Weekend in Review!!

I hope you all had a lovely weekend, I did! I was up like a bunny, on a sunny Easter Sunday, woke my pal Suzanne, of Cooking By The Bay, and we hopped over to the Marin Farmer’s Market. What a treat to go early on Sunday morning. No crowds; warm, waking sunshine; and so, so, many savory sweet smells coming from all the vendor’s booths. At Suzanne’s wise suggestion, we strolled the market first, greedily tasting samples of butters and chutneys and pestos. It was fabulous. By the time we made it to the end my hunger was in full, raging force and I swear I couldn’t have taken another step if it wasn’t for . . .

The Taco Guys!! These guys, in addition to being great cooks, are a hoot first thing in the morning. Both Jason Hoffman and Justin Close jumped to attention at our approach and handily whipped together a Kahlua Pork Taco for my Easter breakfast. Trimmed with julienne of mango and daikon greens, that sweet little beasty made me a happy man. Suzanne, declining more than a taste, was emphatic is stating, “Eggs, I need eggs, not piggy for breakfast.” Ho hum . . . more for me.

Next stop, Donna’s Tamales for breakfast burritos! Suzanne immediately tucked into the rich, egg filled tortilla stuffed with salsa, peppers and more. I decided to change things up and opted for their Vegan burrito. Hers was delicious and warm, and egg-ily satisfying. Mine was good but I felt it needed more . . . zing. I chose from the salsa condiments they had available and popped them to the top. It spiced it up some. I would certainly eat their food again and look forward to the next time, as Suzanne’s breakfast was, and I quote, – Scrump-dilly-icious! – unquote.

Always a sucker for a sample, this pleasant woman at McClellands’ Dairy tempted me with a bit of butter on a bread stick. YUM!! I was fully intent on not breaking stride (more of a slow amble really but still a stride) but the creamy rich taste of this butter halted me in my tracks. Always hawkish when it comes to paying premium for a commodity I happily dug into my wallet to pay for a half pound of this bit of ‘Oh So Golden’ heaven. What has two thumbs and loves this butter? This guy!

All in all it was a great day to be out with my buddy Suze. Happily sated, we returned promptly to the sofa intent on doing nothing more all day. Nice Sunday . . . zzzzzz . . .

Eat Well and Smile Often!

tj

May I have a side of whipped cream with my bunny please?

Tastes Like Chicken . . . Really!?

Did you know that alligator tastes like chicken? Bullfrogs and rabbits tastes like chicken. Snake, iguana, snapping turtle? Yep, yep and yep; all taste like chicken. Or so says Joe Staton in his Annals of Improbable Research. As do quail, goose and pigeon! Even kangaroos, I’m assured, tastes like chicken. (Sorry, roo, for my friends down under.) Now I can’t speak to Iguana or snapping turtle or roos for that matter but there is one thing, I can tell you, that absolutely does not taste like chicken . . . and that is chicken!

Chickens from Sun and Water Farms don’t taste like chickens. At least not any of the ones I’ve eaten. Tish Tomlinson, of Sun and Water Farms, takes great pride, and goes to great pains to raise her chickens in a method pioneered by Joe Salatin of Polyface Farms in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. This is as close to free range as a farmer can get and still protect his investment. Joe Salatin’s method involves raising a flock in a large movable pen which provides protection from both the elements and predators.

Once the chicks are old enough to be moved from the brooder, they are placed in these movable pens located in lush pasture land. Here they are allowed to move about freely, scratch, peck and generally be obnoxious. Once every day or two, depending on the condition of the pasture beneath their pen, the flock gets moved over to next next patch of fresh grass and their lives continue stress free. Here they live out their lives protected from the elements; fed healthy, wholesome food at regular intervals; and given room to ‘run chicken run.’ Ah, the farm life.

To my point: These chickens don’t taste like chicken. They taste way better. When cutting open a cleaned bird, just prior to cooking, the first thing you will notice is the color of the fat. Grocery store chickens have loose, pale colored fat. The chickens from Sun and Water Farms have warm yellow fat lines and man I believe it: the flavor is in the fat. This doesn’t mean a skinless breast of Tish’s chicken will be flavorless, quite the opposite, the meat has this wonderful rich savor to it. It is hard to describe really ‘cuz . . . wait for it . . . it don’t taste like chicken!

It just so happens I had one of Tish’s chicken’s in the freezer, which did it no harm at all. I placed it in the refrigerator the night before to thaw and set about cooking it last night. Now even though I studied classic French technique, and the French are world renowned for their sauces, I went light and lean with this fine birdy. Here’s what I did.

Preheated the oven to 450 F degrees

Removed the gizzard and rinsed the chicken well

Patted the bird dry and rubbed inside and out with kosher salt

Placed the salty bird on a roasting rack in a pan
and slid it in to the oven.

(Here’s the French part)

I waited until the bird started talking to me (??)

When I heard the bird start to sizzle and pop, about 30 minutes into it,
I turned the oven temp down to 350 F degrees and continued roasting
for about 30 minutes more.

I checked the internal temperature until I it was about 160 F degrees
(The best place to check temp is not in the plump of the breast but in it alongside the thigh.
Be careful not to touch bone as this will throw your reading off.)

I removed the bird from the oven and inverted it onto a plate
allowing the juices to drain down into the breasts.

Throw that down on a plate with some mashed taters and greens and MMMM . . . mmm
you got some good cooking there.

Eat Well and Smile Often!

tj

Please pass the . . . never mind.

4 a.m. Are You Freaking Kidding Me!?

I am God forsaken. There, I said it, God for-sa-ken. No, no, no not in any serious or REAL way, in truth I consider myself very fortunate. I own a home (with the bank being the primo numero uno shareholder), a car (different bank, same story), and a good paying job. None of these things I take lightly and am very appreciative to have all of them. Let me explain: I wake up every morning at 4 a.m. No alarm needed. Doesn’t matter if I went to bed a 2 a.m., I still wake up at 4. God for-sa-ken.

Now mind you, I am very scintillating a 4 in the morning. How many of you can say that? Well, I am, but neither of my ex-wives nor any of the lovely women I have had great fortune of knowing over the years was . . . scintillating at 4 in the morning that is. Now they are all extremely pleasant, charming women but at 4 a.m. they are either headed to bed, with what is sure to be the mother of all hangovers awaiting them, or so fast asleep that even their dreams are taking a nap. Unless, of course, you consider hairdos at that hour . . . in which case they were ALL scintillating!

So here I am, 4 A.M. alone. What to do? Hmmm, drink coffee! Drink Coffee. Yes, as millions of shift workers have done before me, I’ll drink coffee. Hmmm . . . what to drink? Dad and mum loved Folgers. Nah, can’t do it. Peet’s, I’ll drink Peet’s, and so for years I did just that. In fact I served Peet’s Major Dickason’s blend to my clients when I was catering. It was fabulous! Loved it! Bought it by the 5 pound bag even. Until one day . . .

Not so long ago I was looking for a new culinary challenge. Cooking school for me was a real blast. It was my art school education. To know me, is to know that I am a techno-geek, in a masculine way, kind of guy. I like to learn how to DO things. Culinary school was great for this. I learned classic French cooking techniques along with the science to back it up. I also got the chance to experiment with colors, tastes, textures and aromas. It was cool and that experience lasted me for quite a while. Until one day I happened upon an article about roasting coffee. Sounds like fun. By then I had begun straying from Peet’s and started checking out the local roasters. Their coffees are good. So I searched for, and found, a local company that supplies green coffee beans. I bought from them a book, a Whirley-Pop stove top popcorn popper, 2 pounds of Guatemalan Huehuetenango and away I went: Newbee Roaster.

Wow! What a difference. The first batch I ever roasted tasted like an entirely different beverage. Even better than Peet’s. Smooth, rich, chocolaty . . . breakfast in a mug. Needless to say I have become a coffee snob. Oh well, it’s the cross I bear. Now I can tell you all about the endothermic, ectothermic, endothermic, ectothermic process involved but I have gone on too long already. In closing, I am of the belief that the only true great cup of coffee is found in a French press. Here’s how I do it.

2 tablespoons of medium ground coffee per 8 oz cup (roasted fresh that day is the uber-best)

Water brought to a boil and let sit for 30 seconds (colloidal suspension thing)

Pour grounds into press carafe, fill carafe with hot water, place plunger on top (do not plunge), wait 4 minutes, plunge and serve.

Eat Well and Smile Often,

tj

I’ll take mine with sugar please.

Can You Woo Like the French??

I have a new pen pal or in this day and age is, email acquaintance a more appropriate term? Melani Robinson, of New York, authors a magnificent, sometimes embarrassingly real, blog about dating at 50. I happened upon an article she had published which led me to her website: 1yearofonlinedatingat50.com Her article on To Groom or Not To Groom for Women Over 50 was so hysterically funny, and age appropriate, that I immediately dashed off a note in support of her bravery. Her blog . . . even funnier. A no holds barred style of writer I hope you will enjoy as much as I do. That being said, what does Dating After 50 have to do with food? Everything!!

Now wooing can go 1 of 2 ways; it either does or it doesn’t. I feel a man of a certain age should have a little something up his sleeve when it finally does. By this I mean breakfast. Now breakfast, the morning after, can say a lot of things. There is the, “How about a cup of coffee before you go?” line which really means “Thanks but could you find your pantyhose and go already.” OR “What say we get cleaned up and go out for breakfast?” meaning, “You were a fun date but I’m not ready to commit just yet and I have to drop by the auto parts store downtown anyway.” BUT, should that rare instance occur when you actually want that special someone to stay a little longer I recommend Wooing Like the French.

French Toast that is. Now what woman doesn’t like French Toast and I don’t mean soggy old milk toast. I mean something with a little thought and a little flair, like you. So this morning . . . I practiced. Having only my faithful hounds as advisers I put together the following.

In a small bowl mix

1/2 cup Ricotta Cheese
1/4 cup walnuts, chopped
1/4 cup syrup, maple, real, don’t chintz

Whip in a separate bowl

2 eggs

Using either thick sliced bread (I sliced from the loaf I baked myself . . . eh hem.)
or
2 slices sandwich bread, preferably wheat

Slice a pocket in the bottom of the thick slice and stuff with cheese mixture or spread one slice with mixture and top with second

Heat a flat pan with 2 tbsp butter

Dipped stuff bread into egg and let sit for 30 seconds
Turn over and wait another 30seconds

When butter begins to bubble in pan place egg bread in and turn heat to medium
About 90 seconds later check to see if egg is browning.
When brown flip and let cook for about 60 seconds

When browned on both sides place on plate and pop in microwave for 30 seconds to warm cheese

Serve and woo!

Remember to Eat Well and Smile Often!

tj

(How do you write so it sounds like your mouth is full?)