Thursday, January 29, 2004

Computer problems are what have been keeping me from blogging, this time.  Hopefully they will soon be resolved, and I'll post back....I'm thinking of moving to typepad, too -- Radio is among the (many) things that make my laptop crash.  Chief among those is of course age (4 years is a long time for a laptop!) and operating system (yes, I'm still on Windows 98, and I also just bought a digital camera last week, and my tv is so old I needed an adapter to plug in the DVD). Anyhow, the computer is just one more problem I can throw some money at!  Yippee!   12:11:50 PM    comment []

	Wednesday, January 14, 2004

I Award Another Wine Book a Gold Star   It’s January, ****ing freezing cold and windy again, no business to be found around town, no heat on in my apartment yet, and I have a large and unsightly facial blemish in the middle of my forehead.  But, I am in a wonderfully happy mood . . . all because I bought another wine book today. . . I know, I know, like I need more.  But this book so totally disarmed me, when I was in the bookstore doing “research” on wine books for my wine class, that I had to buy it.  “Disarmed,” because I had gone in prepared to hate this book.  Even the name, The Wine Bible, seemed a bit pretentious.  And I am very skeptical of the California Wine Machine, and Karen MacNeil and her husband, Dennis Fife, are very much part of the CWM (she’s the director of wine education for the Culiary Institute of America, which I also distrust . . . CIA, c’mon, who wouldn’t be suspicious . . . and he runs Fife vineyards, a winery that has vineyards in BOTH Napa and Mendocino, try to be more confusing. . . . )   But then I read a bit, and there you go -- $20 so easily departed from my wallet, or added to next month’s credit card bill, depending on which way you see it.  I see it as fully tax-deductible, thank you!   Anyhow, the purpose of my “research” was to see which of the many basic wine manuals on the market I would recommend. I guess editors figure that this is the area where most people will spend their money (true wine geeks, after all, are notoriously hard to part from their hard-earned dollars, unless they’re buying wine).  So there is a glut of “beginner’s” books on the market, many of them annoying or just plain commercial.  Did I mention that Andrea Immer really sets my teeth on edge?  Not for at least a year, I’m sure, since I had promised to be nice, but I really can’t stand her books <sorry>.  Actually, her mentor Kevin Zraly (of Windows on the World) has started to sound a bit dated in his book, which was, nevertheless, the first wine book I ever owned . . . . The only good part of the current edition of this book is the last chapter where he describes how the wine industry works. Go to your local Barnes and Noble, where you will have no trouble finding the big stack of his books (it will be near the cookbook section) and read that part.  Skip the rest and save (more than) a few bucks.   Instead, do yourself a favor and buy Karen MacNeil’s The Wine Bible.  Because, y’know, this lady can write!  I haven’t gotten too far into the book yet, but I intend to read the whole thing.  Not because I don’t know everything she’s writing about, but because I am enjoying reading it expressed so clearly, eloquently, and (above all) intelligently.  Ms. MacNeil talks about wine WITHOUT TALKING DOWN.  She is a wine snob, of course (aren’t we all), but oh-so-nice about it – here’s a quote from the intro chapter:  “One of the insidious myths in American wine culture is that a wine is good if you like it.  Liking a wine has nothing to do with whether it is good.  Liking a wine has to do with liking that wine, period.”  This is at once totally true (thank you, Ms. MacNeil) and a HUGE dig to the Kevin Zraly/Andrea Immer school of wine tasting (both KZ and AI have no problem wholeheartedly recommending totally commercial wines in print, by the way, so I suppose they have to stick to their “hey, people like/buy it so it must be good” guns. . .  an argument that applies more easily to MacDonald’s and Coca Cola, in my opinion, than wine . . . . .)   Anyhow, the MacNeil book can get very technical while remaining, all the while, descriptive and entertaining.  (If, at times, self-conscious to a fault. It must be the California thing, or maybe just a bad editorial decision.  I’m willing to overlook this flaw for the overarching good insights.)    For example, on p. 34, where she manages to answer the Oh-So-Annoying “Sulfite” question once and for all –correctly, completely, and above all, diplomatically (how I wish I could have just shoved a photocopy of this explanation into the hands of the woman who insisted that wines brought back in a suitcase from France didn’t give her a headache because they “didn’t contain any sulfites!”  No, lady, they just don’t have to put a government warning on wines in France.  But all wines have sulfites. And, no, the sulfites are NOT what give you a headache, anyway!)   So, if you want a good, philosophical, bed-time-reading sort of introductory wine book –  rather than a glossy coffee-table one, or one with a Certified Wine Celebrity posing on its cover in an outfit that coordinates with the background -- I, personally, urge you to rush out and plonk (no pun intended) down the very reasonable $19.95 for this book.  I did, and I already own a room full of wine books!  Ignore the cover quotes about how she makes wine “accessible” and “user-friendly.”  She doesn’t even TRY to do that.  Instead, she acknowledges how complicated the subject is, and asks you to do the same.  Because, if it were accessible and user-friendly, would it be any fun?  I think not.  I close with a quote stolen from winemaker Claude Papin, that I found in my last favorite wine book, The New France:  “Marketing?  We will always lose.   Those who drink our wines, our clients, have to take over the educational relay from us if free winemakers like us will continue to exist.  Otherwise, we will all finish like Heineken or Kronenbourg.”    Oh, and, February is “Drink a wine made by a Peasant/Vignernon” month in Joe Dressner’s world.  Want to play along?   12:24:08 AM    comment []

	Saturday, January 10, 2004

Home alone. . . . As much as I hate it when I lose my constant companion (and soon-to-be husband!) to these long wine-buying trips he goes on at least once a year, there is something nice about having the time to look around and contemplate who we are, separately and together, while I am home alone in the much quieter and emptier apartment.  So it's just the cat and me, here, sitting in the sun (thank god for these south-facing windows, because it is seriously cold, which is so rare here in Manhattan, and, you guessed it, still no heat working in here -- actually I'm surprised it isn't colder, because, while it is cold, it is in fact livable. . .).  She, the cat, is happy in the window, alternately watching "cat TV" (birds flying around outside past the window) and sleeping. I've got the paper spread out all around (if you get the Sunday NY Times this week, you MUST read Michael Pollan and the article about the "short-order Revolutionary." Pollan so well expresses how I feel about the mad cow incident and coverup; and the Farmer's Diner sounds so encouraging in a world where local dairies just cannot survive) and my laptop actually on my lap with my feet in a little patch of sun, which is streaming in and also bathing the rosemary plant we brought to the City for the winter from the garden upstate.  (Trying not to worry about the house up there; we left the heat on and drained the pipes upstairs and our neighbor is checking on things from time to time. . .I guess no news is good news at the moment! it must be dangerously cold up there if we have single digits in the City). I was also reading some of my favorite weblogs this morning, and Leah's post, thinking about how to improve her Bungalow Kitchen, got me thinking about how much we've done with ours here in the apartment.  I wish I could get a picture of it, but words will have to do. . . our kitchen is literally the hallway that connects the two big rooms that make up the living space in this apartment (we have the top floor of a brownstone that has been divided into three separate apartments).  The kitchen is all ranged along one wall, opposite the entrance door -- fridge (we have a full-size fridge, something ofa luxury in Manhattan!), counter, stove (gas, thank goodness), more counter, then sink -- all in a row along one wall of the hallway.  There are cabinets above, cabinets below the counters, and that's it!  Needless to say, we have had to figure out ways in which we can not only work in this space but also use it to store all of our many and much-beloved cooking tools, not to mention a week's worth of food (since there is no good shopping within walking distance, and it's a bit too much of a schlep from the subway to carry more than fill-in groceries back, we drive to Fairway Market once a week).  Living in Manhattan is full of its own special challenges. . . !  Not to mention that we rent, so we couldn't do anything expensive and/or permanent. Not that I mean to denigrate the work the builders did when they rennovated, since the kitchen space was actually fine for one person, or even for two who weren't such dedicated cooks . . . but as soon as I moved in, with my food processor and toaster and cookware to add to Philippe's bread box and blender and 20 pound bag of rice, it was clear something had to be done.  Major cupboard cleaning and reorganizing took place, and gradually the kitchen has taken shape (not to mention that many of the duplicate items, which we couldn't bear to throw away, have been taken up to our house.  I'm still not sure how we stil manage to have So Much Stuff, but there it is.) Limited counter space on the real counters means that most of the appliances (with the exception of the coffee pot, of course) HAVE to go in the cupboard down below.  All the baking stuff, goes down there too,  and we've gotten used to pulling out the toaster, Cuisinart, mixer, etc. when we need to use them.  No "out of sight, out of mind" allowed here! But the niftiest two things are cheap solutions that came from IKEA, the store we all love to hate, but which still provides their advertised "solutions for living" with some added creativity!.  On the wall opposite the counter line-up, we put up a folding table that can serve as additional counter space but fold away most of the time so the hallway isn't blocked.  It serves as a pastry counter, a prep station (at least for me -- since it is lowish and I'm short I can chop there) a plating station, and a place I can clamp the pasta maker.  It makes it possible for two people to work together in the kitchen, as long as they don't mind squeezing around each other a bit (and hey, it makes it convenient for giving those little passing squeezes!).  This was Solution Number One. Solution Number Two came later, after we'd had some time to accumulate MORE cooking gadgets together (as one is wont to do. . . did I mention I broke down and got a Microplane while I was on an unchaperoned mission to Bed Bath and Beyond for the space heater last week? ;-)).  The piles of pots under the sink were getting out of control, and we could NEVER find a place to put the pesky cheese grater. So, back to IKEA, where we found a bar that mounts on the wall and with the addition of many s-hooks serves as a pot-and gadget rack.  Now all the (lighter) saute pans, sauce pans, strainers, the wok (that thing was taking up WAY too much space!) and, yes, the cheese grater, hang there, along with a wire basket that suspends onions, garlic, and shallots conveniently above the cat's dish (a new way to terrorize the cat!  pitching garlic skins into her bowl while she's trying to drink!).  So this weird space has become a kitchen I can almost love, or which I guess I do love because it is mine, and I know how to work in it.  Most of the pots and gadgets are hanging in sight; most of the cooking utensils are in a crock just by the stove.  You can see almost everything you need and if you don't, just open the lower cabinets and you'll see everything else.  I am continually amazed at how we've managed to make a real cook's kitchen in this awkward  space.  It has truly evolved into a "workshop" in its own way, over time. Another example of the lesson I am learning more and more from the experience of having a house to fix up -- that sometimes the best solutions are arrived at progressively, as the need for them arises. It must be very difficult to "design" a kitchen all at once, before it is being used on such a daily basis. Now, if only I could come up with a solution for storing the spices (which are in the high cupboard above the stove, so if things slide too far back I have to get the stepstool out, which means sometimes I buy things I already had but was too lazy to look for). . . .hm, that sounds like a lovely afternoon project to do while I simmer up some chicken stock (Chicken backs are $.29/lb at Fairway!) and bake cookies (thanks to another Meg for this recipe, which resembles one I've been searching for for years) in an attempt to stay warm. . . .   1:58:16 PM    comment []

	Thursday, January 08, 2004

Monkfish with Sunchokes and Mushrooms, or. . .There’s a warm spot   Just here, in front of the electric space heater.  Maybe I’m just crazy, but it is rather cold in this apartment.  Our heaters haven’t been working well all winter, and now the real January cold we’ve all been waiting for has arrived, this is a problem.  Our very nice landlady has had the plumber out twice to bleed the radiators, which helped both times, but the system just isn’t working <sigh>.  One hates to complain, what with cheap rent and all (I read this in the NYTimes today and thought “At least I didn’t pay over a million dollars for this place, heck, I just rent it!) but now I have on TWO wool sweaters, tights under my jeans, a fleece vest. . . and as long as I stay in front of the space heater I broke down and bought today, I’m warm.  Oh, except for my feet.  Which are actually warm all the time since they are in my atomically warm new slippers courtesy of the dear (and now off to France) Philippe.  I may sleep in them, especially with him gone!   This, however, is no excuse for my laziness in blogging recently.  The lack of work around the holidays ground my ambition to a precise halt, that’s it. That, and I really am trying to get some exercise these days, which is enjoyable but a huge time suck.  And I am trying to prepare for teaching wine classes, and suddenly there is work to do again. . . and, in case I didn’t mention, it’s cold, so the main urge after running around the city all day is to sleep deeply.  A litany of procrastination!   Without further ado, then, I better introduce the New Dish that has been created around here lately. . . Monkfish with Jerusalem artichokes, mushrooms, and other good things.  We had the first three ingredients in the fridge recently, and something about the combination of j.a.’s and mushrooms seemed right to me, somehow.  How right it was, that hunch!  There is a wonderfully buttery quality of flavor that Jerusalem artichokes have, when cooked, which appeals to the cold-weather longing for richness without being actually (at least as far as I know) rich.  The mushrooms give a nice earthy note, and monkfish is a very satisfactory and forgiving fish to cook (good, since I have never gotten over my fish cooking phobia).  Furthermore, it’s cheap, even cheapish at the ever-astronomical Whole Foods market near my office.  Where the quality of the fish was a bit lower than I’d want, incidentally.  I’d go so far as to say that their monkfish had been previously frozen, since it turned out a bit mushy.    Anyhow, here is the dish.  It is very easy, involves no saturated fat (this being January) and yet is flavorful to the maximum – and pairs very well with wine, too.    Monkfish with Jerusalem Artichokes and Mushrooms   (for 2 hungry people) just under a pound of Monkfish (usually comes in pieces without bones, but if you can get a chunk from further up the tail with some bone, it’s cheaper and have no worries – it has only one large, easily removable set of bones in the middle.  Cook it whole and split it after, leaving all the bones on one piece.)   6 medium-sized (about the size of a ping-pong ball) Jerusalem artichokes (sometimes called sunchokes; relatively easy to find in good groceries this time of year.) – I dunno, about ½ lb?  Use 4 if they are big (larger than ping-pong ball!)   about the same amount of cremini mushrooms   a tablespoon of capers   ½ lemon   Good olive oil, fresh or dried thyme, and salt and pepper for seasoning.   Preheat oven to 350. Cut any discolored bits off of the Jerusalem artichokes and slice them, without peeling, into medium-thick slices (not too ladylike, but not hulking, either).  Brush the mushrooms off and trim the stems if you like, but leave them whole.  Toss both in an ovenproof gratin or baking dish with plenty of olive oil to coat, then sprinkle liberally with salt, pepper, and thyme.  Put in preheated oven and roast for 20-25 minutes, stirring once or twice.   Once the Jerusalem artichokes are starting to just barely lose their crunch and the mushrooms are sizzling a bit, sprinkle the monkfish with salt, pepper and thyme.  Stir the capers into the mushroom/artichoke mixture and lay the fish on top.  Squeeze the lemon over the fish.  Pop it back into the oven and bake for another 20 minutes or so (monkfish is firm and quite forgiving) until the fish is warm through to the center (25 mins at most if you have big pieces).  And you can cut into it to check; just serve that piece to yourself ;-)   Remove, spit between two plates, and serve with a white wine that is both rich and a bit sharp.  For this reason I think Chardonnay, but from Burgundy -- a good, young Pouilly Fuisse, for example, or a Chablis from a good producer who doesn’t use oak.  But this is a flavorful dish, and any white wine that has some acidity and not too much oak will do.  Last night we drank Zind Humbrecht Pinot d’Alsace, which was rich and bright and a hair too sweet, but good enough that there were absolutely no complaints registered.    This dish was a wonderful surprise brought about by inspiration and necessity (those twin mothers of invention, and what good ingredients to have as “what’s in the fridge!”).  But it was good enough to try again (the first time we undercooked the Jerusalem artichokes).  It has richness and earthiness, brightened by the sharpness of capers and a touch of lemon.  Not a pretty dish (soon I’ll master my new digital camera and attempt photos, perhaps!) but wonderfully tasty.   A cup of tea, the thought of last night’s dinner. . . and I feel quite warm and happy now!   9:39:56 PM    comment []

	Monday, December 29, 2003

My Favorite Christmas Present . . . Well, besides my new cozy-warm slippers (cold feet no more!) and the Kiehl's products (Santa knows me so well) and the plug-in kettle from my mom (tea for the impatient. . who, me? never) and so on and so forth (funds for a digital camera! curtains my sister is making for our house!). . . . . . but my favorite present is a wine book.  As if I need another wine book (I mean, we have a bookcase full of them).  . . but, at last, here is a really beautiful wine book.  Great writing, well-considered opinions (of course it helps that I agree with most of what he says, but then again I consider myself in the "pure wine" minority, so it is nice to see someone so intelligent espouse my favorite producers in published print).  Oh, and simply gorgeous photography -- perfect landscape shots, and wonderfully evocative, unposed portraits of great winemakers.  <New> great winemakers, make that -- not the stodgy old guard. Because this book is Andrew Jefford's The New France.  And it is a great wine book.  I'm so glad that such a truly great, beautiful, well-written wine book has been published!  Time to settle back on my well-rested, cookie-padded posterior for a few more moments of good reading before I nod off.  As if I need more sleep after this long, lazy weekend (with another one looming on the horizon).  But, hey, I'll give it my best shot <yawn>. Oh, and we had a rabbit-and-leek stew dinner on Christmas, pork roast stuffed with garlic spinach after that with my folks, and there is a salmon gravlax buffet extravaganza planned for New Year's Eve.  Food hasn't been too bad around here, neither.   9:49:57 PM    comment []

	Wednesday, December 24, 2003

Ho! Ho! Ho! Christmas Eve dinner preparations are under way here. . .mostly downstairs as we are going to the neighbor's for dinner (seems fitting since last year dinner was up here.)  Philippe made a Fish Terrine, wrapped in leeks, which will hopefully be as good as it looks (I played able assistant and washed leeks and spinach. . . .).  So really, we have nothing to do now but listen to the rain fall (hard) and wait.  This is always the hardest part about Christmas, isn't it?! So in the meantime, greetings to all and to all a fun, feastful evening and day.     4:21:20 PM    comment []

	Wednesday, December 17, 2003

The Good News is. . . .   One of the projects I’ve been waiting to fall into place for next year is finally official. I’ll be teaching some wine classes at the 92nd St. Y starting in the New Year! An introductory class, then Wines of the New World, and Wines of Italy.  If you know anyone in New York who wants to take a wine class, send them my way!!  Please!  We’ll be tasting some great wines, and the price isn’t bad by Manhattan standards for a wine-filled, information-filled, and (of course!) fun-filled evening. I’ll do my darndest to demystify the language of wine tasting, giving people real, simple words to describe their experience of tasting.  Hopefully by the end of even a couple of classes people will feel more confident and enthusiastic about pursuing their interest in the subject. . . .   Anyhow, that news came on a day when I am in need of good news more than ever.  It has been so dark that I kept the Christmas tree plugged in the whole time I was working at home to cheer me up.  Yes, from 8am on it was that dark, and it stayed dark all day long! But you should see our sweet little tree – very cute and perfectly proportioned and cheerful with its white lights and shiny ornaments.   Also, I made the Teacake/Snowballs, slightly fearful of failure. . .  but this recipe was a snap and they turned out nicely – just like my grandmother used to make.  In looking at recipes, I decided the key (in addition to watching them like a hawk so they don’t overcook) would be using good, tasty, and completely softened butter (I love that Fairway sells blocks of Plugra -- click here for astute commentary on what makes it so good -- for the stunning price of $2.99) and confectioners sugar in the dough rather than granulated.  This turned out to be right, and I’d highly recommend running right to the kitchen and making them yourself!     6:54:04 PM    comment []