FOOD ON THE FOOD

Losing It

I was fretting about my expanding waistline a few weeks ago when I happened to pass a bulletin board at the gym promoting the YMCA Lose It Challenge. Drop 10 pounds in two months by tracking your meals and exercise using the online application, Lose It. Normally, I don't like to micromanage my food consumption, but since this year has special circumstances attached to it, I need to start paying a little more attention if I don't want to gain those 30 pounds we talked about. Might as well make it fun, right? I signed up right away.

Based on my age, height, and current weight, Lose It calculated my recommended daily calorie intake, then revised it downward based on a 2-month, 10-pound weight loss goal. My job, it explained, is simply to document and input my meals and exercise each day, and try to keep my calories under that magic number. Easy peasy. I can do this!

A database within the application stores the calorie amounts for almost every food you can think of, from raw ingredients to several brands of frozen meals and fast food. So far I haven't been able to stump it, even with random entries like persimmons. I usually break out the individual ingredients for homemade meals, but, if I'm feeling lazy, I might sub in an equivalent meal from one of the restaurants they have on file.

Then there's exercise. Calorie-burning values have been assigned for all kinds of physical activities, including swimming, running, aerobics, yoga, walking, sit-ups, push-ups, canoeing, darts, Wii bowling, house-cleaning, snow-shoveling, luge (!) and, yes, even sex. I checked. Three different levels of sexual activity, in fact, from passive, light kissing to active, vigorous humping. Unfortunately, the values are much lower than one would hope. For example, if I wanted to burn 150 calories (the equivalent of 45 minutes of slow-moving tai chi), the Lose It number-crunchers estimate that would require active, vigorous sex for no less than 4 hours and 30 minutes. Poor Husband!

Anyway, I take a kind of perverse pleasure in accurately documenting my food and exercise down to the amount of cookie dough I ate out of the bowl and anything that might possibly count as physical activity. Calories burned are automatically subtracted from calories consumed, and then the number is compared to my target calorie intake. I particularly enjoy the custom graphs they provide so I can see the results in painful relief. Here's how I did last week:

The red is where I exceeded my calorie count. It's pretty obvious which days I was making desserts. My favorite is last Monday where I took my calorie count and tried to double it. Take that, Lose It, you're not the boss of me! I hope I really enjoyed whatever baked goods I was tunneling my way through that day.

So, yeah, not as easy as I thought with my crazy new dessert-packed lifestyle. I haven't lost any weight over these past three weeks, and the date by which I'm projected to meet my goal keeps getting automatically recalculated further and further into the future, but it should be noted that I haven't gained any weight, either. And, honestly, if that's all I accomplish, it will have been worth it.

Persimmon, Persimmfpthfpthth

Have you ever tasted a persimmon? If not, you must. They are fantastic! BUT, you need to be armed with a little information or you could be in for an unpleasant surprise.

The two types of persimmons I see at my local market are the Asian varieties, Fuyu and Hachiya. Both are bright orange, but Fuyus are smaller and look like squat tomatoes while Hachiyas tend to be quite a bit larger and more acorn-shaped (broad at the shoulders, tapering off to a cute little point at the bottom). The kids and I are big fans of the little Fuyu persimmons, which are candy-sweet raw and bake up deliciously. Imagine my surprise, then, when I bit into a seemingly ripe Hachiya only to find myself on the brink of possible anaphylactic shock. My whole mouth dried up instantly and felt like it was crammed with acrid cotton candy, dissolving into bitter, chalky dust that made its way into every crevice of my mouth. I tried to scrape it out, clawing at my tongue, but it was no use. My whole mouth seemed to be going numb. Was I breathing? My airways appeared to be clear, and yet I was in distress. Were my taste buds falling off? Water! I NEED WATER!!!

Within a few minutes, I was fine, but what the hell was THAT? A food-induced panic attack?! A quick Google search turned up the pertinent information. There are two varieties of persimmons: astringent types, of which Hachiyas are one, which require a long ripening and softening period before they're remotely palatable, and non-astringent types like Fuyu, which are sweet and delicious even when hard. I always thought astringent meant a little sour. Kinda yucky. NO!!!!!!! I thought my mouth was having a stroke.

The unpleasant sensation I experienced was due to a high concentration of tannins in the unripe fruit. Think of the driest wine you've ever tasted, then multiply that by 1,000. Captain John Smith of colonial Jamestown wrote of the native Virginia persimmon in 1612: "If it be not ripe it will drawe a mans mouth awrie with much torment; but when it is ripe, it is as delicious as an Apricock." An apricock, huh? Brits are funny!

Turns out Hachiyas can be excellent, too. You just have to make sure they're practically rotting. They should be soft and marshmallowy all the way up from their tapered bottom to the desiccated calyx on top, the skin a bit translucent like a water balloon about to burst. You can scoop out the jelly-like pulp and eat it straight, or make it into persimmon pudding, bread, or cookies. I have no less than four persimmon recipes in my cookbook manuscript at the moment, they are that good. And I hear the native American persimmons that grow wild and in abundance in Indiana and points south are even better. They are smaller, like plums, and astringent when unripe, but let them soften on the tree beyond the first frost, and you'll be rewarded with something really special. Or so I've read. Does anyone have experience with native persimmons?

Bottom line: you need to know your varieties. When in doubt, start with Fuyu. Yet just the other day, I bought what looked like Fuyus but were labeled Sharon fruit from Israel. I assumed they were the same thing. Raw, they were just as sweet as expected, but then I baked a few. Astringent! WTF? Are the tannins heat- activated? Maybe they're not the same after all?

My research continues.

Cracking the Recipe: Lobster Bisque

Our New Year's Eve dinner, hosted by friends E and J, was possibly one of the best meals of the year. Kir royales. Radishes with cultured butter and sea salt. Lobster bisque. Pan-roasted duck with thyme-infused honey sauce. Roasted root veggies and a green salad. Lemon cream tart for dessert. Truly delicious!

I brought the lobster bisque. Since a few of you requested the recipe during my guilt-ridden lobster confessional, I thought I'd share. It's good timing, too, because my CSF (community supported fishery) is once again offering lobsters for sale. Every once in a while, Cape Ann Fresh Catch offers a special item not usually found in our fish shares. They call it "Neptune's Share" as it is priced separately and based on availability and nature's whims. That meant mussels last summer and lobsters this winter. You know I can't pass up these opportunities. (To get your own self some lobsters, go here.)

The recipe below is based on the lobster bisque from the Brewster Fish House, one of our favorite restaurants on Cape Cod. Instead of pureeing the lobster into oblivion (which is also good!), they suspend chunks of lobster in the silky soup. It's sweet and spicy, and I've wanted to learn how to make it for years. However, I'm not going to ask them for their recipe. They're not going to give it to me, and why should they? Just because I like it? Everybody likes it! I figure, if I want it that badly, I should try to figure it out myself. And guess what? I'm really happy with the way it came out! I mean, we're not giving up our yearly summertime visits to the Brewster Fish House anytime soon. Don't be ridiculous.  But this is deliciously, tantalizingly close!

Lobster Bisque

This is not a quick recipe by any means, but if you're going to slap down the money for lobsters, you might as well put some effort into it! You will need lobster crackers, some patience, and several hours to spare. I sometimes boil the lobsters the night before, letting them cool in the refrigerator until morning.

2 live 1-1/2-lb. lobsters
1 Tbsp. kosher salt, plus 1 tsp.
1 Tbsp. white vinegar
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter
2 onions, chopped
1 celery rib, chopped
1 Tbsp. flour
4 cups lobster stock
1 cup heavy cream
2 Tbsp. brandy
1/4 tsp. cayenne
White or black pepper to taste

Bring a large stockpot with a half-inch of water, 1 Tbsp. kosher salt, and the vinegar to a boil. Drop in the lobsters, close the lid, and steam 20 minutes until done. How do you know if they're done? Set a lobster on its back and stretch out the tail. It should snap back against its belly convincingly. Remove from pot and let cool until shells can be handled easily.

Over a large bowl, separate tails, claws, and arms from bodies of the lobsters. They should pull apart easily. To remove the meat from the tails, use kitchen shears or a sharp knife to cut straight down the middle of the underside of the tail. Pull back on sides of tail to separate the shell and remove meat. Dice tail meat finely as it can be chewy in larger pieces. Remove meat from arms and claws using a lobster cracker to crush the shells so you can extract the meat. Careful: shells can be jagged, pointy, and sharp. Cut claw meat into larger, bite-sized pieces. Place all the lobster meat in a small bowl, cover, and refrigerate.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 450°F, and set the bodies and empty shells on a rimmed sheet pan. Bake shells 20 minutes until toasty and fragrant. Transfer shells to a large pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil, skim the foam from the top, and simmer 30 minutes. You can get fancy with the stock (bouquet garni and such), but I did not. Strain out and discard the shells, reserving the liquid. You will need about 4 cups of stock. Freeze the rest for future bisques or lobster risotto!

Make sure the stock is still steamy when you start the soup. If not, reheat in a small pot. Melt the butter in a medium heavy-bottomed pot over low heat. Add the onions and celery, and slowly sweat the vegetables until soft, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes. Do not let brown. Add flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute.  Add heated lobster stock slowly while stirring. Bring to a boil and simmer 5 minutes. Let cool completely. In four batches, puree the soup in a blender or food processor. Yes, I know we haven't added the lobster, yet. Patience! Also, make sure the soup is cool and that you don't fill the blender more than halfway or you will spray hot soup all over your kitchen. You want cool soup, small amounts of liquid in the blender, and a dishtowel placed over the top of the blender lid just in case. Pour batches of pureed soup into a bowl as you go.

When ready to serve, add the pureed soup back into the pot. Add in the lobster meat, cream, brandy, 1 tsp. salt (or to taste), pepper, and cayenne. Gently heat the soup until hot and steamy. Do not boil. After all this, you don't want to risk curdling the cream. Keep an eye on it. Serve hot in small shallow bowls.

Local Sources:
Lobsters: Cape Ann Fresh Catch, Gloucester, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Onions: Waltham Fields Community Farms, Waltham, MA
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Some Observations About Writing a Dessert Cookbook, Part 2

It has come to my attention that when you're writing a dessert cookbook, you will put on a lot of weight. Seems pretty obvious. I, however, was under the impression that I possessed some sort of magical metabolism that could absorb the extra calories and channel this new wellspring of energy into learning a great new skill, like carpentry or Mandarin. Turns out, that's not how it works. Turns out the only skill that interests you is how to break your previous pie-eating record.

Before I started writing this book, I ate dessert only a few times a week. Okay, yeah, sometimes I'd have double portions if Red happened to make her lemon cream tart or BFF made her dulce de leche ice cream pie because they're such great cooks and they don't judge me like you do, Internet! And the holidays don't count, either, because sometimes you just have to eat a whole tray of fudge. YOU HAVE TO!!! (Storms off crying)

The occasional indulgence doesn't matter all that much, really, but now? Now I eat multiple servings of dessert every single day. In the past three months, I've gained 10 pounds. That's nearly a pound a week! You can't argue with the scale. In that same period of time, Husband lost 25 pounds. Twenty-five! He dropped it like most men drop trou—without any hesitation whatsoever. How did he do that? By not eating any of my desserts, that's how. And by adhering strictly to the tenets of the South Beach Diet. Can you believe that jerk? That sexy jerk? Fuck him! (Storms off crying)

Point is, I haven't weighed this much since I had another human being growing inside me. What's more, this book requires another nine months of gestation. At that rate, I'm set to gain 30 more pounds. While I'm not fat at the moment, if I do gain those 30 pounds (and I think it's reasonable to expect that I won't get any taller), I will meet the definition of "clinically obese." All while working out five days a week! (Shoves cookies into pocket then storms off crying)

What to do? What to do? I really can't exercise more than I already am. I can barely keep up this pace as it is. And I can't not eat dessert. I could eat less, maybe, but then I would argue that the quality of the book will suffer. Because sometimes, readers, if I can be frank for a minute, I just want to get the recipe done. Just get it done and say it's fine as it is, but it's not fine, it's too sweet or too dry or too mealy, so I make it again but then it's way too smooth, so unbelievably smooth it's creepy, and it's not until the 15th or 16th bite that I finally admit it to myself.

So hi, everyone, and welcome to the Emotional Rollercoaster of 2012. Because I can't just be happy. I can only be happy with an equal and opposite amount of angst.

Holiday Cookie Hangover

Hi guys! So I guess I took a little vacation last week. I would have told you but every time I approached my computer, it was like two magnets repelling each other. I snuck up from all directions, but it was as if some weird force field was in place around my desk. And then suddenly I remembered that I had to clean out the freezer in the basement. Oh, and wipe out the silverware drawer. How do crumbs end up in the silverware drawer anyway? Everything in there is supposed to be clean. It should be spotless always! Anyway, when someone like me starts looking for things to clean, it's clear I need a break. Preferably someplace warm and tropical, but I'll settle for another room in the house in a pinch.

December was a dizzying combination of home improvement and holiday madness. Over the course of three weeks, we had the roof on our house replaced (planned) and a new hot water heater installed (unplanned). The Third Grader had a birthday, Husband got a shiny, new job, and I ran the school bake sale in which I continued the PTO tradition of requiring a police/fire department visit. It's not nearly as exciting as it sounds, trust me. I accidentally dialed 911 from the school while trying to track down the missing cash box that had all the change we needed for the sale. After apologizing profusely to the police dispatcher, they said they would still have to come and check things out. Because that's what parents like to see as they arrive at their children's elementary school holiday concert: the authorities swarming around the premises. Fine, I said, just please, please bring rolls of quarters and lots of ones. And don't even think about leaving without buying a cookie!!

Speaking of cookies, I had intended to write about the holiday cookie exchange that Next-Door Neighbor started a few years back, which is based on a tradition she grew up with. Here's how it works: Acquire a holiday-themed cookie jar (the uglier, the better). Fill it with homemade cookies of your choice, preferably an assortment. Give to your neighbor, friend, or crazy relative who can cook. Now they have cookies and, more importantly, the cookie jar. Next year, as they're unpacking their festive holiday knick-knacks and whatnot, they'll come across the cookie jar they received the year before and blurt out, "Oh, #$%#$&" (insert favorite swear here). Because now it's their turn to reciprocate instead of being the one to receive surprise cookies without lifting a finger. And back and forth it goes. It's delicious holiday revenge!

This year, we were the lucky recipients of the cookie jar packed with three kinds of cookies. As if I needed more cookies in my life. Turns out I needed more cookies in my life because we got the jar on Wednesday and it was empty by Christmas. There were soft frosted gingersnaps, pecan tassies, and these beautiful peppermint pavlova cookies filled with crushed candy canes, white chocolate chips, and crack. At least I think it was crack. That's the only explanation for how many I ate. I've never been a white chocolate kind of girl, but it appears I can be swayed.

Hope you enjoyed your holiday cookies (and the holidays themselves) as much!

2011 Holiday Raffle: The Flavor Bible

Okay, you guys, I think this is going to be the last raffle. This generosity thing is exhausting.

The Flavor Bible by Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg is one of the most interesting and unique food books out there. It's a compilation of flavor matches for pretty much any ingredient under the sun, from achiote seeds to zucchini blossoms. Each ingredient is followed by a list of complementary flavors. The strongest matches are indicated in boldface and/or caps.

So, if you were to look up, say, figs, you would find a long list of ingredients that have an affinity for figs, like arugula, bacon, hazelnuts, and pears. In bold would be prosciutto, red wine vinegar, and mascarpone, indicating an even stronger partnership, and, in bold caps, the ultimate matches: BLUE CHEESE, HONEY, and WALNUTS. Ergo, an arugula salad with pears and figs sprinkled with crumbled bacon, hazelnuts, and blue cheese lightly dressed with a red wine vinaigrette might not be a shitty idea!

It's basically a food thesaurus. And now that I'm writing a cookbook, it's become a really useful reference tool. When I get stuck on a recipe (either because it's ill-conceived or my vision exceeds my talents), I simply read through the appropriate ingredient list before bed, and, when I wake up, I have some new recipe ideas fully formed and ready for testing. It's like magic!

But even if you're not under the gun in terms of recipe development, it's fascinating to flip through the lists. They were compiled not just from the minds of the authors, but from dozens of internationally renowned chefs, like Daniel Boulud, Rick Bayless, Lidia Bastianich, Mario Batali, Judy Rodgers, Vikram Vij, and Grant Achatz. There are suggested flavor pairings ranging from obvious to oddball, quotes from chefs about how they cook with specific ingredients, and actual menu items from famous restaurants. There are some pretty photos, too, but it's mostly a word book. Did I mention it won a James Beard Award?

Little, Brown has graciously agreed to donate one copy. To be considered, tell me how you would finish the following food equation, which was pulled directly from the book. In other words, what sort of dish would you make with:

sweet potatoes + apples + sage

I know, I know, you're busy with all of your holiday crap, and now I'm expecting you to be the next Iron Chef. If you're stuck, do what I do and sleep on it. Then comment with whatever your subconscious serves up. Involve as many other ingredients as you'd like—this is just a starting point. You don't even have to cook it for me. If it sucks, I'll never know! Comments will close Saturday 12/24 at 10 p.m. EST and Random.org will do the rest.

Happy Holidays!

2011 Holiday Raffle: Rao's Coffee

Do you like coffee? Do you like mushrooms? Well, have I got a giveaway for you!

Rao's Coffee Roasting Company, located in Hadley, MA, supplies direct-trade coffee beans to more than 100 Boston area restaurants, including Craigie on Main and Hamersley's Bistro. Rao's recently partnered with Ming Tsai, chef of Blue Ginger and host of public television's Simply Ming, to create a one-of-a-kind coffee blend that includes health-promoting maitake mushrooms. And you do remember the other name for maitake mushrooms, don't you? DON'T YOU??? It's my beloved hen-of-the-woods! Pay attention, people!

Mushrooms in coffee? Are you intrigued? I know I am. But since I'm not a coffee-drinker, you guys get to be my guinea pigs. Rao's is donating one 16 oz. bag of Ming Tsai's Maitake Coffee for Health (caf or decaf) to one lucky winner. Don't think I'm being 100% altruistic here. I want you guys to stop falling asleep during my mushroom posts. To be considered, leave a comment below about coffee or mushrooms. Comments will close at 10 p.m. EST on Saturday 12/17.

If you prefer your coffee untainted with mushrooms, know that Rao's also sells French Roast, Ethiopian Yirgacheffe, Guatemalan (organically grown), and a whole bunch of other coffees perfect for gift-giving. You can order them through their site or, if you're lucky, you might find some at Russo's (oddly, under the mushroom bins).

A Tale of Two Frescas

Hi All!  Husband here.  I related a story to Tammy the other day that she found amusing, so here it is in the form of a Special Guest Post.

If you are not acquainted with the sweet, crisp flavor of Fresca, then you need to go get some right now.  Go ahead, I’ll wait here.

…

OK, now that you’ve agreed that it is the best grapefruit-based diet tonic in the land, we can start the story.

The other day me and my co-worker were working on Important Business at my desk.  It was that time in the afternoon when refreshment is needed, and luckily the machine has a Fresca button on it.  We got two Frescas, opened them with great relish, and got back to work.

About five minutes into Important Business we looked up from the computer screen and suddenly realized that our Frescas were sitting on the desk right next to each other.  Although the quantities still left in each were different, there was no way to 100% without-a-doubt correctly associate each Fresca with its proper owner.  We’re both engineers, so believe me, if there were a scientifically-achievable way to identify them, we would have been okay.  But in this instance we just didn’t have time for DNA swabs and a testing lab.

A hush came over the office.

We stared at the Frescas, minds churning.

We looked at each other.

We looked at the Frescas.

We looked at each other.

We put the Frescas in the trash.

I found 8 shiny quarters in my pocket, new untainted Frescas were triumphantly acquired, and Important Business continued.

2011 Holiday Raffle: Plate to Pixel

Next up for raffle is Plate to Pixel, a digital photography and food styling book by Hélène Dujardin. If you're familiar with her blog, Tartelette, then you know she's one of the best food photographers out there. Her photos are artful and elegantly composed without looking overdone. The focus is always on the food. Her work is a complete pleasure to look at.

Last summer, in the name of improving my photography skills, I checked out a bunch of books from the library for some light reading. In those particular books, it was recommended that mashed potatoes be used as a stand-in for ice cream to eliminate any melting issues. Grill marks could be painted on with eyeliner. And dish soap bubbling on the surface of a beverage would make it look freshly poured. I nearly hurled right there on the beach when I learned of all the food-styling fakery that seems to be the industry standard. And, yet, it was strangely satisfying to discover that my eye had been right all along. Ever wonder why that turkey on that magazine cover looked so unnatural? It's because it was half-raw and sprayed with hair spray for that "just-roasted" look. Yummy! The weird-looking milk on that cereal box? Elmer's glue. *dry heaves*

I quickly returned all of those books and bought Plate to Pixel instead. The food is real. It actually gets eaten afterwards. And it looks delicious! She has one photograph of brightly colored crabs on newspaper that is a gorgeous study in contrast, and another of a pomegranate bleeding onto a white plate that breaks my heart a little. Instead of fakery, there are tips for keeping things fresh-looking and practical advice like staging the shot before the food even comes out. There's technical camera stuff, too, like the different kinds of light and how to bounce it, and ISO and depth-of-field and hoobity ha. I picked up a few tips, I swear, but mostly I just eyeballed the food porn. That kind of artistry is hard to learn, and I'm not a dedicated student. Still, I would highly recommend the book to bloggers with an interest in photography, photographers with an interest in food, and foodies with a little extra time on their hands (and possibly some disposable income since you will undoubtedly develop a hankering for expensive camera equipment).

To win this book, comment on this post with a link to your worst food photo. I'll start: here's mine (the ginger cookie recipe is good, though). Or, if you don't have a blog or any other evidence of your photographic failings, just tell me why you want this book. Comments will close at 10 p.m. on Sunday 12/11 and a winner will be chosen by Random.org. And if you don't win, console yourself with the knowledge that you can always read her beautiful blog for free everyday!

Many thanks to Wiley for donating a copy of this book!

Have You Bought Me Anything, Yet?

I stopped in at The Concord Shop the other day and found quite a few things I wouldn't mind in my stocking.

 

 

 

Whoa! It's clear I'm going to need a bigger stocking! Or at least one with a steel-reinforced toe.

But I wasn't just looking for me, I swear:

This Thursday night (12/8) from 5 to 7 p.m., the Concord Shop will not only have great gifts to peruse, but some complimentary holiday fare provided by local business Bistro-at-Home. Graze on turnip and cauliflower bisque with candied chestnuts, blue cheese-stuffed poached pears, and black forest chocolate trifle with a gingersnap kiss. Holiday shopping demands high blood sugar! There's also a gift basket up for raffle, filled with baking supplies worth more than $200. To be entered to win, fill out a card in the store by noon on 12/8. There are lots of other shops on the block and around the corner worth checking out, too, including a wine and cheese shop, toy shop, and independent bookstore.

Just a reminder to support local businesses this holiday season.