Fork & Spoon with Jonathan Bloom

Spork & Foon

2008-05-20T23:00:00.009-05:00

I think the Fork & Spoon blog just found a new header image. Or perhaps a new raison d'etre. Maybe both.

Either way, I'm impressed by this fine piece of design from Masami Takahashi. It's only available at the MOMA store.

Best of all, this piece of flatware was designed for Ramen, an old source of joy here at Fork & Spoon. The price of bliss: $12.

Zagnabbit!

2008-05-14T13:58:00.026-05:00

Since I've started working a regular old 9 to 5, the posts here have, ahem, slowed down. OK, slowed to a crawl. Anyway, I've been thinking of ways to reinvent the Fork & Spoon blog. Here's one approach:

Consider this the first in a series on vending machine snacks. I'm at work, you're at work (hopefully not), there's vending machines around. Let's talk about them. Every so often (probably weekly), I'll discuss one snack machine item. Basically, work food reviews for working stiffs.

I should say that the vending machine in my office is a non-traditional one, in that it's not a machine. It's a cardboard display with a rotating stock and an honor system coin boxes.

While I appreciate the trust (I think my company pays the difference between what's paid and owed), I also like being able to read the ingredients. It keeps me from eating too many snacks.

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The Zagnut bar, launched in 1930, is a real throwback. As you can see on the right, the bar's no-frills red and yellow wrapper communicates its vintage. Bought by Hershey's in the '90s, the bar remains more cult classic than blockbuster. It may have appeared in more movies than store shelves.

After its design got my attention, the Zagnut wrapper promised: "crunchy peanut butter, toasted coconut." It was a combination I couldn't resist.

So what does a Zagnut taste like? Kind of like a Butterfinger, minus the chocolate and with a toasted coconut aftertaste. There are very few candy bars not coated in chocolate. And while cocoa is listed as an ingredient in the "contains 2% or less" category, I didn't see or taste it.

As seen in the photo to the left (and yes, that's a manila folder background), the Zagnut has two distinct layers. There's the toasted coconut shell, which features coconut sprinkled onto a sugary coating (corn syrup?). And then there's the peanut butter interior which has an almost pop-rockish texture (minus the crackling).

Personally, I'd prefer more coconut, as the peanut butter dominates. Still, it's not a bad candy bar. In fact, I'd take it over a Butterfinger any day.

Then again, my vending machine doesn't usually have Butterfingers. Every week, though, the vending guy collects the money and changes the stock. What'll next week bring??

Note: No paper cuts were suffered in the writing of this post.

Victual Voting

2008-04-17T13:16:00.017-05:00

What will those tricky political pollsters do next? It turns out they can tell a good deal about your political leanings based on your cupboard contents. Political strategists have begun targeting voters based on their food preferences.

I've read about what Hilary eats and heard from her former White House chef. I would guess Cindy McCain isn't much for cooking. Yet I didn't know that our food choices could be linked to our political ones.

It's worth reading the findings to see whether the microtrenders have you pegged correctly. Among other things, Hilarians are likely to shop at Whole Foods. Obamaphiles, meanwhile, favor farmer's markets. And McCainiacs go to a regular supermarket.

From comparing my food and political preferences, I'd say the forecasting is fairly accurate. As for my preferred candidate, I wouldn't want to broadcast my choice. Besides, I gotta run--the farmer's market closes soon.

Top This: Bottomings!

2008-03-28T11:03:00.009-05:00

Hey there, Forkosphere.

Sorry about that delay--the real world intervened and the ol' Forkster now finds himself working 9 to 5 (ahem, 8:30 to 5:30) with a commute and everything. Food fun has taken a backseat for a while, but Fork & Spoon should resume service now on a somewhat regular basis.

On that note...As part of my ongoing though somewhat-less-exuberant dalliance with Trader Joe's, I've been using their dough to make pizza most weeks. Well, I've been spending my own money, but you knew what I meant.

The other night, in making the standard mushroom and olive, a little black pearl somehow ended up underneath. Well you've all heard of toppings, but what about "Bottomings?!"

This blessing from the Food Gods came about through chance. The olive slice probably fell off when I was shoveling the first pie onto the pizza stone and was baked into the underside of the second pizza. It was quite a novelty and made for quite a bite.

If you're in the Pizza Hut corporate office and are reading this, let's talk. There are only so many pizza innovations left, and I'm ready to make a package deal for Bottomings and the Falzone/Calzinger.

Might this fluke be the start of something big (a la Mr. Reese and his peanut butter and chocolate mishap)? I'm sure The Beard Foundation is on the edge of their seats. As am I.

What's a Falzone?

2008-01-15T21:57:00.000-05:00

It's usually necessity that's the mother of invention. Tonight it was excess. Excess pizza dough, that is.

I was rolling out the dough (thanks Trader Joe!) and got close to something resembling a circle except for a little extra bit. I trimmed that off and threw the pizza in the oven. Then I thought about what to do with that six-inch excess.

With a little the cheese, tomato sauce, mushrooms and olives still out, I thought about making a mini-pizza. Kinda like a silver dollar pancake, but more savory. But I realized that if I made a calzone, I could fit it on the pizza stone along with the real pizza.

I rolled it up, pinched it shut and popped it in the oven.

Only after taking it out of the oven did I realize that I may have invented something new: the finger calzone. Or, as I like to call it, the Falzone (which sounded better than the Calzinger, Fingone or Finzone).

In the calzone family, the Falzone is the opposite of the mammoth P'zone. It's more like a stuffed breadstick. For me, that's a plus, as I often think calzones have too much squirty, scalding sauce.

The only factor holding back the Falzone's widespread adoption is that it's pretty labor intensive for a hand-held item. Yet if the Pizza Powers That Be can create a crust that folds over the pizza, I'm optimistic they'll figure out a way. Maybe they can talk to the Twinkie people.

Stick a Fork in it...

2007-12-19T11:38:00.000-05:00

...this column's done.

My Trader Joe's column is now online, and you can check out my take on the store with the Joefficial Forkster review.

If you do go to the 3-week-old Chapel Hill store, save some Mango Passion Granola for me!

You Want Answers?

2007-12-17T15:07:00.000-05:00

I'm busy ~~whipping out~~ crafting the upcoming column for Wednesday, but here are few quick answers to the last post's questions.

Q: Can Granny's Apple Granola unseat its cousin, Mango Passion Granola, from the top of my list? Grandmas are seldom wrong...
A: I'd sell my grandma down the river for a case of Mango Passion Granola. (Just kidding, grandma! Besides, I meant the other grandma). In any case, I'll stick with the Mango version.

Q: Why did I buy banana granola bars? What made me think these would be anything but odd?
A: Because I'm a sucker for unusual flavors and products.

Q: Which of their frozen treats is the best: Mandarin Orange Chicken, Gyoza Chicken Potstickers, a Pizza 4 Formaggi , Chile Verde Chicken Burritos and Sublime Ice Cream Sandwiches?
A: Probably the potstickers, followed by the burritos.

I'd say that all of the above frozen foods are about 2/3 as tasty as ones you'd get in a restaurant at about 1/3 the price. I suppose that's a fair tradeoff. I certainly made short work of the Orange Chicken!

Joe Report--Part 3

2007-12-14T16:07:00.000-05:00

In case you hadn't guessed, I'm writing my next column--out Wednesday--on the Trader Joe's that just opened in my town. Then again, maybe that's just a convenient way to cover up my complete addiction to the store's cereal.

Either way, I made my third real visit there yesterday. After a relatively restrained shopping run, I'm left with these questions:

Can Granny's Apple Granola unseat its cousin, Mango Passion Granola, from the bottom of my heart? Grandmas are seldom wrong...

Which of their frozen treats is the best? The Spoonstress and I will have to consume Mandarin Orange Chicken, Gyoza Chicken Potstickers, a Pizza 4 Formaggi , Chile Verde Chicken Burritos and Sublime Ice Cream Sandwiches by Tuesday so that I can write about them for the column. By then, we'll either be TJ addicts or never want to set foot in the store again.

Why did I buy banana granola bars? What made me think these would be anything but odd?

What's wrong with their peanut butter? I had a peanut butter and banana sandwich yesterday and the taste was a bit off. Since I couldn't put my finger on it, I compared its label to our last jar of organic peanut butter. The answer is an easy fix: not enough salt. That raises another question: Will I really salt my next PB & J?

Check back later for some answers...

Joe Report--Part 2

2007-12-11T14:11:00.000-05:00

When I visited Trader Joe's one night shortly after it opened, I was shocked by the abundance of bare shelves. Last night, I returned at the same time to see how the store was adjusting to consumer demand.

Rejoice, Joe Folks, the shelves were mostly full. The ones that weren't were being restocked by smiling employees (Joe must either pay well or provide a nice discount). Best of all, the frozen aisle wasn't completely empty.

Now this was just a quick drop-in, but I couldn't resist another box of Organic Mango Passion Granola. I'd hoped the name implied passionfruit, but sadly it doesn't. I'm not sure I've developed a mango passion, but I do have a passion for this cereal.

The granola is litered with bits of fruit that remind me of "sugar cereal" marshmallows. Luckily, though, instead of "pink hearts" or "yellow moons," they're just freeze-dried mango. Color me charmed.

Joe Report--Part 1

2007-12-05T15:08:00.000-05:00

Consider Trader Joe's visited. I made my maiden shopping run to the store recently and have been enjoying its results.

I arrived at 7:50 p.m., which was my first mistake. I was shocked to see many empty shelves. It was as if I'd entered a Soviet grocery store or a pre-blizzard American one. I expected to see snow when I exited.

I'm not complaining, mind you, as I understand the store is just working out the kinks and the staff was quite apologetic.

Not surprisingly, the bare shelves were a topic of conversation between shoppers and employees. The guy stocking the nut aisle joked, "Welcome to Trader Joe's, we've got nothing to sell ya."

The employees restocking the cereal aisle didn't have any favorite cereals to recommend, but they were happy to open up the cases of both Maple Pecan Clusters and Mango Passionfruit Granola. I'm sure glad they did. I have a hunch cereal will be a main reason for shopping at Joe's.

I haven't had a chance to eat too many of the other delights and pretty much the entire frozen dinner aisle was sold out. But I'll return to the store. When I do, I'll follow the nut guy's advice: "Get here at 9 in the morning."

Joe's Open

2007-12-03T13:27:00.000-05:00

The Chapel Hill Trader Joe's opened Friday. I swung by there in the afternoon and now feel a kinship sardines. What a zoo!

I went to TJ's mostly out of curiosity, which I satisfied by elbowing my way through the aisles.

First impressions: I'm psyched about the prices, variety and emphasis on taste. Food doesn't feel like a commodity there, as it does at most supermarkets. Not psyched about the lack of unwrapped produce. I don't want to buy a bag of four avocados--I want to buy one.

I would have bought a box of their awesome Joe-Joe's cookies (Candy Cane flavor!), but then I took a crowd at the front of the store. I would have paid not to wait in those lines.

After my brief reconnaissance mission, I'm excited to return when I'm in full shopping mode and the crowds have hopefully died down. I'll let you know how it goes.

Wednesday Miscellany

2007-11-28T12:07:00.000-05:00

I attended my friend Murro's (fifth?) annual turkey dunk this weekend. Fun times. If you think deep frying a turkey sounds delicious, try doing a whole duck! Decadent.

The turkey and sweet potato fries were great, too. The one sad part: we never got around to deep frying pumpkin pie, as was threatened at about 11 p.m.

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Another thing I wish I'd thought of: Car-B-Que.

This idea of cooking food from an engine's heat is a great use for excess engine warmth, provided your meals don't spill out and ruin your engine. It brings the Hot Dogger idea to the masses by expanding from snowmobiles to cars.

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Local update: The grand opening of the Chapel Hill Trader Joe's will begin with a ceremonial lei cutting at 8:45 a.m. Bet they'll sell a lot of coffee.

Thank Goodness for Cookbooks

2007-11-21T11:14:00.000-05:00

I couldn't believe my eyes. There I was, flipping through a random cookbook yesterday and I came to this picture.

How did I not think of serving soup from a pumpkin in my Practical Pumpkin column? Maybe I would have if my research for the column involved more cookbooks and fewer séances in pumpkin patches.

In fairness, I had envisioned using smaller pumpkins as individual soup bowls. But I never made the leap to using a pumpkin as the serving vessel.

Anyway, the recipe came from the book to the right. In case it's not in your library (and why would it be?), you can check out the recipe here.

I have no idea if it's any good--I got the book at a garage sale--but I know a cool way to serve it that would make a nice addition to your Thanksgiving dinner.

Have a great, gravy-filled Thanksgiving!

Monday Links

2007-11-15T23:48:00.000-05:00

What to make of the Pizzacone? The invention features a dough-like cone filled with pizza ingredients that supposedly allows you to eat pizza on the go. I guess that's better than ice cream pizza.

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In honor of yesterday's Po-Boy fest, check out this history of the fabulous New Orleans sandwich. Seems the original Po-Boy purveyors--Martin Brothers Restaurant--sold their sandwiches in 15 and 20-inch varieties. And you thought the foot-longs at Subway were hefty!

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Good on this Irish food writer for taking a shot at Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, she gets a few things hilariously wrong. Check out step four on the turkey and the dessert choice.

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Finally, after seeing these funky new toasters, your beat-up old one may be, well, toast. There's the transparent toaster, not to be outdone by the gliding toaster. And in an age of instant messaging, why not toast messaging?

Trading Up

2007-11-15T11:35:00.002-05:00

In the coming weeks, my humble home of Chapel Hill will be trading an empty storefront for a Trader Joe's. Yup, the aloha-shirted ones will be putting another dot on the map.

In truth, the swap was an Earth Fare for a T.J., but the location has been empty for so long I can barely remember that former tenant.

As a full-fledged Foodster, I peek at the site every time I drive by the shopping center. I keep hoping for a sign that it'll be closer to completion. This week, I spoke with a woman at the company's California headquarters and it sounds like they'll be opening before the end of the year.

That means I'll be writing about Trader Joe's in the near future. So all you T.J. veterans, please let me know what you do and don't like about the place. I'm curious to hear why you shop there and what you buy.

In the meantime, I'm off to dig out my Hawaiian shirt.

Birthday Bites

2007-11-07T11:42:00.000-05:00

As some of you may know, yesterday was my birthday. Kind soul that she is, the Spoonstress made sure it was filled with fun, food and fun food.

I awoke to the spoils of a Foster's Market run. Our special birthday plate held a chocolate chip scone, a slice of apple bread and a slice of pumpkin gingerbread, which the Spoonstress admitted she couldn't resist after my the pumpkin rant in my last column. Served on our special birthday plate, it looked something like the picture above.

To wash it all down, there was a steaming cuppa joe and a yummy blueberry banana juice thingy. Topping it all off, a new discsang from the CD player (remember those, you iPodders?).

Throughout the day, the Spoonstress kept e-mailing me with the location of hidden treats. My favorite store-bought cookie, Foster's Chocolate Whoppers, was in a cupboard. A serial saver, I promptly ate half, leaving the rest for today. Sigh.

Then, the Spoonstress alerted me that my favorite candies--raspberry and blackberry gumdrops--were inches away in a desk drawer. Sneaky.

I've always liked these berries, perhaps because they remind me of past checkers glory. Yet, I've never been clear on what to call them. Some ignore the blackberry factor altogether.

That may make sense because there doesn't seem to be much attention given to the blackberry flavor. The only taste distinction is that the black ones aren't as sweet as the red.

Smoke before fire. Works in both checkers and candy.

Spork Notes: Aw, Nuts!

2007-11-02T14:51:00.001-05:00

A recent rave at the Forkquarters has been walnuts. While they're not exactly an unheard of item, I've been enjoying them in some unusual ways.

Pasta with broccoli, edamame and walnuts sparked this walnut renaissance. This tasty, easy recipe (see below) comes from the friendly folks in the Moosewood Restaurant empire.

From this recipe in Moosewood Simple Suppers, I gleaned that the reason I hadn't loved walnuts before was that they weren't toasted. I should have realized this sooner, as the toasted almond is a real Forkster fave.

Since that moment, I've been wearing out the toaster. I'm having walnuts in my cereal with sliced banana every morning. They've enhanced instant oatmeal and yogurt snacks. Finally, they're really awesome in a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, where the chocolate and walnut combo impersonates a sundae.

I'd have to guess that the reason I'm so fond of the toasted walnut is that it evokes that fresh-from-the-oven oatmeal cookie. And who wouldn't want that spicing up their breakfast?
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Pasta with Broccoli, Edamame and Walnuts

3/4 lb. chunky pasta

1/4 cup olive oil

4 garlic cloves, minced or pressed

3 cups bite-sized pieces of broccoli

1 cup frozed, shelled edamame

3/4 tsp. salt

1/4 cup chopped fresh basil, oregano, thyme or marjoram (dried herbs work, too)

1 cup chopped, toasted walnuts

salt and pepper

grated Parmesan or Pecorino Roman cheese

Cook pasta until al dente, saving 1/2 cup of the water. Warm 2 T olive oil in a skillet on low heat. Add garlic and cook for a few seconds. Add the broccoli and that 1/2 cup of hot pasta-cooking water, turn heat on high for 2 minutes. Add edamame, salt and herbs. Cook until water evaporates or about 5 minutes. Toss past with the vegetable mixture, the remaining 2 T of olive oil and the walnuts. Top with grated cheese. Yum.

recipe courtesty of Moosewood Restaurant Simple Suppers.

Pumpkin Wrap

2007-10-26T11:03:00.000-05:00

I'm just about ready to put the pumpkin days behind me, but I thought I'd share a few tidbits before I do.

The most useful item that I didn't have room for in the column came from April McGreger, the former pastry chef at Lantern Restaurant. Now selling goodies under the Farmer's Daughter label, McGreger said she's often substitutes sweet potatoes for pumpkins when baking. Of course, she admits she is a bit biased--her dad is a sweet potato farmer.

McGreger sometimes turns to squash, instead of pumpkin, prefering hubbard, butternut or the Japanese kabocha varieties. When she does bake with pumpkin, she loves the heirloom Long Island cheese pumpkin or those really ugly, pimply kind. I had no idea there were so many pumpkin varieties!

One of the occupational hazards of being the Forkster is taking a nice sip of cider only to find a matchstick-size piece of pumpkin in your mouth. Hey, someone has to do it. I suppose, and in fairness, I was drinking from a pumpkin punchbowl.

Finally, you can't do anything with pumpkins without amassing a bunch of seeds. And you can't be serious if you don't roast them.

Instead of my usual toaster oven and oil combo, I slow-roasted them (90 minutes at 250 degrees) in the oven after sprinkling them with melted butter. The former worked better than the latter. There was no burning, but they didn't quite have the taste I'd hoped they would.

Stick a Fork in it...

2007-10-23T23:30:00.000-05:00

...this column's done. You can read all about finding fun uses for pumpkins in today's Chapel Hill News or right here online.

While this column wasn't about baking, you can find a delicious pumpkin bread recipe in the last post. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to try to get a trademark on "pumpcan holder."

Pumpkin Precursor

2007-10-23T07:42:00.000-05:00

The next Fork & Spoon column comes out tomorrow. I just put the finishing touches on the fun-filled piece on pumpkins. As soon as it's online, I'll post a link.

I didn't bake anything for the column. Instead, I wrote about non-edible culinary uses for pumpkins. Had I made anything, though, the first thing on my list would be this yummy quick bread that I got from the talented April McGreger, the former pastry chef at Lantern Restaurant, who now sells jam, pickles and baked goods under the Farmer's Daughter name.

Pumpkin Bread

1 2/3 cups all purpose or pastry flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 ½ tablespoons ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons pumpkin or winter squash puree
¾ cup plus 2 tablespoons safflower oil (or other vegetable oil)
1 1/3 cups sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt
3 large eggs
2 tablespoons turbinado sugar, for topping
3 tablespoons pumpkin seeds (green, hulled), for topping

1. Preheat oven to 325°; lightly butter the bottom and sides of a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan.
2. Sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves into a mixing bowl; set aside.
3. In another bowl beat together the pumpkin puree, oil, sugar, and salt with the whisk attachment of an electric mixer on medium speed, or by hand, until well mixed.
4. Add in eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition until incorporated before adding the next egg.
5. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula.
6. On low speed, add in the flour mixture and beat just until combined and the batter is smooth.
7. Transfer batter into loaf pan and smooth the surface.
8. Sprinkle top evenly with turbinado sugar and pumpkin seeds.
9. Bake about 1 hour, or until a cake tester or toothpick comes out clean.
10. Let cool in the pan on a wire rack for about 20 minutes, and then invert onto the rack, turn right side up, and let cool completely before serving.

Recipe courtesy of Farmer’s Daughter.

You can also check out April's attention-getting muscadine meringue tart recipe here.

column in progress

2007-10-22T00:47:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned before, I'm writing this upcoming column on pumpkins. But despite Melicious' delicious ideas, this column won't be about pumpkin treats.

I toyed with the idea of planning a day of pumpkin meals, kind of like "Ramania," an earlier column where I made a three-course meal from Ramen-based recipes. Then I realized that I don't like pumpkin nearly as much as Ramen noodles.

Knowing I wanted to write about pumpkins, I kept drifting back towards this other idea: non-edible culinary uses. The column will provide some food ideas, just not the kind you can eat. I know this sounds a bit odd, but I hope it'll all make sense on Wednesday, when the column comes out. I hope.

Anyway, just know that I spent the first few innings of Sunday night's glorious baseball game in front of the TV trying to fit a soda can into a pumpkin. Fun times!

Falling into place?

2007-10-16T22:11:00.000-05:00

Cider's in the supermarkets, it's dark by 7 p.m. and the baseball playoffs are in full swing (unfortunately for the Red Sox). It must be fall.

As I try to figure out the direction of my next column, I'm in an autumnal mood. And the first thing that comes to mind are pumpkins. While I'm drawn to the idea of cooking with pumpkins, the best things I've created from these orange globes are usually roasted seeds and funny faces (mine's on the left, the Spoonstress' on the right).

So help me out. If you have any ideas, success stories or recipes, send them this way. Conversely, if you have a cooking with pumpkin horror story, tell me all about it.

On a separate note, late fall and Thanksgiving is just around the corner. That's why it's never too early to start thinking about Turducken food safety.

Lettuce Pray...for more lettuce recipes

2007-10-10T09:30:00.000-05:00

After reading my post about lettuce soup, reader "greenhorn" challenged me to "stretch" his or her thinking on lettuce past salads and sandwich toppings.

I love a good challenge, which is another way of saying I take requests. Channeling my inner rabbit, let's get to it:

The first thing that came to mind was using lettuce as a wrap or a bread substitute. I first experienced this usage at Chinese restaurants that use crisp leaves of iceberg as a vessel for minced chicken and pine nuts instead of wrapping and frying it like an egg or spring roll. You can find this appetizer homogenized, er, franchised at P.F. Chang's.

Over the years, I've adopted the lettuce wrap method as a substitute for pita bread (or when I'm still hungry, but don't want to eat another pita's worth). Usually, this means enveloping chicken or egg salad in greenery. And no, I'm not sure which one came first.

I haven't gone so far as to replace tortillas with a lettuce taco or burrito. While it can be done, I just can't support that move. I like tortillas too much. And you can keep your spinach tortillas

On the side dish front, pickled lettuce sounds fun. I can't say I've tried it, but at least it's kosher! On a similar vibe, how about lettuce hamburger relish, with the world's simplest recipe instructions: "Mix ingredients together thoroughly. Spread on top of hamburgers."

Back to Chinese food, this fried lettuce dish looks tasty. Again, I don't speak from experience, but it seems like it would change how you think of lettuce.

As for lettuce dessert--you're on your own. Well, you and the rabbits.

Raspberry Ruminations

2007-10-05T10:46:00.000-05:00

The lastest rave in the Forkquarters is Raspberry Sherbet. This pinkish treat has been a real novelty.

Don't get me wrong, it's not the sherbet that's new--I've been enjoying sherbet since the days when I added a second 'r' to the name. But it was always orange "sherbert" I craved, often with Oreos.

I recently returned from the supermarket with a container of raspberry. Far surpassing my modest hopes, the sherbet has subdued my perpetual yen for black raspberry ice cream. In fact, you could probably get away with calling it black raspberry sherbet.

Alas, there's no joy in Forkville--we're almost out.

A Culinary Library

2007-10-02T11:14:00.000-05:00

On a recent trip to California, I met an older woman named Jean Fortenbery, who introduced herself as a Culinary Librarian. She had me at 'culinary.'

When she gave me a business card with "It's All About Food"--the name of her library--prominently displayed, I had to check it out. Her culinary collection is housed in a stand-alone building on the site of her daughter's bed and breakfast in Watsonville, Calif.

After she gave me a very thorough tour of her books, her husband Kenneth showed me around the beautiful Victorian house he redid after the 1989 Earthquake (you can view virtual tours of both the library and the house).

Jean, 84, began amassing cookbooks while traveling around the country in her job transforming traditional recipes for microwave cooking. Today, she writes about food for the Register-Pajaronian and her collection has swelled to more than 20,000 books. The variety is impressive, ranging from wild foods to cooking for wild animals (she's holding one on feeding birds that she finds amusing).

Her library has sections with labels like "Nitty Gritty" and an abundance of Italian and French cookbooks. "I swear every person in Italy and France has written a cookbook," Fortenbery told me.

My favorite part was the closet of older cookbooks dating back to 1835 that I wish I'd had more time to peruse. But I also enjoyed seeing someone so proud of a life's work.

Not to say that she's done. There are stacks of books to be sorted and she's culling all her "doubles." She sent me home with an extra copy of The Thrifty Cook (1974).

If you're ever in Watsonville (between San Francisco and Monterey), stop on by. Just don't come hungry.

Tasty Tips from the Valley

2007-09-26T00:32:00.000-05:00

As some of you may know, I was out in California a few weeks ago. That's where I snapped the photo of the...grapes that had dried into raisins seen in the last post (while out with the Senior Gleaners).

While there, I went to the Taste of the (Salinas) Valley, an event where local chefs created finger food from the abundant local produce. During the two hours of heavy hors d'oeuvres, three things stood out.

A Monterey BBQ joint--Willy's Smokehouse--combined beef brisket and pulled pork (or, as it's called in Carolina, barbecue) to good effect. Served on thin slices of French bread with a bit of (local) cole slaw, this was right up my alley. As you probably have guessed, I'm more likely to appreciate this mixture more than any cabernet sauvignon blend.

Next, I picked up the idea of making salad dressing with apple cider vinegar. The chef serving me said that this works really well when the salad includes chopped apples. Of course, a salad topped with pink slices of tenderloin, candied pecans and gorgonzola cheese would probably taste great with motor oil vinaigrette.

Creamy Lettuce Soup sounds like something that wasn't meant to be. I'm happy to report that it's great and I'm not alone in this assessment. Served by the literary folks of the Steinbeck House, it combined the best of lettuce and, well, half and half. Of course, it didn't hurt that the lettuce was grown about two miles down the road. You can try to emulate the recipe, albeit with a few more food miles:

Creamy Lettuce Soup
Melt 2 Tbs. butter in a two quart pan.
Add 1/2 Cup chopped onion and cook until soft.
Stir in 2 Tbs. flour and 1/2 tsp. white pepper, blending until bubbling.
Add 2 Tbs. dry chicken soup base, 3 shakes of Tabasco sauce.
Cook 15-20 minutes.
Add 2 Cups half and half, heating slowly to just below boiling.
Shred 2 Cups iceberg lettuce just before serving to retain crispness.
To serve, put 1/3 Cup of shredded lettuce in bowl, add hot soup, serve topped with grated nutmeg or parsley.

Name That Food Item

2007-09-20T02:25:00.000-05:00

OK, people, what are you looking at? Write in your answers as comments.

Stick a Fork in It...

2007-09-11T09:01:00.000-05:00

..this column's done. I had fun experimenting with ice cream sandwiches, but all good things...have a deadline.

My ice cream sandwich column is in Wednesday's Chapel Hill News. You non-townies can read the column online.

Happy sandwiching!

Squishy Science

2007-09-09T00:47:00.000-05:00

Well, I finally broke down and bought some Cakesters. It had to be done--in the name of science.

Allow me to explain. I'm trying out some new ice cream sandwich combinations for my upcoming column. In the research, using regular Oreos, dismantled, as the exterior of the sandwich didn't work too well. The ice cream squirted out the side. You know like Newton theorized, every action (biting into the sandwich) has an equal and opposite reaction (the ice cream fleeing out the sides).

We needed softer "bread" for our sandwiches. Hence, Oreo Cakesters, billed as "soft snack cakes," seemed like the answer.

Split in half, they certainly worked better than regular Oreos as an ice cream pseudo-sandwich. In general, though, I'm not wild about the Cakesters' texture. But I never liked Devil Dogs,either.

As for the name, I think they'd sell better as "Fluffy Oreos." Then again, maybe not.

When I told the Spoonstress' visiting friend Jeanne about this "project," she made a day-saving suggestion: 'Have you tried assembling the ice cream sandwiches and then freezing them?'

Of course I hadn't, because that would have made too much sense. Not only does this method help the sandwiches keep their shape, it reduces the "squish out the sides factor." Freezing the ice cream into shape--now there's some science for you.

Sandwich Situation

2007-09-07T00:01:00.000-05:00

The Spoonstress, Peter and I had fun playing with our food last night. More specifically, our dessert.

We were testing different ice cream "sandwiches," the definition of which was pretty flexible. Some combinations of filling and "bread" were better than others (I'll spell that out more in the column), but one thing that doesn't work is any kind of ice cream between two Oreo halves.

As you can see, it got messy. The filling--orange sherbet here--squirted out upon first bite. The conclusion: Oreos are too hard for ice cream sandwiches. In the long term, soft is good. In the short term, we went with the open-faced ice cream sandwich (pictured here).

It wasn't a solution for making an ice cream sandwich, but it was a tasty solution to a messy situation. Learning from our mistakes, I was resigned to not using Oreos in ice cream sandwiches. Then I saw them.

Oreo Cakesters.

They're supposedly "the classic taste of Oreo in a soft snack cake." While opinions on this new product vary, I'm sure they'll at least hold the ice cream well (Even if they are a blatant Devil Dogs rip off). Then again, aren't they just regular ice cream sandwich wafers??

Cookie Conundrum

2007-09-05T13:06:00.001-05:00

It's been a week and I've been thinking about ice cream sandwiches day and night. Well, mostly day.

The good news: I've come up with a laundry list of versions I'd like to try. The bad news: There hasn't really been much testing. I better get on it, because a week from now (hopefully), you'll be reading my column on the topic.

In all honesty, I've been slowed by ambition. I want to use fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies to try out my Cookies and Cookie Dough Ice Cream Sandwich. I had imagined trying it with those little Entenmann's cookies I adore, but they're not available here.

So unless I get lazy and use those bake and break versions, I'm off to Toll House land. Then the testing can begin. As for the extras, I'm sure we'll put them to good use...

Sandwiched

2007-08-29T22:01:00.000-05:00

Sure, I enjoy an ice cream sandwich. Who doesn't?

But I think the frozen dessert could stand some improvement. For some time, our thinking on this dessert has been too...vanilla. I'm sure you can guess where my next column is heading: straight to Forksperimentation Land.

Excluding light options like Skinny Cow, my humble North Carolina supermarket only has traditional sandwiches and a strawberry cheesecake option that looks terrible (full disclosure: I'm not a cheesecake person).

Elsewhere, though, things seem to be looking up. Apparently, Blue Bunny makes a few other flavors like Neapolitan, Strawberry and Mississippi Mud. Fat Boy has some tempting ideas like mint chocolate chip and some odd choices like egg nog sandwiches. And then there's Edy's ice cream sandwich ice cream. Of course, leave it to Google to take things up a notch.

Picking up where Google and It's It left off, I'll suggest some ice cream sandwich alternatives in the coming weeks. Since I'm heading to San Francisco right after this next newspaper column, I'll have to see if my handiwork matches up to It's It's chocolate coated oatmeal cookie ice cream sandwich.

Hey, It's It's staff: it's on.

Peter Piper Picked Peppers

2007-08-26T23:54:00.000-05:00

I've been away from the computer and the blog for a bit, enjoying the summer. Hope you've been doing the same.

In the interim, I've been making the most of the season's produce. We all love farmer's markets. But how about live music plus a farmer's market?

That's what's on offer at "Saturdays in Saxapahaw," a concert series set on a hill right near the quaint Haw River. The Spoonstress and I went with friends this past weekend and had a good ole time. I enjoyed the company, the music and a cold beer on a hot night (I considered talking my way onto the kids' Slip 'n Slide).

The Saxapahaw farmer's market is a small one, but it's fun. Last time there I tried an interesting yellow or lemon cucumber, which looks pretty much like a bumpy lemon.

This time I got some yellow cherry tomatoes and a great orange pepper for the night's picnic. It was so crisp, juicy and reasonable ($1!) that I snagged another for the week. The farmer said the one that I selected was his "prize pepper," but he somehow managed to let it go.

Farmer's markets work for so many reasons (food miles, buying local, freshness, etc.), but here's something underrated--food with character. Sure, some people don't want a pepper that looks like a tooth (see my prized pepper), but you can get plain old ones the rest of the year at the supermarket. For now, may as well enjoy the summer and its bounty.

Too Many Tomatoes??

2007-08-15T20:19:00.000-05:00

No, that's impossible. There's no such thing as too many local tomatoes.

Let's call 2007 the Summer of German Johnsons. OK, maybe it's more like my summer of German Johnsons. I've sworn allegiance to this heirloom tomato after one free sample at the Raleigh (N.C.) farmer's market. Maybe that's because it's a North Carolina variety.

If I ever get around to growing tomatoes--and I hope to next year--I'll definitely grow German Johnsons. There's such a dizzying array of options (Abe Lincolns, etc.) it's comforting to know I can stick with the GJs.

Anyway, with local tomatoes left and right (I drove by one house selling them in their driveway--unfortunately, they were gone the next time I drove by), it's been a fun couple weeks of eating.

I'm not sure about you, but I find myself preparing foods just as an excuse to eat the local tomatoes. I'm also putting them in weird things like burritos, which isn't really that odd if you think about it. What about tomatoes in your cereal?

I almost did it. Man, I'm so close to being wild and crazy. In my defense, I contemplated it but didn't want to spoil any gorgeous slices of tomato by getting lousy Grape Nuts on them. Can you blame me???

Watermelon Five Ways

2007-08-10T15:00:00.000-05:00

When life gives you lemons, I'm told you're supposed to make lemonade. But what about when life (via the farmer's market) delivers a boatload of watermelon?

Well, I started with watermelonade. After a minute in the blender the watermelon and crushed ice (via hammer) made for a refreshing summer drink. It's no lemonade, but what is?

Given that watermelon is 92 percent water, it's a natural as a drink. My one concern, the seeds, were easy to avoid because they settled at the bottom.

Taking things into smoothie territory, I added some banana and yogurt. I'd recommend the former, but not the latter. Maybe add a little orange juice for extra flavor, but you don't want to overpower the watermelon.

Next, I tried cut-up watermelon in my morning Grapenuts. I'm not sure what happened, but my stomach felt like I'd consumed Pop Rocks and Pepsi. As in this video--notice the Pop Rocks flavor!--the combination didn't kill me. But it sure didn't feel good.

Afternoon snack meant cut watermelon with banana slices. It sounds plain, but it doesn't really need anything else. I imagine grapes would work well here, too.

Finally, I tried watermelon in my salad, piggy-backing on Crook's Corner chef Bill Smith's idea (as seen on the cover of Southern Living's July issue). I didn't make his tomato-and-watermelon salad. Instead, I added watermelon to a salad with tomato, lettuce, cucumbers, red onion and Gorgonzola. The watermelon meshed with all parties, playing the role I usually reserve for a Granny Smith.

These ideas provided a nice change of pace. But after eating melon morning, noon and night, I'd say its best use is a familiar one: a big slice right after dinner, preferably eaten outside in the summer heat and washed down with a tall glass of lemonade.

Spork Notes: Ellio's Pizza

2007-08-07T11:39:00.000-05:00

From time to time, I write about a favorite food in a feature I call Spork Notes. Today's topic: Ellio's Pizza.

While some folks' freezer pizza of choice is round, I hew to the rectangular. Within that genre, French bread pizza has regal aspirations. Ellio's aspires to no such heights. Its beauty lies in its simple, solid taste.

An Ellio's box contains three sheets of pizza, each one perforated into three "slices." Apparently some people will only cook one or two slices, but I've always made three. That's probably because when I wanted a "pizza snack," I went with that traditional Italian treat--Bagel Bites.

Besides, snapping off slices before baking takes some doing, seeing as they're frozen. I've stopped that practice because it shakes loose a bit of the cheese, of which there isn't much to spare. That's part of the charm in this age of inch-thick mozzarella.

Ellio's Pizza was the second "dinner" I could make for myself, after hot dogs. Interestingly, both involved the toaster oven. Maybe that's why I'm fiercely loyal to a toaster oven, and can't stand the pop-up kind.

While Ellio's remains pretty low-brow, I've always seen it as customizable. What began with garlic powder and parmesan now looks a bit more deluxe.

Sadly, McCain foods doesn't sell this prince of the pizza aisle here in North Carolina. Perhaps that enhances the allure. It certainly explains why two Ellio's boxes filled my cooler on the return leg of a recent trip to Delaware. (If you work for McCain and are reading this...let's talk).

Since then, Ellio's has ousted Mrs. T's Pierogies, as my standard solo supper. As you can see from the photo, which I've named "Dinner for One," you could do a lot worse.

Melon-choly

2007-08-03T07:35:00.000-05:00

I visited the Raleigh Farmer's Market this week. The visit, coupled with the beads of sweat perched on my forehead, reminded me that it's full-on summer. Tomatoes, cantaloupe and watermelon were all abundantly in season. The zucchini, or squash, as it was called, looked invitingly green.

While the cantaloupes and their beckoning free samples were attractive, I asked around to see if anyone had honeydew, my favorite melon. Nope.

But if you're looking for honeydew, one vendor told me, you should try the sprite melon across the way. After being reassured that the soda industry wasn't in cahoots with North Carolina farmers, I examined what looked like a small honeydew.

The grower, a young man, was giving it toothpick tastes. He described it as a cross between a pear and a honeydew. Maybe the worst parts of each. In hindsight, it's not surprising that I didn't enjoy its flavor, since I don't love a pear.

Back at the ranch, I learned a bit more about the sprite melon. While I was under the impression the sprite melon was a result of some cross-breeding, it's actually an Oriental crisp flesh melon, said Nick Augostini, a marketing specialist at the N.C. Dept. of Agriculture's Specialty Crops program.

Around 2000, the N.C. Specialty Crops Program realized there was a market for this melon and that it would thrive in North Carolina's climate. Today, sprite melons are grown here and shipped across the country, sometimes marketed as Paradise Melons (I think).

Anyway, the outing made me realize there's a whole world of melons, waiting to be discovered. And while I'm getting around to that exploration, I'm enjoying a good ol' watermelon from the farmer's market.

Stick a Fork in it...

2007-07-31T23:17:00.000-05:00

...this column's done.

"Putting the 'Pop' in Popcorn," ran in today's Chapel Hill News. Thanks to Al Gore, you can read it online, in all its glory.

One quick note from the Department of Irony: After two weeks of popcorn pondering and experimenting, I watched a movie tonight. What was my accompanying snack this evening? Ice cream.

Finally, while a niece and a nephew got shout outs in the column, I'd be remiss if I didn't say that their sister Darcy was instrumental in the tasting of many varieties of popcorn.

OK, happy popping!

Pop Up

2007-07-30T13:11:00.000-05:00

Here at the Forkquarters, the (popped) corn is as high as an elephant's eye. Day and night, I've been experimenting with different varieties. I've basically been playing with food.

I need to finish my experiments soon, because the next F & S column (on popcorn), runs on Wednesday. Better keep this short!

The last few days I've tested through many varieties. The Greek Popcorn recipe was particularly tasty, but has structural problems. Distributing the feta is an issue, with most of it usually ending up at the bottom of the bowl. I'm still trying to figure that one out.

More successful--barbecue popcorn (seen to the right). Now before you rush out to light the charcoal, this isn't popcorn cooked on a grill. It's popcorn dressed as barbecue potato chips. You can try to make your own concoction of spices, but I find the premade mix of mesquite flavoring or something like that works just as well.

OK, I'm off to try a few more ideas...

Dessert Popcorn

2007-07-26T09:23:00.000-05:00

In the course of my popcorn experimenting, I've tried a few versions of what I'm calling 'After Dinner Popcorn' (or perhaps 'After Dark Popcorn').

Whatever its label, the results varied. On the simple side of things, The Spoonstress-in-law and me made a batch of popcorn in the Whirley-Pop. Splitting it in two, we dispersed it over M&M's and some chocolate chips. The M&M-popcorn marriage is a good one, but it needed more contrast. In hindsight, more butter and/or salt would have completed the sweet n' salty connection.

As for the chocolate chip popcorn, it worked fairly well, but would benefit from a speedier transfer to promote maximum chip meltage. Sorry to get so technical there.

We also tried what's called Sugar and Spice Popcorn. Since we didn't have mace and neither of us had heard of it, we omitted it. After some quick research, it seems like we had it covered with nutmeg.

When you pour a boiled mixture of heavy cream, butter and brown sugar over popcorn, it better taste sweet. It accomplished that, in a kind of holiday-like taste. But the texture was all wrong, as the spice-filled syrup robbed the kernels of their crunch. The result was akin to a stale spice cookie.

It was mildly reminiscent of a certain favorite dessert of mine. But it almost goes without saying that Sugar and Spice Popcorn is nowhere near as tasty as a spice cake.

What's Poppin?

2007-07-23T10:24:00.000-05:00

Or maybe I should ask, 'How is it poppin?' The answers: Popcorn and in a Whirley Pop.

While on vacation this past week, I had the chance to prep for my next column while experimenting with the Whirley Pop, a conventional (non-nuclear) popcorn weapon. While this device isn't the only way to make popcorn without radiation, it sure is an enjoyable one.

There's something appealing about being able to hand crank your way to a snack. Or a dessert. And possibly a light meal.

As for the options, the Whirley Pop comes with an abundance of recipes. There are even more online, from the sublime to the ridiculous. After combing through the recipe book, the Spoonstress-in-law and I tried a few versions.

While we had fun experimenting, let's just say that the savory option was better received than the sweet ones. In addition to the family's comments, this photographic evidence supports my theory. Here's what the boisterous bowl of Viva Zapata popcorn looked like after twenty minutes:

F&S R&R

2007-07-16T07:16:00.000-05:00

Hey all,

I just wanted to say that I won't be posting this week. It's vacation time.

Happy eating...I'll be back soon.

Pop Goes the Horchata

2007-07-10T21:16:00.000-05:00

A recent trip to Locopops, that happy, fun popsicle vendor, brought me face to face with a hybrid of two favorites--horchata and frozen treats.

I'm often let down by the store's more outlandish concoctions--cinnamon blueberry was the latest culprit--but the horchata was love at first lick. Its milky-cinnamon-almond flavors did a little meringue in my mouth. I should have known that an enterprise modeled on Mexican paletas would nail horchata popsicles.

Like most summer flings, however, it was fleeting. I called Locopops today to see if they still had them.

Nope.

When would they be back? "Probably not for a long time, because we just had them," the chipper clerk said in what at the time seemed to be a mocking tone. In hindsight, she was just being informative.

I had planned to go enjoy another horchata pop, take some pictures, enjoy a second one and then a third. Sadly, you'll have to make due with my old "locopics." And I'll have to either drink my horchata or settle for another tasty popsicle flavor like Mexican chocolate. I'd settle for either, I suppose. But I'd only be settling.

A Tail of Two Lobsters

2007-07-09T00:33:00.000-05:00

“What the Dickens ( I know, I know),” you may ask, “is Papa Fork doing writing this guest post?” Well, the Forkster, in a move that would have made Tom Sawyer proud (“Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?”) offered me this opportunity on Father’s Day, so here I am.

Last Friday afternoon, I called Mama Fork from work and asked what she thought of a little antiquing trip to Maine—like, the next day. It’s not a long trip from our house near Boston, since after all, Maine was actually part of Massachusetts until 1820. Apparently, the Downeasters grew tired of the bad Massachusetts horse and buggy drivers and went their own way.

It usually takes us about 90 minutes get to the first antique shop along Route 1 in Maine and from there you can find one about every ten feet all the way to Bar Harbor. But at this point in our antiquing lives (thirty-five years or so, tracing back to my first paycheck as an adult) the reality is we’ve kind of “fished out” the Maine coast (I know, I know) as far as antiques that interest us go.

Which brings me to food. The antiquing quest in Maine is really just good cover for hunting down that proudest of all crustaceans, the Maine lobster (homarus americanus). It turns out that if you are on the Maine coast, this hunt is relatively easy. You just need a little experience to know where old homarus lurks. For Mama Fork and me, those lobster hideouts are called...restaurants. And since this is only going to be a day trip, one must make the ultimate sacrifice by having the same thing for both lunch and dinner.

First stop is lunch at the Maine Diner in Wells. You want to get there by 11:45 a.m. or so, because it draws a crowd. As in, long lines and those flashing, buzzing thingies that signal your anointment. I hate them in less interesting restaurants and avoid those places at all costs, but somehow the buzzers are okay here because of the reward. If you do have to wait 15 minutes, you can go next door to the diner's souvenir shop with the impossibly cute (caution, historical note approaching) moniker of "Remember the Maine."

Buzzer flashes, seats are taken.

Papa Fork and Mama Fork do not consult the menu. Mama has the lobster roll, excellent as usual, but since this is my blog post, we’re going to discuss the lobster pie. It tastes every bit as good as the picture looks. And if you consult the recipe, how could it not, given the ingredients.

A word about tomalley, here. Those of you who partake of the pleasures of the lobster, you’ve seen it, know it and probably avoid it. It is, after all, green sludge that passes as the lobster’s liver. But when small quantities are mixed into a pie, it really enhances the taste. As an aside, Health Canada cautions not to eat the tomalley of more than two lobsters a day. Apparently the standard of living in Canada is considerably higher than I had imagined for a country whose dollar coin is called a Looney and whose two dollar coin is called a Twoney. I eat two lobsters a year…

It’s 1 p.m. now and there are four hours to kill before dinner, so antiquing we go. A fair amount of time is spent driving farther north to Wiscasset for its twenty-five or so shops. Soon enough, though, it’s time to point the car south again to Cape Porpoise, just next to Kennebunkport (yes, where Poppy and Barb live). Our destination is Nunan’s Lobster Hut.

Nunan’s is what a lobster shack is like in Heaven (assuming they don’t keep kosher up there). The outside, as you can see, is just so cute you want to pinch it. The inside is an immaculate assemblage of benches/tables all fastened to a floor covered by about a hundred coats of shiny gray deck enamel. My sense has always been that at the end of the night they just come in the front door with a fire hose, open the back door and blast all the detritus out into the salt marsh behind the building. But I could be wrong.

It’s now 5 p.m. and we’re there just in time. They open at 5 and by 5:05 on anything resembling a summer night, the place is full. Of course, you could also show up at 6:15 and catch the second shift, but when you had lunch at noon, you’re hungry, right?

Again, no need to consult the menu. An order of steamers (steamed clams for the uninitiated) is shared as an appetizer. But the serious business is picking out what kind of lobster you want. Not how it’s cooked, they’re all steamed (with this specific technique), but rather how large, whether you want one or two and--for some of us--the gender.

As to the number, I’m not big on the twin lobster thing. First of all, how do you know they’re really twins—there’s no time for DNA testing, you’re hungry. Second, I’d rather have one big thing than two little ones. Third, the consumption of the homarus is a particularly labor intensive task and I prefer not to double that work.

Size? I’m going for 2 pounds, because if I’m only getting one or two of these babies a year, let’s make it worth remembering. What’s left is the choice of boy or girl. For me it’s the girl, because inside she has orange roe, a charming cross between caviar and the little wax coke bottles from the penny candy store when I was a kid.

What comes with my fair lady? A bun, which I leave on the plate unless the beclawed main feature's arrival is delayed. A bag of chips--we’re not wasting calories on that. Two dill pickle slices—never tried them. And of course, a few little paper cups of melted butter, which are essential for dipping the succulent lobster meat. When the best meal of the year is finished, all that remains is the shell and, of course, the lovely scent of lobster on your hands that will remain, no matter what is used to try to remove it, for a good 24 hours. But who's complaining? Pop in the Simon and Garfunkle and "Homeward Bound" it is.

Steam Before Fire

2007-07-05T13:26:00.000-05:00

A new kind of corn dog?

Allow me to explain. The Spoonstress and I got a late start on a little art project--framing this cool Marimekko print--which threw off our timing. Because we wanted to make it to some fireworks, I decided to forgo the time-consuming grill readying. Our mini Fourth of July cookout turned into a one-pot party. In hindsight, let's call it American pragmatism.

I'm happy to report that neither item took on the taste its boiling buddy. And, at her suggestion, the Spoonstress nailed the yellow vs. white corn taste test. Also, I successfully steamed buns on my first try. Their tenderness may cause me to reconsider (and possibly blog about) the boiled dog/steamed bun vs. grilled dog/toasted bun equation.

After returning from the fireworks, I made an impromptu sundae. Instead of the usual cone of ice cream, I told the Spoonstress that I was going to make a banana split. When asked what prompted that decision, I replied, "There's a half-eaten banana in the fridge and it's the Fourth of July." Not sure which was the bigger factor.

My Star-Spangled Sundae included vanilla ice cream, banana slices, peanuts, peanut butter and hot fudge. In hindsight, I should have used the blue bowl and added strawberries. Then again, strawberries and peanut butter aren't the best of friends.

Don't forget to check back here Monday to read Papa Fork's grand debut. You won't want to miss the first Fork & Spoon guest post!

Summer in New England

2007-07-03T09:30:00.000-05:00

I was in Boston this past weekend and I scratched a long-burning itch--as I mentioned in my last column--a cone of black raspberry ice cream with chocolate sprinkles.

I enjoyed the cone in question (a sugar, of course) at Christina's in Cambridge. The ice cream shop(pe) routinely wins Best of Boston awards and this version didn't disappoint. What could be more summery than an ice cream cone enjoyed outside. If only I lived closer than a two-hour flight from this awesome ice creamery.

Back home in N.C., I have another order of business--making a Rhubarb Strawberry Pie for my rhubarb-averse neighbork. It's partly to thank her for watching the Spooch, partly because she said she had never cooked with the peculiar Yankee stalks.

Last, but most importantly, when I was in Boston I got to talk to Papa Fork about his much anticipated guest post. He told me it's coming soon and that it'll be on that quintessential New England summer food: Lobsters. Be on the lookout...

Rhubarb Outtakes

2007-06-28T06:01:00.000-05:00

The Rhubarb column is history, but I have a couple of extra stalks to share:

After the article ran, my neighbork Adele conferred with her friend about rhubarb. They confirmed that rhubarb is in fact a Yankee food and that they've never seen it in a Southern cook book. This quotation of Adele's was a last minute cut: "You all make strawberry rhubarb pie, but we just grew up on strawberry pie and, if we were lucky, wild strawberry pie."

Also, this was the Spoonstress' take on the Rhubarb Lime Rickey: “If I close my eyes, it tastes like I’m drinking limeade." Opening her eyes, she said, "It tastes like pomegranate." Hmm...

If there is a rhubarb association (this was the closest I found), it should market its product better. I'm thinking if they re-branded it as "Roo-Barb," used a kangaroo logo and got some outback Aussie to pitch it, rhubarb could be the next…Kiwi fruit. Who doesn't like kangaroos?

Finally, I’d like to point out that my local store was sold out of all rhubarb the weekend before the column ran. While I’d like to think that my blog posts on the vegetable sparked a buying frenzy in Chapel Hill, it’s unlikely. Instead, take it as a sign that rhubarb is a commodity on the rise—buy it while you can!

No word yet on if the shelves will be bare after the column runs (I'm not holding my breath.).

Stick a Fork in it...

2007-06-27T00:04:00.000-05:00

...this column's done.

Those of you in this rhubarb poor region of Chapel Hill can read it in today's Chapel Hill News. Everyone else will have to rely on this rickety link.

For those arriving here after reading the column, sit anywhere you'd like and make yourself at home. You'll find previous columns on the right and please help yourself to a comment once in a while.

As for me, I'm off for a celebratory Rhubarb Lime Rickey. After all, someone's gotta finish the bowl.

Ants on a Rhubarb Log?

2007-06-26T11:29:00.000-05:00

I've submitted the rhubarb column and it will run tomorrow. In the meantime, let's look at some rhubarb photos.

Since I had some celery and rhubarb around, I decided to compare and contrast.

As you can see, they can look eerily similar.

While that's certainly true at the green end, it's not by the crimson part of the stalk.

That's when you realize why this variety is called cherry rhubarb.

Fetching Rhubarb

2007-06-25T00:05:00.000-05:00

Recently, I was talking to my neighbor Adele about rhubarb. She said she'd never cooked with it, and didn't even know what it looked like.

The next time I took the Spooch over to play with Adele's dog, Mr. Darcy, I brought a bag of rhubarb to show her. The Spooch and Mr. Darcy have been playing in another neighbor's yard lately. While I was putting the Spooch into that fenced yard, she got loose and I dropped the rhubarb to grab her. That very moment, Mr. Darcy zipped over and snagged the bag full of red stalks. As I grabbed the Spooch, I heard Adele exclaim, “Mr. Darcy’s got the rhubarb!”

I’ll never forget the sight of that young golden retriever pup sprinting off with a plastic bag full of rhubarb in his mouth.

After Mr. Darcy came back, we let the dogs play with a stalk. It certainly made for a good tug-of-war toy (see photo). While they were wrestling over it, Adele said, deadpan, “So that would be what rhubarb looks like.”

Rhuminations

2007-06-22T10:41:00.000-05:00

I suppose it's finally time to get to work on June's column. Enough idle blogging.

With that in mind, I've decided to write about rhubarb. I had so much fun making strawberry rhubarb pies with Mama Fork that I figured why not experiment with the stalky vegetable some more. Plus, every time I pass those reddish rows in the produce department, they tempt me so.

I'm not entirely sure what I'll make with rhubarb, but I will definitely write more about my favorite pie. In addition, I'm toying with a liquid rhubarb concoction. We'll see if that flies.

The column should be in Wednesday's paper, so I better stop blogging and start brainstorming and baking. I'll be back soon with an update. In the meantime, I'm off to pick out some stalks and possibly this movie. Well, definitely the former.

Fresh Magnet

2007-06-19T00:02:00.000-05:00

What the heck is that thing?

You're probably thinking something along those lines. Well friends, you're looking at the latest in food preservation--the ESMoSPHERE, by Singapore's Joven Electric. It keeps food fresher longer by emitting a 15-inch electromagnetic field.

After hearing about the gadget, I wrote about it on my Wasted Food blog. Richard Chua, who works at Joven, saw that and graciously offered to send me one (in addition to a wine-enhancing coaster that speeds the breathing process) all the way from Singapore. Ever the sucker for free gadgets, here I am writing about it.

I have yet to test the ESMoSPHERE, although I bet the fruits pictured were incrementally improved in the taking of these photos. I'll have my team of scientists mock up an experiment (complete with control item) and we'll put the protection zone to the test.

Apparently, I have the seafood model (the meat one is red). Mr. Chua recommends testing it on a brightly-colored whole fish or shrimp. Since I can't say I'd look forward to having one entire fish go past its prime and I won't be catching anything like this, I think I'll try shrimp.

In the meantime, don't tell the board of health or the unsuspecting guests I'll serve. Just kidding...we at the Forkquarters would never pull a stunt like Anthony's of Atlanta.

Butter Me Up

2007-06-15T12:47:00.000-05:00

In addition to sweet potatoes, I've been digging another member of the vegetable family lately: butter beans.

I've been surprised by the loveliness of this legume. They've tasted so yummy recently, I've been wondering: Can butter beans really be the same as the dreaded lima beans of childhood? Yup.

Perhaps the adjective in their name has something to do with the improvement.

I had butter beans on a recent trip to Mississippi with the Spoonstress. At Oxford's Ajax Diner, I enjoyed them as part of a veggie plate--that odd, enjoyable institution where three sides make a meal.

Then this week, I enjoyed butter beans as a side to a fried chicken lunch at the Mecca Restaurant, whose name derives from its status as a meeting spot blocks from the state capitol, not any religious leanings. The crunchy-skinned chicken was tasty, but played second fiddle to the butter beans. Wow, I can't believe I just wrote that (and that I mean it).

I almost repeated my veggie plate order at the Raleigh institution, with an eye on some mac 'n cheese. Luckily, my lunch partner Alex noted that it was macaroni salad. Yuck. Can you imagine expecting the creamy goodness of noodles and cheese but getting cold, oily or mayo-soaked elbows instead? That'd almost be as bad as a plate of lima beans.

Meaty Returns

2007-06-12T21:26:00.000-05:00

I know the suspense is killing you. OK, OK, the farmer's market meat was superb.

The Spoonstress whipped up a mini-gourmet masterpiece with an assist from Fresh Every Day by Sara Foster: sirloin marinated in balsamic and topped with French fried shallots and blue cheese melted ever so slightly.

The beef's expense was somewhat offset by the assuaging peace of mind buying local brought. And that entire debate vanished from my fork-centric mind once I smelled the steak cookin'.

The above photo isn't mine, so you'll have to use your imagination to envision the meal's splendor. As a gesture to the Spoonstress, I didn't take any pictures. She'd made such a nice dinner and my photography style could be called thorough. Or slow as heck. It was the least I could do, as I was the lucky one who got to eat the meal!

Best of all, the meat went far. The Spooch got a little love on the gristle, and the majority of the leftovers turned into amazing steak burritos the next night. If this is what it's like to eat local, I don't want to leave the Forkquarters.

The L Word

2007-06-08T11:31:00.000-05:00

After much delay, local meat has arrived at the Forkquarters.

The Spoonstress bought a cut of sirloin at the friendly Carrboro Farmer's Market. While the steak being frozen and vacuum sealed dented my idealistic view of local meat, it's probably a good thing. I suppose freezing makes sense if you're at the market all day in 90-degree weather.

The Spoonstress and I have discussed the idea of eating locally and just came across the 100 Mile Diet. While I'm suspicious of any eating plan that ends with the word "diet," I suppose it's de rigeur for marketing purposes. I'm more interested in reading the book that spawned the idea.

We've talked about trying this idea of only eating food produced within, you guessed it, 100 miles of our house. Of course, it's easy to do so in the summer. The meat now thawing in our fridge is from Creedmoor, N.C.--28 miles away. This useful tool allows you to find your local "foodshed."

On another local food note, my basil seeds are sprouting nicely. Can't get much more local than that. While my cilantro isn't doing so well, we're not going to talk about that.

Tonight we'll get to see just how local this meat tastes. But thanks to the placebo effect, it'll be difficult to accurately compare it to supermarket beef. Then again, the local food movement isn't all about taste, right?

Right?

Spoon Voyage: Mississippi

2007-06-05T09:33:00.000-05:00

The Spoonstress and I just got back from a Mississippi jaunt. I may have left my heart in San Francisco, but I left my arterial health in the Magnolia State.

I feasted on fried catfish, fried chicken, fried pickles, French fries and (fried) hushpuppies. When you're visiting what some say is the best catfish joint in a state full of 'em (Taylor Grocery), you're gonna have it fried. At one point, I told the Spoonstress my goal for the upcoming meal was simply to avoid anything deep fried.

The veggie plate at Ajax Diner stretched that definition. The broccoli and rice casserole tasted like a Land O' Lakes recipe. Brown sugar and marshmallows galore pushed the sweet potato casserole into the dessert category, as I'd hoped.

Aside from the heart-harming (i.e. delicious) eating, I spent most of the weekend in Oxford and the Delta on a not-so-slow drip of sweet tea. You'll notice it in the foreground of the picture at right. I grew so accustomed to the sugary drink that I scoffed at the suggestion of unsweetened tea at Abe's Bar-B-Q (I mean, even this Yankee knows that's a barbecue no-no).

Breakfasts were egg-heavy and rich as heck. The a.m. creation at Puddin Place (B&B), which I'm told will grace the next issue of Southern Living, involved baking an egg atop Canadian bacon, mozzarella cheese and an English muffin.

The fun continued at Clarksdale's Rest Haven, a Lebanese outpost that cleverly mixes kibbe (ground beef, cracked wheat and onions) into a cheese omelet. The result isn't far from a cheeseburger omelet. By the way, I wasn't alone in my greasy spooning--the Spoonstress continued the BLT fun, minus the healthy 'L' with an egg, bacon, tomato and mayo sandwich at Rest Haven.

While I can't imagine living in Mississippi and keeping a solitary chin, it's a great place to eat. In hindsight, I wouldn't do anything differently.

I closed things out, appropriately, with a lunch plate of cheese-stuffed meatloaf during our second Ajax visit. As I look through the pictures a day later, one thing's for sure--I was never in danger of making this sign come true.

Kids' Cuisine?

2007-06-01T01:43:00.000-05:00

In my casual food reading, I thoroughly enjoyed this piece on eating out with children. David Kamp, the writer, contends that across the restaurant spectrum almost all kids' menus offer the same six options: chicken fingers, grilled cheese, hamburgers, hot dogs, pizza and some kind of pasta.

The above picture was the first result in a Google Images search for "chicken fingers." In light of the homogeneity of kids' menus discussion, its source is fitting--Nawab Indian Cuisine.

Not only are restaurants offering children unhealthy choices, they're not doing kids' palates any favors. As Kamp writes,

Far from being an advance, I’ve concluded, the standard children’s menu is regressive, encouraging children (and their misguided parents) to believe that there is a rigidly delineated “kids’ cuisine” that exists entirely apart from grown-up cuisine.

Because most restaurants serve the same kids' meals, many children don't try new foods. On that note, thanks Mama and Papa Fork for keeping me away from the children's menu and close to Peking Ravioli, steamed clams and a whole mess of other foods.

Smoked Corn

2007-05-30T17:47:00.000-05:00

If you're committing to the four-hour process that is smoker cooking, you may as well maximize your returns. That thinking led me to do some experimenting yesterday.

In addition to the whole chicken I was smoking, I figured I'd throw in something else. But what?

I contemplated tomatoes, but I only had tiny cherry variety and feared they'd fall through the grill's bars. I like a good smoky cheese, but I was pretty sure that putting a block of cheddar in a 225 degree-chamber wasn't a great idea.

Then it hit me--I'd smoke those two beautiful ears of corn sitting in the fridge. A quick web search revealed that I needed to peel the husks back to soak the corn for an hour. Then butter and season the kernels to your desire, recover the ears with their husks and smoke away. I used some string to tie the husks shut.

An hour later, the Spoonstress and I were enjoying a corn on the cob/cobb salad combo. Best of all, you can smoke corn on a regular gas grill--just keep it away from the direct heat.

Stick a Fork in it...

2007-05-29T19:21:00.000-05:00

...this column's done.

Thanks to the wonders of the Interweb, you can read my BLT column here. If you've already done so, please take a look around the site. Kick off your shoes, make yourself at home.

If you'd like to be on the mailing list for new column alerts, e-mail me at the address on the bottom of the sidebar.

Alrighty, I'm off to go get a celebratory BLT. That's right, a plain old BLT. Imagine that...

BLT Bonuses

2007-05-25T14:42:00.000-05:00

I just finished and submitted my column on BLTs today (it should run Wednesday). It was so fun to research this topic that I ended up with more material than I could use. I thought I'd share a few of the outtakes with you folks.

First, why is it that lettuce and tomato share top billing in a BLT, but no other sandwich. In almost all other sandwiches, that duo is an assumed accompaniment. Anyway, the Spoonstress raised the question and I thought I'd throw it out there. Any ideas on why?

Second, cheese isn't a great BLT add-on. This is what I wrote, but edited out on the topic:

Edam cheese rounded out the creation and I now know why the original sandwich is not a BLTC. The Edam made it heavier, like a typical deli creation.

Third, doesn't it sometimes seem like you need an engineering degree to build a BLT that doesn't collapse? While eating a particularly messy creation during the BLT Jubilee (possibly this one), our Fork friend Peter noted that “The lettuce and tomato combo is like a Slip ‘n Slide.”

I sought professional help. After posing the arrangement question to Hich Elbetri, the chef/owner at Chapel Hill's SANDWHICH (hence the spelling of the eatery), I wrote this 'graph on the topic:

The arrangement of ingredients can mean the difference between collapse and success. Hich recommends lettuce on the bottom, then tomato and bacon, and slicing with a really sharp serrated knife. Still, structural integrity can be a challenge—hence the toothpicks.

But what I didn't write, because I don't really get it, is that Hich kept saying the most important thing is to avoid putting "vertical pressure" on the sandwich. Short of suspending gravity, I can't think of a way to cut horizontally.

Anyway, Hich said it was hard to explain (yup) and takes some practice (likely), but he'd be happy to show me. I suppose I'll have to drop by SANDWHICH sometime. It'd be a real shame if I had to have another of his BLTs. A real shame.

BLT in progress

2007-05-22T23:20:00.001-05:00

The past two nights I've been writing the BLT column. In considering improvements to the classic sandwich, I've been struck by just how similar the ingredients are to a salad. This fact is not lost on KFC or Wendy's.

The Spoonstress first raised this topic during the BLT Jubilee. Then I read this article about SANDWHICH, in which co-owner Hich (hence the restaurant's name) Elbetri discusses how he created his sandwiches:

"I did a lot of research on my own. I'd go to Jean-Georges' place [Jean-Georges Vongerichten's four-star gem in the Trump International Hotel] and have a salad, and that salad seemed a great idea to be a sandwich. A lot of my sandwiches are derived from cool salads."

Elbetri pegged that idea to BLTs when I spoke with him by phone today. SANDWHICH is now serving an Italian BLT (pancetta, tomato, arugula, dry ricotta, pesto, mayo) as a special, and, Elbetri said, "I’m gonna keep it around because it’s time for a nice salady, BLT."

Crook's Corner chef Bill Smith echoed the sentiment in a recent conversation. "We have a recipe here for cornbread salad that reminds you of a BLT," Smith said. "It has bacon, mayo, and tomato in it. There’s no lettuce, but it has celery."

All the combinations we tried during the BLT Jubilee--the options included lettuce, tomato, bacon, olives, avocado, mushrooms, cheese and onion--could be salads. But then again, what couldn't you say that about these days?

Fakin' It

2007-05-21T10:55:00.000-05:00

Last night, the Forkquarters hosted a BLT Jubilee. In preparation for my upcoming column (May 30), The Spoonstress, two friends and I tested a bunch of variations on the classic BLT sandwich.

Following the same format as the Mix-in Mixer, we all tried some of the same creation and discussed its merits. Fortunately, there was no melting ice cream to deal with this time.

I won't spoil the details, but I can say that kalamata olives were popular. Also, the added ingredients were chosen partly for their acronym potential.

While we mostly used regular bacon, we also tried Morningstar Farms Bacon Strips out of curiosity. The vegetarian bacon substitute isn't bad, but don't worry, I'm no convert. If I made bacon more than once every Presidential election, I might consider fakin' bacon more often.

Curiously, the bacon substitute replicates the white bits of fat, which I find to be an odd choice. As someone who likes lean bacon, I'd be OK with something less realistic (i.e. the Lightlife brand).

On the plus side, the fake version doesn't shrink nearly as much as real bacon (see photo). And the fake bacon has its health benefits, which we mitigated by cooking it in real bacon grease. In hindsight, preparing vegetarian bacon in what can only be described as a vegetarian-hostile manner was an odd choice, but it certainly aided the flavor.

Now THAT'S Living

2007-05-19T01:01:00.000-05:00

I've had dessert of lunch and even a rare breakfast dessert, but I'd never had a dessert of dessert until tonight.

I feel like I'm living what kids imagine adult life to be. And I don't regret it for a second.

Earlier tonight, the Spoonstress and I went out to Crooks Corner, our favorite splurge, with our friendly neighbork. We went there mostly because I'd heard that chef Bill Smith'slegendary honeysuckle sorbet was on the menu, a treat hinted at by the morning aroma in our neighborhood.

After both a first and second course, we decided we each needed our own bowl of the honeysuckle sorbet. It was flowery and light, and it tasted like spring. And it should, given that it comes from the flower of what amounts to a pretty weed.

Yet, as we eyed the brownies, cakes, and puddings going past, we all came to the sad realization that the sorbet wasn't really rich enough to quench our dessert thirst. It was more a palate cleanser.

When our neighbork inquired about a particular cake layered with custard, we all knew. We'd have our second dessert.

The cake in question was a Mississippi Vanity Cake and it was outstanding. The menu has it as a "buttermilk layer cake w/ apple custard & whipped cream." It wasn't the best cake I've ever had, but the sheer thrill of double desserting pushed it pretty close.

The whole thing left me feeling really alive (You mean I can have two desserts?!). It also made me feel really American. I wasn't sure whether to pen the Double Dessert Manifesto or slip onto the couch, turn on the tube and loosen the belt.

Because I couldn't decide, I split the difference and wrote this post.

Merritting Five Stars

2007-05-17T00:49:00.000-05:00

Well, nobody said they didn't care what I had for lunch today. And since some even said they did care, here's the report:

People around these parts rave about the BLT at Merritt's Store and Grill. 'It's the best ever,' 'you've gotta try it,' on and on.

You know what? They're right.

I visited the little breakfast/lunch grill housed inside a convenience store today to do some BLT reconnaissance for my upcoming column. I left wondering whether to rank it number one or two in my personal top 10 (with Atlanta's Buckhead Diner occupying the other spot).

When you order the sandwich, there are a couple of choices. Answering my question on what kind of bread she recommended, the counter woman chuckled, "Sourdough, but we're all out, so white or wheat?" Potato bread is also an option, but I stuck with the traditional white.

Choosing the size of the BLT was a first for me. But instead of small, medium or large, you decide how many layers you want: one, two or three. I took the middle road, and as you can see below I basically got a BLTBLT. The three stacker weighs almost a pound and all I can imagine is a cartoon sandwich where the character needs a jack to open their mouth wide enough. "It's a real artery clogger," the cashier said.

It's hard to say what makes Merritt's sandwich so tasty, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's the combination of juicy tomatoes and a liberal dose of salt and pepper. The woman making my BLT jiggled that pepper shaker onto the sandwich for a good five-Mississippi count.

As at SANDWHICH, this BLT has no weak links. The lettuce is crunchy and voluminous and the bacon is firm and fairly lean. I would have preferred that the bread be toasted more to prevent sogginess. I ate it on the spot and the bread was already getting moist. Otherwise, it was BLT brilliance.

During my last few bites, I actually got a little sad that the sandwich was nearing its end. With the BLT devoured, all that remained was a puddle of tomato and bacon drippings on the tin foil wrapper.

I wish I can say I didn't slurp up that puddle.

Now that's a good sandwich!

Do You Care?

2007-05-15T12:17:00.000-05:00

I'm not the most plugged-in blogger. There, I've said it.

For instance, while many of you have long known about the popular Mighty Goods blog and its creator Mighty Girl (Margaret Mason), I just came across this whole thing yesterday. I was bopping through Mason's site when I saw that she has a book called No One Cares What You Had For Lunch.

That whimpering sound you hear is me.

As someone who often writes about what I had for lunch, this book title momentarily knocked me down a peg. I'm pretty sure she's not talking to food bloggers and the subtitle--100 Ideas for your Blog--is a little soothing, but I'm still a little shook.

So I'm putting this question to all of you, including lurkers: Do you care what I had for lunch?

If you do, I can tell Mighty Girl to shove it. If you don't, I'm gonna have to read her book. (Full disclosure: I'll probably read it anyway, I'm sure some of her ideas are useful.) Either way, I'll try to resist posting a vindictive review of her book on Amazon like this one from Hilton Head, SC: "No one cares about the contents of this book."

Not to influence your vote, but tomorrow's lunch is looking prih-tee good.

Brute Fruit

2007-05-11T13:50:00.000-05:00

Occasionally, I work for a catering company. One perk of the job is that you often come home with leftovers. You also get to say, with a straight face, "It's a shooter of cucumber-basil soup with lotus root."

Last night, I returned from work with a giant grapefruit. I'm not sure this is the 'nom de commerce,' as I didn't buy it, but it's huge. These pictures were not doctored in any way--scout's honor.

This fits with today's trend of fruit that *may* be on steroids. Today's bananas are like wiffleball bats and apples are entire meals. On the other hand, this robust produce counters another food fashion--baby produce.

These two trends may end the use of fruit for making size comparisons. If you said you had a grapefruit-sized bunion, I may think your life was in danger. Or that it was pretty manageable.

Anyway, I'm staring at a grapefruit with a 15-inch circumference and I'm not sure whether to eat it or build a solar system model around it.

Midnight Madness

2007-05-09T23:12:00.000-05:00

What does any self-respecting food writer do with a leftover cup of rhubarb? Experiment.

But what to make? At first I thought of baking a mini pie. Then I realized I didn't feel like preparing a mini crust. Soon thereafter, I remembered that Mama Fork had just given me these cool silicone cupcake/muffin cups. After that, the answer was obvious: strawberry rhubarb muffins.

But with my nocturnal habits, these muffin thoughts came at about 10:30 p.m. By the time they were popping fresh, we had midnight muffins.

And pop they did--right out of the silicone baking cups without any greasing beforehand. I'd have to say these beauties make muffining easy. Plus, they're pretty photogenic.

I'll pass along the recipe, but the Spoonstress and I both agreed that the dough tasted too plain. Those of you with more muffin experience will probably be able to adjust accordingly.

For you fellow novices, the Spoonstress had an excellent idea we've yet to put to the test: adding chocolate chips to the next batch. Can't imagine how that could go wrong.

Rhubarb, Rhubarb

2007-05-07T21:53:00.000-05:00

It must be spring, because I had strawberry rhubarb pie this weekend. Homemade strawberry rhubarb pie.

When I saw native strawberries at the store, I figured it was time for this springtime rite of passage. When I heard that Mama Fork was coming for an impromptu visit, I knew we'd make it together. Even better, she needed something for a potluck dinner, so we'd make two.

I sliced three pounds of strawberry and rhubarb stalks--think red celery--the night before her arrival. All that remained was a little mixing and baking. For the first one, we used the traditional half and half rhubarb-to-strawberry ratio. Mine was more like 2.5 cups rhubarb and 1.5 cups strawberry.

I haven't heard how the first pie was received at the potluck, but the second one was a hit at my friends' house. Served heated in the microwave and topped with vanilla ice cream, the pie was worth the effort.

Based on the pictures, I'm either an obsessive crust crimper or a store-bought crust user. It's the latter. While that ain't old timey, this is: I ran out of butter on the second pie and had to borrow some from our neighbor. (Thanks Adele!)

Saucy or Sauce-free?

2007-05-01T09:21:00.000-05:00

The Spoonstress and I were in Western North Carolina, close to the South Carolina border, this weekend before heading back east. Having fit all four directions into one sentence, I can retire happy.

Anyway, during this brief B.L.T. hiatus, we visited the Carolina Smokehouse in Cashiers, N.C. I previously wrote about about the East vs. West divide with Carolina barbecue, but I soon learned that this place was far enough west to surpass classification.

At the Smokehouse, the Spoonstress and I were asked what kind of sauce we wanted on our respective chopped beef and pork sandwiches--mild or spicy. I was imagining a thin, tomato-based "dip," as it's called here, and had no idea they were really asking what variety of store-bought sauce I wanted.

The thick, sweetener-laced topping converted the sandwich into a near Sloppy Joe, pretty much ruining it. The worst part was that the meat not covered in sauce was delicious.

There are certainly barbecue styles that do sauce well (Kansas City comes to mind), but Carolina isn't one of them. And unless you have an excellent sauce, why douse your hard-won, smoky flavor with anything?

The views of the folks running the supposed birthplace of burgers, Louis Lunch in New Haven have fortified my no sauce stance. Their ban on ketchup parallels my feelings about BBQ sauce. Furthermore, those in the South will note that the basic chicken sandwich at Chick-Fil-A is topped only with pickles.

Finally, this sauce-free spree continued closer to home. Last night, the Forkquarters hosted a spur-of-the-moment cookout. The Spoonstress and I were surprised to find that we didn't have any ketchup. With locally-grown tomatoes, grilled onions and melted cheddar, it wasn't really missed. Why would it be?

SandWHICH?

2007-04-25T13:23:00.000-05:00

The B.L.T. is a topic near and dear to my heart. I've always enjoyed the classic sandwich, but the version I ate at Atlanta's Buckhead Diner 10 years ago pushed things to another level. That meal still ranks in my personal Top 5 (and tops my 'longest waits' list).

There's a real range of B.L.T.s. Perhaps because it relies on only three ingredients, they all must pull their weight. And from iffy bacon to soggy lettuce to tasteless tomatoes, there are plenty of pitfalls. But that's not even addressing the potential for structural collapses and toothpick troubles.

But when someone nails the B.L.T., it can be so right. Plus, they're apparently a valuable hangover cure.

B.L.T.s may or may not be my next column topic, but if they are, it started today with my long overdue first visit to SANDWHICH (the co-owner's name is Hich), a Chapel Hill lunch spot that serves "Homemade sandwiches on handmade bread." I apologize for not having my camera, their logo will have to suffice.

After reading the menu beforehand, it was obvious I'd order the O.B.L.T. (the O is for outrageous). Adding avocado and jalapenos to the classic, this creation could bear a diferent adjective-- fabulous.

A few things stood out:
--The insides of the bread were toasted, preventing sogginess, but the tops were not. Novel.
--Crispy, crispy bacon. A real key for me.
--The jalapenos stole too much of the limelight for my liking.
--A healthy amount of avocado--always a plus.
--With no toothpick, it got a little sloppy, but wasn't too bad.

But for the jalapenos, I'm not sure this sandwich can be beat. We'll see...

Patty Cake

2007-04-23T09:12:00.000-05:00

This past week I was away on a fabulously relaxing family vacation in the Turks & Caicos islands. In addition to feasting on fresh Caribbean snapper, wahoo and grouper, I sampled a staggering variety of conch dishes.

But perhaps my favorite tropical delight was an import from nearby Jamaica--patties and coco bread. I found this combination, an old college favorite, at a place called Stinson's Chinese Jamaican bakery. It was by far the best Chinese Jamaican bakery I've been to.

The patty, usually beef or chicken, is basically an empanada. Its golden, flaky exterior houses a curry-heavy meat. I enjoy the chicken more, but either one is solid. I've had veggie patties, but they taste too much like Indian pakoras for my liking.

Coco bread is a sweet, doughy roll that contains no coconut. It's so called because the bread is made to be split open like a coconut, (albeit with less effort). This Jamaican creation is heavy and eggy, not unlike a nice challah, as my breadaholic brother noted.

I was taught to wrap coco bread around the patty, but some folks find that double breading a bit odd. It's kind of like eating a corn dog wrapped in a bun. Which takes us into Taco Town territory.

Some coco breads are more patty shaped, while the ones we found clearly weren't (see below).

My lone Jamaican friend confirmed that patty enveloping is in fact done on that island, but not excessively. She likened it to super-sizing at a fast food place. I think it ups the patty from a snack to a meal.

Whether you eat them separately or together like Voltron, you need to explore patties and coco bread.

Not So Smooth

2007-04-16T08:33:00.000-05:00

I've been on a bit of a smoothie kick lately. It's mostly because we've had raspberries that have remarkably little flavor and aren't worth eating plain. I know, I know...it's not raspberry season yet.

Because I was sick of washing the blender, I decided to try to make a smoothie without our embarassingly old appliance. The decision came out of laziness, but it was more short-sighted than anything. I had to do all that slicing and I still had dishes to wash.

I chopped and smooshed the banana, strawberries, blueberries and--yes--raspberries then dumped the mixture into tupperware at the Spoonstress' suggestion. After adding some milk and orange juice, I shook that container for all it was worth.

The frothy result was a bit lumpy for my liking. As the name suggests, you're not supposed to need to chew anything in a smoothie. You'll notice a big blueberry chunk floating in the photo to the right.

Oh well. At least I now know that I don't take my smoothies like I prefer my peanut butter: chunky.

Spork Notes: Sandwich Pal

2007-04-13T08:40:00.000-05:00

In the latest of my recurring raves, this Spork Notes post tackles my favorite mustard: Woeber's Sandwich Pal.

Every sandwich needs a friend and this mustard is just that. Don't take that the wrong way--it's not like this mustard can be your tennis partner or running buddy. After all, it's not your pal, but your sandwich's.

But what a friend it is! Sandwich Pal is speckled and golden, with just enough of a kick to be interesting. It is course ground, but not just a bunch of mustard seeds in a jar. It remains a spreadable, squeezable mustard.

While I just call it Sandwich Pal, more specifically it is "Sweet & Spicy mustard." Ohio-based Woeber's makes many varieties, but I can only vouch for this one. When you've had perfection, why try anything else? Besides, I never had much use for cranberry horseradish. And while we're on the subject, who ever thought of merging the words 'horse' and 'radish?' [There are a two theories, both referenced here.]

Back to the mustard, it's best virtue is its versatility. It makes hot dogs happier, and, true to its name, most any sandwich is better off after meeting S.P. The mustard even makes a great dip for sweet potato fries. I can't remember ever being disappointed after adding Sandwich Pal to anything.

Don't believe me? Just click on the photo up top and look at the chef in Woeber's logo. His hand signal and satisfied smack of the lips after sampling his creation say it all. Would that guy lie to you?

Pita Parm

2007-04-10T15:59:00.000-05:00

The Spoonstress has been working from home recently. That change has brought another welcome one: family lunchtime.

We recently had some chicken on hand from a dinner we made for guests. Because that recipe--Creamy Mac, Chicken and Cheese from Sarah Foster's Fresh Every Day cookbook--called for pulled chicken, it was in strips.

All the better for stuffing into a pita, pouring on some marinara sauce, melting cheese and topping with basil. That's just how my mind works.

The Spoonstress, though, has been enjoying this perk of working at the Forkquarters. As someone accustomed to frozen burritos at work, she's been cooing at my usual creations like this Pita Chicken Parm.

On that sandwich, I was glad that I saved a small cup of marinara sauce that came with a takeout stromboli. Thinking, 'You never know when it may come in handy,' I kept it. We may have to tell this guy; he'd be proud of that kind of utilization.

Stick a Fork in it...

2007-04-04T12:23:00.000-05:00

...this column's done. If you haven't seen it already, here is the online version. If you'd like to get on the mailing list for new column alerts, e-mail me at the address found somewhere on this site. (Hint: it's on the bottom right).

If you've already read the column, take a look around and make yourself comfortable. You don't even have to take off your shoes.

As for me, I was about to write that I'm all mixed-out. But, I'm not sure that's even possible. Instead, I'll say: Happy Mixing!

Mix-in Matzoh?

2007-04-03T10:01:00.000-05:00

Whew! Late last night, I finished writing my ice cream Mix-in column that should run Wednesday. Between that, and celebrating the beginning of Passover, it was quite an evening.

We enjoyed a relaxing seder with a great brisket dinner. And for dessert, my cousin David made a brilliant end run around the no-flour Passover rule: chocolate creme brulée!

It occurs to me that the idea of ice cream mix-ins makes a mostly kosher for Passover column. While I didn't write about matzoh mix-ins, per se, most of the creations are Passover friendly. Then again, some of that chocolate covered matzoh is pretty tasty and would surely enliven your ice cream. Ditto for macaroons, that coconutty Passover treat.

With Easter just around the corner, I was tempted to crack a Cadbury egg over a bowl of vanilla. Then I realized this was just too gross. And I don't think Peeps would work in cold ice cream, but this still needs to be confirmed if there are any adventurous readers out there.

In a bit of non holiday news, my eagle-eyed brother alerted me that Edy's, in their wisdom, already has an ice cream sandwich flavor. But I assure you that Alex's idea was not influenced by this product, as Edy's doesn't sell it in North Carolina.

Besides, who needs an ice cream sandwich when you've got Hillel sandwich, that symbolic seder food featuring matzoh and horseradish? OK, you're right, not a good swap.

Mix that Sandwich?

2007-03-29T14:12:00.000-05:00

A few days removed from the Mix-in Mixer, I'm still experimenting with ice cream add-ons. Let's face it, it's not an arduous task. If this column necessitates eating vanilla ice cream with assorted mix-ins after both lunch and dinner, I'm ready to make that sacrifice.

Anyway, my friend Alex recently suggested mixing in ice cream sandwiches. As we said after the idea was proposed, "That's gold, baby!" The idea has a certain simplicity or pureness of thought. Plus, it enables the vanilla to turn the tables on the chocolate wafers. It's like, 'who's getting sandwiched now?!'

After it melts a bit, the concoction begins to taste like one big ice cream sandwich. But it's one with premium ice cream, a definite step up from the regular filling. Essentially, we've found a way to improve the ice cream sandwich experience.

The best part is that this new technique prevents that brown wafer finger residue. That, of course, reminds me the Seinfeld Snickers-with-a-fork-and-knife moment. So there you have it, a new way to enjoy ice cream sandwiches. "How do you eat them, with your hands?"

Mix-in Mixer a Hit!

2007-03-26T11:15:00.000-05:00

Last night we held the Mix-in Mixer. I asked invitees to bring an item or two that they felt would do well in vanilla ice cream and they responded impressively. Nutella, granola, walnuts, pumpkin butter--there was quite a range of options.

As you can see, there was an array of mix-in options and that photo was taken before any guests arrived! We were "spoiled for choice," as the English say.

Given this abundance of edibles, I was impressed by the creativity displayed in crafting the ice cream concoctions.

In general, the night took on this format. One or two people mixed up a flavor, which we all sampled and discussed. At the end, we said which ones we liked best.

You'll have to read the column to hear all the creations, but I will say that the banana slices with blueberry preserves and waffle cone (pictured above) was a winner. Same goes for the Oreo, banana, walnut, granola and Kahlua combination.

Meanwhile, the nip bottle of Kahlua that our friend Kath brought was the runaway hit. A splash (or two) of the liqueur really adds a nice flavor.

I think we all learned a few lessons: a little Kahlua goes a long way, texture is important and you can't go too wrong when mixing goodies into vanilla ice cream.

Wild Times at the Forkquarters

2007-03-24T20:23:00.000-05:00

It's Saturday night, I've got some peanut butter, some jelly, and I’m going to mix it into a bowl of ice cream. That’s right, ice cream. Crazy.

The spooch isn’t quite as excited.

This experiment is part of the research for my next column on ice cream mix-ins. I'm combining these particular ingredients partly at the request of a reader, partly because I've been curious about PB&J ice cream ever since I saw it in the Ben & Jerry's Flavor Graveyard. Also in that resting place for discontinued flavors: Sugar Plum, Bovinity Divinity and Honey Apple Raisin Chocolate Cookie.

OK, time for me to test this stuff out.

As you can see, the peanut butter and (strawberry) jelly looked better before being mixed-into the ice cream. The 'after' shot isn't too attractive.

At least the combination mixed easily, aside from the peanut butter being a bit clumpy. The jelly blended in well with ice cream, though, so it felt more like strawberry ice cream with peanut butter.

Texture aside, the concoction seemed oddly familiar. As for the taste, I'd give it a solid three stars (out of four). And why shouldn't PB&J ice cream be good--I'd trade bread for ice cream any day.

While you'd lose the smooshed sandwich potential, this new PB&J might not fare as well for brown baggin' it.

Mix-in Masterpiece Moving Forward

2007-03-23T11:22:00.000-05:00

I had originally put two o's in the title's third word, then I remembered my lifelong ban on bad cow puns. I need some limits.

Anyhow, my column on ice cream mix-ins is coming along. While I haven't exactly received an avalanche of write-in suggestions, there's still time yet. Meanwhile, I've enlisted some friends to rack their brains for interesting combinations.

I'll planning to have a mix-in gathering where folks bring their own add-ons and possibly create their own combinations. Then we'll taste each other's Mix-in Magic™ (just kidding, I haven't trademarked anything). I'm not sure who'll be able to come, but those who can won't leave lactose deficient.

Finally, I'm flattered that Cuisinart manufactured this Mix It In Ice Cream Maker, but I don't think we'll need any hardware on this one. I imagine we'll manage just fine by hand.

In the Mix

2007-03-21T15:28:00.000-05:00

It's not a bad one, this first day of spring. The daffodils are booming and the robins are everywhere.

In thinking about writing a spring column, my first thought was to write about barbecuing, or grilling out for you 'barbecue is a noun' folks. I was thinking it was time to dust off the grill and get ready for barbecue season. But all I could come up with was Cook Out Calisthenics. You know, the barbecue workout.

This was a strange idea, even for an offbeat food column. I decided it'd be best for all parties if I just wipe down my grill without fanfare.

It was on to another warm weather topic: ice cream. Specifically, I've decided to write about mix-ins. Not toppings, but things one mixes into a bowl of ice cream.

The inspiration came from my friend Jon's rant about how much he despised Cold Stone Creamery. This well-named amigo hated how Cold Stone latched onto the mix-in idea that ice cream expert Steve Herrell created in the 1970s and began running smaller stores out of business.

As for me, I think their ice cream is too creamy and too sweet. Plus, despite not being a wrestling fan, I always seem to call it Stone Cold by mistake. To be fair, Stone Cold, er...Cold Stone does have some interesting mix-in options. But I'm hoping that with your help, I can come up with more intriguing mix-in ideas than this bland chain.

Send in any suggestions for ice cream mix-ins you imagine would be tasty. All ideas, which you can submit as comments below, are welcome. The only rule is that you have to be able to mix-in the items, not just pour it on top.

Two quick promises:
1. I won't write about anything as vanilla as mixing Oreos into ice cream.
2. The mix-ins will be better mixed in than the ones pictured here. (I was going more for art than realism in the photo.)

Beware the Idles of March

2007-03-17T19:37:00.000-05:00

It's the middle of March and I wanted to give a little food progress report. In between thinking about my next column, I've managed to do some eating.

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I just ate a green salad in a green bowl on our cool green formica table. Nope, I'm not Irish.

One recent dinner that I just had to share was this beautiful Greek Fritatta that came out more colorful than most restaurant dishes. I was the sous chef on this one, with the Spoonstress calling the shots. If she's not careful, she'll lose her proudly-earned non-gourmet label.

On a non-eating note, my article on New Haven pizza is in tomorrow's Washington Post. I dare you to read it without ordering pizza afterwards.

Finally, here's to one of life's simple joys: Joy ice cream cones, which have turned our house into an ice cream parlor. It's like the best of both worlds--cone excitement with no more ice cream-less last bites. In case you run out of filling, the ice cream's just a few steps away in the freezer!

Our March flavor of choice is Mint Chocolate Chip, but sorry St. Paddy--it's the white kind.

Angostura Spice Cakes

2007-03-11T18:04:00.000-05:00

In my mind, the perfect Sunday starts with a treat of a breakfast. Today, with only two eggs in the fridge and cereal dregs in the cupboard, our choices were limited. It was either eating out, whipping up hot granola or making pancakes. With daylight savings-induced lateness, we opted to stay in. Pancakes it was. I mean, oatmeal's no treat.

Normally, the Spoonstress and I like to create some funky pancake mixes like banana pecancakes, apple and cottage cheese, etc. I should say, I like to experiment with new varieties and the Spoonstress puts up with my experimentation. Anyway, plain pancakes don't really cut it anymore. But with no banana or cottage cheese, I was scratching for answers.

Then it hit me--Angostura Spancakes. I'm not sure if this name or Angostura Spice Cakes captures them better, but the Spoonstress felt the former sounded too much like canned meat.

Those of you longtime readers may remember my first column on my family favorite, the Angostura Spice Cake. It wouldn't be too hard to recreate it in pancake form (minus the frosting). Basically I added a fourth of a teaspoon of ground cloves, allspice and cinnamon to the batter. I dripped in a few drops of the Angostura bitters, stirred it up and griddled away.

You could certainly taste the spice, but it was subtle. I might add a bit more next time. Nonetheless, I definitely enjoyed my share and probably some of the Spoonstress' portion.

With the remaining batter, the Spoonstress made a silver dollar pancake for the Spooch. It took her a while to wrap her canine mind and chompers around the idea of a pancake, but she eventually got it. And then she had a few more. Not a bad idea, nor a bad way to start a Sunday...at 11 a.m.

Crepefast

2007-03-09T11:22:00.000-05:00

Today marked the first day of the Spoonstress' mini vacation. She's now officially between jobs and loving it. At least I'm pretty sure she is, given that she got to sleep until 9 and is currently reading while patting the Spooch.

Earlier, I said we should go out for breakfast to celebrate. But she had a better idea: making crepes! The Spoonstress is a veteran crepe-maker and I'm fast becoming a crepe fan.

After whipping together a simple dough--she used an online recipe--the Spoonstress was a Francophile force. The crepes came fast and furious.

We had a variety of fillings for our sweet crepes: pear wedges, banana slices, cinnamon and sugar, chocolate bits and nectarine jam. My favorite combo, surprisingly, was nectarine jam and banana.

Sorry I was too busy scarfing the crepes down to take pictures (no, that's not mine up top). In hindsight, all that nectarine jam made the meal a bit sticky for my good ol' Rebel XT, anyway.

Then again, maybe I'll get another chance--we may have crepes for lunch. Life's pretty good with the Spoonstress home all day. If this continues, we may have to upgrade from frying pan to full-on crepe apparatus.

Moo-ve over Milky Way

2007-03-07T14:15:00.000-05:00

Your local vending machine options may soon include more than candy bars and peanut butter crackers. Massachusetts-based MooBella manufactures made-while-you-wait ice cream contraptions.

These contraptions take about 45 seconds to make "real ice cream in real time," as I heard MooBella's CEO say in an online demonstration. Best of all, you can choose from 12 flavors, five mix-ins and either premium or low-calorie ice cream.

Granted, I'm not breaking news here. Just noting my curiosity. MooBella seems to be much discussed, but more in techie than foodster circles. It was on Time's 2006 Best Inventions list, and you can read about the company's history here.

As of March, the company only has two locations, both in Boston. One, appropriately enough, is in the Children's Hospital. While I've been promised that more machines are on the way, I'm not holding my breath for one in North Carolina. Wherever they're located, I can see MooBellas doing really well in movie theater lobbies. Who wouldn't prefer real ice cream to those silly Dippin' Dots?

Funny story: My friend Jason just told me about this company, but he wasn't sure of the name. He thought it was Rubella. Oddly enough, I couldn't find anything online about an ice cream company that shared a name with a measles-like virus. Jason, MooBella's investors and I were all relieved to learn the company's real name.

Anyway, another friend will start working for the company soon. I may have to ask him for the free ice cream password. That and why there's no mint flavor, with which you could make Mint Chocolate Chip and Mint Oreo. If you're just gonna have one green flavor, Pistachio ain't it.

Spork Notes: Herdez Salsa

2007-03-02T10:07:00.000-05:00

This post marks the first Spork Notes. I'm trying out this idea where I'll write about food items unrelated to columns. It'll probably be a rave like this one, but there may be future rants.

Today, I'd like to tell you about Herdez salsa, also known as the only salsa eaten in the Forkquarters. Believe it or not, I'm not paid by The Herdez Corporation. I'm simply in love with their salsa.

When I think of Herdez, the word that comes to mind is 'fresh.' It tastes like the tomatoes have just been crushed, instead of having endured the NAFTA-friendly journey from Mexico. Its full flavor is likely due to its minimal ingredients: tomatoes, onions, serrano peepers, salt and cilantro. That's it.

The salsa is a little watery, so folks who like a more chunky, pico de gallo-type condiment should take note. But its liquidity makes makes dipping almost easier, as a submerged chip acquires that fresh taste regardless of whether it retains the salsa's solid parts. And you can always use a fork, as I do, to isolate the chunky bits.

You lucky North Carolina folks can find Herdez at Food Lion and Harris Teeter, but the former has it for half the price of the latter. If your local market doesn't carry the salsa, you can order Herdez at Amazon.

There isn't much difference between hot, medium and mild, but make sure you get the "Salsa Casera." Steer clear of the Salsa Taquera and the Salsa Verde (green salsa), which tastes like a weak green tea.

As long as you get the Salsa Casera version, you're in business. I promise, it'll make your chips chirp, your burritos buzz and your tacos tingle.

Stick a Fork in it...

2007-02-28T09:10:00.000-05:00

...this column's done.

The February Fork & Spoon is out today, so you can now read about my adventures playing Musical Meats.

In the column, I wrote about changing meats (like the bison pictured here) in traditional dishes. While it was fun thinking up recipes to tinker with, it's hard to stop. Seems like I'm not the only one doing so--I just read about what a local Iron Chef winner is doing with Ostrich meat.

Anyway, it'll be fun to get back to making lasagna without wondering what it would taste like with smoked chicken. That should last a day or two...

Buffalo Stance

2007-02-25T12:17:00.000-05:00

When last we talked, I was in a meat substitution quandary. As you may recall, I'm writing a column on swapping meats in traditional recipes. I recently made Bison Bourguignon and had a decision to make: whether to consult a bison-specific recipe or use a beef one and substitute bison.

After receiving some expert advice from Canadian reader and bison ethusiast "Al," I went with Julia Child's beef recipe. While bison is leaner and prone to drying out, that wouldn't be a problem when cooking in liquids as in a bourguignon, he wrote.

Of course, it being a bit of a fancy pants recipe, it took a bit longer than I'd hoped. The Spoonstress made a heck of an herb bouquet, using cheesecloth we hadn't seen since making horchata. She said it looked like an herb diaper--I suppose we're not gourmands. Anyway, let's just say I was glad we didn't have guests over waiting until 10 to eat.

In the end, the dish was the savory salvation to a night's worth of waiting. I'm not sure the bison was an improvement over beef cubes, but it gave us an interesting topic of conversation during those hours of preperation. Plus, I now have a Canadian reader or two.

Buffalo What?

2007-02-23T13:16:00.000-05:00

The die has been cast. The bison has been purchased. Tonight will mark two firsts: my first bourguigon and my first Bison Bourguignon.

After conjuring "lambalaya" recipes for days, I've decided to cap my Musical Meats column with some bison cubes. After all, it's the new red meat. Or perhaps this slogan: "Buffalo--don't feel guilty, there's plenty now."

It wasn't hard to find the meat. I had heard of someone getting buffalo burgers from Whole Foods, so I called their deli department. With some advance notice, they cubed some bison instead of grinding it. I enjoyed a few free orange slices and graham bear thingies and checked out, earning brownie points for not taking a plastic bag.

So what do we call this protein anyway, buffalo or bison? Apparently real buffalo are what you and I call water buffalo. Bison are what we've always called buffalo. So we'll just go with bison meat. At least that way there won't be any confusion with buffalo wings. There will be no blue cheese or celery involved.

Names aside, I face a harder question: Do I use Julia Child's beef bourguignon recipe and trade bison for beef? Or do I go with Bison Centre's "Bison Bourguignon" recipe (which I saw only after thinking up the idea. Honest.)? I'm leaning towards J.C. because I already bought the bacon and the Bison Centre is in Alberta, Canada. Then again, what the Albertans may lack in fine dining, they may make up for in buffalo, er, bison know-how.

Either way, wish me luck. I'm a bourginner.

Wingin' It

2007-02-19T11:43:00.000-05:00

As I wrote in my last newspaper column, one of my edible objectives for 2007 was using the new smoker I got as a birthday present back in November. Chalk it up.

Despite some minor difficulties, I think I'll be using it quite often. Then again, it's hard work keeping that fire going. It's even harder on a 28-degree night. I can see smoking being a lot more fun on a 70 degree spring afternoon. While I knew starting my maiden smoking at 4:30 p.m. with minimal planning wasn't the best idea, I plowed ahead anyway. After all, I had a column to write. Six and a half hours later, fork hit mouth. Dining (alone, with the Spoonstress already in bed) at 11 p.m. wasn't what I'd imagined.

The goal of this late-night smoke session was recreating pulled pork with an alternate protein-source for the upcoming Musical Meats column I'm writing. I smoked a whole chicken and two turkey legs.

Were it not for an embarassing meat thermometer mishap (I took the bird out of the smoker to take its temperature--really silly in hindsight. I think I'll blame it on my hunger, although the cold probably didn't help), the poultry would have been amazing. Because the thermometer issue led to overcooking, it was a little dry. But it was still smoky and tender.

Of the two, the chicken was the tastiest. It held the flavor better and produced two of the best wings I'd ever had. Granted, I'm no wing connosieur. In fact, I can't remember the last ones I ate. But for some coincidence of anatomy, this body part retained more of the moisture.

I'm not saying I'm ready for nationals or anything, but it's a start. And next time I'll get an earlier start.

Musical Meats: The Music Hasn't Stopped

2007-02-16T13:19:00.000-05:00

I've been racking my brain trying to decide what to feature in my Musical Meats column. The idea is to swap one protein for another in a traditional meat dish. The problem being: I'm looking for a switcheroo that will yield a creation that's a) new, b) tastes good and c) has a catchy name. Pork Pot Pie satisfies all three, but finding others has been difficult.

Trying to incorporate the animal noises into the name was a bad idea. Aside from being a tad morbid, it got a bit corny. As a result, I won't be adapting Beef Bourguignon into Lamb "Baa"guignon.

As I often do, I've been placing too much emphasis on the name. I've been struggling to see if I can make anything to fit the name Duck, Duck, Goose. Or Duck, Duck Mousse. But then I realized that even if geese are mean and poop everywhere, I don't want to eat them. And duck mousse sounds more like a punishment than a treat. As for the idea of Goose Mousse, the less said about that, the better.

A recent write-in suggestion of Pulled Chicken is a solid one. It may be lacking a bit in the newness category, but it has a shot at being really tasty. And I bet I can make something happen with that name (hint: another aliteration).

Musical Meats

2007-02-12T14:47:00.000-05:00

Despite a dearth of write-in meat-swapping suggestions, I'm forging ahead with my next column--Musical Meats. I've been brainstorming about what entrees would work with a different meat. For some reason, most of my ideas are pork-based. Since I already transformed chicken pot pie to pork pot pie, I don't want to make other porcine substitutions. Still, pork au vin is tempting.

Lamb isn't a favorite at the Forkquarters, but I may give it a whirl as a beef substitute. While I don't usually enjoy lamb, I do tend to like it when it's baked. To understand why, we may need a guest chemist to blog us an explanation. I'm now looking at possible beef recipes to co-opt, er, transform.

I have pondered involving seafood, but I ruled that out as not fitting with the column's tentative Musical Meats' title. We'll get there, folks. Meanwhile, keep thinking. The simple criteria: it has to involve taking a well-known dish and changing the main ingredient. If it encourages a catchy name--see pork pot pie--all the better. The author of the best suggestion will be immortalized with an in-column shout out in The Chapel Hill News. For what more could you ask?

Name that Meat

2007-02-02T14:09:00.000-05:00

After taking some time to enjoy/fulfill my food-related New Year's resolutions (read--lots of cookies), I'm back to work on my next column. I'll be writing about swapping one meat for another in some well known dinners. The idea came to me last week when leftover pork and a craving for chicken pot pie begat pork pot pie.

A more mainstream influence for this idea is the glut of post-Thanksgiving recipes that substitute turkey for any meat. My mom made hay with Turkey Divan and you see all kinds of solutions today, from turkey lasagna to turkey ice cream. Oh wait, that's Turkey Hill Ice Cream. But in one degree of separation, that company does list a recipe for ice cream sandwich lasagna. One degree further away, this contraption makes ice cream look like spaghetti.

Anyway, back to meat swapping. Also inspiring: most Chinese restaurants' decision to offer dishes like lo mein or egg foo yung (or egg foo "young") with a full bibliography of proteins. I'm not opposed to the idea, in fact I'm intrigued. What if after ordering moo shu pork for years, moo shu chicken has been better the whole time? Or maybe we've been wrong all along and pork is the tastier filling for a savory pie?

I've been toying with ideas on what traditional dishes might benefit from a little switcheroo. For example, Coq Au Vin could become Pork Au Vin. Who knows, it still might. One thing's for sure, I won't be re-making any luncheon loaf or other mystery meats.

City Swine?

2007-01-30T10:04:00.000-05:00

This weekend the Spoonstress and I strayed a bit into what we like to call "The Counnntry." As I've been known to do, I used the trip as an excuse to find somewhere fun to eat. This time it was Jones' Lunch, in bucolic Clayton, N.C.

At this hot dog haven, the Spoonstress and I sat at the lunch counter and had a front row view of the menu board. On the breakfast side, I noted a peculiar distinction. The eatery served eggs either with country or city ham. Now I'd seen plenty of menu mentions for country ham, but never considered the alternative: city swine.

So what's the difference? According to the Food Network's site, "A city ham is basically any brined ham that's packed in a plastic bag, held in a refrigerated case and marked 'ready to cook', 'partially cooked' or 'ready to serve'. Better city hams are also labeled 'ham in natural juices.'"

Huh? Not much distinction made there.

The Cook's Thesaurus is more helpful. "City hams are the most common [hams]. They're soaked in brine (or injected with it) and then boiled or lightly smoked. Many gourmets prefer country hams, which are dry-cured and then smoked and aged for added flavor."

Apparently, city ham is what you and I call "ham." And it's likely that the crew at Jones Lunch needed to specify between the two because they're a bit "counnntry." It's interesting, though, that even out in Clayton, country ham retains its adjective. That may be because the town is only 15 miles from Raleigh. But help me out readers--if one strays far enough from wi-fi zones and cell coverage, does country ham ever become plain old "ham?"

So which kind did I try? Neither. It was after breakfast time and I'm not a big fan of ham. But I did continue my proud procine run, having a hot dog and a cheeseburger. (In my defense, franks are Jones' signature dish.) I ordered mine with mustard and relish, which the waitress edited to mustard and "dill pickle." The dog came topped with pickle chips sliced in half. It was delicious, but I'm not so sure what I'd call it--a city dog or a country dog?

Polentless

2007-01-24T13:33:00.000-05:00

I usually shop at a supermarket that I describe as upper middle class (no, not Whole Foods). On occasion, I venture to a more, um, blue collar store for certain items. Not wanting to make two stops, I found myself unable to buy polenta for this spinach lasagna (with polenta instead of pasta) that the Spoonstress and I have been digging.

In my blissful ignorance, I didn't really know what polenta was, just that it was some sort of vegetarian grain concoction sold in tubes. I later learned on www.polenta.net that "Polenta is a traditional Italian dish, similar to cornmeal mush, and is widely used all over Italy." They had me at mush! Apparently, the tubes I buy are precooked to save time.

When I got home and informed the Spoonstress of the cheaper store's shortcoming, she had the answer in question form--why not make polenta?

As usual, she was right. Two sentences in the Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home cookbook say it all: "To make 3 cups of polenta, bring 3 cups of water to a boil in a large, heavy saucepan. Add 1 cup of cornmeal in a thin, steady stream while whisking briskly." That's easier than saying 'whisking briskly' three times fast.

After that, you simmer and stir on low heat for 10 minutes and add salt and butter to taste. Even I can manage that.

We haven't made the lasagna yet, so its taste remains a mystery. But it'd have to be pretty bad to make me pay $3 for a tube of water and corn meal.

Hog Wild

2007-01-22T23:37:00.000-05:00

I've become a real pig lately. No, I haven't shifted shapes, but I've been eating a lot of swine. In a somewhat unintentional manner, I ate pork three straight dinners, a few lunches and then a dinner again.

As we saw recently, this whole thing started last Wednesday with the crock pot pork adventure. Then, for reasons somewhat out of my control, I had pork the next two nights. The Spoonstress and I had dinner with friends at Crook's Corner Thursday night. Anyone who's ever eaten at Bill Smith's great Chapel Hill restaurant knows that if they're serving Cheese Pork with mashed rutabagas, that's what you get. This lightly fried cutlet in a Madeira sauce is just that irresistible.

Coincidentally, we'd had plans for a while to eat with other friends at hog-licious Allen and Son Barbecue Friday night. Well, I wasn't about to get a salad. Now did I mention that I ate crock pot carnitas leftovers for lunch both Thursday and Friday? The Spoonstress, meanwhile, sensibly opted out of pork both days.

After a dry weekend, swine-wise I resumed the insanity Monday night. I had no choice. There was a bunch of pork shoulder left from the crock pot and I couldn't bear to have it go to waste. Ever since my sister-in-law Andrea made us a really tasty chicken pot pie, I'd been craving another. Well, here was my chance--sort of. Pillsbury crust in hand, I decided to make a pork pot pie.

In short, it worked. Best of all, with its strong gravy taste, I couldn't really tell what kind of meat it had. After all, I am getting a tad tired of pork.

Very soon, I'm gonna need to live less high on the hog. Until then, there's plenty of pork pot pie leftovers for lunch!

Crocked!

2007-01-18T10:53:00.000-05:00

Well, that was easy. Now I know why crock pots are the appliance of choice for working adults everywhere. After some minimal prep work, the slow cooker made my kitchen aromatic as heck.

The one major concern was that the meat expanded during cooking, lifting the lid towards the end. I'm glad I was around to rectify that. One pre-cooking accident--sprinkling on oregano instead of ground pepper (oops!)--didn't really matter. It's not that precise of a cooking method (crock for 4 to 6 hours).

On the New Year's resolution front, I knocked out three birds with one meal. I tried the crock pot, bought fresh tortillas and continued my cookie crusade. The last one was a bit of a lark, as I couldn't resist the temptation of trying one "galleta" I saw in the case at the tortilla tienda. I asked the amiable clerk what kind it was and she said it was a "cereal" cookie. Thinking something had been lost in translation, I asked her (in my passable Spanish) what kind of flavor it had. "Corn Flakes," she said. Surrre. It was OK, but not great, like a heartier sugar cookie.

Anyway, the crock potting was fun for all. The Spoonstress and I enjoyed a nice taco fiesta, made all the better with those locally-made corn tortillas. It even yielded some nice bones for my Spooch (who, much to my chagrin, isn't named Sporky). She seemed to enjoy the crock pot experience.

I used this simple recipe I got from the web. To that template, I added the juice from one lime and red pepper flakes instead of a jalapeno pepper. I cooked for about seven hours, but then again, my pork shoulder was almost five pounds.

When it's done, the meat should come right off the bone with a fork and look something like this. If it doesn't break off in chunks and long strips, it's probably not ready. Overall, I'd definitley recommend making these crock pot carnitas, even though the clean up is a bit...greasy. If you do make it and have any bones left over, I know someone who wants 'em.

New Year, More Happiness

2007-01-16T14:15:00.000-05:00

Sorry to say, but I haven't yet cooked the pork pictured last Friday. It's resting happily in the freezer. I had guests this weekend and just ran out of time. But I did decide to use the slow cooker and save the smoking for another day. Look for the results later this week.

My good friend Ashley (a.k.a. Mamabird) aided another food-related New Year's resolution--to eat more cookies. She whipped out a bag of chocolate-on-chocolate "Whoppers" from Foster's after we'd enjoyed some nice barbecue takeout. Now that's the kind of reader feedback I was hoping for!

But seriously, it was extrememly nice, especially for someone 8.9 months pregnant. On a related note, congratulations to Ashley for becoming Mamabird to a second babybird last night! It's now an even happier nest.

Meaty Resolution

2007-01-12T12:20:00.000-05:00

You're not just looking at a pork shoulder, but follow through.

In an effort to stay true to my food-related New Year's resolutions, I bought this pork "picnic" cut. Happily, it's the cut used to make barbecue, or "pulled pork" for you northern readers. I haven't decided whether I'll use it to get acquainted with my smoker or crock pot, but it'll be a maiden voyage either way.

Another goal from that column was to buy more local, organic meat. This pork is likely neither (although, I did choose it over the Big Pork Hormel one). But if you read the fine print, I mentioned the need to practice smoking or crocking with inexpensive meat. At $1.29/pound, it's a success.

I hope I'm saying the same about the end result.

Stick a Fork in it...

2007-01-10T08:19:00.000-05:00

...this column's done.

The January Fork & Spoon is out today, so you can read my New Year's food-related resolutions in all their glory.

Originally subtitled "From Cookies to Cacti," I think I can safely say it's anything but ordinary. Whether I stick to all of the resolutions...that's another story. But as you'll see, my goals aren't all that taxing. Some would call them fun.

Here's to a happy, healthy, hungry 2007!