Five Random Thoughts
May 4, 2011 § 3 Comments
Sigh.
A recent visit to the family homestead has wiped me out. Psychologically, that is. Physically, too, as the trip was mainly to help my parents with some of their spring gardening. But my parents, especially my Mom, are difficult and heavy on the soul. It takes a few days to rebound.
So, while I’m rebounding, I think I’ll share a few random thoughts with y’all.
1. I had the good fortune this week to go to both Symphony Hall (my first time, can you believe it?) and Fenway Park. Both buildings are about 100 years old. Has anyone noticed how much wider the seats are at Symphony Hall? I mean, substantially wider. You need a shoe horn to squeeze most Sox fans into the old grandstand seats. And the reasoning has always been, “Oh, people were smaller back then.” Then why the ample room for the music lovers?
2. Speaking of Fenway, I had a Fenway Martini last night. As good as ever. We introduced the guy next to us to the fabled drink. He got to the end of it, ate a peanut, shell and all as is the custom, then complained that the shells were too crunchy. Here’s the thing: He drank his beer too fast. The shells need to soak a bit. Drink slower, dude.
3. I’ve been making rye salt starter and liquid levain to make a tangy sourdough. The recipes are from the Amy’s Bread book. It kills me when it says to let the starter rise at room temperature – 75F-80F – for X number of hours. 75F-80F? Come on now, that’s not room temp – that’s a bakery’s room temp.
4. I haven’t been doing much gardening yet this spring. My mother’s gardening, yes. A garden project I’m working on for a local human services agency, yes, putting a lot of brain power into that one. But our own garden, not so much. I’ve planted a bunch of seeds, indoors and out. Some are up, some aren’t. Nothing seems to be growing in my “carrot bed” and I can’t figure out why. I hope my luck turns around.
5. Who are you, Tracey Hawkins? You took the time to hunt down my professional email address and write, “Are you the Ellen of the Dainty Dot? Kind regards, Tracey Hawkins.” And then nothing. Did you have a question? Can I help you with something? I’ve come up with lots of scenarios of who you are and why you wanted to contact me. You are a hipster and you love my recipe for trout. You’re a scout for Martha and want Dainty to be a regular on the show. You’re a book agent and think I have a compelling style and are going to offer me a contract. You’re an attorney and want to sue me for … I dunno, something. You rep a line of cookware and want to offer me some products to test. You, Tracey, are many people. Let me know which one I’m addressing.
That’s it, my five random thoughts. Please feel free to share your random thoughts, too. Especially you, Tracey.
The Fenway Martini
April 13, 2011 § 4 Comments
I thought that perhaps Jennifer and I being at last night’s Red Sox game might have turned the team’s luck around. Apparently not.
Regardless of win or loss, we still had a good time. We go to maybe six to eight games a year—next one this Saturday, actually. And every time we go we do two things: We grab a blueberry beer at Boston Beer Works before the game—LOVE that beer, by the way—and we have a Fenway Martini in our seats.
Wait, what? Martini? They haven’t started serving hard alcohol at Fenway yet. Not out in the park at least. They’ll start serving cocktails soon now that the city has approved the measure. But, still … what’s this about enjoy martinis at Fenway?
Oh, my friends, my friends … I’m sharing with you something that only a handful of people know about. And, I promise you, it’ll change your life the next time your at the park. Shhh … here’s what I’m talking about.
The Fenway Martini
- Take one crappy-tasting, overpriced beer. Bud or Bud Light will do.
- Yell to the peanut guy who’s 20 rows down, “Yo!” Hold up your hand, and catch his center field-worthy throw. Pass your money down the row.
- Open said bag of peanuts. Eat a handful. Good, uh?
- Take three peanuts (five if it’s a light beer)—the whole shell and all—and put them in the beer. Let ’em sit there a few minutes.
- Now, take a sip. Mmmmm, good, right? It’s the salt that perks up the otherwise inferior taste. You’ve heard of people add a bit of salt to beer—it’s the same thing delivered in peanut form. Good to the very last drop.
The Fenway Martini - the only drink worthy of Red Sox Nation
Oh no no no, my friend! You’re not done yet! You still have perfectly good peanuts at the bottom of your plastic cup. Tip that cup and let one roll into your mouth. Shell and all. Go ahead and chew. That’s right, the whole thing. Don’t worry, the beer has softened up the shell a bit, and the peanut is still good and crunchy. You needed a little fiber in your diet anyway, after eating that sausage.
Now, I can take no credit whatsoever for the creation of the Fenway Martini. It’s Jennifer’s concoction—born out of the need to drink barely palatable beer at the game. It’s genius.
Vodka and olives while sitting in the stands? No, thank you. Beer and peanuts is the only drink worthy of Red Sox Nation.
Clover Food Lab
March 24, 2011 § 3 Comments
Guys, I’d love for today’s post to be more of a discussion. I don’t know much about Clover and I’d love for you to chime in.
I met friends at the Clover Food Lab in Harvard Square for lunch yesterday. Like I said, I don’t know much about it—except these two things:
- This particular brick-and-mortar location developed from a wheels-and-engine business. Am I right about that? Clover was originally a food truck, I take it, and there are a herd of them now in the Cambridge/Boston area.
- They serve all (or mainly?) vegetarian food.
Food trucks are on fire right now. And to see that a nomadic business can settle in and put down roots seems pretty cool. I mean, that’s how “civilization” started. (Hey, I used air quotes, and I’m not saying that today’s nomadic societies aren’t civilized.) I would have loved to try the Clover food truck experience first.
My friend Deb, on the other hand, had tried the food truck first. Raved about it. Loved the food. And when she saw that I’m eating “veganish” she suggested we meet up with friend Sonya to try out the steady digs.
What did we think? Here are my quick impressions as a first-timer, and an observation from Deb as a food truck customer:
The electronic “sandwich boards” as you walk in: Interesting technology there. It’s a vertical flat screen. Rather than erasing and re-writing a sign, they erase and rewrite something on their computer in the back (?) and reload or whatever. What’s the point? Not sure, except when you don’t need two “menus,” you can switch one of the screens to whatever it is you want. When we walked in both boards were menus. When we walked out, one was a menu, one was Clover’s website/blog.
Clover's Chickpea Fritter with a side of Brothy Barley & Spinach Soup. (See the indentation where my falafel ball once sat?)
I ordered the Chickpea Fritter – aka, falafel – in a pita. It came highly recommended by Deb. It was awesome. The slaw was tasty, as was whatever Mediterranean-esque sauce that was in it. The falafel was nicely done, still moist inside. There were a lot of things inside my pita I couldn’t quite pinpoint, but that was okay because I loved it all. Especially the pickle slices. BUT, folks, DO NOT put a falafel ball right on top of the stuffed pita. Mine did an “On Top of Old Smokey” thing and rolled onto the floor. Sad face.
Deb ordered the Egg & Eggplant pita. She loved that, too. Looked good. Can you get that without the egg? Next time.
We all ordered the Brothy Barley and Spinach Soup. Do you know what the word “brothy” brings to mind? Broth. A clear, flavorful liquid. No broth in this soup. If you want to be alliterative, try Burly Barley. Because it was a burly soup—any soup in which a spoon can stand straight up in (without assistance) is burly. As for taste … I’m a barley lover, and I did enjoy it. Add a touch of salt. My companions weren’t very fond of it. Oh, and where was that spinach? (Add more.)
Rosemary fries for the three of us. Yum. Dude, they were awesome.
I love that “city water” was on the menu and listed as $0.
Deb was a bit disappointed that the restaurant menu was the same as the food truck. I think she was expecting a few other choices.
If you’re going to serve pitas that are hefty and stuffed, maybe provide “holding docks” at each table—things like the U-shaped diner napkin holders. So, when you’re settling down into your seat, taking off your coat, etc., this thing can hold your pita without the food falling out (and rolling onto the floor). Just a thought.
The space needs a living wall either in the front windows above, or on that back wall. I know there’s those supports on the back wall and it looks like there’s grape ivy being training on them. Long, slow process. Clover may be looking into this—but, I do know a little something about living walls and know people in the biz. It doesn’t have to be complicated. AND, how cool would it be if they grew their own herbs and salad greens right there on location? It’s possible. Plus, as you may not know, plants “clean” the air, provide oxygen, and also help regulate temperature. Like I said, I know a little somethin’ somethin’ ’bout the topic.
Dainty Rates: 3 out of 5 Dots.
Scott Conant’s Scarpetta in South Beach
March 8, 2011 § 1 Comment
Where’s Dainty been these last few days? Not blogging, obviously. It think it’s a misdemeanor to blog while in the big warm world of South Beach. We jetted away last week to find some relief from this lagging winter.
While down there, I had to make good on a bet. Thanks to the Pittsburgh Steelers, I owed Jennifer a meal at the Fountainebleau Hotel – a fabulous haven for the young and rich who want to be seen. We just wanted to check out the glitz.
After a little research, we found that Scott Conant had a restaurant in the compound call Scarpetta. Scott Conant – he’s one of the judges on Chopped, the one who practically had someone cuffed and thrown into jail for including cheese with a fish dish, apparently a big Italian food no-no. You don’t know me if you don’t know how I feel about such restrictions. Wanting to learn more about the man’s culinary viewpoint—and secretly wanting to put cheese on fish while on the guy’s turf—we decided that Scarpetta would be it.
The restaurant – dimly lit, private, modernly comfortable. The front-of-house girls – Jennifer even called them vacuous to their faces and they giggled. The waitstaff – well-trained. Although our guy looked vaguely like a thin Charlie Sheen. We were seated on the veranda, which typically has ocean and pool views but was enclosed due to high winds. Maybe our seating had something to do with 50 Cent and his entourage dining inside. Who knows.
Anyway … I’m not going to tell you about our entire meal – I’m sure there are enough reviews out there for your reading pleasure. You can assume it was great. If it wasn’t, I’d write all about it. What I’m going to tell you about is my appetizer, which – and I’m not kidding – may be the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.
Burrata atop heirloom tomatoes. I will forever remember this dish, and here’s why.
A burrata is a fresh cheese creation consisting of a solid mozzarella shell and mozzarella and cream interior, served at room temperature. It takes a caprese salad and makes it look like McNuggets. The burrata is like a pillow of dairy with a creamy dairy filling. This topped a thick slice or two of fresh heirloom tomatoes, perhaps lightly tossed in evoo – it was a little hard to tell after I cut into the burrata, but more about that later. When I ordered, I was skeptical of the “fresh heirloom tomato” bit, but silly Northerner that I am, Florida can grow fresh produce during the winter. I do wish they had specified which tomato variety they used. I know they’d have to change out the menu frequently if they did that. Perhaps the waitstaff could relay that info as the “heirloom tomato of the day” like the “fish of the day.”
Now, about that burrata – this was a mozzarella that must have just begun to form and was immediately served to us, it was that fresh. And delicate. So, so delicate. Cutting into the burrata released a small dose of warm cream, coating the ripe yet firm tomato. Someone’s Italian grandmother was in the back making this. I just know it. So, there was this small bite of rich and creamy cheese contrasting with the bright light tang and texture of the thick slab of tomato. The taste and texture could make me believe angels exist, it was that good.
I had wanted to save a small corner of the burrata to put on my turbot entree, but I just could not leave a drop of it for later. I must learn to make burrata.
Dainty Rates: The burrata – off the charts.
Rye Bread Day 1
January 31, 2011 § 3 Comments
Beatrice doesn’t ask much from me. So, when she asks a favor or makes a request, I’m on it.
“Can you make some rye bread?” she texted to me last Wednesday. I was at the airport, headed out of town until Saturday night. I didn’t have my cookbooks nearby to reference. Rye bread? There’s nothing like a good Jewish rye from New York. Thin toasted slices with butter – nothing beats it. You want rye bread, Beatrice? Rye bread is what you’ll get.
First thing Sunday morning I turn to my go-to bread-baking book, Amy’s Bread (2nd edition) and look up rye. Now, keep in mind that in this cookbook, all but, I don’t know, maybe four or five recipes DO NOT call for some sort of starter. And bread starters take at least 24 hours to develop. At least. So, I’m not surprised when I see this Amy’s Rye with Caraway and Mustard Seeds recipe call for a “firm levain.”
I’m new at this starter thing. I’ve made one once before – the one Joanne Chang has in her cookbook – and kept it going for a couple of months. It was super easy. And reading through Amy’s Bread several months earlier, I knew there were several different types of starters. This levain thing was one of them.
Okay, I’m on my way.
Amy’s Bread – that’s a real bread-baker’s cookbook. I should have known there’d be something more to making this “levain” than … than whatever I had imagined.
So, I turn to the recipe for firm levain. And the recipe for firm levain itself calls for Active White or Rye Sourdough Starter. Hmm…. okay.
So, again, I turn the pages and find Active White Sourdough Starter. I read over the recipe: organic grapes, cool water, organic unbleached all-purpose flour. At least four 24-hour interval steps. And I say to Jennifer, “Text Bea – tell her the bread’ll be done on Saturday. Maybe.”
A levain is a sourdough starter made without yeast. That’s why the recipe calls for grapes. I’m assuming, correct me if I’m wrong, the grapes’ naturally musty-ness – the yeasty beasts that hang out on fruit – will provide the umpf needed to begin the fermentation process. If you add a pinch of yeast to a starter, that will kick your starter off right. And get it going quickly. With grapes, apparently you need to give it more time. Like, three days more.
So, yesterday at 4pm I mixed the grapes, the water and the unbleached flour. “Let it sit at room temperature (75F to 78F) until it starts to bubble. This will take 12 to 24 hours, longer is your room is cool.”
Levain at 4 hours
Okaaay … raise your hand if your room temperature in January is 75-78F?? Anyone? No, didn’t think so. 68F, yes. Not 78F. So, right there I know this levain will take some steady watching; I can’t rely on just watching the clock. This photo shows the levain at 8pm – four hours into the process. The mark on the blue tape records the levain’s original level. You’ll see it’s risen maybe one or two microns …
Oh, you’ll also see that it’s in my microwave. It’s a bit warmer in there. And, as soon as I’m done posting this, I’m going to heat a cup of water to boiling and keep that in there with the levain. The dissipating heat will warm the microwave hopefully 1o degrees or so and keep the levain warmer for a few hours.
If all goes as planned, we’ll have rye bread just in time for the Super Bowl. And a levain to nurture for years to come.
See Winter With Snowshoes
January 22, 2011 § Leave a comment
18F in Boston this morning? Think of it as 265 Kelvin. Ahhhhh … balmy.
Dedrich's first snowshoe experience
A lot of folks stock up on cheesy snacks, big bowls of chili and DVDs when the weather report points to a frigid weekend. Or they take advantage of a JetBlue special and find relief in warmer climes. Not Jennifer and I. We dress in triple layers of silk undies, wrap the scarves ’round our heads like little Randy, and head out into the snow.
Last weekend, for instance, while at the Vermont ski house, we strapped on some snowshoes and went for a little adventure in the Jamaica State Park. A camping destination with hiking trails by summer, this spot is just as entertaining covered with 2 ft. of snow. The main trail – a former railroad bed – is wide enough for two unofficial “lanes” – one for cross-country skiers and one for walkers/snowshoers. This trail hugs the West River, and it’s really amazing what a flowing body of water can turn into when winter sets in. It really is gorgeous. Plus, with many springs darting out from the hilly sidelines to find their way to the river, the trail is lined with some spectacular icy graffitti.
The West River in winter
An ice cave!
Jennifer takes a chilly risk
If you’ve never snowshoed – it’s not hard. It’s WALKING with these lightweight things on your feet. Their design makes you a bit more buoyant on snow – you don’t sink in as much. The forefoot is firmly attached to the forward part of the snowshoe, and heel is not. Like a cross-country ski. So when you are walking and push off with the ball of the foot, your heel is free to rise without bringing the snowshoe with it. Much easier than when Trapper Francois was chasing lynx in the Canadian wilderness.
Snowshoeing = walking on snow
The one difference between snowshoeing and actual walking is this: Because the snowshoes extend the width of your foot but maybe two inches on each side, when you are standing still, your legs are just a big further apart than normal. When you walk, your legs remain just a tad further apart to prevent the shoes from clanking against each other. It’s a bit of a Frankensteinish gait. Snowshoes can clank together, it’s not going to hurt anything, except it’s just annoying.
Snowshoes are equipped with crampons on the undersides. It’s like having a metal bear claw attached to your foot. Is there ice under that snow? Afraid it’ll make you slip? Two words: metal claw. No worries, you’ll remain safely upright. The bear claws also make it possible to walk UP a snowy include that is sure to have icy stuff just under the surface. A set of walking poles is a big help when snowshoeing up a slope by providing leverage and balance.
Walking UPhill, thanks to the snowshoes' metal bear claws.
A couple weeks ago, Channel 5’s news magazine Chronicle had a segment about a guy from New Hampshire (I think) who is big into snowshoe running. What? Running? Apparently snowshoes are available that are specially designed for running in the snow. They are narrower than regular snowshoes, so that when you bring you leg/foot alongside the other, it’s at a more natural position. This guy was bookin’ it, too.
Considering I needed to get a weekend workout in, I decided to step up my snowshoeing pace on the 1.5 mile return to the car. Actually, I ran back all the way. It was more of a quick shuffling back and forth, but my heart was pumping and my blood and lungs were getting a good workout. And when you work out like that in the cold, you might as well be on a Miami beach.
Strap on some snowshoes and go see something other than a movie this weekend.
Clamming?
January 3, 2011 § 2 Comments
“Clamming?”
That was the subject line of the email we received from our friend Karen. For $15, she picked up a shellfish license that allows her to walk around in the low-tide sands of Provincetown, clawing for clams and such. She picked up two licenses, actually, so she could share the experience with folks like us. My partner, Jennifer, and I were going to be in Provincetown for New Year’s weekend, and she knew we’d be up for a hunting-gathering experience.
Jennifer and Ellen enjoying their first clam-hunting experience
Clamming? Absolutely.
Armed with an official clam rake, purchased new for our first clamming experience, we joined Karen and Robin at low tide on New Year’s Eve afternoon. We picked a spot east of town. For about 30 minutes we raked around the wet sand of the flats. Nothing. Okay, I lied. We found two clams – one of which was less than 1 in. thick and we had to dig back into its home.
Apparently conditions hadn’t been ideal for clams in that spot this summer. Karen knew of another spot about 2 miles further west and we sped off to hopefully richer clamming fields.
The first sign we reached fertile ground was the mass of rake-armed people out on the flats. Second sign: full clam baskets dangling from arms of weary food gatherers. After trudging through a bit of shallow water (note to self: purchase galoshes) we spent all of a minute raking before we hit the jackpot. Robin hit the clam jackpot first, actually. Then Karen. You don’t have to dig deep to find these critters. They’re just below the surface. I’d hit a few miscues – some empty scallop shells, a hunk of asphalt – but when you hit a clam with a tine, you know from the sound and from the bulk you’ve found your treasure.
My first clam!
When I found my first clam – a quahog – I was rewarded with more than one actually. They tend to hang out in batches. My batches tended to have three. Robin found up to six in several spots. All told, the four of us walked off the flats with about 50-60 clams.
Speaking of walking off the flats, we ran into the local shellfish commissioner while calling it a day. An affable guy, he explained the quahogs we found pretty much stay near the surface. The softshell steamers are a bit further down. The longer-tined rakes, like the one we bought, are ideal for harvesting those. Rather than just randomly digging 6-in. holes hoping to hit payload, the commissioner said to look for tear-shaped hole in the sand. Spot those, and you’ll likely find your steamers.
Don’t like clams because of the sand? Karen says there’s a trick to getting the clams to give it up. Throw them into a bucket, fill with water, add a bunch of baking soda and let them sit overnight. Not sure exactly how that works, but if she says it works, that’s enough proof for me.
I’ll let you know if it works. Meanwhile, I’m looking for my best linguine and clam sauce recipe. Harvesting and cooking – it’s so primeval.
The Dainty Dot 