Redline Love, Kebabs & Corn Sauce

A couple months ago, we heard a terrible rumor: Redline, the hip late night spot in Harvard Square, was closing its doors. Fearing the worst, we headed over to pay or respects.  More than a few memorable nights went down in the place back in the day and attention needed to be paid. There was a time when scarcely a week would pass without my twenty-something-self stepping foot inside. My friend Kate and I stumbled onto it during our very first night out in Harvard Square in 2002 after moving here from the west coast. At the time, we lived out on the Allston-Brighton boarder and nights out in Cambridge meant a long walk, a bus ride and a pricey cab ride back home (since the buses conveniently stopped running before the bars closed). Redline was where birthdays were feted and where groups headed en mass after FAS holiday parties; it was the place where we raced down the clock on the last night that it was legal to smoke in bars*, where I passed my final night as a single gal and the site of various other unmentionables. Most importantly, Redline was the place where I met a charming young computer science graduate student who, 8 years later, is now my husband!

the night before our wedding

Despite all the nights spent at Redline, I can count on one hand (with fingers to spare) the number of times we actually ate there. Somehow, Redline never struck us as the place to go for a nice meal. Were we ever wrong. By chance on out last night there, we arrived with rumbling bellies and were thrilled to learn that the kitchen was still open. The place has changed over the years. The dance floor where I first bumped into Konrad is now a dining room and we were seated feet from where we met. How's that for a perfect way to say goodbye? Turning to the menu, I ordered the veggie kabobs, which came served on bed of carmelized faro, topped with a delectable corn cream sauce, dotted with basil oil, and accompanied with a smattering of crispy polenta fries. I was hooked from the first bite and so was Konrad; he kept reaching over for more and more tastes.

The dish haunted me for days and weeks afterward.  So much so that when we kicked off BBQ season, I set out to replicate it. We dutifully chopped up a mixture of veggies and drizzled them with olive oil and seasoning. As Konrad fired up the grill, I got busy mixing up a corn cream sauce.  Feeling my way rather than working from a recipe, I sautéed an onion and then added a can of corn. I let it cook briefly before adding a cup of vegetable broth and a bay leaf. I let the mixture simmer as the veggies roasted and then drained off the broth and pureed the onion and kernels with a couple splashes of cream and a dash of salt and pepper. I couldn't quite figure out how exactly to caramelize farro and instead just prepared it the conventional way. That part still needs some work but, all in all, the results weren't all bad.  Definitely something we’ll be making again and I’d wager that the sauce will be even better with fresh local corn.

*Note: This was a long time ago, back when I was young and stupid. Watching a loved one suffer and die from a smoking-related disease reformed me and fast. Not that it was ever a common past-time to begin with. 

Pizza, Beer & Town Day

Yesterday was a good day. After a dreary week of work and rain, we woke up (after a blissful 10 hours of sleep!) to sunny skies and high tailed it outdoors.  Signs had been posted all week about the fact that the main street (Leonard Street) in Belmont would be closed for most of the afternoon for Town Day. Curious to see what it was all about, we headed that way.  Sounding quite provincial, I was hoping that it had something to do with Massachusetts' colorful colonial past.  Konrad expected there to be some heated civic discussion.

Town Day, it turns out, is just your typical small town fair, complete with fried dough and a dunking tank.  We wandered around, noshed on pizza and ducked into Craft Beer Cellar for an Opa Opa beer tasting. Kate Baker and Suzanne Schalow, formerly of Cambridge Common fame, opened the shop back in November and the place is packed with a rotating supply of fabulous foreign and domestic craft, micro and artisanal beers (with a great selection from local breweries!). 

Afterward, we took a turn around Mill Pond before coming home and resuming our usual positions: Konrad eagerly powered up the computer and I happily curled up with a book, which is pretty much how you will find us on just about every Saturday afternoon. We are a quiet pair and one that is pretty easily pleased.

  

Food Empires

A couple weeks ago on a wet and drippy Wednesday evening a friend and I went to hear Andrew Rimas speak about the cultivation of food in urban societies throughout history. Having caught an NPR segment on his and fellow author Evan D.G. Fraser’s book, Food Empires: Feast, Famine and the Rise and Fall of Civilizations, I was curious to hear what he’d have to say.

The talk was hosted by Cambridge Forum, a public affairs program that puts on (free!) weekly events in an effort to provide education and stimulate discussion on a variety of topics.  I stumbled on to these events as a bright-eyed and penny poor 23-year-old and have left star-struck on more than one occasion, not least of which was hearing Howard Zinn speak. Patricia Suhrcke, the Forum’s iconic director (she’s been there forever!), opened the forum. In true Cantabrigian fashion, a rowdy cry went up from the sweater and clog-clad audience when the microphone malfunctioned but peacefully died down as it boomed back to life. The moderator introduced Rimas, a journalist turned historian, who provided a brief overview of their book before answering questions.

The book considers processes or “food empires” that urban societies have established to feed themselves throughout history. To supply urban dwellers with food farmers grow more than they are able to eat and establish mechanisms for storing, transporting and selling their surplus to hungry buyers. With these capacities in place, food empires are born. Urban life prospers and as populations grow, the empires gradually expand to incorporate additional lands and trade options. However, as the authors show, food empires have rarely been sustainable owing to the fact that they were based on three erroneous assumptions:

• Over-confidence in the planet’s fertility, even in face of deforestation, erosion and soil depletion.

• Anticipation of continued fair weather to cultivate bountiful harvests.

• Excessive reliance on specialized “cash crops” which damage the local ecosystem and are generally incapable of providing adequate nutrition to the population.

Fertility can be used up, climates change and the cultivation of specialized crops can damage the local ecosystem. Realization of these factors has spelled disaster for various food empires across time. Harvests dwindle, trade slows, and the system gradually implodes. People depending on the empire to furnish their daily sustenance are left wanting and famine takes hold, leaving the populace more susceptible to illness.  As the authors point out, the parallels with modern society are striking and should give us pause. Modern American society operates under the same fallacious assumptions as well as a fourth:  Expectation of the continued flow of cheap energy (fossil fuel) sources.

The content was enticing enough but the event didn’t live up to its potential. The speaker’s style was a little hard to take and we jumped ship during the Q&A. Rimas clearly has a high opinion of himself. Based on a read of his book, it may be warranted since he is clearly a diligent researcher and gifted  writer. Even so, he would have been better served through a more humble approach. More often than not, less is usually more.

*Almost* Flour-Less Chocolate Cake

Lately, I’ve been playing with sugar. Muscovado sugar. And doing my homework too. 

Pretty much everyone these days has gotten wind of the fact that processed food, especially ultra-refined white sugar, is terrible for you. I was a little late getting the memo. I spent the better part of my twenties chowing on low-fat junk food and slurping splenda-sweetened coffee, which I imagine is probably even worse than sugar. Then one day I picked up a copy of Michael Pollan’s book, In Defense of Food, and wised up to the state of things. Nowadays, I do my best to avoid processed foods, limit my sugar intake and drink my coffee with just a splash of soy milk. Don’t get me wrong. You won’t catch me cutting sugar out completely. Life is way too short for that! I just try to curb the mindless grazing and make my sweets count. It doesn't always happen, but I try.

Except for a few recipes, I substitute raw sugar whenever something needs a little sweetening. That was, until I caught wind of another option: Muscovado sugar. Dark brown with an incredibly rich flavor, muscovado sugar has got to be what brown sugar used to be before someone dreamed up the clever idea of simply coloring refined white sugar with drops of molasses. Muscovado sugar is made exclusively from reduced sugarcane juice, which solidifies as it dries. Since it is entirely unrefined, it retains all of the nutrients found in sugar cane and is especially high in calcium, iron, minerals and potassium.

I’ve been sampling it around the kitchen, dabbing it on berries (so good!) and spooning it on oatmeal (my current breakfast of choice), with much success. I’d read that muscovado sugar was especially tasty in baked goods, so I decided to take it for a spin to see what I was working with. I gave it the master test and made a chocolate cake. And not just any chocolate cake, mind you. The richest chocolate cake I’ve come across yet: Molly Wizenberg’s Winning Hearts and Mind Cake. This cake is really quite something. Chocolately as all get out. So chocolatey that it doesn't even need anything else, not frosting, ganache or even a dusting of powdered sugar. Smooth and almost creamy, it holds its own all by itself. That was before. I really didn’t really think it was possible to improve upon something so delicious but I stand corrected. Subbing in muscovado sugar lent the cake a deeper flavor, which made it all the more decadent a treat.  If you’re in the mood to play with some sugar yourself, I highly recommend giving muscovado sugar a try (especially with this cake!)

(Note: Click colored text for the recipe and other information)

Meyer Lemonade

Old man winter of the northeast is certainly no friend of mine. Like most bitter enemies, he's picked up on my biggest weakness (being a westcoaster a long ways from her warmer home!) For the better part of the year he taunts me with bitter cold and prods me with gusty winds, ice pellets, sleet, and snow. The old man and I go way back; the score stands at 9-0 with him winning every round. The winter of 2004 stands as the most memorable defeat: The year that the wind chill was so bad that my eye lashes froze on my walk to work. Picture a shivering twenty-something with ice-crystal crusted lashes from profusely watering eyes. It will take a lot to top that but this year, with our 80-plus inches of snow (not quite a Shaq of Snow, but so close!), has come close. As always, I counted myself lucky once February was over. Once March rolls around, things invariably begin to look up. Temperatures hover in the balmy 30s and I can nearly excuse away the wayward flurries and blistering cold nights. After all, he can’t stay forever, right?  And as April nears, my day dreams turn to strappy sandals and alfresco dining. But this is all part of his plan, because just as we let our guard down, he strikes again. So, you can see why I was so unbelievably miffed to find myself wading through near ankle deep snowy slush last week, on a certain first day of April! I should really know better by now. Without fail, winter gets me every time.  The old man has it out for me. 

Feeling battered and in need of something to restore my hope that spring (and summer!) will eventually come to the rescue, I mixed up a batch of the only antidote that seemed up to the task: Fresh-squeezed lemonade, which I like to think of as sunshine in a glass. Besides, having acquired a sack of dainty meyer lemons on sale (and feeling quite thrilled about my very first meyer lemon purchase!), I’d been looking for an excuse to use them and figured this would be as good a time as ever.

Boasting a bright yellow color and a dainty petite frame, meyer lemons are sweeter and less acidic than their conventional counterparts. Juiced up and mixed with simple syrup and water over ice, they lent a gentle floral flavor to the glass and gave a fun twist to the time-honored classic. Even their peel tastes slightly sweet, so the recipe requires less sugar than you would expect. Here’s the thing though. Without the tangy bite imparted by conventional lemons, it just didn't seem quite right. Turns out that lemonade might not have been the best use for my little stash, but lest anyone be quick to cast judgment, the shortcoming is entirely my own. Surely, refined beauties like these have a higher calling than the likes of such a humble beverage.  Next time I will find a more worthy cause for them. In any case though, they provided some welcome relief as I waited out old man winter’s last hurrah.

Meyer Lemonade

Adapted from Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook

2 1/2 cups water

1 1/2 cups meyer lemon juice

3/4 cup turbinado or raw sugar

1 teaspoon lemon peel 

Create a simple syrup by simmering the sugar and water in a small pan over medium heat until the granules are completely dissolved. Stir occasionally. Remove from heat and let cool. Add juice and lemon peel to the simple syrup and allow to sit for 5 minutes. Strain off pulp and lemon peel and refrigerate.

To serve, combine equal parts of the lemon mixture and water over ice.

Cheese 101

School on a Saturday is never fun. That is, unless it involves plenty of cheese, wine, artisanal beer and a tour of a famous cheese cave at Formaggio Kitchen in Cambridge. In which case, sign me up!

Last weekend, Konrad and I joined twenty or so eager pupils for Cheese 101, an introductory class on the wonders of cheese. Piled into the tiny shop after the close of regular business, we huddled around the cheese case and focused our attention on two wise cheesemongers perched on crates. Over the course of two hours, we tasted our way through ricotta, clochette, robiola, comte and clothbound cheddar (with beverage pairings and accompaniments) as we learned about their respective histories, depth of flavor, storage needs and options for pairings and accompaniments. At the end of the night, we even got a peek into their celebrated cheese cave. Back in the 90s when it was built, they were the first cheese store in the United States to have one!

Ever the overachievers, Konrad and I took a sample of clochette (a bell-shaped goat cheese, which we learned is named after the French term for "little bell" !), and bright-tasting Raphael Citrus Preserves home with us. After reviewing our notes, we conducted an experiment over brunch the next morning. The results? They are still delicious, even in the light of day :)

Guinness and Irish Cheddar Fondue

Being vegetarian kind of puts a damper on the St. Patrick's Day food traditions. Full disclosure, those holiday dinners that my grandmother worked so hard on each year? I didn’t eat one bite of any of them when I was a kid, and not much has changed since then. Corned Beef? Lamb Stew? Shepherd’s Pie? Thank you, but no. Some try to mix up vegetarian versions, but the results aren't usually worth the effort. I've come to the conclusion that some things just aren't meant to moonlight as vegetarian fare. Then again, that could be my frustration talking.
 

Fed up and uninspired, this year we threw up our hands and celebrated in perhaps the least traditional way of all... with fondue! Guinness Stout and Irish Cheddar Fondue, to be exact. While fondue certainly can't call itself Irish with a straight face, considering the sum of its parts (Irish Cheese & Irish Stout) buys this version some legitimacy and one taste of its flavor makes you wonder what difference it makes anyway. At the end of the day, who doesn't love liquor-spiked food enough to turn a blind eye on the technicalities?

Guinness and Irish Cheddar Fondue (for two!)
Adapted from Food.com

1lb Irish aged cheddar cheese, grated
1/2 cup Guinness stout
1/2 tablespoon corn starch
Salt and pepper to taste

Crusty bread for serving

Cut the bread into cubes and set aside. Grate the cheese into a medium-sized bowl. Add corn starch and toss well. In a mid-sized pot, heat the stout over medium heat until hot but not boiling. Slowly add cheese to the stout, stirring constantly. Once all of the cheese has melted and the mixture is smooth, add salt and pepper to taste. Transfer contents to a fondue pan with a tabletop burner. Enjoy!

Irish Coffee

St. Patrick’s Day for me means Irish Coffee: A frothy, if potent, treat that my family used to enjoy each year. Growing up, my grandmother would serve them after a hearty holiday dinner in fancy stemmed glasses decorated with tiny green shamrocks. Everyone would smile and clink glasses; I would pretend to do the same and then my mom would share sips with me until I was old enough to have my own glass. The glasses have since been lost and I am a long ways from my childhood home, but I make do with mugs and plenty of fond memories. In fact, I've been celebrating all week!

Irish Coffee is a common offering on drink menus these days but precious few establishments make it decently. The key, in my opinion, is freshly whipped cream and plenty of it. The cream settles into a frothy float at the top of the glass. Drinking the coffee through the froth affords a sweet richness to each sip and makes me one happy lady. Of course, the whiskey you choose also makes a big difference. Personally, my loyalty lies with Bushmills. I am told that there is a bit of a religious divide among the Irish when it comes to brands, with Catholics favoring Jameson and Protestants favoring Bushmills. My family is many things, including Catholic-leaning and Irish, but apparently no one got the memo that we were drinking the wrong whiskey. And now it is too late to matter (that is, if it ever would have mattered) because, after all these years, Irish Coffee with any thing other than Bushmills just wouldn’t be the same.

Irish Coffee

1 shot Irish whiskey
1 tablespoon and 2 teaspoons granulated sugar
12 ounces freshly brewed, unflavored coffee
Heavy whipping cream

In a small bowl, lightly whip the cream with one tablespoon of sugar and set aside. Pour whisky and remaining sugar into a cocktail glass or mug and stir until the granules are dissolved. Add coffee and top with several plentiful dollops of whipped cream. Allow to sit momentarily before enjoying. Do not stir after adding cream.

Cheddar Beer Soup

  

I’m a sucker for fun ingredients, especially anything liquor-based. My lovely friend (and mighty foodie) Gretchen introduced me to Cheddar Beer Soup a few years back and it wasn't long before the recipe found its way into our steady rerun pile. Its the perfect excuse to invest in some British ale; that is, if you ever need one!

Those who know me know how sentimental I can be and British ale brings out the best of it. Back in 2000,Gretchen and I were bright-eyed and liquor-hungry twenty-one year olds studying abroad in jolly old England. I was in Oxford and Gretchen was in London, staying with a host family on the outskirts of town. I’d come to visit her and we'd take the tube into the city for a night of drinking, dancing and merrymaking. As the subway zipped us to our station, we’d get our drink on with Boddingtons and Strongbow in hand (these were my pre-beer appreciation days). The best part? Drinking on the tube was totally legit. Right up until 2008, anyway.

While not quite as exciting as drinking on public transportation, this soup is an easy and tasty way to get your drink on at home. The beer, vegetable stock (per Gretchen's advice I made it vegetarian by substituting this for the chicken stock and adding a couple of potatoes instead of the bacon), milk, and cheese cook down into a rich mixture that is intensely addicting. Plus, all of the alcohol cooks off in the process, so you won’t actually get liquored up while getting your beer fix; a slight defect that it more than makes up for in flavor. Pair it with a pint or two, if you're in the mood, and you’ll get the best of both worlds. 

Note: Click the colored text for the recipe and other information!

Vanilla-Black Pepper Ice Cream

As far as Valentine’s Day gifts go, I generally prefer a simple bunch of well-intended tulips to other, more showy items. That was, until this little gem happened to cross my computer screen: The most perfect ice cream maker I’ve EVER seen. Daintily clad in bright red with whimsical ruffles, this machine will remind you, lest you ever forget, that making ice-cream should always be a festive occasion. It was love at first sight, I tell you. I didn’t even bother dropping hints; I came right out and pleaded, blathering on about all of the wonderful things we could make. And all this to a man who doesn’t even like sweets! Thankfully, I married a most obliging fellow, who quickly typed in the order (no doubt to spare himself from more recipe talk!) and even threw in some tulips to boot.

Cuisinart Perfection

Earlier this week there was a knock at the door and there she was, patiently waiting for me on our front stoop with the UPS Man.  I let her freshen up and relax in the freezer for the night before getting to work on the following evening. First order of business? Vanilla-Black Pepper Ice Cream. Molly Wizenberg writes about it in her book, A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table, which is a collection of charming short stories and equally pleasing recipes. Having been introduced to the wonders of peppercorn in lending chai tea lattes their fiery bite, I was ever so intrigued to see what it could do for ice cream. The only problem being that her recipe called for eggs. Opinions are split on the matter of eggs in ice cream, but I'm decidedly opposed. All I need to make me perfectly happy are milk, cream, sugar, and vanilla frozen into icy deliciousness, along with the occasional chocolate chip and/or drop of peppermint extract for variety. Add eggs into the mix and it becomes way too much, at least for me.

I substituted my family’s basic vanilla recipe instead and added the suggested amount of black pepper towards the end. I was a little worried that not heating the pepper over the stove might have negative consequences but the results were as she promised they would be: Bright vanilla flavor followed by a gentle hint of heat. A fine treat on its own or served up alongside a slab of chocolate cake. Oh and it also pairs nicely with Girl Scouts Thin Mint Cookies, but then again, doesn’t everything?!

Vanilla-Black Pepper Ice Cream

Adapted from A Homemade Life

1 3/4 cups whole milk

2 cups cream

2/3 cup sugar 

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 1/2 teaspoons ground black pepper (or to taste)

Whisk together milk, cream, sugar and vanilla in a medium-sized bowl until the sugar is completely dissolved. Pour into the base of your ice-cream maker and let the machine take it away. Depending on your machine it should take 20-30 minutes. Add pepper roughly five minutes before the ice-cream is completely frozen to your liking.

 

Tulips in "burgundy" - Our wedding color :)

Ricotta Dumplings

Oh Valentine’s Day, I still don’t know what to think about you. I love you for your friendly red and white decorations, the familiar taste of candy hearts and the timeless thrill of receiving flowers (humble tulips please, not red roses!). But you irk me too. A day to declare your love? Really? How insincere and ostentatious of you. After all, shouldn’t we be saying it every day? And don’t get me started on how commercialized you’ve become.  Shame, shame, shame.  At the end of the day though, your invitation to indulge in a lavish meal never fails to win me over.

When we first started dating, Konrad and I hit the Valentine’s Day restaurant scene with gusto: Soiree, West Side Lounge, Upstairs on the Square and others. I’d don my favorite strappy red dress, Konrad a shinny red tie and out we’d go. Then something changed; we wised up to the ridiculously inflated prices and got annoyed. We’ve been feting the occasion at home ever since. The results might not be quite as gourmet, but its still fun and pretty darn tasty too. Last year, Risotto Stuffed Red Peppers were on our menu followed by Chocolate Stout Cake with ganache frosting.  I forget what came the year before that except that it ended with Chocolate Orange Cake made by yours truly, which is really the most important part anyhow.

Celebrating a couple days early, this year savory Ricotta Dumplings, peppered with minced chives, graced our table. We served the little darlings, dressed in a festive red pepper sauce, following a simple salad. For dessert, we munched on chocolate-covered cocoa nibs and popped Anne of Green Gables into the DVD player. Another plus to the holiday? The ability to sweet talk suitors (or husbands) into watching movies they ordinarily wouldn’t under the guise of romance. In this case though, Konrad gets extra points for laughing at all the right places and sticking through both parts. Admittedly it was a half-hearted affair (sorely lacking home-baked treats!), thanks to my third-wheel of a migraine that tagged along (and for most of the weekend!), but an enjoyable time nonetheless. 

Oh Valentine’s Day, you get me every time.

My Furry Valentine

Chocolate Walnut Banana Bread

 

I spent the better part of last night pouty and all around grumpy. Grumpy because another snow storm was raging outside but no matter how many inches or feet we got, I’d still have to work in the morning. I know, I know. Life could be worse, but I was having a moment. I wanted a real snow day: the exciting and fancy-free kind where school is canceled, obligations are cast aside and you’re left with an entire day to bide your time at home (Making snow angels, baking bread, sipping cocoa and curling up with a book were exactly what I had in mind, and in that order). Well, it wasn’t going to happen no matter how much I frowned and stamped my feet.  

I decided that banana bread spiked with chocolate and walnuts was the best bet for redeeming the situation. I cued up the mixer and got the butter, sugar and eggs swirling while I whisked together the dry ingredients. The recipe calls for all-purpose flour; I used unbleached and subbed in a bit of whole wheat. Cheating just a bit, I zapped our very yellow and perfect bananas in the microwave until they were soft and mashable before adding them to the batter. Once everything had been incorporated, I poured the mixture into a loaf pan while pausing briefly to add layers of mini chocolate chips and walnuts. After baking for an hour, the bread emerged triumphant. With a dense texture perfectly punctuated by chocolate bits and nuts, I speak with authority when I tell you that it can stand its own against the worst cases of grumpiness. 

By morning the storm had passed and with it my grumpiness. Its amazing what sweets and sleep can do for your outlook. As expected, I did end up working, but it wasn’t so bad. I got to work from home and ignore our snow-covered car for most of the day. Besides, since the snow had stopped falling, it didn’t feel like snow day anyway. I set up shop on the couch with Kitty beside me and tapped productively on my laptop til closing-time, fueled by toasted banana bread and bottomless cups of coffee.