JAZ

It depends on the leftovers. If I roast or grill a chicken, I'll use the meat during the week for fajitas or sandwiches or salad. The same goes for steak -- if I want one, I get a big enough one for two, or sometimes three meals. If I make soup or stew, I freeze half so I don't get sick of it before I finish it. Braises -- like the chicken -- I usually just reheat, either for dinner or lunches. Maybe because I've always cooked for one or two people only, and yet I like making stews, soups and brasied dishes, I have never minded leftovers, although I'm not one of those people who can eat the same exact thing day in and day out for a week. As for the cookbooks, I go in cycles, but use most of them for reference more than actually cooking from. I love the Vegetables from Amaranth to Zucchini book because I know I can find something to do with any vegetable I'm likely to come home with, and all the ideas seem to be good. Lately I've been using my pressure cooker more, so I use the two pressure cooking books I have, at least to give me an idea of liquid amounts and timing. Overall, I'm trying to use my cookbooks more and follow recipes more closely, so the chicken dish and tonight's dinner (which I'll get to soon) have been a good experience for me.

I think I got mine at Cost Plus, but I'm sure they're the same -- and yes, they're very handy, especially since they fold up if you need to store them.

The round white dishes are Revol, from SLT. The wavy rectangular one from the other night, and the triangular one from last night's dinner are from Villeroy & Boch, which has some very cool, expensive stuff. I'd been eyeing the wavy dishes or a while, and then they went on sale just at the same time that the V&B store near where I work closed, and most stuff was discounted a little more, so I splurged. I barely found room for the V&B dishes, so I think I can't buy any more. I have a pretty decent amount of cabinet space, and use the upper shelves above my "pantry" for dishes I don't use often. I also stack pretty much everything. (I'll try to take some pictures later.) I do have my nicer glassware (which I don't use too often) on a shelf in my living room, so that frees up some space and lets me display some of my things.

Thanks! Thighs would work just fine -- for some reason, the store where I bought the chicken didn't have just thighs from naturally raised chicken, which I try to buy. I actually prefer thighs too, but I learned a helpful trick from snowangel to make the legs easier to eat -- cut through the tendons that hold the meat to the ankles (do chickens have ankles?) before you cook it -- then you end up with a relatively tendon-free piece of meat.

Is there a way to fix the purple color? Admittedly, the ones I usually get are not quite as completely purple as the photo above; but, when I cook them the purple usually turns kind of grey/blue. I used some in dumplings this last weekend and it wasn't all that appealing. If my camera was working, it might have gone in the gallery of tasty yet regrettable foods. -Erik ← Usually with purple and reddish pigments, acid helps set the color -- works with purple cabbage, for instance. Maybe a little lemon or wine in the blanching water?

I'm not usually much of a breakfast person, and when I do have something, it's usually toast, with eggs or bacon if I wait and eat later on. But this morning, the leftover gingerbread was calling my name. I'll get back to some of your comments, but first, dinner last night. Following CaliPoutine's suggestion, I made the Chicken in Sherry Vinegar Sauce from Sally Schneider's A New Way to Cook. For those not familiar with the book, the author wanted to present good recipes modified to take out some of the fat and calories to make them more healthy but still have them taste good. She has done a pretty good job of this, although it means some of her techniques are a little long and involved. So with this recipe, I was supposed to start with skinless chicken pieces, flour them and brown. But it's something I just couldn't bring myself to do -- I've tried it in other recipes and find that it leaves a really unpleasant hard layer of meat on the pieces that doesn't go away even with the braising that happens later. Of course, since the meat was braising, I could have just skipped the whole browning step and still gotten good results. But, ever since I tried a new technique with braised chicken, I've gone back to it with a number of recipes and it's become my standard. The problem with braising chicken, as has been mentioned on the braising topic, is that the skin, even if it's browned to begin with, gets soft and flabby and unappealing during the braising process. The trick I learned is to get the level of liquid so that it leaves the top of the chicken uncovered. Start the braise (in the oven) covered as usual; then, when the dish is about 3/4 done, uncover the dish, turn the heat up and let the skin get crisp while the sauce starts to reduce. Works like a charm. So that's how I made the chicken. But first, the evening's cocktail. I realized that all I've made so far is drinks with gin, so to introduce a little variety, I made one of my own creations, a Velvet Daiquiri. Ordinarily I make daiquiris with white rum, but this seems to work better with an aged rum. 2 oz. rum 1/2 oz. Velvet Falernum (a lime and spice rum-based liqueur) 1/2 oz lime juice Dash of peach bitters On to dinner. The chicken, browned. Then you saute some shallots and deglaze the pan with sherry. Add the rest of the ingredients, which are sherry vinegar, a little sugar, some diced drained tomatoes, chicken broth and Dijon mustard. Season with salt and pepper, and add the chicken back in. Cover and stick in the oven (The recipe from the book calls for stovetop braising, but that won't work with my technique) at about 325 degrees. Here's the chicken about 25 minutes later. You can see it's still pale and not very appetizing, but another 25 minutes (with the oven turned up to about 375) uncovered results in this: The sauce has started to reduce and the chicken skin is nicely browned. At that point, I just removed the chicken, degreased the sauce and reduced it a little more while I finished making my first course. I think I said yesterday that I'd picked up some broccoli raab (rabe, whatever) but it turned out I'd gotten broccolini. Thank god for Vegetables from Amaranth to Zucchini, which set me straight. I blanched and cooled the broccolini, and still went ahead with my plan for a lemon-anchovy dressing. I tried Erik's suggestion of mashing garlic with salt, and then I mashed in a small anchovy filet, added some lemon juice and olive oil. It occurred to me that I was getting pretty close to caesar salad dressing, albeit without eggs. So it was a good test, in a way. It turned out well for this dish -- very lemony, which I don't know that I'd want in a caesar, but it was good with the broccolini. The garlic was present, but not harsh at all, so whether it was the mashing with salt, or the amount I used, something worked. I served the chicken with buttered rice. Next time I make this (I've been lucky this week -- this is another definite keeper) I think I'll serve it with polenta or grits -- not usually my choice for starch, but in this case I think the tangy sauce needs a base that's sweet and rich. Now I have to finish last night's dishes and I'll be back with the plans for tonight's dinner.

Too bad about that, but that's a nice picture, with the lovely city hall in the background, a building which to my eyes is clearly inspired by the Dome des Invalides, one of my favorite buildings in Paris. Pretty spot for a farmer's market -- weather allowing, of course. ← It really is, and it's a great market -- much less well known but therefore less hectic and not as crowded than the bigger one at the Ferry Building (which is nice, too; don't get me wrong). It's a little bit more -- rustic, maybe? I used to stop at it on the way to work when I worked on Sundays, but now that I don't, I don't get to the market as often as I'd like.

I used Sara Moulton's Smoky salmon chowder recipe -- with a few variations. Click here for a description and some step-by-step photos, but here's the result:

When I left this morning and actually caught the bus down the hill, I should have known that'd I'd use up all my good public transportation luck for the day in that one ride. But I made it to the BART station with time to buy a couple of boxes of Girl Scout cookies (I'm not crazy about them, but I used to be a Girl Scout, so I feel compelled to buy some at least once a year). Today's plan was to stop by the Sur La Table store where I work to pick up a few things -- every so often we get an extra discount on most merchandise and this was one of those weekends. Then I'd stop by the farmer's market at the Civic Center and see what looked good, then take the streetcar to 24th Street to go to my favorite liquor store. After that I'd continue on to the butcher for chicken quarters and the produce market for a few other things I need for dinner. Then I only had to hope that I could carry everything up the hill and that it wouldn't be raining. Everything was fine until I got to the farmer's market. Either because of the weather or because it was the day for the St. Patrick's Day parade, only a small fraction of the usual booths were set up. Usually there are booths filling up both sides of the walkway instead of the handful of brave souls there today. The fish guy was there, but I was already planning on chicken, so I didn't stop, except to take a picture. And I thought as long as I was there, in the rain, I might as well pick up something I can't get at my local produce store, so I got a bunch of broccoli rabe from this booth. And as I mentioned, my transportation luck was over for the day. I waited nearly 25 minutes for the streetcar I needed (at least I was underground and out of the rain, though). While I waited, I thought about what to do with the broccoli rabe, and remembered a great dish I had at Incanto, an Italian restaurant in my neighborhood. Broccoli rabe with a lemon-anchovy dressing. When the streetcar finally came and I got to 24th Street, I stopped in the other cheese store to pick up some anchovies. Even though this cheese shop has a wider selection of cheeses and pates, and even though it also sells wine and carries Amarena cherries in heavy syrup, I don't like it as well as my cheese shop. It's not rational, but that's life. [A funny store about this cheese shop: years ago, when I used to live in the neighborhood with my then-boyfriend, we'd walked up to 24th St. with a friend to have brunch. It was a warm, sunny day, and the door to the shop was open. We were standing at the corner by the cheese shop trying to decide where to eat, when Scott picked up his feet (one at a time, obviously) and peered at the soles of his shoes. It took me a minute to catch on, but with the rather pungent smells emanating from the shop, he thought he'd stepped in something, well, unpleasant. When I told him it was just the cheese shop, he said, "Man, that's some stinky cheese." And ever since then, I've referred to this place as the stinky cheese shop. Maybe that's why I'm not very fond of it.] Next was a stop at the liquor store. It's really more of a wine store, but since I rarely buy wine there, I think of it as a liquor store. It doesn't have the biggest overall selection, but it has hard to find necessities like Maraschino, Velvet Falernum and Pisco, and a good selection of eaux de vie. It also has a great beer selection. At that point, I started to think about just getting my chicken at the market on 24th (it started out as Bell Market, then was bought by Cala which has now been bought by Ralphs). I don't shop there much, but it would enable me to skip a stop and possibly get home before it started pouring again. Of if not, I could catch a cab home from there for not much money. So I got my stuff, remembered everything and got in the 10-items-or-less line with only one person in front of me. Now's probably a good time to mention that I must have done something really terrible, grocery-store-cashier-line-wise, in a previous life. I have the worst luck in the world in grocery store lines. And today was no exception. The young woman in front of me waited until her all her stuff was rung up to pull out her checkbook (oh, did I mention this was a cash/credit/ATM line only?). The clerk gestured at the sign, but said it was okay this time. So, then she writes the check out to Safeway. Remember, we're not in a Safeway -- and I don't know about you, but I generally know which store I'm in when I shop. So, she writes out another check, and then has no driver's license, and apparently the store's check system can't operate without one, unless a manager comes out. At this point, the line was getting longer, and two clerks had come over to try to get the check to process, and then, she actually had the nerve to ask if it was going to take much longer. The clerk said, "probably," and the woman took her check back and left, very upset and acting very put-upon. Jeez. Of course it was pouring when I got out. I was cold and my feet were soaking wet. I finally managed to hail a cab, whose driver had no idea where my street was, so I had to direct him. But at least I didn't have to walk up the hill in the rain, and I had a brand new bottle of brandy from the liquor store, so I made a hot lemon brandy. It helped.

Sorry for the lack of clarity -- the chowder called for both fresh and smoked. You poach the fresh filet in the soup and add the flaked smoked salmon at the end.

Here's the misunderstanding. I wasn't flouring multiple pans, I was flouring one pan with 12 molds. Like 12 really intricate cupcake molds. Trying to get the flour up the sides and inside tube of each little mold was virtually impossible, and that's why I'm willing to risk the spray.

Last night's dinner: As I mentioned earlier, since I'd bought some fabulous smoked salmon at a farmers' market on Thursday, I decided to make Sara Moulton's salmon chowder. Because I rarely follow recipes exactly, I made a few changes. I'd also bought some leeks, so I used them instead of onions. The leeks, sauteeing in butter. I used a combination of red potatoes and russets, because that's what I had. The potatoes, ready to go in. Because I was snacking on some of the smoked salmon and crackers while I was prepping, I decided I had to have a martini to go with it (martinis go really well with smoked salmon, if you didn't know). This glass is part of a set my parents got ages ago and, as far as I know, never used. They're from a time when glasses were designed for a one-shot drink -- they're just under three ounces to the rim. I love martinis, but for me, a little martini goes a long way -- and I don't like them warm. So these glasses are perfect. Back to the chowder. I added a quarter cup each dry vermouth and dry sherry along with the milk, because it seemed to need something, and both of those go well with salmon. I also seasoned it with white pepper, celery salt and dry mustard. The fresh salmon, ready for "poaching." It was pretty thick, so it didn't cook all the way through in five minutes, as I found out when I cut into it. So back in went into the chowder to finish cooking. Meanwhile, the smoked salmon and dill were awaiting their turn (sorry for the blurry photo). With the sherry and vermouth, I didn't think the chowder needed the acid of the lemon juice for balance, and wanted to avoid the curdling problem that Sara mentioned. So I simply added a little lemon zest for flavor. The finished chowder. And a caesar salad. I'm not crazy about the dressing recipe I used for the caesar. The consistency was good -- I hate really thick caesar dressings -- but it was too lemony and tasted of raw garlic. I know caesar dressing is supposed to be garlicky, but I don't usually use raw minced garlic in my dressings -- I find it too harsh. Ordinarily I macerate the garlic in the acid, but that doesn't result in enough garlic flavor for caesar, I don't think. Maybe poaching the garlic first would mellow it? Does anyone have a really great recipe for caesar salad or dressing?

Most of the commercially available spray "release" products will leave a gummy residue on your cookware and bakeware over time. If you have to, melt the butter, brush it into the mold, let it cool, and then sprinkle the flour. SB (has trouble spelling raisins, but likes to eat them) ← I know that about Pam and similar sprays, but didn't know it about the combination products. I could have sworn that Cook's Illustrated recommended them for bundt pans, but maybe the staff hadn't looked at prolonged use. In any case, I did use melted butter brushed into the molds. That wasn't the problem -- the problem was trying to get the flour evenly distributed in each of the molds without making a complete mess. Mybe if I'd filled each of them completely with flour and then flipped the pan over a sheet pan or something to catch the excess it would have worked.

I think maybe a pastry bag would work. I thought of that as I was trying to fill them. I also think the next time I use the pan I'll get that Bakers Secret or whatever it's called -- the combination oil and flour spray. It was really hard to get the little forms buttered and floured evenly.

Great idea. I've always meant to use more recipes from that book, so this will be a good start. Thanks!

With the storms this year, it hasn't been a great crab season. If I can make it down to a place that sells live crabs and they have any, I'll pick one up. But the last time I tried that after a series of storms, it was a lost cause. I hate raisins. Here's how much I hate raisins. That's it for today. I was going to post about dinner, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow.

When I was still working in the office job (I was the marketing director for a regional commercial real estate company), I started volunteering as an assistant for the cooking classes at Sur La Table. We didn't get paid, but we did get a discount on merchandise and a free class once in a while. Over a couple of years, I assisted with classes by Anne Willan, Shirley Corriher, Alice Medrich, Pamela Sheldon Johns, and Hubert Keller, to name a few. I really enjoyed it and learned an amazing amount about both cooking and teaching. I got laid off from the real estate job and decided to try to find a job in a food-related business. I interviewed for several positions, including one as the internal communications manager for Dreyer's (the ice cream company). It seemed like the ideal job -- great company, easy commute, nice boss -- but during the interview it struck me that there was just no way I could stand to write another employee newsletter, even if it meant free ice cream. So I freelanced a little, and worked with some of the instructors I'd met through the store, and I also started working for real in the culinary program at SLT, assisting the program manager. I probably would have stayed with it, but the program at the time was going through a lot of upheaval, and it didn't seem like it would be the kind of job I wanted -- it was getting much more administrative. But I liked the store, and I wanted to stay there in hopes that I'd be able to start teaching some classes of my own (which I did eventually). I also wanted to spend more time working on my own (food-related) writing projects, so it was nice to have the flexible hours. I didn't expect to stay so long, but it's worked out well. Oh, except for the huge salary cut I took. But I got a lot of free and discounted cookware, so maybe it evened out.

I realized that with confessing my gingerbread mishap, I neglected to mention the rest of lunch. It turned out to be a beautiful day here and it was even fairly warm over in Berkeley, so we had lunch outside (yesteday, it hailed; today, a picnic. Gotta love the Bay Area.) Our book club hostess grilled chicken thighs and served a curried rice salad with cashews. The chicken was done perfectly, and the salad was good, despite the presence of raisins. At the BART station in Berkeley, there's a big flea market every Saturday -- not primarily food vendors, but there are a few take-out trucks and a small produce stand. When I got back to the city, I had to stop for cat food for the boys -- there's a pet store on my way home. I also stopped in the cheese store/deli next door. This is one of the places I shop on the Glen Park side of the hill -- I can usually make it before closing unless I get off work really late. I've been going there long enough that I know the owner, who's really nice about staying open a few extra minutes for me, if necessary. This shop has a huge jam selection, for some reason (this is about a third of the collection). Not that I buy a lot of jam, but I think it's great. I was going to stop for a bottle of wine at the corner store (this one really is on the corner), but the bus was coming, and since I wasn't crazy about the prospect of walking up the hill with eight pounds of cat food, my cheese store purchases, and the dry cleaning I'd picked up, I skipped the wine. This bus comes so seldom, I consider it a minor miracle if I can actually catch it.

Okay, it looks like marrow bones are on the schedule. Safran, here's a shot of some of them. I'll photograph the rest tomorrow.

Ghostrider, I'm in the Noe Valley area, close to Glen Park, which is in the southern part of the city -- sort of out toward City College, if you know that area. Cali -- I have been to Savor a couple of times for brunch, but not in a while. I'll have to go back sometime when I'm up there with some extra time. I remember having a southwestern version of eggs benedict that was great.

. . . and now those as unobservant as me come to realize what was missing in your kitchen tour: a dishwasher. ← Right. I've had kitchens with and without dishwashers, and with is definitely better. But as any big city apartment dweller can probably attest, they're few and far between, especially in older places. And I have that other coveted city appliance -- a washer (and dryer too) -- right outside my kitchen door in the laundry room. Overall, if I had to choose, I'd take the washer/dryer over the dishwasher any day. But I have to say that doing dishes sometimes seems endless -- I just get the kitchen clean, and it's time to start the next cooking project. I need kitchen elves.

Backing up a little bit: I don't know why more people don't use this technique, because it's fabulous. Janet was part of the kitchen crew that hot-smoked short ribs for staff meal at Varmint's Pig Pickin'. Here's what ronnie_suburban had to say: ← Dave and Ronnie are right. Don't get me wrong -- I love braised short ribs. But roasted (or grilled/smoked) ribs are, like, the essence of beef. And as Ronnie said, the texture is great.

I have to go start dinner, but in the mean time, here's tonight's cocktail. When I got home today, I found that my new copy of Dr. Cocktail's Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails had arrived (I had a copy that disappeared, so I finally got around to replacing it). I opened it at random, and found the "Communist" -- gin, orange juice, cherry brandy and lemon juice. I had everything, it sounded good, and I'd never heard of it. All good reasons to make it. It's not something I could make very often -- it kind of tasted like tart Hawaiian punch when made according to the recipe. I added some Carpano Antica and increased the gin, which made it better (I think) -- a little more complex. But it's beautiful, isn't it? I used blood orange juice, which accounts for the color.

Oh, I noticed in telling my gingerbread story, I forgot to include the link to the recipe: Grammercy Tavern gingerbread. It really is great -- I'll definitely try it again with the correct amount of baking powder, and in a bigger pan to start. Then if that works, maybe I'll try the small ones again. I just have this vision of the little cakes, topped with pear or apple compote. Perhaps it will remain one of my dream recipes. So, some responses to comments and questions: I used to live with a wine and spirits broker; when we met he was also bartending. I know it seems as if I got interested in cocktails because of him, but it's really not the whole story. At the time, I liked wine although I didn't know much about it; I knew a lot about beer and Scotches, but not much about cocktails. I drank martinis, gimlets and scotch on the rocks. One day at the bookstore I got a copy of Cocktail by Paul Harrington, which, sadly, is out of print. I just started mixing the things I could with what I had on hand -- also started buying more products. At the time, I had no idea that the cocktails in the book were not things (usually) you could just walk into the neighborhood bar and order, but I found that out pretty quick. I also discovered that with a few exceptions, I could make better drinks than most bartenders at the places I went to. I guess the rest was history. I talked my way into teaching a couple of classes at Sur La Table -- fortunately they were popular. Last year I moderated a panel discussion on the history of the American cocktail with Robert Hess (drinkboy) and Dave Wondrich (Splificator) as my panelists. That was great. I like cocktails because it's so easy to experiment, and if you screw up, you only have to toss a couple ounces of alcohol -- it's not like messing up a foie gras terrine, or lobster thermidor.

So: the Gingerbread Saga. The idea began a few weeks ago, when I realized that my book club meeting would take place during this blog -- I offered to bring dessert so I'd could bake something for it. With various allergies and dislikes to take into account, I decided on gingerbread. One of the factors was that I had a couple of pears that were way past their peak, and I thought I could make a pear compote to go with the gingerbread. But I wanted to find a new recipe because although I like the one I've always made (my mom's recipe -- pretty standard molasses-and-oil-based dense, moist cake) I was hoping to find something a little more exotic. A quick search unearthed the recipe from Gramercy Tavern, which was similar to mine (also oil based) but also included stout and a more interesting combination of spices. It was supposed to be made in a 10-cup bundt pan, but I had this new mini bundt pan that I wanted to use. So, I thought I'd give it a trial run before the real thing, but when I started getting everything together for it I realized I only had two eggs instead of the three called for. I decided against cutting the recipe down, because I'm not great at that, so I went down to the closest corner store the next morning and bought eggs. Then I discovered that my baking powder was too ancient to use, and since none of the close stores carry that, I had to wait for a trip to Safeway. By the time the next weekend rolled around, though, the momentum was gone, and one day after another went by without my making the recipe. Pretty soon, the blog was about to start, and I still hadn't made it. I planned to make it yesterday, but, well, I didn't. (Who knew how long it would take to resize and upload all those photos?) A sane person would have just bought tarts from the really great bakery and relaxed this morning, but not me. I got up early and started. First step: boil the beer and molasses together. (You can see here what I explained earlier about being able to rest the lid in the handle.) It turns out that this doesn't take very long to reach a boil, and when it does, it expands a lot in volume. Looking back on this, I can see that I should have given up at that point. The recipe was cursed. Because after that I mismeasured both the flour, which I caught (I just read it wrong), and the baking powder, which I didn't. I'd grabbed the teaspoon measure when I thought I had the half-teaspoon and simply didn't realize it until I was spooning in the spices. Most of the baking powder was still on top, so I scooped some (half, I hoped) off. Again, I don't know why I just didn't stop. I guess I hate to waste beer. So I mixed everything up and ladled it into the little mini bundt pan. It turns out to be very difficult to get batter into the little mini bundt pan, but I did it and got them into the oven. Did I mention that I had no idea how full to fill them? I didn't have a clue. So I just guessed. I guessed wrong. I could have left them, but I was too stubborn. I tried to get one out, but it crumbled -- what a surprise. And of course all of this took much longer than I thought, so I was getting to the point where I had to decide what to do. Despite the terrible appearance, the cakes tasted really great, so I figured I could do some kind of layered dessert with the chunks of cake. I packed up the whole pan, grabbed the pear compote and picked up some whipping cream on the way to the BART station. But after all that, dessert was great. Chunks of gingerbread and pear compote. Topped with whipped cream. Now I have to clean the kitchen, and then I'll answer a few questions before dinner.