Flirting with danger: Pizza Making

(Prosciutto, olive and arugula pizza)

I've never had the urge to make pizza because I'm both lazy and intimidated of the thought making the dough. More lazy though, because I know if I start making it, it will be a semi-arduous journey to perfecting it. Also, the store bought ready made crusts look abominable.

I started talking to my friend Angela about pizza and how I read about people trying to fool the thermostats in their ovens so they could get the oven temperature way up high and she got excited and said she had read something like that as well and it inspired her to try. She also said that she used to make her own dough, but now buys the ready-to-roll type from Trader Joe's that costs $0.99 and comes in regular, whole wheat and garlic herb.

So the real secret of making pizza isn't really a secret – it's a really hot oven. But the secret to making great pizza at home is trying to get the oven and cooking surfaces at hot as possible. Sooo, Angela recommended that I preheat the oven to 500 degrees (fahrenheit) WITH the baking stone or tray already in it before doing the pizza assemblage (make sure the pizza dough is thin, because a thick Chicago style crust is also an American abomination). Then, slide it into the oven and turn it up to BROIL. The reason for doing this is so the bottom of the crust gets crispy and doesn't turn soggy from the ingredients on top. When I asked her how long she baked it for, her reply was "until it's almost burning."

OOK. Also, she used a piece of parchment paper while broiling the pizza which seemed a little dangerous because you're not supposed to use it in temperatures beyond 375. To which she said calmly that the paper would be charred, but the pizza would be ok – just monitor the situation.

I was getting worried about setting my kitchen on fire with no renter's insurance.

So as I was stocking up on dough at Trader Joe's, the check out guy recommended a safer way to make pizza. He used to make his own dough but also started using the Trader Joe's dough. He said to bake the dough for 1 or 2 minutes before adding the toppings so the middle wouldn't get soggy. This seemed much safer. Of course, my friend was wary about baking something twice and ruining its texture. I was still all about not setting my kitchen on fire.

Sometime that afternoon, I read about someone who recommended an industrial torch to make creme brulee because the refills were cheaper and it did the same job as the dinky kitchen counter top torch that was three times the price. That was the time I realised that I really appreciated a gutsy cook and decided to make pizza Angela-style.



The first and second times I made it, it was a great success and made it with Prosciutto, artichoke hearts and (with and without) arugula.



The second time I made it, I used a base of pureed tomatoes and some haberno salsa I made the day before. In addition to the mozzarella cheese, I added some Fontina cheese, which made such a difference.

It's so quick to make and always a crowd pleaser and it's something that I make in a pinch, squeezed for time and need something for dinner right away. I still haven't figured out exactly how long it takes to almost burn – it's between 8-11 minutes.

A Near Religious Experience

Last week, I snagged the last of summer blueberries from Samascott Orchard and hoarded them in the fridge for as long as I could. (about a week. Apple cider french toast instead of blueberry chocolate chip pancakes?) This week, I bought a bounty of little plums in an effort to wean myself off blueberries. This weekend I made some onion, tomato and goat cheese omelet with a side of roasted beets to take my mind off blueblerryless pancakes.

So last night after I made an early dinner (poached turbot with oyster mushrooms over barley with some delicious broccoli), I put on some Feist and Seabear (my late night cooking mix) and got to work making a plum crumble that I saw on Orangette, together with some earl grey ice cream. The tea steeped happily with the milk, cream and sugar mixture as I pitted the plums and tossed them up with a coating of crystallized ginger, brown sugar, flour and cinnamon. It smelled so delicious even before it was baked. And since the recipe for the topping was so similar to cookie dough..........why not get some extra mileage from the mixer before washing it.

It was near midnight and I smelled of baked goods and earl grey, and probably had flour in my hair like some plum crazy Creulla De Vil. When I finally pulled it out of the oven, the plums looked so lazy as they peeked out of the cracks in the crumble and spilled out around the edges. I was tired and still had to watch the roasting beets and make and cool the custard, but when I spooned out some of the crumble, it was like a religious experience. I think Vipin and I finished off close to half the baking dish yesterday. So much for hoping I could make this stretch out for days – I'm trying to forget that it's camping out in the fridge.

Recipe on the Upper West Side

I realised I've been struggling to find a term for the type of food I like – all this farmer's market local fare, food flavored by the freshness of ingredients themselves and some herbs that don't really have a distinguishing sauce to give themselves a cuisine name (black bean sauce - Chinese food. Terriyaki Sauce – Japanese food. Too much butter – French food.). I'm always asked what type of food I cook at home – you mean you don't cook Chinese food? Chinese food is often garlic, ginger and a lot of sauce. I cook up whatever I find fresh at the market, with minimal sauce, but with garlic and sometimes ginger – what type of food is that?

Over the weekend Salman and I were struggling to find somewhere for dessert and coffee. I held out until almost 3 with no coffee and was quickly turning really cranky. Surreptitiously, we chanced upon Recipe, with unfinished wood beams the inside looked...charming. We didn't really need to contemplate the menu further after seeing 'pork rilettes' and 'foie gras terrine', and made a mad dash inside. I instantly forgave them for not having espresso drinks, downing cup after cup of filter coffee, college diner style in big cheery yellow mugs.

We had such a charming afternoon, I poked around their website to see how they talked about themselves, what they called this type of food.



Salman looking really...strange. and really creepy.

Apparently, it's called Rustic. I think they call it Rustic American, but I would hardly call foie gras terrine American. And I think Rustic is a good word, because it isn't shy and it isn't dainty, but it is hearty and makes you happy. Food in its real state, not deconstructed or wobbling about in a precarious tower. Hearty, Happy and Homemade. As food should be. I found it peculiar that at a restaurant in Zurich, the server announced to us that the creme brulee was fantastic, and it was made in the restaurant itself. I ordered it, but was really bothered by this because shouldn't everything that a restaurant serves be...made...in...the restaurant itself? (Aside: I popped into a cafe that I quite like and they advertised "Homemade Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches" and I automatically assumed that they made the bread and made the jelly, but I spied a bottle of Beth's jam. Incidentally, I have bought Beth's Jam before from the Farmers Market, but I think it is deceiving to advertise HOMEMADE sandwiches when what it REALLY was, was Home-Assembled sandwiches.)

Anyway! We had a lovely afternoon. What was originally meant to be coffee and cake turned into brunch #2 (blueberry chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast), and we polished off toffee banana goodness and a delightful pignoli tart. This competes with my other love, The Roebling Tea Room, another Rustic sort of place.

Sweet Dreams

I was surfing youtube after I rewatched Her Morning Elegance by Oren Lavie, which always reminds me of fall and the last time I started the school year, sweaters and of New York being a little too cold, of melancholy and hope and anticipation. I've come to love fall and the cold that comes with it, snuggling in white comforters, waiting for vegetables to roast and chicken to brown.

I digress! So as I was surfing, I found this other stop motion video by Kristen Lepore which is so cute, sweet and heartbreaking. It also shows why vegetables are better than sugar.

Sweet Dreams from Kirsten Lepore on Vimeo.

Dinner date with lovely weather

A couple of months ago, popped over to Cornwall, when I pit stopped in London for a long time. (Popped over, meaning taking the 8 hour overnight train from London to St Ives. It is the best way to do it, in my opinion.) Cornwall is pretty spread out, so it takes a couple of days to explore and eat. Cornish food is probably some of the best in the United Kingdom. Almost everything is near the coast, which means seafood is plentiful, there are tons of free roaming cows and dairy products are excellent and all things point to a generally tasty time.



What I usually did was ate a ridiculous breakfast at the bed and breakfast and went off out of St Ives for the day, walked and saw gardens and beaches and came back for dinner. On the last evening, I got back to St Ives and climbed over the hill to the other beach (there is a beach at the St Ives train station as well as on the other side of the town), and had dinner at the Porthmeor Cafe Bar.

Cornwall as a little bit of a surreal time. Especially since there was excellent weather. Grumpy warned me not to bring any shorts because I wouldn't need them and to bring a woolly sweater (jumper?) It was so hot, that I had to stretch the summer portion of my bag so thin, and got a sunburn on top of that. The locals said that this sort of weather was unheard of, but I was none the wiser, meandering through tiny cobbled streets on the way to the train station early early in the morning, with seagulls screeching intermittently overhead. The roads are so windy and little and the town was so small I didn't bother with a map. In the 4 1/2 days I was there, I didn't manage to pin down a route to or from the train station. Inevitably I'd slip into another road and I'd go off on a walking tangent.



This was about a 5 minute walk down a steep incline from my bed and breakfast, and maybe a 10 slow uphill struggle from the cafe back up. My favourite thing to drink while I was there was elderflower cordial/water/juice/soda.



I had some ricotta fritters and some turbot with potatoes that were scrrrrumptious, curled up with a Cornish food magazine that used some matte paper stock and had a large fish on the cover and watched crazy people swim in the ocean. God it was cold water. Then, before attempting to drag myself up the REALLLY STEEP HILL back to a HOT SHOWER, I came across a mini Stone Henge on the beach:

Roast and Borough Market

I just got back from a week and a half vacation with my grandparents in London and Zürich and after pots of fondue, slabs of delicious raclette, schnitzel, wurst, chocolate and so much cheese, I hurried to the farmer's market this morning and bought so many vegetables and steamed up the most flavorful broccoli, roasted some eggplant and snacked on grapes and felt somewhat cleansed after last week's epic eating.

Roast sits above Borough Market, and has a great view of everything. We sat near a window, but you can also choose a table with a view of their kitchen. They were also voted best breakfast by the Times. And you know you're in for a good time when the menu lists the sources/farms they buy from at the back of the menu:



We ordered some toast, which came with some homemade jam (gooseberry (most delicious), marmalade and strawberry) with a cylindrical mound of butter.



And when we came in, I saw POTS OF JAM sitting by the kitchen with the dates that they were made clearly marked on the sides. Our jam was about a day old.



Then we ORDERED.



Too afraid to order a side of award winning Cumberland sausage by myself, I asked my granpa if he wanted to share. He agreed. But we were so stuffed, that by the time we attacked our sausage side, we both ended up eating half a sausage each. My granma ordered some kippers, which looked like.......a prehistoric fossil. It might as well have been because it was like an archaeological dig through all the bones. They were a little strange tasting....



But my smoked trout and scrambled eggs were so DELICIOUS



When we were good and stuffed, we walked around the market, checking out fresh produce and cooked food, lots of salami and cheese. You can get full on samples alone in the market





AN OBSCENE BOUNTY!!!!







I nearly balked at the price of fava beans. Surely 4 pounds a pound for fava beans is completely and absolutely ridiculous since you need to shell them, then boil them, then you remove their skin after that. What you're left with is a delicious bean but you generate much more vegetable scrap for not much bean productivity. The price of artichokes was also a little questionable. BUT! from their leaves and forks at the end of them, you can tell that they are the real deal, and probably will taste spectacular, not like their friendlier looking but bitter tasting counterparts.



Then there was fresh fish and...horseshoe crabs? I wonder what it is like to eat a dinosaur.




Then I bought some gooseberry and elderflower jam



and some Damson yogurt made with raw milk



The USDA has outlawed unpasteurized milk in America. It is dumb, but also exciting if you can get your hands on illegal cheese, I'll bet it would be super tasty. I had some Illegal-in-America yogurt, which was lovely and delightful.

By the time I came across this, I could only bemoan the fact that I was too stuffed to eat, so I might have to...replicate a similar delicacy.....

So does this mean that there is bacon mixed into the baguette dough? Or bacon in the baguette? OR BOTH?!