provided me with a rare opportunity to use both stand mixers simultaneously. I creamed the butter, sugar, lemon zest, and egg yolks in one, and whipped the egg whites in the other. Cleaning both bowls was less entertaining. The idea is to gently fold the egg white mixture into the egg yolk mixture, producing an ethereal blend of the two, held together by a whisper. Or something like that. I scaled the batter into two half sheet pans. Then painstakingly schmeared it evenly and into the corners, a task worthy of the "Kitchen jobs you hate beyond reason" thread. I was encouraged when it appeared to bake up reasonably well. It was time to make the buttercream, my real nemesis where this cake is concerned. I've tried both Swiss and Italian meringue buttercreams, as well as a whipped chocolate ganache, and nothing was quite right. I decided to go with the original French chocolate buttercream recipe that accompanied the dobos torte, which called for egg yolks instead of egg whites, and eight ounces of melted, semisweet chocolate. I had one six-ounce bar, and supplemented with a few semisweet chocolate batons. It tasted pretty good out of the bowl, but I waited too long to add the melted chocolate, which resulted in random scattering of a few small shards of chocolate throughout the buttercream. I picked most of those out, and made the chocolate glaze by melting Ghirardelli 60% cacao chips with still more butter. For those keeping score, that makes a grand total of two pounds of butter and about a dozen eggs in this one cake! I cut the cake into eight rectangles, assembling seven of them into a cake. I would have used all eight layers, but I ran out of buttercream. After the frosted cake chilled for a few hours, I schmeared on the chocolate glaze. (I realize I do a lot of schmearing lately.) I chilled the cake a bit more, then it was time to cut. And eat. The verdict? Not as pretty as the last cake I made, but neither of us spit it out. Howard claimed to really like it, finishing his slice first. (That mediocre pastrami dinner might have been lacking.) While it still wasn't quite the seven layer cake of yore, it was quite a bit closer than I have ever been. The cake gets chewy when it's cold, but stays fairly light at room temperature. I didn't think, "Poor, deprived me. I'm forced to eat this gluten free cake." It was just very rich, a bit too rich for my blood. But as a gluten free experience, I think I knocked this one out of the park.

Let's start with the good news: the gluten free bread wasn't so bad. There, I said it. Hard to believe, but despite overproofing and underbaking the damn thing, the artisan gf loaf was not only edible, but provided a more than adequate platform for a meaty sandwich. Of course, to achieve edibility, I had to toast it first. I waited several hours to slice it, but was still greeted by a familiar, faintly gummy crumb. -- Yes, I said this was the good news. It didn't get a lot of volume because it overproofed. Too much instant yeast due to poor recipe conversion on my part? Too long a proof? Was it the teff? Who's to say, but it probably didn't help that I followed the baking instructions of a few different recipes. I baked it in a preheated cast iron dutch oven, on a baking stone. The dough retarded for two days in the fridge prior to that. Next time, I'll use less yeast. By the way, here's a side-by-side of the gluten free bread with the rye bread. I overproofed both loaves, but the rye still towers over its gf counterpart. Speaking of the rye, more good news. Well, overall. I averted total disaster, so that was good. Here's what led up to it. I followed George Greenstein's recipe from Secrets of a Jewish Baker. A few days ago, I mixed up a batch of rye starter. A little flour, a little water, some minced onion, ground caraway seeds, a pinch of yeast, and you leave it on the counter for few days, refreshing along the way. I went easy on the caraway seeds at Howard's insistence, since he's always hated them. I thought they would impart an important flavor to the sour mash, even if I didn't include whole seeds in the finished loaf, so I used just a small amount. I also misread the recipe, forgetting that wheat flour would later be added. I mixed in a bit of bread flour at the early stages of the sour, thinking a loaf of 100% whole grain rye flour was an anchor in the making. So convinced was I about the inevitable failure of this loaf, that I sought to bake an alternative loaf, perhaps Reinhart's marbled rye. I lacked the specified starter, but had my own sourdough starter in the fridge. Froderick had not eaten in many months, and was looking peaked. Several meals and less than 24 hours later, he was back to his old self. I abandoned the idea of a second rye loaf, but decided to add a heaping tablespoon of Froderick to the final dough ingredients. Just because. Then mixed it all up. Instead of a shaping two boules and allowing them to rise, I opted for a multi-stage bulk fermentation, folding the dough three times along the way. I knew this was way too much dough for the brotform, but I stuffed it in there anyway. The mixture of yeast and sourdough made this a very active dough. While refrigerated, it exploded out of the sides of the brotform. I stuffed it back in, a deflating experience. My hopes were dashed, but it wouldn't be a total loss. I baked it in a 7-quart oval dutch oven, to accommodate it's footballish shape. It rose well enough. And had feet reminiscent of a giant macaron. The best gluten free bread in the world will never have a crust like this. The crumb wasn't perfect, but it wasn't terrible either. The taste was a bit bland, and not nearly sour enough. I could easily have doubled the amount of caraway and Howard still wouldn't have noticed. Now, for the bad news... I was hoping for an upset. Like the Bad News Bears, this pastrami dinner of mine was an underdog, going in. I've never prepared either the pastrami or rye recipes. My brisket was lean, and not plate, the coals spit soot on four days of work, and the rye bread could kill me. Still, I hoped that the meat's brittle texture would disappear upon steaming. It had lost 40% of its weight. When held from one side, it stayed parallel to the floor. No way this thing could be edible. As you can see, not only is the meat insanely lean, the cure didn't penetrate to its center. Thankfully, it was just moist enough to eat. The taste was actually good, but too salty. I don't quite understand why the dry cure could make it so salty, despite a three-hour soak, but still not penetrate the meat. Not enough saltpeter? Perhaps beef plate is thin enough to fully cure in three days, whereas brisket is not? It would have been fatty enough to moisten the pastrami throughout a long smoke. What that butcher sold me was a crime. I should wrap the pastrami in newspaper and leave it on his doorstep, along with a list of career alternatives. At least the latkes turned out well. Ah, potato. My most loyal friend... Coming up: a gluten free cake to wash away the (extra salty) tears.