St. Michaels, Maryland: Part 2

"If we don't offer ourselves to the unknown, our senses dull. Our world becomes small and we lose our sense of wonder. Our eyes don't lift to the horizon; our ears don't hear the sounds around us. The edge is off our experience, and we pass our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting." - Kent Nerburn on traveling from Letters to my Son

For someone who begins the first moments of every morning with a bowl of Barbara’s brand cereal with original-flavored almond milk followed by a cup of strong coffee, mildly diluted with half and half and sugar, I can speak candidly about finding comfort in routine. And while I love to travel, I am also shamefully famous for on-the-road food-related tantrums like the time I woke up at a bed and breakfast in Ojai to discover that no breakfast basket had arrived at the door like it had the previous morning at eight o’clock sharp. I thought perhaps the breakfast folks were running late, so while Matt tried to sleep, I anxiously waited for thirty minutes before finally calling the front desk, only to receive the information that they delivered complimentary breakfasts on the weekend, and since it was Monday, there would be no breakfast. What did that even mean—there would be no breakfast? At this, I took the next logical step. I ran and leapt into the air, throwing myself in what Matt describes as a sloppy, swan dive onto the bed and buried my face in the pillow in such dramatic fashion that the memory of it still makes him laugh. Needless to say, driving across the country with me was also difficult on him. A scene at the Hampton Inn in Flagstaff comes to mind. No skim milk? Excuse me while I go upstairs and destroy my hotel room. 

But despite securing my breakfast staples at the beginning of this week’s vacation on the Chesapeake—“I’ll go to the grocery store! I don’t mind!”—I couldn’t help but feel hyper aware of all the ways that my world in this giant city of Los Angeles has indeed become very small. Starting with the east coast humidity. I grew up on the east coast and go home at least once a year but how quickly do I forget about that thick, hot air that kind of just lands on your skin and stays there indefinitely?

Then there were all the conversations and catching up at the wedding with all of Matt’s and my distant relatives we rarely get to see and whose lives are so rich and so different from ours. Speaking of different than ours, there was a smattering of b-a-b-i-e-s. While in Philadelphia for the wedding, I met up with my best friend from college who I hadn’t seen in over a year and who had just had her second baby a mere ten days earlier. It was so wonderful to see how she hasn’t changed a bit yet has this entire beautiful family at the same time. And then, we spent the week with our adorable nephew (whose toe point is highlighted in Part 1 of this wrap-up) and super cute niece, Isabel, who, plain as the eye can see, took to her aunt quite naturally.

I did, however, feel instantly comfortable in the enormous kitchen with the Viking range, granite countertops and dishwasher. So much so that when Matt and I left for the grocery store on the last day of vacation to shop for ingredients for dinner that night, we had only a vague game plan as to what we would make. We’d had the most amazing grilled rockfish at a local restaurant the previous night so we thought we might attempt that. If they had oysters, we thought we could grill those. Basically, we were very into the idea of grilling something, but we were comfortable with not knowing what that would be exactly. But then we arrived at Captain’s Ketch and the fresh jumbo lump crabmeat and the idea of some classic Maryland crab cakes called to us. (We would’ve had to catch a lot of crab to have acquired enough crabmeat to make one crab cake let alone enough to feed the seven of us.)

And so we returned home very nourished and with the edge back on our experiences—at least for the time being. We got in really late last Saturday night without enough energy to pick up either cereal or almond milk. Fortunately for everyone though, we did have some oatmeal and somehow, I managed to keep it together.


Crab Cakes adapted from recipe by Paula Deen
serves 8

2 pounds jumbo lump crabmeat
6 to 8 crackers, crushed
4 scallions (green and white parts), finely chopped
2-3 tablespoons of chives, finely chopped
1/4 cup chopped parsley
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 egg
1 teaspoon dijon mustard
1/2 lemon, juiced
1 teaspoon salt
fresh ground pepper
1/2 teaspoon seafood seasoning (The house came equipped with this tub of seasoning, which we taste-tested and feel semi-confident in saying that it was probably a mix of salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, and cayenne.)
tartar sauce, for serving
olive oil

Directions
In a large bowl, mix together all ingredients except olive oil. Shape into patties. (We found that the smaller the patties, the more manageable they were to flip and keep from falling apart. I’d say to aim for a size slightly smaller than an English muffin.)

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. When oil is hot, carefully place crab cakes, in batches, in pan and fry until browned, about 4 to 5 minutes. Carefully flip crab cakes and fry on other side until golden brown, about 4 minutes. Serve warm with tartar sauce.

St. Michaels, Maryland: Part 1

In terms of feeling better about life in general, let's face it, vacation works. So much so that I’d like to shoot a commercial for it. It'd be like one of those psuedo-spiritual, super general ads you watch and aren’t sure what’s being pitched until the very end when white letters appear over a calm scene and spell out Nike. Or Cotton. Or Cialis. But at the end of my commercial, that word would be vacation.
This vacation began with a wedding. These guys below? Why, they're the Manhattan boys, of course, pictured clutching their signature drink, The Manhattan.
The following morning it was onward and eastward to St. Michaels, Maryland where we would be staying for the week in a beautiful house sitting on a 160 acre farm on the Chesapeake Bay.

(This is what humidity looks like.)

When the owner of the house stopped by to show us how to use the fairly intense stereo system, he told us that he'd built the house so that the front faced the bay. Matt took the below photo from a kayak-in-motion. The place could probably be described as pretty, no?

Being on the Chesapeake, I had major designs on a crab-related attempt. In fact, that's what I'm thinking about here in my temporary Ina Garten-esque kitchen. So when the owner also told us about the crab pots at the end of our dock, Matt and my heads nearly exploded. You have what now? Tell us more. This sounds like a job for the Manhattan boys. Do you have bitters and a jigger of vermouth?

We quickly learned the ropes of dockside crabbing. Step 1: Purchase chicken necks. Step 2: Fill the pots with our newly acquired chicken necks. Step 3: Give the pots an overnight soak. Step 4: Check the pots early in the morning for terrapins. If you see a terrapin, set it free. No questions asked. Step 5: If you see crabs, grab them with gloved hands and put them in a green bucket, filled with bay water. Also, by no means kick in more than two pots—each dock is allowed two, any more and the professional crabbers will come by and cut your ropes!
This next part was the trickiest. We had to kill them. David Foster Wallace's essay, "Consider the Lobster" immediately came to mind. Namely, the part where he asks: "Is it all right to boil a sentient creature alive just for our gustatory pleasure?" Well, having been firmly faced with this task for the first time in my life, I can tell you that it certainly didn't feel all right, which is strange for any number of reasons, but particularly so considering that just the other week I basked in the retelling of the deliciousness of linguine and clams—fundamental to which, is the killing of live clams.

A few pages later, however, Foster Wallace offers this: "The whole animal-cruelty-and-eating issue is not just complex, it's also uncomfortable. It is, at any rate, uncomfortable for me, and for just about everyone I know who enjoys a variety of foods and yet does not want to see herself as cruel or unfeeling. As far as I can tell, my own main way of dealing with this conflict has been to avoid thinking about the whole unpleasant thing." And see, that's the problem with a live crab or lobster. The fact that they are moving and you are the one that is going to stop them from moving ever again makes this notion of you as a cruel or unfeeling person unavoidable. But if we want to eat them, we should, at least in some circumstances, be able to deal with this unpleasantness. Otherwise, we shouldn't be eating them at all, right?

In the end, we killed them. They didn't move around for long. And yes, they were delicious. And yes, it feels wrong to say that. However, I feel I've made some awkward strides in the never-ending journey of understanding the food I eat and where it comes from and tried my best to honor the lives of those blue crabs. Now, can we please talk about the corn? Oh, the corn! The Mexican-style roasted corn! I loved it so much.



There were so many reasons to love this corn. For starters, there was no moral dilemma tied to it. Secondly, it was covered in mayonnaise and topped with cheese, cilantro, chile powder, and lime juice. It was both indulgent and fresh-tasting at the same time, and our amazingly cute nephew, Henry, unexpectedly boasted a perfect toe point during the grilling process.

So much more to come. Stay tuned for St. Michaels, Maryland: Part 2!

Mexican-Style Roasted Corn via Saveur
serves 4

4 large ears corn, with husks still attached
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1 1/2 cups crumbled cotija cheese (We substituted shredded cheddar.)
4 tbsp. minced fresh cilantro
4 tsp. ancho chile powder
Kosher salt and freshly ground black
pepper, to taste
1 lime, cut into four wedges

1. Working with one ear of corn at a time, peel back the husks to expose the kernels, leaving husks attached at the base; remove the silk threads and tie husks together with kitchen twine around base of cob to form a handle. Repeat with remaining ears. (We didn't do this step and it turned out all right.) Transfer corn to a large bowl or pot of water and let soak for 30 minutes. FYI: this includes the husks! (We only soaked the corn and the husks kept catching fire on the grill.)

2. Build a medium-hot fire in a charcoal grill or heat a gas grill over medium-high heat. Transfer corn to grill; cook, turning occasionally, until charred and cooked through, about 20 minutes. Remove corn from grill and brush with mayonnaise. Place cheese on a plate and roll each ear of corn in cheese to coat. Sprinkle corn evenly with some of the cilantro, chile powder, and salt and pepper, pressing the corn so that seasonings and cheese will adhere to the mayonnaise. Serve with lime wedges.

Summer Pudding

We're traveling, dear readers! We're on the east coast for a beautiful wedding that took place last night and now we have a week with our family at the Chesapeake Bay. And while it's only the end of our first day here, I already know that it's going to be a spectacular week. How do I know this? Because I can feel the stress leaving my body—and even see traces of it gone from my face. Because I was relaxed enough to have a beer with my lunch. Because I was relaxed enough to leave my cell phone at the house while we grocery shopped. Because I have checked my email only a handful of times since we left on Saturday. (That's a lie. I'm sure I've checked it thirty times or so, but it feels like a handful.) Because I prioritized reading the short story from this week's New Yorker instead of the nonfiction like I usually do. Because right now, I'm about to publish this post without having edited it half as much as I normally do.

The only minor glitch in this whole scenario is that before I left town I forgot to take a photo of Ina's version of this summer pudding, and I really wanted to show it to you as it's clearly the most beautiful dessert in the world. And well, our version doesn't quite do it justice.

our version:

photo by Sean Moe

For one, I didn't cut the crusts off the bread as directed. I thought leaving them on might add for a more interesting texture. I was wrong. The texture was virtually the same throughout so all this really did was make it look less pretty once it was unmolded. And secondly, I didn't fully saturate the bread with all of the berry juice. Thus, those non-purple spots above there.

I could have fully saturated the bread, but I was greedy. See, we were taking the larger summer pudding to our friends house for dinner and I wanted to make a couple of individual-sized ones to leave at home in case we ate it all and, God forbid, Matt and I were left Summer Pudding-less the following night.

above two photos by Sean Moe

Two aspects really made this dish go from standard-delicious to over-the-top amazing. The first is the rum whipped cream. The second is the temperature outside versus the temperature of the pudding. We ate this refreshing, ice cold pudding on one of those hot Los Angeles afternoons that have the ability of turning our old 1920s-era apartment buildings and houses into tropical havens of hot air. For posterity, it should probably also be noted that we enjoyed it after a few plates of food that looked like this:

Oh, and the following night, the mini version didn't let us down either.

My suggestion: make this today. (It won't be ready until tomorrow, but it's so worth it.) See you after vacation!

UPDATE: For the slaw component from the above taco photos, click here. For the rest of the recipe, check back. I'll post it as soon as possible!


Summer Pudding via Barefoot Contessa Family Style
ingredients
1 pint fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 half-pints fresh raspberries, divided
2 half-pints fresh blueberries
2 tablespoons framboise (raspberry brandy)
1 loaf brioche or egg bread (1 to 1 1/2 pounds)

directions
Combine the strawberries, sugar, and 1/4 cup of water in a medium saucepan and cook uncovered over medium-low heat for 5 minutes. Add 2 half-pints of raspberries and all the blueberries and cook, stirring occasionally, until the mixture reaches a simmer. Cook for one minute. Off the heat, stir in the remaining raspberries and the framboise.

Slice the bread in 1/2-inch-thick slices and remove the crusts. In the bottom of a 7 1/2-inch round by 3-inch high souffle or baking dish, ladle about 1/2 cup of the cooked berry mixture. Arrange slices of bread in a pattern (this will become the top when it's unmolded) and then add more berry mixture to saturate. Continue adding bread, cutting it to fit the mold, and berries. Finish with bread and cooked berries, using all of the fruit and syrup.

Place a sheet of plastic wrap loosely over the pudding. Find a plate approximately the same diameter as the inside of the mold and place it on top. Weight the mold with a heavy can and refrigerate. Remove the weight after 6 to 8 hours. Cover the pudding with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

Just before serving, run a knife around the outside of the pudding and unmold it upside down onto a serving plate. Serve in wedges with rum whipped cream.

Rum Whipped Cream:
1 cup (1/2 pint) cold heavy cream
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 tablespoon dark rum

Whip the cream in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. When it starts to thicken, add the sugar, vanilla, and rum. Continue to whip until it forms stiff peaks. Serve cold.

Robyn's "Call Your Girlfriend"

How else to explain this week's post other than the fact that I couldn't get this music video out of my head? I kept watching it over and over again until eventually I found myself emailing my friends sentences like: "I want to bon appetempt this video." And I guess when you say this kind of thing to people who happen to be talented and hilarious go-getters that will also allow you to take over a room of their house for the afternoon, borrow their clothes, and helpfully shout directions at you while you dance, the below happens—the below being Bon Appetempt's first music video.

Robyn's version:

my version:

Many many thanks to Heather, Jeana, and Brad for what was easily one of the most fun afternoons I've had in a long time. Let's do it again sometime?

Linguine with Clams

For the most part, the recipes I share here are one-offs—I try the recipe, photograph the process, eat the results, write all about it, and then rarely, if ever, make it again. So, given the fact that I made this pasta for the first time months ago and have made it three times since, I had to ask myself: why oh why have I not shared this one already? Or, as Matt put it: “You must really have something against this delicious meal, huh?”

But I don’t. It’s my current favorite make-at-home dinner. So, what’s the hold up? Well, I got it from GOOP—Gwyneth Paltrow’s lifestyle site. And thus, to write about this recipe, I would have to tackle the trifecta that is Gwyneth, GOOP, and her new cookbook, which seems to bring out strong opinions in people. And not only did I find myself lacking anything remarkable to contribute to this discussion, I realized that Gwyneth just doesn’t get me talking people’s ears off like other topics do. Other topics, like, say, Hunger Games or the amazing music coming out of Sweden or the inconsistencies between how the producers of The Bachelorette handled the whole Bentley thing versus the way they handled that woman who got kicked off The Bachelor for allegedly flirting with one of the producers (so lame!).

That said, I think I have a couple of things to share that we can all agree on.
1. GOOP gave me free access to an inspiring Mario Batali recipe I would have otherwise had to pay for, and a recipe that has since made its way into my weekday life, which is basically, as previously discussed, the best case scenario in new recipe-testing, and that is pretty cool.
2. Gwyneth’s hair is pretty.

If you’ve never purchased live clams before, I can understand the hesitation, but guess what? Prior to this, I hadn’t either. And now that I’ve purchased them on four separate occasions, please allow me to share my experience-based knowledge. For starters, the recipe calls for “small clams, such as Manila, or cockles,” but my local grocery store only had littlenecks, a.k.a. larger clams. (The descriptor littleneck simply refers to a clam’s size—not an area on the east coast lousy with clams or something like that, which is what I previously thought.) And the first time I bought these littlenecks, I did just as the recipe told me and bought one pound. Guess how many littlenecks were in one pound? Five. Kind of a bummer, which brings us to my next tip: Get more than a pound if you’re buying littlenecks and would like to serve people more than one clam. 

Once you’re home, give these clams a nice rinse and a bit of a scrub. This gets the dirt and/or sand off and can actually be kind of nice because it might remind you of where they came from—Whole Foods! (Just kidding, the correct answer is the ocean floor.) If any of them are slightly open, give those ones a little tap and kindly ask them to close on up. If they do, they’re good to go. If not, you must toss them and hopefully not be down to four total clams.

 

Once everything is prepped, this meal comes together really quickly. And if all goes well, the result should look something like this:

Don’t even think of forgetting or skimping on the parsley. It makes the dish.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is: Thanks for the recipe, Gwyneth and Mario! The three of us should all hang out again soon, yeah? xoxo

Linguine Con Le Vongole / Linguine with Clams via Goop / Mario Batali
Serves: 4-6
1 pound dried linguine
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
6 garlic cloves, sliced
1 pound small clams, such as Manila, or cockles, scrubbed
1 tablespoon red chile flakes (optional)
1 cup dry white wine
1 bunch Italian parsley
3 tablespoons Kosher salt

Bring 6 quarts of water to a boil. Salt the water. Drop the linguine into the boiling water.

While pasta cooks, make the sauce. In a 12- to 14-inch sauté pan, heat the olive oil over medium high heat. Add the sliced garlic.

Cook the garlic until it's fragrant. Before the garlic gets too brown, add in the clams. Add the chili flakes and white wine. Cover the pan and cook until the clams steam open.

While cooking, coarsely chop parsley, including stems.

Drain the linguine when it is one minute short of the cooking time on the package instructions and put it in the sauté pan with the clams. Toss the pasta in the pan to allow it to absorb the broth.

Remove any unopened clams. Add parsley and toss together. Serve the pasta. Finish with a pinch of chiles.

Gaufres de Liege (Belgian Sugar Waffles)

Friends! I made some waffles for the annual No Cookie Left Behind bake sale. They turned out fairly pretty, no? Though I do have a few hot tips to share if you are planning on making a batch of these on your own. 

1. Get your friends to help you. (Thank you, Heather and Jeana!) This is especially key if you enjoy a friendship with a proud owner of a waffle iron.

2. If you can't find pearl sugar, sprinkle the turbinado sugar on the dough right before pressing it in the iron—that way, we discovered, you can still get the nice melty, caramelization effect on top.  

3. Eat them while they're nice and hot. Either that or toast them up later and pair with cream—iced or whipped, the choice is yours.

Also, for those who couldn't make it to the bake sale but would still like to donate to Share Our Strength, click here! And thank you!

Gaufres de Liege via The Kitchn (with more helpful tips via Not Martha)
makes 12 waffles
6 tablespoons warm milk (no hotter than 110°F)
1/2 teaspoons granulated sugar 

2 teaspoons instant yeast
1 1/2 cups (230 grams) bread flour, sifted
1 teaspoons cinnamon
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoons salt
1 medium egg
1 egg yolk
1/2 cup (4 oz) unsalted butter, at slightly cooler than room temperature
140 grams (3/4 cup) turbinado sugar, or pearl sugar if you choose
Cooking spray

Dissolve the sugar in the warm milk; then add the yeast. Make sure that the milk is not too hot, lest it kill the yeast instead of promoting its growth. Place a plate or some kind of cover on top of the bowl with the milk, sugar and yeast. Set aside for about five minutes. When you check on it, the yeast should have bubbled up, looking light brown and spongy. (See first photo above.)

Meanwhile, mix the sifted bread flour with the cinnamon, vanilla extract, and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer. Pour in the yeast mixture; then add the whole egg and egg yolk. Mix on medium speed until it is fully combined. The dough will be yellow and stiff, yielding only slightly to a poke.

Cover the mixing bowl with plastic wrap and let the dough rest in a warm place for about thirty minutes.

Beat in the butter piece by piece; you do not have to wait for the prior piece to be fully incorporated before adding the next. When the dough has incorporated about half of the butter, the mixture will be like a very thick, somewhat broken-up paste. If you keep engaging the mixer on medium-high speed, the dough will eventually become a cohesive whole, looking smoother and more feeling more elastic. Scrape the sides of the bowl if needed.

Kneading very gently, incorporate the sugar crystals just enough to get them evenly distributed. Work quickly so as not to soften the buttery dough too much.

Divide the dough into a dozen equal pieces, gently forming them into balls.

Place the balls of dough on a cutting board in a warmish place for fifteen minutes or so. During the last two minutes of this resting time, preheat your waffle iron until it is very warm, but not hot.

Spray the griddles with cooking oil. Place each ball of dough in a whole square or section of the waffle iron. Like regular waffle batter, the dough will start to puff up. Cook the waffles until the surface is golden to dark brown. Be sure that the waffle iron you are using is appropriately deep, or else the interior of the waffle will not be cooked through. If you are using a vintage stovetop waffle iron, flip the iron every thirty to forty seconds, lifting the iron to check the rate of browning. The browning should be gradual to allow the interior to fully develop.

Set the waffles on a cooling rack as they come out of the iron to promote a crispy exterior. Serve immediately with a sprinkling of powdered sugar.

Any leftover waffles, if they are not dark brown, can be carefully re-cooked in a toaster for approximately thirty to sixty seconds. Leftover waffles may also be kept in an airtight container between sheets of parchment paper, for up to three days.