New Things

This week has been so gloriously sunny that despite myself and my numerous lists I’ve resorted to pretty much passing out in the sunshine whenever I have a free moment. And then I feel bad for accomplishing nothing, so in order to make up for it I do something totally unrelated to anything I initially intended on doing solely for the sake of novelty. For instance, instead of working on an article, demolishing the massive laundry pile, etc, I chose to make sushi the other day. It was C’s idea, and I’d never made it before. While he was at work I made the sushi rice, dutifully cooling it with a fan and wooden paddle, sprinkling it with rice vinegar, and generally feeling like a badass. We prepped everything up: avocado, matchsticks of carrot (my ultimate nemesis), cucumber, smoked salmon, and shrimp. I ended up being the sushi roller, which is awesome, because it is clearly the funnest part of making sushi. And we ended up with these!

 

 

We ate them on the lawn in the gorgeous weather with plenty of pickled ginger and wasabi and soy sauce, along with some edamame on the side.

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Cinema

In a few minutes, C and I will be off to watch Jiro Dreams of Sushi at the local independent film center… I can’t wait! I hadn’t heard of it til last night, but when I saw the preview I was like OH MAH GAHHHH and quickly found that it was only playing for three days, one of which is today and tomorrow isn’t an option because I bartend. So, good job, universe! Here’s the stunning trailer.

And also, I watched Tampopo for the first time recently and was blown away. Food lovers everywhere need to see this film… how did I not hear about it earlier? Granted, the sex scenes are… weird. To say the least. But the story is brilliant, the cinematography is beautiful, and even those weird scenes are kinda fun in a squeamish way. Just don’t watch it with your parents. Yikes! Here’s my favorite scene from the film.

Happy noodling! And sushiing!

 

 

UPDATE: The movie was magical, informative, and managed to make me cry. Twice. Not because of a moving backstory, or a touching monologue, but because of the sushi. Beautiful sushi being plated in slow motion in a shallow depth of field. Crazy, I KNOW.

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Grilled Pineapple Will Win You Friends

Here’s the deal: last Sunday at 3:30 in the afternoon I was yelling across the house to C, UUUUGH I WANT GRILLED PINEAPPLE SO BAD. And then, like magic, 45 minutes later we were owners of a brand new grill. It’s nothing fancy- a charcoal grill that cost $70 that came in a plethora of parts, but after an hour of assembly (and a couple un-assemblies… whoops) we were setting up a marinade and prepping our fruits and veggies for the grill. I realize that millions of people in this world own grills, especially in the U.S., but regardless it felt like something of a milestone for us as Capable Human Adults. We assembled a functional, utilitarian item without insulting each other! We can now be outside and cook at the same time! The world is my oyster!

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And since I was all hung up on pineapple, I figured I’d share with you the proper way to prep a pineapple for easy snacking and/or kebob-ing, depending on the size of chunk you decide you want. If you don’t already know how to do this… well, you need all the help you can get. But don’t worry! This is easy, and conquering an intimidating, spiny fruit will make you feel powerful. Powerful like a Capable Human Adult! Prepare for glory!

Step one: chop the ends off!

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Step two: shave off the reptilian layer! But don’t take too much off- cut off thin slices one at a time.

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Step three: Quarter the pineapple, then cut the hard inner rind off of each quarter.

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Step four: chop it up! For snacking, slice up the pineapple slabs into thin slices. For kebabs, take each quarter and slice again lengthwise, then cut into large chunks that can slide onto skewers.

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Step five: serve with grilled chicken, some mango-cilantro salsa, and prepare for plenty of ass-kissing to roll your way. Everybody on the planet loves grilled pineapple. Or at least, everyone on the planet that I’ve met. And they will say nice things to you and you’ll probably feel pretty good about that, like I did. So happy grilling!

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Meatcookery? Yes please, in festival form!

Another successful day at Goodwill, filled with an entire aisle of culinary delights! I nearly left with an armload, but forced myself (for the sake of my meager little cookbook cabinet) to do as the naturalists do and leave only footprints, take only pictures. Because seriously, my kitchen shoes were leaving black greasy footprints ALLZ OVER THE PLACE. First up is the gloriously named Festival of Meatcookery. I know when it comes to me and meatcookery, I’m only in if it’s a fucking FESTIVAL! Where the festival currency is meat! And platters of meat spill out of every storefront! And the blue ribbon goes to creations like these (!):

I don’t know what this is, but damn it if it’s not the most abstractly lovely meat creation I’ve seen in  long time (meat gelatins not included).

Next is the 1992 book, Bread Electric. Or is it Electric Bread? DAMN IT, GRAPHICS.

I love this book because it’s rock and roll, like Journey, and edgy like Madonna, BUT WITH BREAD. Bread instead of celebrities. It’s the only way to eat bread.

Then of course there’s Madame Benoit’s Library of Canadian Cooking. 

I’m just amazed that Canada even HAS 6,000 recipes. Like, not even in this cookbook, but in Canada in general. Ha! CANADA!

And with the prize for Best Cover Photograph, Scandinavian Cooking. This book confused me because it was mostly text and pictures of Scandinavian people, and I was like, what, do I eat the people? Where is the food? And most importantly, HOW DO I FERMENT A SHARK??? From what I can tell from this photo, I dice up the shark, stuff it in a jar with onions, carrots, and presumably some vinegar or something, and then serve it alongside the world’s tallest mini-martini. Dude. If King Arthur drank extremely tall mini martinis, he’d be all over this! The glass style really screams Knights of the Round Table… well, to me anyway.

Somehow I managed to refrain from purchasing every one of these gems, though I’m kind of having non-buyer’s remorse for Festival of Meatcookery. I mean, I, like any other self-respecting meat eater, could probably do with a little more party with my protein… but what’re you gonna do. I’m nearly positive that the weird elderly gentleman who hovered behind me in the cookbook aisle for a solid 20 minutes was just waiting for moment I put down the book. So it’s probably at his house. Right next to the Iguana Care Companion Guide and Time Life’s Collector Series of the Civil War. 

The good news is that I found, possibly, the saddest snowglobe ever to be manufactured.

Poor kitty. Always struggling to get it’s face out of the water, and never, ever succeeding. And with this as your companion, it’s time for bed. Goodnight, no nightmares of meat or felines, please!

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Salmon mashed into cake shapes!

For months I’ve glimpsed the two golden cans of wild Alaskan salmon every time I opened my cabinets. And every time I’d think, oh yeah, salmon! I should make salmon cakes! But it took an inexplicable urge to actually MAKE dinner (and not just fajitas, or tacos, or any of the other commonly prepared Mexi-foods of our household) instead of eating out. So here you have it, my tried & true Sally-style salmon cakes recipe.

You need:

  • One tall can of salmon. Not the regular can size, and not the family size that soup comes in… you know. A tallish can. I’d say like, 20 ounces. Is that a thing?
  • About a quarter of a red or orange pepper, finely diced
  • About a quarter of a normal sized yellow onion, finely diced
  • Two eggs
  • 3/4 cup breadcrumbs
  • 1 and 1/2 teaspoons of mustard. I used honey-dijon, which was great. Don’t use regular yellow, that’d be weird.
  • Some of my buttermilk-lime and chili aioli, which I’ll tell you about it one hot minute.
First and foremost, preheat your oven to 425 F.
Nextly, saute up the pepper and onion with some olive oil and/or butter. While that’s softening up, empty your can of salmon into a bowl and pick out any skin or bones. I found like, a human spine, some finger-lookin’ bones, and a ton of weird black skin stuff. Don’t be alarmed, just be thorough and triple check that you got all the freaky bones out. Nothing says “scarred for life from fish products” like biting into a giant bone. Not like I know, TACO DEL MAR. Not like I SPENT A LOT OF TIME GETTING OVER THAT FISH TACO or anything. When the peppers and onions are softened, add them to the (perfectly edible) salmon, along with everything else, except the aioli, obviously. Mash all that up for a few minutes!
Line a baking sheet with parchment paper (or oil the sheet, whatever) and form the mixture into 8 cakes. They’ll be about 2.5 inches across and 3/4 inches thick. Bake them for about 15 minutes, or until they’re heated through and slightly browned on the bottom.
While they’re baking, make this aioli! If you already have buttermilk, use that, but if not, do this:
Take about 1 cup of milk and squeeze the juice from 3/4 of a lemon into it. Just cut the lemon in fourths and squeeze the juice into your hand so you catch the seeds and don’t dirty a juicer for a measly couple teaspoons of acidity. Leave that milk for 5 minutes to let it curdle and thicken. Now take a lime, and zest the whole damn thing! Chop all that zest up a bit and put it into your new buttermilk mixture. Throw in a couple tablespoons of sour cream or plain yogurt, salt and fresh ground pepper, and about 2.5 teaspoons of chili-garlic sauce. If you don’t already have a jar of this at your house, go buy it right now. It goes with absolutely everything.
Stir all that aioli up, drizzle heartily over those cakes, and serve with a little salad with sesame dressing and some of mom’s recipe cornbread, and you’re set. For the cornbread recipe, click here! It’s totally worth it if you have ten extra minutes to throw it all together, but if you’re really hungover or have another good excuse, just use two boxes of Jiffy cornbread mix. It’s super cheap, weirdly sweet, and pretty great all things considered.
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I pledge allegiance to the taco trunk.

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Oh hi, $5 pork burrito from the taco truck that recently set up a block away from my house! Between the taco truck I eat at after my bar shifts at 2:30 am and this one that makes for an amazing lunch in the sunshine BEFORE my bar shifts, I’m digging my own grave. A delicious, greasy grave.

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A little more pork!

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Another pork-filled odyssey of eating has been published in the Weekly, here’s the link! But if you’re lazy you can read it here.

Life of the Party

The tastes of Peru at Café Rumba

Like it or not, a pork sandwich from Café Rumba is going to stay with you all day (unless you’re the type who carries three kinds of breath mints on your person). But for those of you flavor-loving folks who aren’t afraid of a little onion, this is your type of place. Co-owners Marco Mellet and Antonio Diaz are native Peruvians who pursue their cooking with the same gusto as the lively Latin music that cheerfully contributes to the café’s sunny atmosphere. With a two-level open kitchen, green and red walls, plenty of hanging plants, and checkered curtains, this is the sort of space that immediately welcomes you like the confines of a close friend’s living room.

Below colorful paintings depicting Latin street scenes I enjoyed the basic satisfaction of a hearty sandwich: a fresh, fluffy warmed French roll with shredded marinated pork, cilantro, peppers, and thick cut red onion ($6.25). If you’re a bit squeamish about fat like I am, you’ll find yourself pulling out fatty bits, but I also know that most people would have no problem chomping into some especially rich and fatty pork. I paired my lunch with an Inca Kola, a popular Peruvian canned drink that tastes like cream soda had a love affair with Coke. With each sandwich they serve a boiled potato with a slightly spicy, creamy huancaina sauce, made from the Peruvian yellow pepper so prominent in Peruvian cooking, the aji amarillo. The potato side is a refreshing change from a pickle or potato chips, and it serves the same complimentary purpose.

I knew my similarly minded pork lover boyfriend needed to experience Café Rumba, so I brought him along for round two. This time I ordered the braised beef sandwich with marinara ($6.25), which initially I wasn’t that excited about. Beef and marinara aren’t words I find particularly appetizing when paired up, but I figured that I owed it a chance. Our lunch was ready a few short moments later, and it looked great. As an afterthought we ran up for some soup du jour ($3): squash and potato with aji amarillo to pair with our meat-heavy meals. He, of course, was ecstatic about the pork, proclaiming that he would definitely be coming back again. I was pleasantly surprised by the beef—at first dubious about my choice, I became instantly unsure which sandwich I preferred after all. Unlike the thick, saucy, acidic marinara I associate with Italian dishes, this had a lightened, sweetened, and subtle marinara flavor. The beef, perfectly braised, tender, and shredded while still maintaining its texture, was lightly coated in the sauce and served on the French roll. Since it didn’t come with onions I snagged some that had fallen out of my boyfriend’s sandwich to add a little crunch to mine. With or without onions though, it was a treat you can’t find anywhere else in Bellingham. To add more punch to your sandwich you can request a number of traditional sauces, including an olive sauce, a tangy mayonnaise, and a black mint sauce, among others.

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Our soup was wholly unnecessary—not that we didn’t like it, but our stomachs were pretty crammed with sandwich by the time we came up for air and remembered our neglected soup. Regardless, it was pleasant enough. Simple, earthy, and well seasoned, this soup wasn’t glamorous, but it was made well and would pair perfectly with any of the menu items if you had a big appetite. Before we slipped into food comas I tried a bite of the milhojas, a traditional dessert of layered puff pastry and dulce de leche ($3). Wisely pre-packaged in a plastic to-go container, it’s as if the staff anticipated that you would never, ever be able to finish this rich dessert after ingesting any of their menu items. That’s true… though we did try. The puffy pastry was perfectly flaky, and coupled with the rich and creamy caramel of the dulce de leche, tasted wonderfully opulent. One bite was enough for me, and we took the rest home with us to be nibbled on throughout the afternoon.

Before I leave, Antonio tells me that in Peru, “to rumba” doesn’t just mean to dance, it means to party. When he and Marco discussed opening this restaurant, he says, they both wanted it to be fun, bright, and homey. It’s clear that this café is more than just authentic Peruvian cooking; it is filled with authentic people who wanted to bring the life of the party straight from Peru to good old Bellingham, Washington.

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Do you see what I’m trying to work with?

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Ok, so I got around to the bread test mentioned in the article I linked to the other day. It took longer than I thought it would, and I ended up having to up the temperature to 450 so I could see any progress on the toast at all, but after 15 minutes, this is what I got. The lefthand pan is from the bottom shelf, and the righthand is from the top shelf of the oven. You can tell that the back cooks a little hotter than the front of the oven, and the bottom does as well. But if you turn the bread over to see what the slices look like, this is what you get.

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Great. So, no new hotspots to report– just what I already knew all along: THIS OVEN BLOWS. The other side of the bread from the top shelf has no noticeable browning, but 6 inches below that rack the heating element is absolutely murdering anything near it. Therefore my hypothesis is this: besides all the pan rotating I already do to evenly heat baked goods (front to back, top to bottom), I must also flip the food over several times. Obviously this is impossible for cookies/muffins/cakes, AND pies, so clearly, I AM DOOMED. NO UNBURNT BAKED GOODS SHALL PASS THROUGH THIS KITCHEN. Good thing I did this experiment! I am now 100% more irritated than I already was.

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Kitchen Tales From the Crypt

From the get-go, let me say this: I am 100% ashamed to share this awful glimpse of my reality with you. That said, IT MUST BE DONE. Listen here, I may be a cook, live with another cook, be totally obsessed with all topics culinary and be some weird strain of food snob, but this is a most universal problem.

World, meet my kitchen.

Oh. God. Trust me, for as much of a visual assault this is to you, it is 1000% more painful for me at this moment. But please, let me explain. For starters,  C and I are renters. Oftentimes we want to change something to be more practical/efficient/easier on the eyes in the home, but then we are confronted with the question: is it worth it? We are constantly on the lookout for a larger space to rent and are somewhat prepared to leave if given the opportunity, so we never end up sinking too much time or energy into what we consider “temporary problems.” That said, the lack of kitchen space/storage/organization has been driving us nuts for months now (after our first temporary fix exploded into an avalanche of pots one unassuming evening). Between the two of us we have just about every practical kitchen device, utensil, service dish, and piece of cookware imaginable, which made for the monstrosity of chaos witnessed in above photographs. But we finally caved and snagged some dowels and a piece of plywood to make an easy shelf insert for the big, impossible-to-reach anything floor level cabinet. That definitely helped the situation.

That was an immense relief. We also cleared out the absolutely useless junk drawer, which means that I threw away 50% of the stuff in there, then found proper homes for the rest of the stuff. We clearly needed another drawer for our array of ravioli stamps, paring knives, peelers, kitchen twine, novelty salt & pepper salt shakers, pie crimpers, and other useful-though-not-used-everyday sort of things.

It’s no show-stopper, but at least the gadgets got a home of their own, instead of being smashed into our everyday utensil drawer. Speaking of which, here’s what it looks like now (sans most all of the silverware, which was in the drying rack and I was too lazy to put away):

I should buy (and probably will, when I find one) a proper utensil organizer that actually fits this drawer, but until then, at least every time I try to grab a fork I don’t have to wrestle with three different sets of measuring cups to close the damn thing. It’s the little things.

And about that other bottom cabinet full of saute pans and stock pots? Well… we haven’t quite gotten there, yet. It still looks like hell– we just have to muster the 10 minutes of energy to bust out the drill and reconfigure the shelf situation in there. Oh, first world problems.

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Lookie here!

I stumbled across a few really interesting links today and figured I’d share.

Cooking light posted a great article about common cooking mistakes (and how to remedy them). I first glanced at it expecting rookie mistakes, but it covers a good range of foibles and fixes for all skill levels. For instance, I already knew that my oven has a mind of it’s own (roughly the same as a sadistic toddler), but I hadn’t thought of doing the bread test (pictured above). I don’t have any white bread in the house, but I’ll pick up a cheap loaf at the store this weekend to see where my oven’s hotspots are. Maybe this way I won’t have to break every recipe into 7 minute increments punctuated by rotations, switches, and general dancing of hot pans. Check out the article  here !

Recently I was a bit restless after a bartending shift, so I figured I’d swing by my old favorite dumpster to see what it had in store. I hadn’t been dumpstering in years, so I’m not really sure what provoked me to give it a go that particular night, but I’m glad I did. After 3 minutes I was loading my car with fresh roses, tulips, and daisies and an entire crate of olive oil. The oil was shipped fresh from Italy that day, it was printed on the box, so it wasn’t expired. I’m assuming that since the box had a lot of oil on the outside it was tossed on the presumption that the bottles inside were damaged. Well, aside for a few dents on some of their lids, they were all fine, and now I’m swimming in olive oil. I gave a few bottles away, but even though I use it regularly I thought it might be fun to make a few infused oils to have around for salads or cooking with meats. Here’s a link to some ideas on infusing oils (I’ll be trying it out next weekend, after I’ve finished the food review I’m putting off at this very moment). Apparently though, garlic infused oils have killed approximately 3,000 baby koala bears and blinded just as many kittens, so avoid that, lest the botulism snag you too.

Also, here’s a video of the best kind of sandwich joint I can imagine. If and when I ever get the chance to go to New York, I want to seek out all the little places like this. Here’s the quick little video that is guaranteed to make you want corned beef in and around your mouth (followed by a milkshake, omg).

And lastly, since today was such a lovely spring day (bike ride in a tee shirt!? Granted, I had goosebumps the whole time, but it still felt great), I’m thinking a little about spring produce. Asparagus season is upon us, when I can happily bury my face in a pile of roasted asparagus with nothing but some oil, salt, and pepper. But I did learn something today that surprised me… kitchn.com debunked the “thin asparagus is better than thick” debate! Who knew?

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