Bread and Coques

This photo is from Barcelona Photoblog where you will find not only wonderful photography but fascinating details of life there. Click through the link to see not only a wonderful description of spring in Barcelona but to find more links where there is more info about the food. For example, we learn that coques:

A coca is a sort of flat, elongated or round bread dough base baked and covered with different ingredients. Technically similar to pizza you could say, but different in taste. You can have coca de recapte where such base is adorned with escalivada - a mixture of aubergines and red peppers cut into strips and dressed with olive oil (recommended for "anti-baconists") - or you can find the sweet versions (trillions of them swallowed with cava on Sant Joan's eve) covered with glazed fruit, custard, pumpkin jam or just sugar and pine nuts. Although sold in pastry shops and bakeries we prefer the ones baked using traditional recipes and artisan wood fired ovens...

Delacata? No thanks, I'll have the catfish.

From Saveur comes this little tidbit tucked away in their story about catfish, which I take as a warning that repackaging means adding cost, not value.

Later this year a small percentage of U.S. farm-raised catfish will be sold as filets labeled delacata. Processed from larger fish, the custom-cut filets will be more than twice the size of regular catfish filets and sold at a higher price. "Let's face it, 'catfish' is not the best name, especially for people outside the South," says Jeremy Robbins, a marketer for the Catfish Institute, the industry group in charge of the makeover, which farmers hope will propel a fish with an inferiority complex beyond the deep-fried South and onto a bistro menu near you.

Look at what's in my fridge!

Yes, eight ... count 'em, EIGHT! .... bottles of Pom Juice which those lovely folks sent me to sample.

This is especially kind of them since I'd always passed by the juice section, casting longing glances at those nicely designed bottles that seemed so expensive. Never daring to try one.

The reason I was interested in pomegranate juice at all was because The Central Market used to have their own brand of pomegranate juice which was fantastic. Hannah and I were dashed down to find around Thanksgiving that it was no longer available. Nothing we tried was a good substitute ... and believe me, we tried lots of other brands. In fact, I was surprised at just how much choice we had.

Then the Pom people sent these samples, I took a look at my Soda Club sparkling water maker and ... and idea hatched. I threw open the fridge. Yes. Some of my favorite orange flavored sparkling water was left.

Here's how you make absolutely delicious pomegranate soda ... combine half pomegranate juice, half sparkling orange-flavored non-sweetened soda water (which is what I had to hand), and toss in a packet of sweetener (simply because it needed a touch of sweetness and I didn't think a little sugar would dissolve very well in that cold mixture.

Voila!

Just as good as the beloved soda I couldn't find any longer.

For those without a Soda Club gizmo, try using Canada Dry sparkling water. I bet it'd be fantastic as well.

I will still be experimenting on other uses for the juice. Per a friend's recommendation, I tried mixing it with tea. No thank you. However, you must keep in mind that I do not like juice-flavored teas, as my friend Monette will never let me forget after a brush with her Mango Tea (which everyone else loved, let me hasten to add).

I never will think those little bottles are too expensive again ...

Mrs. Appleyard's Kitchen ...

... highlighted in this week's podcast at Forgotten Classics. Never heard of it? Neither had I until I discovered it in my mom's basement. Intelligently funny and some recipes too!

Celebrating Cracker Cooking ... and No, I'm Not Talking About Saltines

The Cracker Kitchen: A Cookbook in Celebration of Cornbread-Fed, Down Home Family Stories and Cuisine

Which is all to say that this particular subspecies of the very earliest Americans, which I will refer to as Crackus Americanis, was an unusually diverse and colorful band of humanity, which took root and flourished all over pioneer America in the latter century. And though their affiliation with whips, poor dental hygiene, and old-time religion gave them a really virulent case of bad PR, they eventually came to embrace their name with humorous deprecation, in no small part because they evolved into such an intractable and stubborn race that self-referring with a derogatory term suited them down to the ground.

Their whole persona was wrapped up in being independent, self-sufficient, and boldly against the grain. If you ever come across a multimillionaire central Florida cattle baron, chances are he'll be wearing worn jeans, ancient pointed-toed boots, and the straw cowboy hat he bought at Woolworth's for fifty cents in 1953. To dress otherwise would be "getting above his raising" or even worse, sleeping with the enemy (that is, pretending he's Presbyterian and eats only biscuits).

There is pride in that defiance and an inborn conviction that by adhering to the rules of fashion or buying into the myth that money buys happiness -- well, that's the Cracker road to perdition. Soon you'll be putting sugar in your cornbread and drinking chai tea and sending your children to the Ivy League.

It's the thin end of the wedge.

My intention in writing this cookbook is to introduce readers (or for many, to reacquaint you) to this most original American subspecies that has greatly transcended its roots in the Colonial South, and now has children from Miami to Oregon, from Manhattan to California. This wide-ranging diaspora is well-documented along many tried and true migratory lines: Kentucky Crackers moved across the river to Ohio; Arkansans emptied out into Illinois, Arizona, and all points west; Alabamans packed up for Florida and Texas; and with the advent of the Greyhound bus, Georgia and Mississippi Crackers practically inherited the earth.

They left for the money, mostly, to labor in the coal mines of West Virginia and the engine shops of Detroit, and to become webfoot soldiers in service to our benevolent Uncle Sam. ...

I personally think it's time we rise up and introduce ourselves beyond the closest crossroads, and I heartily welcome you into my kitchen to celebrate the three pillars of Cracker life: food and laughter and food.

Relax, unwind, and don't sweat the fine print. The only rule of Cracker cooking is there are no rules. Just come, enjoy, and make these recipes your own. Add pepper, delete pepper; toss in a stick of butter or make it rigidly fat free.The secret to our long survival is our innate Cracker ability to mutate to fit the circumstances. If you're married to a Chinese man and like soy sauce, then throw in some soy sauce. If you're a vegetarian, then substitute tofu. The only things really sacred in Cracker Culture are faith, the love of family, and a certain holy reverence for the gift of telling a story with perfect comedic timing. Everything else is negotiable, including our food, and if you doubt my sincerity, read ahead to my section on wild game feasts and roadkill.

That is just a portion of the engaging and informative introduction to Janis Owen's cookbook in which she celebrates her Cracker heritage.

I'm not a Cracker or even a native Southerner but Owens makes me wish I was one. She has a lengthy and fascinating introduction to Crackers. The introduction has not only Owen's personal take on Crackers but traces the origins of the word and looks at their history as a people. She then proceeds to group her recipes by sections such as for a spring meal or soul food dinner. We not only get ideas of what to serve together but a great essay at the beginning of each section.

Her celebration does not stop at the delightful stories or frank and good natured recipe introductions. She includes black and white family photos with descriptions that give us a sense of place in long ago Florida. Her stories about religion as practiced by family members was both hilarious and insightful, as well as lovingly tolerant. Much more than a collection of recipes, this is an invitation to pull up a chair and see what makes a close knit group of Americans tick. And if you have a piece of Orange Pie while you're doing it, well, that's all the better.

As an additional example, I proffer this tidbit that shows Owen's honesty, openness, and humanity. Yes, I teared up a bit while reading. Grab a copy of the book for yourself and in between cooking meals read the rest of this.

Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday falls on January 15, and I offer up this soul-inspired menu in his honor and for all the rest of the heroes of the Movement: John Lewis and Ralph Abernathy and every single Yank, Jew, Episcopal pacifist, and student agitator among them. When they put their lives on the line and agitated Jim Crow into oblivion, they freed not only the people of color but also the children of the oppressor, who inherited the gift of diversity and eventually learned a better way (or at least some of them did; I did). It's a favor that can't be forgotten and won't be; not if this Cracker has anything to do with it."

A Few New Favorites ...

Discovered on my trip to Springfield ...

• McDonald's McCafe Latte ... in the large drive-through size. It hit the spot and I didn't want a cola. Mmmm, latte ...
  
  
• Mrs. Appleyard's Kitchen ... an absolutely delightful "forgotten classic" that I discovered in my parent's basement. Hilarious and intentionally so ... Mom and I kept picking it up and reading each other snippets all day ... and laughing our heads off. I'll be reading some of this at Forgotten Classics for the next episode.
  
  
• Delonghi Coffee Maker. It is sad when you come home to find the coffeepot carafe cracked while doing dishes. Even sadder when you read the scathing reviews of most standard coffee makers at Amazon. This one not only had raves but also was available at the nearby Target. Excellent coffee was enjoyed this morning ... as we would hope from the snazzy Italian design!

Another new favorite, though not food related can be found at Happy Catholic.

A Gentle, Sweet Tale of Food, Cooking, and Possibly ... A Little Magic

The School of Essential Ingredients

"I'm thinking something minimal, industrial. Lots of stainless steel--I love stainless steel--with a concrete floor and black cabinets." Susan's hands gestured and pointed. "No handles--I hate handles --and maybe some rows of open metal shelves above the countertops. We could put the dishes and the new pots and pans up there." She turned to her fiance, who smiled and nodded. Amanda waited, thinking perhaps there would be more but this appeared to be the end.

:So we'll just leave you to do your magic for a littl while. Jeff and I need to go talk master bathroom, anyway. We're going to have to take out the whole third bedroom just to get a decent master suite!" And with another laugh, she was gone.

[...}

Antonia stood in the kitchen, trying in her mind to lay the outline of Susan's vision over the kitchen that existed, but the straight lines kept bumping into the curve of the bay, sharp edges rumpled by the cushion on a window seat, the rounded back of an imaginary chair, warmed and softened by the fireplace that somehow, in every iteration, never seemed to give way to the image that Susan had presented.

In Antonia's four years in America, in her four years of designing kitchens in eighty-year-old cottages and colonial mansions, contemporary condos and doll-size Tudors, this was the first fireplace she had seen in a kitchen, and she found herself circling it like a child with a dessert she knows is not for her. ...

But here was a fireplace. It reminded her of her grandmother's kitchen, with its stove at one end and a hearth at the other, the space in the middle long and wide enough to accommodate a wooden table for twelve and couches along the sides of the room. Her grandmother's cooking area was small--a tiny sink, no dishwasher, a bit of a counter--but out of it came tortellini filled with meat and nutmeg and covered in butter and sage, soft pillows of gnocchi, roasted chickens that sent the smell of lemon and rosemary slipping through the back roads of the small town, bread that gave a visiting grandchild a reason to run to the kitchen on cold mornings and nestle next to the fireplace, a hunk of warm, newly baked breakfast in each hand. How many times had she sat by the fire as a little girl and listened to the sounds of the women at the other end of the kitchen, the rhythmic rap of their knives against the wooden cutting boards, the clatter of spoons in thick ceramic bowls, and always their voices, loving, arguing, exclaiming aloud in laughter or mock horror at some bit of village news. Over the course of the day, the heat from the fireplace would stretch across the kitchen toward the warmth of the stove until the room filled with the smells of wood smoke and met that had simmered for hours. ...

----

"I don't know how to do this," Antonia told her boss in misery.

"What is the problem?" he asked.

"She doesn't want a place to cook. She wants a kitchen for people to see her in."

"You've dealt with those kind of clients before--more than once, and you've done it beautifully.:

"But this kitchen--you'd have to see it. I can't take it apart."

"But it's not your kitchen, Antonia, and they are the clients. You'll have to see through their eyes. Or," he added teasingly, "figure out a way to make them see through yours."

Here we see the basic message that Erica Bauermeister presents in different ways, through various characters in her first novel, The School of Essential Ingredients. The back cover says it is about "lessons that food can teach us about life," however I beg to disagree. It is about rediscovering our roots by turning away from the artificial and superficial ways of modernity back to the time-worn wisdom of slowing down life. Anyone familiar with the Slow Food movement will recognize a kindred message in Bauermeister's novel.

Bauermeister beautifully points out the many ways that fully appreciating ingredients, cooking, and meals changes lives in her story of the people who come to a series of cooking lessons. Some know that they are unhappy or dissatisfied with their lives. Some do not. However, all are transformed as they handle, chop, combine, taste, and feed others. As each class's theme is revealed so is the story of a different person or couple. This includes the history of the school's instructor, Lillian, who also owns the restaurant in which the classes are held. There may be elements of magical realism involved (such as those found in Chocolat or Like Water for Chocolate) but the author didn't lean on these and most of the positive results were from grounding the characters' more in reality rather than hocus pocus.

I enjoyed this gentle, sweet tale although it suffered somewhat from comparison to the book I read immediately before it, The Last Chinese Chef by Nicole Mones. Mones book delivered a more complex story, albeit with a different focus, and I found myself wishing that Bauermeister's plots were not quite as simple. We could see problems and conclusions before they were revealed and this was a disappointment, although the prose was as delicious as the food prepared in the novel. However, for a first novel it is very good and I can recommend it. In fact, I will be giving a copy of this book to my mother, who I think is in just the perfect mood to appreciate it.

I will be looking out for Bauermeister's second novel with anticipation.

For another review, read this one from Tea and Cookies.

Note: this review was based on an uncorrected proof from the publisher.

Cilantro Haters are United

fetid barb of green
cilantro spoils the stuffing
coriander too

Such was penned by a cilantro hater after finding cilantro slipped into the Thanksgiving stuffing. I must say that cilantro does not belong in stuffing.

This WSJ article looks at the many haters of cilantro who unite in Facebook groups and other places.

I used to be one such. When I was a child the smell was unappetizing and the taste soapy. However, with my early adult years my tastes changed. Who can say why? All I know is that my former distaste makes me sympathetic to those who abhor cilantro, such as my mother-in-law, and so I leave it out of any recipe when I know that one such is going to be at our table. I myself am merely happy to now be among those who can glory in cilantro's unique flavor, such as the fellow who wrote this haiku.

crisp cilantro sprig
trendy garnish refreshes
why peeps be hatin

Crunchy Cornmeal Waffles

These sturdy, tasty waffles came from The King Arthur Baking Book. 

We enjoy them on their own but that I have a sneaking liking for as the base for creamed tuna. You may raise your eyebrows in surprise at that, but creamed tuna is a family favorite and considered a high treat. I think the secret is in using albacore tuna, whole milk (instead of a lower fat product), and last ... but not least ... that pinch of nutmeg which is du rigeur for a good white sauce (well, one used for this purpose anyway).

It also helps when you have searched high and low as I did to find a waffle iron that makes four waffles at a time. So much faster than the regular one-waffle-per sort.

Step 1:
1-3/4 cups buttermilk
2 large eggs
5 tablespoons melted, cooled butter or vegetable oil

In a medium-sized mixing bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, eggs, and melted butter or oil.

Step 2:
1½ cups unbleached flour
1 cup yellow cornmeal
2 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt

In a separate bowl, blend together the dry ingredients, then quickly and gently combine the wet and dry ingredients. Let batter sit for 10 minutes to allow the cornmeal to soften.

Drop the batter by 2/3 cupfuls onto a hot waffle iron and bake until the waffle iron stops steaming.

This Just In

The Cracker Kitchen: A Cookbook in Celebration of Cornbread-Fed, Down Home Family Stories and Cuisine by Janis Owens

Though our roots are in the Colonial South, we Crackers are essentially just another American fusion culture, and our table and our stories are constantly expanding -- nearly as fast as our waistlines. We aren't ashamed of either, and we're always delighted with the prospect of company: someone to feed and make laugh, to listen to our hundred thousand stories of food and family and our long American past.

Crackers, rednecks, hillbillies, and country boys have long been the brunt of many jokes, yet this old Southern culture is a rich and vibrant part of Amer-ican history. In The Cracker Kitchen, Janis Owens traces the root of the word Cracker back to its origins in Shakespeare's Elizabethan England -- when it meant braggart or big shot -- through its proliferation in America, where it became a derogatory term to describe poor and working-class Southerners. This compelling anthropological exploration peels back the historic misconceptions connected with the word to reveal a breed of proud, fiercely independent Americans with a deep love of their families, their country, their stories, and, most important, their food.

With 150 recipes from over twenty different seasonal menus, The Cracker Kitchen offers a full year's worth of eating and rejoicing: from spring's Easter Dinner -- which includes recipes for Easter Ham, Green Bean Bundles, and, of course, Cracklin' Cornbread -- to summer's Fish Frys, fall's Tailgate Parties, and winter's In Celebration of Soul, honoring Martin Luther King, Jr.

Recounted in Owens's delightful and hilarious voice, the family legends accompanying each of these menus leap off the page. We meet Uncle Kelly, the Prince of the Funny Funeral Story, who has family and friends howling with laughter at otherwise solemn occasions. We spend a morning with Janis and her friends at a Christmas Cookie Brunch as they bake delectable gifts for everyone on their holiday lists. And Janis's own father donates his famous fundamentalist biscuit recipe; truly a foretaste of glory divine.

This showed up in the mail when I got home from work yesterday. I am really looking forward to reading it. I love Southern cooking and Owens' voice in the introduction already has me smiling and nodding and anticipating more.

A Couple of Books to Look Out For

If you liked Animal, Vegetable, Mineral and also Michael Pollan's writing, then it seems to me that Mark Bittman is taking elements of that whole way of thinking about food and putting it together in Food Matters: A Guide to Conscious Eating. Probably not a lot new for those who are in tune with the food world but I have read reviews from several non-foodie friends who had their thoughts sparked by the two books I mentioned. They will probably find a lot of good stuff here. I am waiting for the library to get it in ... because I like reading the basics also. You never know when you will learn something new.

Also along those lines is Fat: An Appreciation of a Misunderstood Ingredient. I still begrudge the pork industry what we lost when they went to the "lean pig." In other words, I remember when a pork chop was tender. And had tons of flavor. I'm waiting for this one from the library as well.