A New Year's Project

I tried to make macarons last night (note only one 'o,' not 'oo'). They were so bad: flat and shapeless, uncooked in the middle, and burnt everywhere else. If I hadn't had such a great success with gnocchi on Sunday, I would have felt like a huge failure. But as it is, I have accepted the fact that I may not be able to make macarons. I have heard of great cooks who have that one thing they just cannot cook. I think I'm going to let macarons be that thing for me. Clearly I did not find making them too enjoyable.
On Monday I was talking to a friend who had heard about a blog called Burger Boy. Apparently this person began reviewing burgers in his hometown and became so popular and well regarded that chefs started to fly him out to their restaurants so he could review their burgers.
So I'm thinking that I like the idea of a little project like that for myself. In the new year, when I have a full day off, I think I'll buy a TTC day pass and travel around Toronto trying macarons, reviewing each one as I go. I"m very excited.

Just in time for Santa....

I've never been a big chocolate chip cookie fan. I suppose because when I think of cookies I think of those dreadful, dried up President's Choice kind. But the blog I read, Orangette, wrote about this recipe that was adapted from Kim Boyce's Good to the Grain. She said it could be the best chocolate chip cookie she has ever had, and I have full faith in Orangette, so there you go. She said it's rival was a recipe from a New York Times article on chocolate chip cookies (link at end of post). I haven't tried the NY Times cookie yet, but it's certainly on my mind.
Now since I'm not much of a cookie connoisseur, and can only really compare them to the worst chocolate chip cookie ever, I don't know if I'm in the position to be calling them the best ever. But, I can say that they are very, very good. So definitely give them a try.
But first, a few words of warning: this recipe yields the biggest cookie batch you will see in your life. It's ridiculous. If you bake the entire batch be sure to have guests over. Or you can freeze half the unbaked batch until needed.

In case you don't read the article, the recipe says that the cookie batter should sit in the fridge for up to three days to let the flavours meld. I've tried baking them right out of the oven, and after three days. There is a tiny difference, though I don't think it's crucial.
The recipe calls for dark brown sugar. Be sure to use it. I tried to replace it with light brown and the cookies were terrible.
And finally, the recipe says to use 3 cups of whole wheat flour. The first time I made them I didn't have enough whole wheat, and so had to substitute 1 cup of white flour. I've found I prefer them this way. You can't taste the whole wheat when you do 2 : 1, you just get a nice texture. I find 3 cups of whole wheat has too strong a wheaty flavour. But try them both ways and see which you prefer.

Here's a link to the article: http://www.nytimes/2008/07/09/dining/09chip.html

And the recipe:

3 cups of whole wheat flour (or 2 cups whole wheat, 1 cup white)
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
2 sticks (8oz) unsalted cold butter cut into cubes
1 dark brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
2 large eggs (get free-range organic! They're maybe two or three dollars more, and I promise they will taste better)
1 tsp vanilla extract
8oz bittersweet chocolate chips

Combine flour, baking powder and soda, and salt. Whisk to blend.
Place sugar in a another large bowl, and using your fingers mush in the cubed butter. It will take a few minutes, but the butter should be smooth, with no discernible butter chucks. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating. Beat in the vanilla. Add the flour and blend on low until all is incorporated. Add the chocolate.
On a lined baking tray make each cookie about 2-3 tbsp each, 3 inches apart.
Bake 16-20 minutes at 350F.

Something to look forward to

Do you have a certain food, meal, or snack that tastes so much better when someone else makes it?
I was reminded of this odd little phenomenon last week at the pastry shop where I work. We all take turns slicing the cheese, but on this particular day Gus was slicing it. The chef, who's a bit of a joker, was ravishing the cheese as it fell down the side of the slicer. "Cheese tastes so much better when Gus slices it!" he was yelling. So, of course, I skeptically had a slice. To my surprise it did taste better than usual. It was warm and caramelly. It was odd. How can this be? I really, really, want to know how you can taste the love on some people's food, and not in others. Because that is what makes it warm and caramelly. Love... at least I like to think so.
This reminded me of being a kid, when I would only eat eggs, toast, and grilled cheese when my Dad made them. The eggs were the perfect amount of saltiness and gooey yolk. The toast always had the perfect amount of butter. And the grilled cheese... it was just perfect. I think because he would toast it in the oven, instead of in a frying pan.
So now I'm feeling very happy that Christmas is coming up and I can get my dad to fry me some eggs and toast for breaky.  

As I went to hit 'publish post' I was reminded of another case of whatever this is called. Sandwiches always taste better when someone else makes them. Always. Everyone I know agrees to this, other than my husband. He must be the one and only person on this planet to think sandwiches taste better when he makes them himself. Actually, a few minutes ago I googled "why do some foods taste better when someone else makes them?" hoping to get a name for this theory, and the second page to pop up was, "Why does a sandwich taste better when someone else makes it?" Well, there you go!

What's he gonna do if he doesn't get his calzone?

It seems only fitting to start my first entry about food with my earliest memory of cooking on my own. I’m sure there had been other meals before this particular one, and I remember quite vividly making ham and cheese sandwiches as a four year old and being so, so proud. But sandwich making isn’t really cooking, is it? It’s more like food assembling. And so my earliest memory of cooking is from a Winter Saturday when I decided to make a calzone.

            A calzone doesn’t sound too elegant, and I don’t know why I chose to make it since I’m sure I had never had a calzone, nor do I think I’ve had one since. I must have been about thirteen or fourteen, which means I made it around the time I became a vegetarian. I recently found the cookbook that I discovered the recipe in, and it is by no means the easiest in the book. But it is loaded, jam-packed, with vegetables. And I believe this is the answer to why I chose to make a calzone. My adolescent self was doing me, the twenty-four year old Emily, a favour by loading up with veggies. I still believe that no matter how much bread you eat, as long as there are vegetables on the bread, it is healthy. Bruschetta? Eat up.

            My calzone making was a pretty spur-of-the-moment thing, but luckily everything I needed was in the kitchen. I started to make the dough just before lunch time, probably around noon, and I think it was my intention to eat it for lunch, as I just looked up the recipe and found it in the ‘Mid-week Meals’ section, just after ‘Light Lunches.’ This strikes me now as an inappropriate chapter for the calzone, since the dough alone needs an hour to rise after it has been kneaded. And I can say for certain that I did not read the whole recipe through before I started to make it - I still sometimes forget to do so!

So I started just before lunch, and I cooked up until dinnertime.  I had the kitchen to myself the whole day, which was unusual because it was winter, cold and dark outside, which usually meant that my parents would be reading in the family room, and so constantly in and out of the kitchen to make tea. But it was quiet as could be. No music, no chatter, just pure calzone concentration. I must have spent hours perfecting the dough, and another hour cutting vegetables, another hour assembling the thing. When I first started baking I had a fear of leaving things by themselves in the oven. This wasn’t a safety caution because I still leave candles aflame when I leave the apartment. I don’t know why I couldn’t leave the kitchen, but I do know that I was not helping its progress by hanging around, because I was constantly opening the oven to check how things were coming along. This was before I discovered the oven light.

The calzone was cooked by dinnertime. I set myself a place at the table, plated the calzone, and sat down to enjoy. I’ve always had a hard time sharing good food, and this was not an exception. The recipe says it makes four calzones, but I decided to make one big giant calzone. Yes, I ate four servings worth of calzone that day, and they were all delicious.

I had to cut the calzone in half because I hadn’t rolled the dough very well, and the edges and corners of the calzone were a little too thick. Keep in mind, this was in my early teens, when love of all things bready is at its height, so this calzone must have been THICK.  Picture this: a heaping block of dough on your plate, you cut into the dough with your knife and split it into two pieces, and where what was once just yellowy brown dullness, there became this magnificent rainbow. When I say rainbow, I really mean rainbow: red, green, and yellow, brown, and white. These vegetables were shining, I swear. This was not merely the day that I made a calzone. This was the day I discovered the glory of vegetables.

This success prompted me to attempt a few more kitchen adventures in the following weeks, which were all disasters. I remember a certain carrot salad dessert, a popular Indian dish, but I got the measurements wrong and it really became a carrot soup. And so the calzone is the hero of this story and here it is:

From Linda Fraser’s Simply Vegetarian

Ingredients:

4 cups flour

Pinch of salt

1 fast-rising dry yeast

About 1½  cups warm water

For the filling:

1 tsp olive oil

1 medium red onion, thinly sliced

3 medium zucchini, about 12oz total weight, thinly sliced

2 large tomatoes, diced

1 cup mozzarella cheese, diced

1 tbsp fresh oregano

Skim milk, to glaze

Salt and pepper

To make the dough, sift the flour and salt into a bowl and stir in the yeast. Stir in just enough warm water to mix to a soft dough.

Knead for 5 minutes until smooth. Cover and leave in a warm place for a bout 1 hour, or until doubled in size.

Meanwhile, to make the filling, heat the oil and sauté the red onion and zucchini for 3-4 minutes. Remove from heat and add the tomatoes, cheese, oregano, and salt and pepper to taste.

Pre-heat oven to 425 F. Knead the dough lightly and divide into four. Roll out each piece of dough on a lightly floured surface to a 8in round, and place a quarter of the filling on one half of each round.

Brush the edges with milk and fold to enclose the filling. Press firmly to enclose. Brush with milk.

Bake on an oiled baking sheet for 15-20 minutes. Serve. 

Hello, Goodnight!

Dear Blog,
You have frustrated me immensely tonight. Four hours of computer code. My eyes, brain, and soul are aching. Right now you look like a flaming page of evil, taunting me for having wasted a Sunday night trying to move your title to the bottom of the header (which I still have not managed to do!!!). 
Ooohhh, Blog, let's call a truce. Be kind to me, and I promise you will never endure another post like this ever again.
Goodnight.