Pizza, pizza

Success! We have been making pizza at home for years, but a thin crispy crust had always eluded us... Until last night. With the help of our new pizza stone we did it; delicious chewy crust, with a definite outer crunch.

However, there are still kinks to work out on our quest for at-home pizza perfection. Using a pre-heated stone means assembling the dough, sauce and cheese trifecta on a separate surface before transferring the pie to the hot stone and putting it in the oven. Trust me, this sounds easier than it actually is for a first-timer. Ideally you would make the pizza on a peel, the long-handled wooden spatula that pizza shops use to easily slide pies in and out of the oven. Pies practically dance off those things... Not so with the peel-substitute we used. Despite a heavy coat of flour and cornmeal, our stubborn pie had no interest in gliding off our baking sheet onto the stone. Creative problem-solvers that we are, we had no choice but to pick our 'za up hope for the best. The resulting pizza brought to mind Dalí's clocks, though I must say that it was no less delicious and crisp.

{ If the above pizza appears to be rather ugly, that's only because it was }

The verdict? While there is room for improvement on our prep-to-oven transfer, we are decidedly in love with our pizza stone.

Seattle on my mind.

It's a fairly quiet day in my neighborhood, but when I woke up this morning I couldn't help thinking about what I imagine is a considerably less quiet day in a neighborhood across the continent. Today at 5pm West Coast time, a favorite food writer of mine, Molly Wizenberg, and her husband, Brandon Pettit, are officially opening the doors to their restaurant, Delancey.

{ Screen shot of Delancey website }

The restaurant will be a pizza place, an apparent nod to Brandon's deep love for New York style pies. But according to Molly's blog, Orangette, the menu will be a mix of both his and her cooking styles. I'm guessing this will mean plenty of Molly's fresh salads and beautifully rustic desserts to complement Brandon's pizzas and pickles.

Now I don't want to be biased, but Molly, with Brandon at her side, has been guiding and inspiring my cooking since the moment I discovered her blog over two years ago. The woman has yet to lead me astray on a single recipe. So it's hard to imagine the restaurant NOT being fantastic... And the kind of comfortable place where you want to spend time with friends. All of that said, I wish there was some way to be in Ballard around 5pm this evening. For any of you in the Seattle area, I'm sure you have already made plans for pizza at Delancey at the first opportunity.

But though I can't eat there tonight, I can bring a couple of Delancey recipes to my own table. Since stumbling across this post a couple of summer's ago, I have made very few special meals that didn't include one of Molly's recipes. Tonight is no exception. We're celebrating a family birthday, and on the menu will be her caramelized cauliflower with salsa verde (though I'm going to try it with this version, as opposed to the one in her book) and, in an effort to use up the bounty of slicing and cherry tomatoes that we got in our CSA share this week, a tomato corn salad with shallot dressing that was on an earlier soft opening menu at Delancey.


Molly's writing has played a huge role in building my confidence in the kitchen, and I owe both her and Brandon a huge thank you for opening up so many new culinary doors for me. Wishing them the best as they open their own new doors tonight...

na na na naan

On the heels of Wednesday's rather intense conversation, I thought we could all use a light-hearted break before the weekend. And I'll tell you one thing, I find it far easier to be light-hearted when there is a stack of warm flat-bread at home. Before two weeks ago I had never, I repeat never, made any sort of flatbread. But recently I've been possessed by the stuff, experimenting with pizza dough, tortillas, and a particular favorite that I came to talk to you about today; naan.

{ naan rising }

While I'm admittedly no expert on Indian cuisine, I do love the stuff. Good Indian food is so packed with flavor that after a meal of it I find it almost impossible to leave the table unsatisfied. And the naan... Oh, the naan. This chewy flatbread served straight from the oven and drizzled with ghee is perfect on its own or as a vehicle for mopping up remaining sauce from a dish... That is if you were silly enough to leave any sauce on the dish in the first place. This end-of-meal ritual is an important one for me; my grandmother didn't name me the "Clean Plate Queen" for nothing.

Recently we've added a couple of fairly simple Indian dishes to our rotation, one of the favorites being Chana Masala. I can't eat it without wanting naan, and until recently I was picking up a store bought version which was, well, meh. We stuck with it because I was doubtful that we could do better at home without the hellishly hot clay oven the flatbread is traditionally baked in. But when the pizza stone came into our lives, I changed my mind. So last week I did some research and came up with a recipe for at-home naan baking. The process was painless; just mix, knead, rise, roll and slap, and the results really were delicious.

{ please enjoy naan responsibly }

True, our maiden effort did not compete with naan from our favorite Indian restaurants, and probably won't. But what I'm discovering is that even rookie efforts at making some of my former grocery staples usually taste better than their store bought counterparts... This coming from a still-struggling cook.

Also true is that with my, ahem, flexible schedule, I'm able to work this kind of baking project into my day in a way that I couldn't when I was away from the apartment for at least ten hours every day. Still, if making naan at home is something that you're interested in, it is definitely easy enough to do when you have even a bit of extra time. It stays good for a day or so, though it's best fresh so in the future I think I'll make a larger recipe and freeze at least half of it for later. Which would be even better because then I could just take it out of the freezer, let it defrost and pop it in the oven.

I found the recipe in the Chicago Tribune via Serious Eats, apparently this one stood up to the competition. The only change I made was to substitute the non-fat Greek Yogurt I had in the fridge for plain yogurt. If it had a negative impact we didn't know it, but next time I will probably try plain just to see if it makes a difference.

The rise of naan: How to bake the Indian flatbread at home - Chicago Tribune Archives

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(wo)man with a plan

Thankfully, my week of detox is over. I may or may not have celebrated with a half-pound of fresh mozzarella this weekend, but that's neither here nor there... We'll worry about that when it comes time for detox 2011.

In the meantime I'm refocusing on weekly meal plans in an effort to get back on track with cooking and eating at home. And after several months of commuting craziness, I'm excited to be back in the kitchen on a more regular basis. Both my wallet and I feel happier and healthier eating more home-cooked meals, and I've been especially inspired recently by a couple of culinary Christmas gifts: two beautiful new cookbooks and a pizza stone.

Needless to say, there was no shortage of ideas when it came time to make our meal plan for this week, though there were some hurdles. A jam-packed lineup of Justin's work and classes means that we won't be eating week-night dinners together through the spring. This also means that the leftovers of whatever I eat on a given night will become Justin's dinner the next, so the meal needs to hold up. There are loop-holes of course; if I make something that won't last as leftovers or that Justin doesn't like, I can always make something else for him. If that sounds like a pain, that's because it is... So we avoid that option when possible. There is also the option to make dinner for both of us in the morning. But, to borrow a line from my cousin, we'll file that under "things that are not going to happen".

The bottom line is that creating our weekly meal plan feels sort of like a game of Tetris; everything has to fit just right. When I'm in a good mood it's a fun challenge. When I'm not, we eat peanut butter and jelly until inspiration strikes. Luckily, this was a good week and we came up with this dinner lineup:

Monday
Marinated tofu and shiitake mushroom stir-fry with roasted broccoli
*also make granola for breakfasts

Tuesday
Make Fennel Potato Leek soup (one of Justin's favorites) before dinner date with a friend (yay!)

Wednesday
Griggstown Farm Chicken Apple Sausages + quinoa with roasted onion, kale and sweet potatoes

Thursday
Whole wheat pasta with pesto (from cubes I froze earlier in the season) + arugula salad

Friday
Chana Masala + homemade naan (I love naan and I'm excited to try making it at home!)

Saturday
Inaugural homemade pizza on our new stone!

Sunday
Market TBD

It's certainly not a groundbreaking collection of menus, but it's nice to have a week of healthy meals that we both like to look forward to. When we do our food shopping on Sunday we'll start the game all over again, and with a little luck we'll have another PB&J-free week... Though that certainly wouldn't be the worst fate.

Small coffee, large cookie.

When I first heard about Burlap and Bean Coffee in Newtown Square, it was as the new music venue that was getting buzz in our area. Justin was the one to tell me about it and he, being a musician, could not wait to book a show there. At the time, we were most excited about the location (good music venues are rare in suburban Philadelphia) and the fact that the coffee house is a BYO. But the more we learned about Burlap and Bean, the more we liked.


In the run-up to Justin’s first show at B&B, he commented several times on the kindness of the booker, Tara Endicott. As a young musician booking shows, it’s not unusual to work with, ahem, creeps. But Tara and her business partners, Brent, Ben and Christi, are not only welcoming to the musicians they host, they actually go as far as to feed them before a show. And when I say musicians, I don’t mean Britney Spears. An extremely talented line-up of local and national acts comes through Burlap and Bean, and most of them don’t have extensive riders. In other words, the owners don’t feed the bands because they have to; they do it to support their community. To wit, Tara told me that in Burlap and Bean’s early days she would spend hours before a show making huge dishes of baked ziti and green salad for the band. Over time, a gourmet pizza from down the block has replaced the homemade ziti, but no one seems to be complaining… More than one band has told me that they prefer to play at Burlap and Bean over any other local venue.

This tangible feeling of community at Burlap and Bean has everything to do with the café’s owners. Brothers Brent and Ben Endicott, along with their wives Tara and Christi Endicott, opened Burlap and Bean in November 2006. Tara describes the family partnership as a four-legged chair; without one of them, the rest wouldn’t work. And as Brent puts it, “You’re not opening a coffee shop to get rich.” Instead, he explains that the rewards have more to do with being able to facilitate artists and community connections.


So what does all of this have to do with sustainability or local food? The short answer is that Burlap and Bean’s sense of community responsibility extends beyond music to the food and drink they serve. The coffee served at B&B is 100% Fair Trade Certified and organic, and made from beans roasted in house. Though the rest were quick to get on board, it was Ben who championed the exclusive use of Fair Trade and organic beans early on. By partnering with Transfair, Burlap and Bean ensures that the farmers who produce their coffee are paid a fair price for their labor and harvest. And by extension, Burlap and Bean customers are supporting these same farmers.

Many of the accompanying snacks, salads, sandwiches and baked goods are sourced from local producers. One of my favorite summer lunches this year included a House Mediterranean salad and an oatmeal cookie, both from B&B. The cookie was big enough for a meal itself, and maybe the best I've had.


It's no surprise that Burlap’s coffee beans have been picked up by several Whole Foods locations in greater Philadelphia, the Coffee Club and Selene Whole Foods Coop in Media to name a few. Most recently, B&B became the exclusive supplier of coffee to the White Dog Café in University City, and soon to be in Wayne. Founded in 1983 by community activist Judy Wicks, the White Dog is celebrated in Philadelphia for its support of local food and social activism. That they chose to carry Burlap and Bean speaks to the micro-roasters’ success. Or in Tara’s words, “[Getting picked up by White Dog] was like winning the Oscar for local small business. We feel so honored.”

For more information on Burlap and Bean, visit their site. Or better yet, bring a book and stop in for a coffee. I hear they have an excellent espresso roast...

And stay tuned tomorrow for an exciting Fresh event announcement!

{ Photos courtesy of Burlap and Bean and Jeff Wojtaszek Photography }

Preserving traditions: The Food of a Younger Land

* Piece was first posted on the Slow Food USA blog

I am constantly curious about what other people are eating. After friends return from traveling, I want to hear about their favorite meal of the trip. If I call my mom at dinnertime, I want to know what she’s cooking. When I ran into a good friend shortly after she crossed the finish-line of the New York Marathon, I couldn’t resist asking for details on her pre-race meal, even as she stood doubled-over nursing a cramp. My friends and co-workers know that any mention of an interesting meal could illicit a number of follow-up questions from my end. I just can’t help myself… When it comes to food, I have a curious mind.

So when I came across Mark Kurlansky’s The Food of a Younger Land, based on the food traditions of the America my grandmothers grew up in, I felt I was the perfect audience. The collection of essays aims to be a portrait of American eating before our highways, chain restaurants and industrial farming made many of our dining habits homogeneous. And while I would disagree with Kurlansky’s perspective that our food traditions have all but disappeared, I won’t dispute the point that regional food is now something to be sought out; often buried under generic strip malls filled with Panera Bread, Chili’s and Chipotle. The many traditions that make up American eating have unquestionably evolved, and The Food of a Younger Land is an interesting reflection on where we’ve been.

Following his earlier food explorations, Salt and Cod, Kurlansky’s newest came together by chance. While doing research on another book, he stumbled across hundreds of unpublished essays by the Federal Writer’s Project (FWP), a depression-era employment agency created by the Works Progress Administration. The essays were meant to be published as a collective guide to regional American food; America Eats. But just as writers were sending in finished (or unfinished) pieces in December 1941, bombs rained on Pearl Harbor and the country went to war. Funding for the FWP dried up and the project dissolved before the America Eats essays could be edited or published.

As it turns out, this was at least one fortunate side effect of the war. Of the thousands employed by the FWP, a relative handful were legitimate writers and many of the essays that make up The Food of a Younger Land are drier than a high school history text-book. Other contributions are simply long lists of regional foods (though admittedly, I did appreciate the compilation of 1930’s diner kitchen lingo and will be looking for the next opportunity to use the line, “Burn one with axle grease Joe, I’ve got a blimp here waiting for a bellywash and an order of nervous pudding”). There are certainly a few good pieces of writing in the mix, like the husky recollection of cattle ranchers sharing Oklahoma Prairie Oysters and conversation around a fire; but for the most part Kurlansky’s introductions break up the monotony adding needed interest to the book.

More importantly, the essays hold more interest and benefit for the reader today, in hindsight, than they would have at the time they were written. Looking back on the way we ate two generations ago is a reminder of how far our everyday eating habits have strayed from the regional and seasonal. Without question, traditional food preparations still exist. My visits to the North Shore of Boston always include a least one bowl of signature chowder, and a recent visit to Brooklyn’s Di Fara Pizza reminded me of the care and attention some people still devote to preserving their own food traditions. But Kurlansky reminds that in the not too distant past regional eating was the standard, not the exception. And without a conscious effort to maintain regional American food cultures, they could end up a thing of the past.

Mr. Bittman

In nearly 30 years as a food writer, Mark Bittman has said quite a bit about food and the way we eat. Between his early career at Cook's (the predecessor to Cook's Illustrated) his writing for the New York Times, including his weekly column The Minimalist and the more recent Bitten blog, and various well known books and TV specials, Bittman has a habit of very simply saying it like it is when it comes to what we eat. And as it turns out, the man has a few good ideas.

{ Photo courtesy of MarkBittman.com }

Take his short segment from NPR's 'Kitchen Window' today. I should preface by saying that I'm becoming more and more weary of labeling food and the way we eat it (and for the record, so is Bittman). The term organic, for example, is becoming muddied by the minute as giant food producers and processors get in on the "organic" cash-cow. And as far as labeling diet goes; I take my food choices very seriously, but am I technically a vegetarian or a pescetarian? Is there a hybrid term for that plus locavore? And what if I occasionally eat meat when forced to choose between the dietary high-road and my Grandmother's feelings when she dishes up a permafrosted slice of Meat-Lover's Pizza Hut from the depths of her freezer?

{ Yikes! Photo courtesy of Sun-Sentinel.com }

That said, I do appreciate the "back to basics" approach to eating that Bittman describes in his 'Kitchen Window' piece. Following his own dietary model, Bittman suggests eating what he calls a VB6 diet, vegan before 6. He defines VB6 as something similar to a vegan diet during the day, with plenty of vegetables and whole grains, and indulging with restraint in a more typical diet of foods we love in the evening.

Of course the VB6 label is tongue-in-cheek, and I especially like that this approach to eating doesn't take itself to seriously. For those of us who want something of a blueprint to make our food choices by, the VB6 is an interesting model for improving our health and the environment while still enjoying many of the foods we grew up on. And I love the idea of deadpanning, "I'm actually a VB6. Oh, you're not familiar with the term?"

For now I plan to stick to my quasi-vegetarianism, but perhaps you'll find something interesting to the VB6 idea. And that is just the tip of the iceberg for Bittman. This won't be the last you will hear of him on Fresh, but in the meantime click here for more information about his writing or check out his most recent book, 'Food Matters.'

Empire State of Mind

I’ve been absent, but I can explain. I’ve been having an affair… With New York. I never would have guessed those words would come out of my mouth. Growing up an hour outside the city, trips into the Big Apple were required each time our relatives came to visit. I loved the time with my Southern kin, but I loathed those obligatory holiday treks into the heart of Manhattan. It meant clumsy train rides, more laps around the island on the Circle Line “cruise ship” than I care to remember, crowded elevators to the tops of the tallest buildings, shuffling around a freezing Rockefeller Center and, one time, losing my baby sister for about five minutes at the Empire State Building. She ended up being fine, but I was not. I was terrified of the city. To this day the smell of midtown, a mix of roasted street nuts and sewer pipes, makes me cringe.

But my time in the Big City this fall has opened up an entirely different New York, one that I only knew existed a few years ago when friends started migrating to neighborhoods in the Village and Brooklyn. There are many, many things to talk about when it comes to exploring the city from the vantage point of lower Manhattan; the food alone is enough to keep us all occupied for months. Which, incidentally, is exactly what has happened to me.

I have been fully consumed with consuming as much of the New York food experience as I can, and I’ve been doing it all on a shoe-string budget. Luckily, it turns out that a shoe-string is all you need for a little taste of everything. I’ve tried spicy falafel sandwiches and pumpkin gelato in the West Village, chocolate chip cookies and baguettes from favorite Brooklyn bakeries, ripe pears from the Greenmarket and cheese from Murrays', and the most memorable pizza I’ve ever eaten at Di Fara (that alone, is the subject for another post). This weekend, Justin is coming up and I could not be more excited to explore the city with him while tasting more of what the city has to offer.

{ Di Fara; where the magic happens. Photo courtesy of the New York Times }

The good news is that Fresh will back with new posts next week, hopefully followed soon after by my old dress size. Enjoy the weekend everyone, and if you have a favorite NYC food spot to share we would love to hear about it here.

Welcome, fall.

We're running just a few days behind on welcoming autumn with new seasonal artwork, but welcome nonetheless. Maybe it's just me, but I'm having a hard time keeping up with the seasons this year; they seem to be speeding by. That said, I will miss summer's abundance of berries, tomatoes, cukes and basil, though fall is definitely my favorite season for food. I am a sucker for all things roasted, and would be content eating sweet potatoes, carrots, parsnips and brussels sprouts with brown rice every day until spring arrives. The cool weather also inspires me to turn on my oven more often, and so I tend to be more creative in the kitchen once fall kicks in.


This fall, because our crazy schedule seldom allows for dinner at home together, Justin and I have been making up for lost time with celebratory Sunday night dinners. Last night was celeriac root soup, poached eggs over sauteed greens and, wait for it, roasted sweet potatoes with rice. Our ancient plumbing failed us halfway through the prep when the kitchen sink clogged, and nearly derailed our dinner plans. There was talk of calling in a pizza but my sweet (potato) tooth prevailed, and I returned to the kitchen despite the dirty, dish-stocked swimming pool in our sink. By the time we were scraping up the last bites of baked apples, vanilla frozen yogurt and caramel sauce that was our dessert, I had almost forgotten the disaster in the kitchen... Almost. A credit to the comfort of fall feasts.

{ View from a speeding car in Shenandoah National Park }

Tonight I'll be picking up a CSA share of sweet potatoes, broccoli rabe, arugula and apples, and then returning home to figure out how to eat it all in the busy week ahead. I guess there is always next Sunday...