A few years ago on a drab and snowy day, I pulled the freshly made ricotta from the fridge and mixed up a souffléed lemon ricotta pancake batter.  The plug that usually accommodates the griddle cord had mysteriously lost its juice, so an extension was strung across the kitchen floor.  Most people have better sense.

The first batch of eight pancakes were softly rising on the hot griddle and just as I was about to turn them, a clumsy move on my part pulled the extension, and by extension, the griddle straight off the counter to land upside down on a Persian rug.  Without missing a beat, I flipped over the griddle, scraped all the gooey batter back onto its surface, walked out to the porch and chucked the whole thing into the snow where it lay steaming and sizzling.

Utterly irrationally, I’ve secretly blamed the ricotta for that debacle and have never attempted those pancakes again.  But one can begrudge a good homemade food only so long and I redeemed the product and myself the other afternoon with some Lemon Ricotta Cookies.  Light and lemony pillows of cookie softness and no griddle required.

Lemon Ricotta Cookies

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I’d love to have the job of writing pithy prognostications for Fortune Cookies, except that I’d probably have to make the cookie too, and since I don’t actually like the cookie, it’s not a career soon to happen.

As doughs go, however, the Chinese Jiǎozi, informally known as The Potsticker, surely ranks among the world’s tastiest and its potential fillings are as varied as they are with Italy’s Ravioli.  The Korean version is known as Mandu, the Japanese as Gyōza, the Nepali as Momo, the Russian as Pelymeni, the Polish as Pirogy, and so on to every corner of the world.  So many little dough packets filled with so many regional ingredients are a global staple.

Pick a protein and a fresh herb and set aside an afternoon for the Zen-like assembly of many dozens of Potstickers.  Bundle them into plastic bags, store them in the freezer and cook them up fresh and speedy whenever that ‘got to have’ moment arrives.  My moment usually occurs at breakfast time and a serving of three go beautifully with a cup of Earl Grey and a spicy dipping sauce.  A day full of fortune is always sure to follow.

Garlic Pork Potstickers

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Finding a restaurant in Paris that offers good food is the easy part.  Finding a restaurant that offers good food on a table that is sized sufficiently to hold said good food is the challenge. An eighteen-inch round top cannot support two plates of omelets, two pots of hot chocolate and a shared side of fries.  The only place left to put the breadbasket is atop one’s head.

One restaurant that deviates from the tiny table syndrome and offers superb food is L’Entrecôte Porte-Maillot in the 17th arrondissement, where three generations of family Godillot have rocked the city with their take on steak-frites, which is the only entrée they serve. A simple salad of lettuce and walnuts dressed in a mustard vinaigrette precedes the entrée and guests can then choose between a small selection of desserts.

When we were there last, Hugh Grant came in with a party of eight.  I watched him from the corner of eye, heart a-twitter, and was somewhat struck that his table was left completely free of autograph hounds and camera snappers.  It was only when his dinner was finished and he strolled towards the door that every head in the dining room slowly turned to observe his exit.

Although I can’t get the contre-filet cut of sirloin used at L’Entrecote, a thick rib eye does the trick nicely, and in keeping with healthy food combining, the frites are usually replaced by a grilled green vegetable or a Baked Tomato Boursin.  Happy memories of a Parisian meal; superbly executed, on a table big enough to hold it all.

Rib-Eye Persillade and Baked Tomato Boursin

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Throughout my entire life as a cook, nothing has been so vexing as perfecting Sourdough Bread.  Equally vexing was the breadth of time required in order to determine each effort’s degree of failure.  Several batches required up to twenty hours of ‘resting’ time and thus, it would be two days later that I discovered that sourdough nirvana remained out of reach.

Other tricky foods, for example, soufflés, hot emulsions and clear jellies require no large investment of time in order to fail, and can, in fact, be quickly tossed out and a second endeavor completed before anyone lingering has blinked an eye.  Not so for the elusive sourdough which must be fed, rested and babysat like an errant child before a simple bread dough is even stirred together.

Two weeks and many five-pound bags of flour later, gratification landed with a thud on the cutting board.  The crust had buckled and cracked and emitted an assertive sour aroma.  The crumb was moist, porous and stretchy and hugged the dab of butter with enthusiasm.  And the flavor…was…inexplicably complex.  My eyes rolled back in my head, blind with enjoyment.

Bread Nirvana

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The good thing about food availability made easy through the worldwide web is somewhat cancelled by food availability made easy through the world wide web, to whit, now that all sorts of food oddities and ingredients are easily sourced, a new problem arises in trying to resist buying them all.

It is a problem I know well.  Nevertheless, I didn’t hesitate even for a moment several days ago when I pressed the Complete Order button for a shipment of Marcona Almonds and Jumbo Medjool Dates.  I can’t even rationalize that I’d done something noteworthy and deserved a treat.  I simply wanted them.  That’s all.

They arrived via priority mail this morning and sat undisturbed on the counter for nearly four hours, teasing and taunting me to create some new and titillating treatment that put both items at their best.  A sticky toffee cake studded with dates, perhaps, or ground Marconas in a Romesco Salsa smeared on grilled fish.

But something more immediate was called for, and something much more speedy.  Fifteen minutes later my fork broke into a bacon-wrapped Medjool date stuffed with blue cheese and Marcona almonds.  Salty and sweet, creamy and crunchy.  And I thought hot dates were a thing of the past!

Hot Dates!

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My favorite restaurant in the world is Café Landtmann in Vienna, Austria.  It’s always a mad dash to get there as speedily as possible after flying into Schwechat.  They have the absolute best Wiener Schnitzel vom Kalb, paniert und goldbraun gebacken, mit Petersilerdäpfeln und Blattsalat.  And no meal is complete without a warm bowlful of Marillenstrudel.

We were cozily finishing up our dinner one night when in walked a very striking couple, dressed to the nines.  The lady was grandly-sized and utilized one entire side of their booth.  Her hair was bright orange and pulled straight up to the top of her head and twisted into a small knot.  Her neck, wrists and fingers dripped an easy fifty carats of diamonds that tinkled like a chandelier.

They ordered demitasse coffees to begin with and for appetizer the lady ordered a large bowl of schlagobers, which is nothing more than sweetened whipped cream.  She ate the bowl’s worth with a small spoon, pinky finger extended.  I remember wondering why I’d never thought to order such a thing, especially in Austria where the dairy products actually have flavor.

I’m reminded of that colorful frau every time I whip cream and especially when I whip up a huge bowl of it for Famous Icebox Cake. I know this is a dessert (or appetizer) she’d surely enjoy and if she behaves I’ll let her lick the spoon.

Famous Icebox Cake

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I recently enjoyed a four-day vacation, at home, alone.  No sooner had the door closed me in than the kimchee and tofu came leaping out of the fridge and a chigae began its spit and bubble on the stovetop.  The long weekend stretched ahead of me with all my favorite foods on hand that ordinarily never get used due to their lack of popularity.

Three blue-veined cheeses were unearthed, one each from Denmark, France and Italy, enthusiastically awaiting their turn to be showcased in a fondue, a soufflé, a mushroom gratin and a compound butter (laced with cognac) that sat regally atop a petit filet mignon.

The leftover Kimchee Chigae became an early morning breakfast for the remaining mornings and set me on such an enthusiastic charge that the chores were all done before noon, thus earning me something comforting and savory in the form of Gorgonzola, Roquefort and Danablu.

The vacation ended all too soon, yet I managed to sneak in some kimchee the next day, unbeknownst to its eaters, hidden amidst Grilled Pork Bánh Mi Sliders (with Kimchee Peanut Slaw).  Hugely flavorful and loaded with healthy veggies, the sliders slid down with no one the wiser.  Clearly, what folks don’t know won’t hurt them!

Grilled Pork Bánh Mi Sliders

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My friend Kurt, whom I met in Arizona twenty years ago, is relocating from Boulder to Savannah and I am pea green with envy.  Mild winters, a beckoning seaside, and about fifty fewer sweaters is what Savannah means to me, so I’m enjoying his progress and anticipation as vicariously as can be possible.

I did a menu search of Savannah restaurants and discovered that the three constant food items offered on menus are Shrimp ‘n Grits, Crab Stew and Fried Green Tomatoes, which seem fitting for a southern seaside. And, of course, Skillet Fried Chicken, Pulled Pork BBQ and Sweet Tea fill in any dietary gaps.

Kurt has just returned from a reconnaissance trip and mentioned that he had Shrimp ‘n Grits five days in a row which put my teeth on edge and left me no choice but to up the ante in my own North Boondocks kitchen.  Out came the skillets and in the smaller one went a Grits Soufflé studded with bacon and sautéed scallion that puffed into a golden and feathery-light mass.  The big skillet seared up a pile of blackened shrimp and when the pair of skillets got together, a long and slow “Ahhhh…” ensued.

As they say down south, it was “some kinda good!”

Blackened Shrimp 'n Souffléed Grits

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Once you’ve had a New York pizza, there can be no other.  Restaurants around the world claim to serve New York pizza, but they’re not even a close facsimile of the real thing.  The very worst pizzas can be found in Russia and Korea.  In Easter Europe, popular toppings include canned corn and a sunny-side-up egg.  Italy serves a sublime pie, of course, although it’s very different from a slice of New York.

We have two pizzerias up here in the Boondocks, both of which are exceptional for being utterly unexceptional.  Tasteless dough, under-seasoned marinara and too much cheese are the prevailing problems.  One has no choice but to concoct a custom pizza in one’s own kitchen, albeit still no closer to New York.

Having some leftover marinara was ample reason yesterday to whip up a pair of pizzas for dinner.  Pepperoni and Spanish olives were on hand for toppings and in lieu of mozzarella, I used Fontina and Pecorino for the cheese.  A generous sprinkling of oregano and basil and the two discs hit the 500 degree oven with ease.

Best of all, the leftover slices were superb served cold the next morning for breakfast!

Pepperoni and Olive Pizza

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Being chained to a virtual proxy laptop for the last ten months meant scant time for preferred diversions and a daily challenge to get the bread made and a proper dinner on the table each night.  Shed now of that, my first week back into a normal routine provided the time to appreciate having time and luxuriating in that fact.

The highly satisfying art of baking gobbled up the majority of this reacquired time and happy faces and stomachs were the result.  Little fruit pies, savory Palmiers, buttermilk sandwich buns, richly fragrant herb biscuits and cherry Clafoutis started the week off with grateful enthusiasm.

By Friday, I decided to return to a previous bread experiment, left unfinished since last November.  The hope was to create a bread with a stretchy crumb and I’d previously tried numerous combinations of starters, doughs and techniques with no notable success.

After reviewing the earlier attempts, I settled on a simple overnight starter mixed into a dough not dissimilar from our everyday Basic White Bread, which resulted in a very sticky and wet dough that bloomed under its own chemistry.  My fingertips knew instantly that this was a very different dough.

The two boules baked in a very hot oven bathed in a sheen of olive oil and then rested on a rack with crusts actively crackling.  After thirty excruciating minutes of cooling, I sliced into one, certain I’d find a crumb laced with chewy, porous holes, and lo and behold, it was exactly as hoped.

Best Bread Ever!

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