Wed - September 30, 2009
The Virtues of Armagnac
Before there was Cognac, before there was Calvados,
and even long before Christopher Columbus was a twinkle in his father’s
eye, there was Armagnac.
Ar-muhn-what, you say with a crinkle of your nose.
My favorite French eau-de-vie, spirit, brandy, I say. It’s the oldest French spirit yet the least known in the land that Columbus landed upon in 1492.
Having never achieved the notoriety of Cognac, Calvados, or other spirits those familiar with palate-pleasing, soul-warming essence of Armagnac are few and far between.
Sad I say.
With hints of pear, prune (think dried plums, not Grandma), notes of floral with linden, and perhaps oak, toast, smoke, coffee, and cocoa imparted by the barrel aging, Armagnac is a lovely finish to a satisfying meal.
Like Cognac, only brandy from a very specific region in France can be called Armagnac and only brandy that has met very rigorous production standards. Everything from maximum grape yields, vinification, distillation, and ageing are strictly controlled.
Unlike Cognac where large production houses dominate and where uniformity of taste from bottle to bottle is desired, there are 5,000 Armagnac producers who collectively produce 6 million bottles yearly.
Recent French research claimed that drinking Armagnac has the same health benefits of red wine. Prior Vital Dufour, Doctor of Medicine, and ordained Cardinal in 1313 wrote this about the medicinal benefits of Armagnac:
“This water, if taken medicinally, and soberly is said to have 40 virtues…
It cures gout, cankers, and fistula by ingestion, restores the paralysed member by massage, and heals wounds of the skin by application.
It enlivens the spirit, partaken in moderation, recalls the past to memory, renders men joyous, preserves youth and retards senility.
And when retained in the mouth, it loosens the tongue and emboldens the wit, if someone timid from time to time permits himself…”
Medicinal or not, the French love their Armagnac. Forty percent of what they make never leaves the country.
And despite the swirl of change that has brought most of the world into the modern age, Armagnac is still produced very much like it was hundreds of years ago: on single estates that make use of traveling stills, alembics, the design of which was patented in 1818.
Chateau du Busca Maniban is one such Armagnac producer. Located in the Tenareze region of Armagnac, the chateau is listed as a French historical monument.
Following a private lunch and tour of Chateau du Busca with the Chateau’s owner, we stood outside on the beautifully manicured lawn on a crisp January afternoon and surveyed the gentle, rolling hills of the Tenerze region of Armagnac.
Very little has changed of this view, she commented. This is the same view that my grandmother, and her grandmother, and her grandmother and so on for many generations have looked upon, she said.
I took a deep breath.
This I have never experienced: a sense of history, connection, and respect for the people who have come and passed before us, and of the earth that gives wonderful gifts to those who care for it and love it.
The land has remained virtually unchanged from generation to generation. There are no housing developments, no retail developments, no parking lots, no freeways. There’s no motivation to change the inherent beauty of life and land that has produced a spirit in the same way for hundreds of years.
Winston Churchill once said, "There's nothing wrong with change, as long as it is in the right direction." Seems to me then that if you're going in the right direction, there's no need for change.
I am thankful that the French are only 40 percent stingy with their Armagnac.
Sandra's Notes:
-Photos from my France trip can be viewed here. The trip was an amazing immersion into the world of Cognac and Armagnac, meeting the producers, learning how the grapes are grown and made into wine, then witnessing first-hand how the grapes are transformed into spirit. In addition to Chateau du Busca, I toured the Darroze Armagnac cellar and lunched with Marc Darroze. I toured the Vicard Tonnelleries and learned about the business of making wine barrels from the felling of the tree to the finished, toasted barrel. I couldn't leave the Bordeaux area without a couple of wine vineyard tours. Mine included Chateau Smith Haut Lafitte and Chateau Pitray. The history and charm of the French countryside is hard to describe. Take a look at the photos and see for yourself why I sometimes daydream about taking myself and my new French culinary skills to France for a very, very long stay.
Ar-muhn-what, you say with a crinkle of your nose.
My favorite French eau-de-vie, spirit, brandy, I say. It’s the oldest French spirit yet the least known in the land that Columbus landed upon in 1492.
Having never achieved the notoriety of Cognac, Calvados, or other spirits those familiar with palate-pleasing, soul-warming essence of Armagnac are few and far between.
Sad I say.
With hints of pear, prune (think dried plums, not Grandma), notes of floral with linden, and perhaps oak, toast, smoke, coffee, and cocoa imparted by the barrel aging, Armagnac is a lovely finish to a satisfying meal.
Like Cognac, only brandy from a very specific region in France can be called Armagnac and only brandy that has met very rigorous production standards. Everything from maximum grape yields, vinification, distillation, and ageing are strictly controlled.
Unlike Cognac where large production houses dominate and where uniformity of taste from bottle to bottle is desired, there are 5,000 Armagnac producers who collectively produce 6 million bottles yearly.
Recent French research claimed that drinking Armagnac has the same health benefits of red wine. Prior Vital Dufour, Doctor of Medicine, and ordained Cardinal in 1313 wrote this about the medicinal benefits of Armagnac:
“This water, if taken medicinally, and soberly is said to have 40 virtues…
It cures gout, cankers, and fistula by ingestion, restores the paralysed member by massage, and heals wounds of the skin by application.
It enlivens the spirit, partaken in moderation, recalls the past to memory, renders men joyous, preserves youth and retards senility.
And when retained in the mouth, it loosens the tongue and emboldens the wit, if someone timid from time to time permits himself…”
Medicinal or not, the French love their Armagnac. Forty percent of what they make never leaves the country.
And despite the swirl of change that has brought most of the world into the modern age, Armagnac is still produced very much like it was hundreds of years ago: on single estates that make use of traveling stills, alembics, the design of which was patented in 1818.
Chateau du Busca Maniban is one such Armagnac producer. Located in the Tenareze region of Armagnac, the chateau is listed as a French historical monument.
Following a private lunch and tour of Chateau du Busca with the Chateau’s owner, we stood outside on the beautifully manicured lawn on a crisp January afternoon and surveyed the gentle, rolling hills of the Tenerze region of Armagnac.
Very little has changed of this view, she commented. This is the same view that my grandmother, and her grandmother, and her grandmother and so on for many generations have looked upon, she said.
I took a deep breath.
This I have never experienced: a sense of history, connection, and respect for the people who have come and passed before us, and of the earth that gives wonderful gifts to those who care for it and love it.
The land has remained virtually unchanged from generation to generation. There are no housing developments, no retail developments, no parking lots, no freeways. There’s no motivation to change the inherent beauty of life and land that has produced a spirit in the same way for hundreds of years.
Winston Churchill once said, "There's nothing wrong with change, as long as it is in the right direction." Seems to me then that if you're going in the right direction, there's no need for change.
I am thankful that the French are only 40 percent stingy with their Armagnac.
Sandra's Notes:
-Photos from my France trip can be viewed here. The trip was an amazing immersion into the world of Cognac and Armagnac, meeting the producers, learning how the grapes are grown and made into wine, then witnessing first-hand how the grapes are transformed into spirit. In addition to Chateau du Busca, I toured the Darroze Armagnac cellar and lunched with Marc Darroze. I toured the Vicard Tonnelleries and learned about the business of making wine barrels from the felling of the tree to the finished, toasted barrel. I couldn't leave the Bordeaux area without a couple of wine vineyard tours. Mine included Chateau Smith Haut Lafitte and Chateau Pitray. The history and charm of the French countryside is hard to describe. Take a look at the photos and see for yourself why I sometimes daydream about taking myself and my new French culinary skills to France for a very, very long stay.
Posted at 08:52 PM Read More
Fri - September 18, 2009
Thoughts On Music, College, and Cooking From Mother and Daughter
In sixth grade my oldest daughter, Ariel, decided
she wanted to play the violin.
Ok, I said, surprised that a stringed instrument so foreign to me would be an attraction for her. She had decided to participate in an orchestra class that was the same time as her physical education class where she had developed an intense dislike for her PE teacher. How convenient.
Whatever her motivation, she was sold on the violin after her orchestra teacher taught her how to play “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”.
She is now in her last undergraduate semester at the Cleveland Institute of Music (CIM) in Cleveland, OH.
We share a love of food and cooking even though it’s shared long distance via a daily telephone call of what she’s been cooking and what I’ve been learning in school.
It’s amazing how far we’ve come from the days when I banished her to her room and forbid dessert for being an absolute pill during the evening meal.
I am excited that she has accepted my invitation to post stories of her cooking adventures. I am hoping this is the first of many.
Post by Ariel Clayton:
Growing up in my mom’s house weeknights meant my sister and I had a choice: make dinner or do dishes.
Unlike most of my peers, I entered this world with an insatiable desire to clean things; this meant that for many years I chose to be the doer-of-the-dishes.
Therefore, by default, I was moderately delayed in learning the culinary ways.
When I did cook it could be interesting. A dangerous combination of creative thinking and inexperience meant that often I’d try to “modify” the dish of the day and add, say, lime juice to scrambled eggs (been there) or a tablespoon of white pepper to baked chicken (done that).
While I graduated high school and wound up starting my college years close to home circumstances led me to the Cleveland Institute of Music (CIM) to pursue my B.M. in violin performance.
Although the city has much to offer musically and culturally, it’s certainly different from Dallas’ endless array of metro-chic culinary experiences. Gone were the days of my mother’s wonderful food and an endless list of great Mexican restaurants.
I was back in a dorm and back in the cafeteria, but not for long. I spent only one semester on the meal plan. After my first semester at CIM, I dropped the meal plan and decided to split my meals between eating out and a mini-fridge in my room. Eating out was an improvement from the standard greasy fare of college cafeterias and I did surprisingly well with it – no nightly fast-food, etc.
But the day I moved into a kitchen-equipped apartment, I breathed a sigh of relief at the opportunity to cook once more. I’ve been thankful this last year to be in the kitchen - to be eating healthy, creatively, and cost-efficiently. My friends and I enjoy making meals together on school nights. It is a counter-stressful way to wind down for our busy student lives while resting up for a night of practicing.
And now I have a little more common sense in the kitchen than during my experimental years as mom’s assistant.
Ok, I said, surprised that a stringed instrument so foreign to me would be an attraction for her. She had decided to participate in an orchestra class that was the same time as her physical education class where she had developed an intense dislike for her PE teacher. How convenient.
Whatever her motivation, she was sold on the violin after her orchestra teacher taught her how to play “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”.
She is now in her last undergraduate semester at the Cleveland Institute of Music (CIM) in Cleveland, OH.
We share a love of food and cooking even though it’s shared long distance via a daily telephone call of what she’s been cooking and what I’ve been learning in school.
It’s amazing how far we’ve come from the days when I banished her to her room and forbid dessert for being an absolute pill during the evening meal.
I am excited that she has accepted my invitation to post stories of her cooking adventures. I am hoping this is the first of many.
Post by Ariel Clayton:
Growing up in my mom’s house weeknights meant my sister and I had a choice: make dinner or do dishes.
Unlike most of my peers, I entered this world with an insatiable desire to clean things; this meant that for many years I chose to be the doer-of-the-dishes.
Therefore, by default, I was moderately delayed in learning the culinary ways.
When I did cook it could be interesting. A dangerous combination of creative thinking and inexperience meant that often I’d try to “modify” the dish of the day and add, say, lime juice to scrambled eggs (been there) or a tablespoon of white pepper to baked chicken (done that).
While I graduated high school and wound up starting my college years close to home circumstances led me to the Cleveland Institute of Music (CIM) to pursue my B.M. in violin performance.
Although the city has much to offer musically and culturally, it’s certainly different from Dallas’ endless array of metro-chic culinary experiences. Gone were the days of my mother’s wonderful food and an endless list of great Mexican restaurants.
I was back in a dorm and back in the cafeteria, but not for long. I spent only one semester on the meal plan. After my first semester at CIM, I dropped the meal plan and decided to split my meals between eating out and a mini-fridge in my room. Eating out was an improvement from the standard greasy fare of college cafeterias and I did surprisingly well with it – no nightly fast-food, etc.
But the day I moved into a kitchen-equipped apartment, I breathed a sigh of relief at the opportunity to cook once more. I’ve been thankful this last year to be in the kitchen - to be eating healthy, creatively, and cost-efficiently. My friends and I enjoy making meals together on school nights. It is a counter-stressful way to wind down for our busy student lives while resting up for a night of practicing.
And now I have a little more common sense in the kitchen than during my experimental years as mom’s assistant.
Posted at 02:18 PM Read More
Mon - September 14, 2009
Pain Au Lait And Dreams of Pate A Choux
Culinary school wannabes get a far-off, dreamy
look in their eyes when I mention that I am currently a
student.
That would be so fun, they say. And I say you too can do it.
I’m awake by 5:15 am, if I sleep till the alarm goes off (some days I lie awake from 3:30 am on, eh, such is life), and then it’s non-stop in a kitchen from 7 am until noon or after, and very possibly, an additional two hours of book work in the evening.
Sometimes I hear chef voices in my head when I come home from school like, “Close the proof box door!”
My baking chef would yell this when we spent too much time opening the proof box, a warm, moist box shaped like a refrigerator, to check on the progress of our rising dough. Watching dough proof is like "a watched pot never boils". And letting the warmth out of the proof box while anxiously checking is a guarantee that the dough won't proof in the time frame you want it to.
I don’t own a proof box, but the simple act of opening the refrigerator door at home would trigger that booming voice of his in my head like a tape (or CD, maybe nowadays?).
Such suffering, all for the sake of the culinary degree, right? S’ok I say.
Except now I’m dreaming about baking during my nap time (it was another fitful night of sleep). Today my dream was of pate a choux – literally translated “cabbage paste”; it’s the dough that éclairs and cream puffs are made of (a picture of the éclairs and cream puffs we made in class are in the post below).
The French, they are so clever. They named the dough pate a choux because piped cream puffs looked like little cabbages to them.
I have no stories yet of attempting pate a choux at home yet. Soon though.
But I did make two dozen pain au lait rolls yesterday (pictured below) for a potluck. (Pain au lait – French for milk bread. It’s considered a rich dough because it has a higher proportion of fat, sugar, and eggs than lean dough - fougasse, foccacia, ciabatta, etc.)
I returned home with exactly two rolls in my basket which I ate this afternoon after dreaming about pate a choux.
One person at the potluck made the comment that she had never baked bread and that working with yeast in the kitchen is sort of scary.
Not nearly as scary as the chef with the booming voice, I wanted to say, but didn’t.
Pain Au Lait
1 lb. 12 oz bread flour
1.75 oz sugar
.33 oz salt
.25 oz active yeast
1.75 oz whole egg
9 oz milk, scalded and cooled
2.5 oz butter
.15 oz malt syrup
Place the yeast in a mixing bowl and activate with a little bit of the milk.
Once the yeast is dissolved, place all the ingredients and 2/3 of the remaining milk in the bowl, stir slightly with the dough hook by hand. Mix on low speed until a dough ball forms. Add the rest of the milk if needed. The dough should clean the bowl and be soft and pliable.
Bump up one speed higher and mix for 5-7 minutes.
Proof 75% (not until doubled).
Punch down dough. Scale the dough into individual pieces. I scaled 1.25 oz to make small rolls. Roll dough into balls or shape as desired. Place shaped dough on a prepared pan (non-stick spray or use a silicon mat or parchment paper).
Proof 75% (not until doubled).
Egg wash and bake at 400 degrees until light golden brown.
That would be so fun, they say. And I say you too can do it.
I’m awake by 5:15 am, if I sleep till the alarm goes off (some days I lie awake from 3:30 am on, eh, such is life), and then it’s non-stop in a kitchen from 7 am until noon or after, and very possibly, an additional two hours of book work in the evening.
Sometimes I hear chef voices in my head when I come home from school like, “Close the proof box door!”
My baking chef would yell this when we spent too much time opening the proof box, a warm, moist box shaped like a refrigerator, to check on the progress of our rising dough. Watching dough proof is like "a watched pot never boils". And letting the warmth out of the proof box while anxiously checking is a guarantee that the dough won't proof in the time frame you want it to.
I don’t own a proof box, but the simple act of opening the refrigerator door at home would trigger that booming voice of his in my head like a tape (or CD, maybe nowadays?).
Such suffering, all for the sake of the culinary degree, right? S’ok I say.
Except now I’m dreaming about baking during my nap time (it was another fitful night of sleep). Today my dream was of pate a choux – literally translated “cabbage paste”; it’s the dough that éclairs and cream puffs are made of (a picture of the éclairs and cream puffs we made in class are in the post below).
The French, they are so clever. They named the dough pate a choux because piped cream puffs looked like little cabbages to them.
I have no stories yet of attempting pate a choux at home yet. Soon though.
But I did make two dozen pain au lait rolls yesterday (pictured below) for a potluck. (Pain au lait – French for milk bread. It’s considered a rich dough because it has a higher proportion of fat, sugar, and eggs than lean dough - fougasse, foccacia, ciabatta, etc.)
I returned home with exactly two rolls in my basket which I ate this afternoon after dreaming about pate a choux.
One person at the potluck made the comment that she had never baked bread and that working with yeast in the kitchen is sort of scary.
Not nearly as scary as the chef with the booming voice, I wanted to say, but didn’t.
Pain Au Lait
1 lb. 12 oz bread flour
1.75 oz sugar
.33 oz salt
.25 oz active yeast
1.75 oz whole egg
9 oz milk, scalded and cooled
2.5 oz butter
.15 oz malt syrup
Place the yeast in a mixing bowl and activate with a little bit of the milk.
Once the yeast is dissolved, place all the ingredients and 2/3 of the remaining milk in the bowl, stir slightly with the dough hook by hand. Mix on low speed until a dough ball forms. Add the rest of the milk if needed. The dough should clean the bowl and be soft and pliable.
Bump up one speed higher and mix for 5-7 minutes.
Proof 75% (not until doubled).
Punch down dough. Scale the dough into individual pieces. I scaled 1.25 oz to make small rolls. Roll dough into balls or shape as desired. Place shaped dough on a prepared pan (non-stick spray or use a silicon mat or parchment paper).
Proof 75% (not until doubled).
Egg wash and bake at 400 degrees until light golden brown.
Posted at 03:52 PM Read More
Mon - September 7, 2009
Fougasse And A Few of My Favorite Things...
...from my Le Cordon Bleu Dallas Baking I
class.
I have been a baking machine the past three weeks: Biscuits, brownies, éclairs, cream puffs, naan, baguette, brioche, challah, pain au lait, Danish, scones, the list goes on and on.
My favorite bread discovery has been fougasse – the French version of Italian focaccia most often associated with the Provence region. Prior to baking the bread is cut into shapes – a ladder or a grain of wheat is traditional – then brushed with olive oil and dusted with herbs. This bread is more "crust" than "crumb" so for those crust lovers out there, it has a nice balance of crisp from the crust and chew from the crumb. It will be love at first bite.
It was 42 breads and pastries in 15 days with an average of two hours of homework (book work) each evening. Stressful and exhausting? Yes.
Satisfying? Most definitely. The aroma, warmth, and taste of fresh baked bread and pastries soothes my soul.
Perhaps there is a small, quaint bakery, coffee (and wine!) shop in my future?
Fougasse
14 oz. water
.5 oz active yeast
1 lb. 8 oz bread flour
.5 oz kosher salt
fresh, chopped rosemary
olive oil (as needed)
Place yeast in mixing bowl. Add 1 oz of the water to activate the yeast.
Add flour and 2/3 of the remaining water to the bowl with the yeast. Stir with the dough hook to begin the formation of a dough ball.
Mix on low speed for a minute.
Add the salt. Mix for another minute.
Bump up one speed higher and mix for 5-7 minutes.
Proof until doubled.
Scale dough to 9 oz (or just divide the dough into 4 equal pieces).
Pat each piece lightly into an oval shape.
Let dough rest for 10-20 minutes.
Place dough pieces on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper or a silicon baking mat.
Using a pizza cutter or knife, cut five slits in the bread to resemble a ladder. Lightly stretch the dough so that the openings are visible.
Brush dough with olive oil. Dust with sea salt and sprinkle with fresh rosemary.
Bake at 475 degrees until light golden brown.
Sandra's Cooking Notes:
-Most all measurements in the bake shop are by weight, not by volume. Invest in an electronic scale. C'mon, it's $30 bucks, less if you use a Bed, Bath, & Beyond coupon :).
-Don't cut the rosemary. Remove the rosemary from the stem by hand and twist to release the oils and sprinkle on the bread.
-Herbs de provence can be used in place of the rosemary which is traditional in Provence. Or you can use any other combination of herbs that make your tastebuds dance.
-To create the grain of wheat pattern, lightly pat the dough into a triangular shape. Cut one slit from the bottom of the triangle to the top. Then cut three slits on each side of the center at an angle like a leaf. Lightly stretch the dough so that the openings are visible and proceed with baking as directed in the recipe.
I have been a baking machine the past three weeks: Biscuits, brownies, éclairs, cream puffs, naan, baguette, brioche, challah, pain au lait, Danish, scones, the list goes on and on.
My favorite bread discovery has been fougasse – the French version of Italian focaccia most often associated with the Provence region. Prior to baking the bread is cut into shapes – a ladder or a grain of wheat is traditional – then brushed with olive oil and dusted with herbs. This bread is more "crust" than "crumb" so for those crust lovers out there, it has a nice balance of crisp from the crust and chew from the crumb. It will be love at first bite.
It was 42 breads and pastries in 15 days with an average of two hours of homework (book work) each evening. Stressful and exhausting? Yes.
Satisfying? Most definitely. The aroma, warmth, and taste of fresh baked bread and pastries soothes my soul.
Perhaps there is a small, quaint bakery, coffee (and wine!) shop in my future?
Fougasse
14 oz. water
.5 oz active yeast
1 lb. 8 oz bread flour
.5 oz kosher salt
fresh, chopped rosemary
olive oil (as needed)
Place yeast in mixing bowl. Add 1 oz of the water to activate the yeast.
Add flour and 2/3 of the remaining water to the bowl with the yeast. Stir with the dough hook to begin the formation of a dough ball.
Mix on low speed for a minute.
Add the salt. Mix for another minute.
Bump up one speed higher and mix for 5-7 minutes.
Proof until doubled.
Scale dough to 9 oz (or just divide the dough into 4 equal pieces).
Pat each piece lightly into an oval shape.
Let dough rest for 10-20 minutes.
Place dough pieces on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper or a silicon baking mat.
Using a pizza cutter or knife, cut five slits in the bread to resemble a ladder. Lightly stretch the dough so that the openings are visible.
Brush dough with olive oil. Dust with sea salt and sprinkle with fresh rosemary.
Bake at 475 degrees until light golden brown.
Sandra's Cooking Notes:
-Most all measurements in the bake shop are by weight, not by volume. Invest in an electronic scale. C'mon, it's $30 bucks, less if you use a Bed, Bath, & Beyond coupon :).
-Don't cut the rosemary. Remove the rosemary from the stem by hand and twist to release the oils and sprinkle on the bread.
-Herbs de provence can be used in place of the rosemary which is traditional in Provence. Or you can use any other combination of herbs that make your tastebuds dance.
-To create the grain of wheat pattern, lightly pat the dough into a triangular shape. Cut one slit from the bottom of the triangle to the top. Then cut three slits on each side of the center at an angle like a leaf. Lightly stretch the dough so that the openings are visible and proceed with baking as directed in the recipe.
Posted at 10:30 AM
Sun - August 23, 2009
Mango-Kiwi Salsa
Chinese gooseberry. Melonette.
Both are previous names of the small, fuzzy, brown fruit we now know as kiwifruit.
When an enterprising American produce importer in the 1950s complained that both berries and melons were subject to very high tariffs an enterprising New Zealand exporter came up with the name kiwifruit.
It is an apropos name given to an odd looking fruit and named after an odd bird, the kiwi, New Zealand’s national bird.
With brown hair-like feathers, the kiwi is nocturnal, has a beak one-third as long as its body with nostrils at the end, and has no tail. It is the size of a chicken, yet lays eggs the size of an ostrich egg. The kiwi is practically blind seeing only a distance of six feet at night and two feet in the day. And it’s flightless.
Although New Zealand had the privilege of naming this fruit and we most often associate it with the Kiwi people, Italy is now the largest producer of kiwifruit in the world.
Throw that crazy little fact in during your next dinner party conversation. And perhaps arrive with mango-kiwi salsa in hand.
Mango, kiwifruit, jalapeno, red onion, and cilantro: Crazy, but divine combination.
Mango-Kiwi Salsa
2 Mangos, medium size
3 kiwifruit
2 jalapeno
1/2 red onion, chopped
i bunch of cilantro
Chop everything and toss together. You may need more or less of any item depending on the size of the item. Taste and rely on your tastebuds to tell you what is needed.
Sandra's Cooking Notes:
-I serve this with chips, just like a Mexican salsa.
-It's also an excellent accompaniment to grilled fish.
Both are previous names of the small, fuzzy, brown fruit we now know as kiwifruit.
When an enterprising American produce importer in the 1950s complained that both berries and melons were subject to very high tariffs an enterprising New Zealand exporter came up with the name kiwifruit.
It is an apropos name given to an odd looking fruit and named after an odd bird, the kiwi, New Zealand’s national bird.
With brown hair-like feathers, the kiwi is nocturnal, has a beak one-third as long as its body with nostrils at the end, and has no tail. It is the size of a chicken, yet lays eggs the size of an ostrich egg. The kiwi is practically blind seeing only a distance of six feet at night and two feet in the day. And it’s flightless.
Although New Zealand had the privilege of naming this fruit and we most often associate it with the Kiwi people, Italy is now the largest producer of kiwifruit in the world.
Throw that crazy little fact in during your next dinner party conversation. And perhaps arrive with mango-kiwi salsa in hand.
Mango, kiwifruit, jalapeno, red onion, and cilantro: Crazy, but divine combination.
Mango-Kiwi Salsa
2 Mangos, medium size
3 kiwifruit
2 jalapeno
1/2 red onion, chopped
i bunch of cilantro
Chop everything and toss together. You may need more or less of any item depending on the size of the item. Taste and rely on your tastebuds to tell you what is needed.
Sandra's Cooking Notes:
-I serve this with chips, just like a Mexican salsa.
-It's also an excellent accompaniment to grilled fish.
Posted at 12:12 PM
Sat - August 8, 2009
Chili-Dusted Pork Chops
Long before a fork or a knife pierce these chops
the tastebuds are
tantalized.
“What is that spice?!” someone in my dinner party will always (no exaggeration) ask once the aroma from the sizzling meat drifts their way.
It’s so simple and so good: cumin, chili powder, and kosher salt. I coat all sides of the chops including the edges.
They need a quick sauté on the stovetop where I toss in a clove of minced garlic, the zest of one lime, and a squeeze of fresh lime juice; finish in the oven.
Then it’s tastebudorama time.
I like to serve it with a black bean salad. On this evening I chose carrots sautéed with a bit of jalapeno.
Chili-Dusted Pork Chops
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground pepper
Four 1/2 pound boneless pork loin chops, cut 1 1/4 inches thick
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
Finely grated zest and juice of 1 lime
3 tablespoons of finely chopped cilantro
Preheat the oven to 400 F. In a small bowl, mix the chili powder with the cumin, salt, and pepper. Rub the spice mixture all over the pork chops.
In a large ovenproof skillet, heat the olive oil until shimmering. Add the pork chops and cook over high heat until browned, about 1 minute per side. Add the garlic, lime zest, lime juice, ad cilantro to the skillet and roast the chops in the center of the oven for 10 minutes, or until rosy throughout.
“What is that spice?!” someone in my dinner party will always (no exaggeration) ask once the aroma from the sizzling meat drifts their way.
It’s so simple and so good: cumin, chili powder, and kosher salt. I coat all sides of the chops including the edges.
They need a quick sauté on the stovetop where I toss in a clove of minced garlic, the zest of one lime, and a squeeze of fresh lime juice; finish in the oven.
Then it’s tastebudorama time.
I like to serve it with a black bean salad. On this evening I chose carrots sautéed with a bit of jalapeno.
Chili-Dusted Pork Chops
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground pepper
Four 1/2 pound boneless pork loin chops, cut 1 1/4 inches thick
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
Finely grated zest and juice of 1 lime
3 tablespoons of finely chopped cilantro
Preheat the oven to 400 F. In a small bowl, mix the chili powder with the cumin, salt, and pepper. Rub the spice mixture all over the pork chops.
In a large ovenproof skillet, heat the olive oil until shimmering. Add the pork chops and cook over high heat until browned, about 1 minute per side. Add the garlic, lime zest, lime juice, ad cilantro to the skillet and roast the chops in the center of the oven for 10 minutes, or until rosy throughout.
Posted at 12:57 PM
Wed - July 29, 2009
Confessions of a Food Nerd
I'm a food
nerd.
I like to read recipe books, research the why behind emulsion (there are both temporary and permanent emulsions, i.e., salad dressings and hollandaise sauce), and even admit that I’ve taken a run at the reading the Farm Bill.
On the first day of culinary school I realized I wasn’t alone. While I’m not sure how many of my fellow students are as fascinated by emulsion or understanding the Farm Bill as I am, they do love food.
Alice, the woman whose guest room I am occupying during culinary school is also a food nerd.
She asks me about what I study at school and then says, “We have to do that!”
My second week here we made veal stock and from that Espagnole sauce, a mother sauce. (A mother sauce is a sauce from which other sauces are made.) Our plan is to experiment with different sauces that are made from Espagnole such as a port wine sauce that we will ladle over or under a grilled steak one day soon.
Alice and I have been experimenting with grilled salmon.
The conversation started at the pool. We have salmon for dinner, what do we do?
Grill it.
Let’s do something with the bok choy too.
Grill it.
How about an Asian spice combination for the both of them? We grappled with that for a while. Ginger, soy, etc. Nothing tantalized our taste buds in that direction.
Then inspiration.
How about a soy sauce reduction with a bit of something sweet in it?
Tangerines!
Alice pureed the canned tangerines, added the soy, and then reduced it in a small sauté pan on the stove.
We swirled it on the plates, sliced the grilled bok choy, placed the salmon on top, and voila!
It was a meal I would have been happy to pick up the tab for in a restaurant. But the best part was we had fun putting it together, enjoyed a bottle of wine with it, and traveled no further than her kitchen.
Cooking is fun; the payoff is the eating.
A week or so later, we had grilled salmon again, but this time we grilled leeks as the accompaniment, and made a reduction with orange juice, Marsala Wine, and soy sauce (pictured below).
I’d throw my hat to the tangerine version when/if we grill salmon again and are in the mood for a soy sauce reduction. But the leeks would be my first choice over the bok choy.
Spending time in kitchen and at the home dining table is both relaxing and refreshing. You don't have to be a chef or a culinary student to be creative in the kitchen and meals don't have to be complicated.
By definition nerd means someone who single-mindedly pursues a non-social hobby.
Cooking and sharing a meal with someone is one of the most social acts a human can engage in.
Maybe I should rethink my use of the word nerd? Or is it possible that our culture needs a few more of us?
I like to read recipe books, research the why behind emulsion (there are both temporary and permanent emulsions, i.e., salad dressings and hollandaise sauce), and even admit that I’ve taken a run at the reading the Farm Bill.
On the first day of culinary school I realized I wasn’t alone. While I’m not sure how many of my fellow students are as fascinated by emulsion or understanding the Farm Bill as I am, they do love food.
Alice, the woman whose guest room I am occupying during culinary school is also a food nerd.
She asks me about what I study at school and then says, “We have to do that!”
My second week here we made veal stock and from that Espagnole sauce, a mother sauce. (A mother sauce is a sauce from which other sauces are made.) Our plan is to experiment with different sauces that are made from Espagnole such as a port wine sauce that we will ladle over or under a grilled steak one day soon.
Alice and I have been experimenting with grilled salmon.
The conversation started at the pool. We have salmon for dinner, what do we do?
Grill it.
Let’s do something with the bok choy too.
Grill it.
How about an Asian spice combination for the both of them? We grappled with that for a while. Ginger, soy, etc. Nothing tantalized our taste buds in that direction.
Then inspiration.
How about a soy sauce reduction with a bit of something sweet in it?
Tangerines!
Alice pureed the canned tangerines, added the soy, and then reduced it in a small sauté pan on the stove.
We swirled it on the plates, sliced the grilled bok choy, placed the salmon on top, and voila!
It was a meal I would have been happy to pick up the tab for in a restaurant. But the best part was we had fun putting it together, enjoyed a bottle of wine with it, and traveled no further than her kitchen.
Cooking is fun; the payoff is the eating.
A week or so later, we had grilled salmon again, but this time we grilled leeks as the accompaniment, and made a reduction with orange juice, Marsala Wine, and soy sauce (pictured below).
I’d throw my hat to the tangerine version when/if we grill salmon again and are in the mood for a soy sauce reduction. But the leeks would be my first choice over the bok choy.
Spending time in kitchen and at the home dining table is both relaxing and refreshing. You don't have to be a chef or a culinary student to be creative in the kitchen and meals don't have to be complicated.
By definition nerd means someone who single-mindedly pursues a non-social hobby.
Cooking and sharing a meal with someone is one of the most social acts a human can engage in.
Maybe I should rethink my use of the word nerd? Or is it possible that our culture needs a few more of us?
Posted at 05:49 AM Read More
Sat - July 25, 2009
Braising: A Recipe For Keeping Your Brains From Going Into Your Feet
In the movie “Spaceballs” the fleet
commander of the evil planet, Spaceball, is in hot pursuit of Princess Vespa,
his former captive. Astounded that the Princess and her rescuer, Lonestar, are
making a getaway, Dark Helmet demands ludicrous speed from Colonel
Sandurz:
Dark Helmet: ….What happened where are they?!
Sandurz: I don't know. They must have hyperjets on that thing!
Dark Helmet: And what have we got on this thing, a Cuisinart?!
Sandurz: No sir!
Dark Helmet: Well find them, catch them!
Sandurz: Yes sir! Prepare ship for light speed!
Dark Helmet: No no no, light speed is too slow!
Sandurz: Light speed too slow?
Dark Helmet: Yes, we'll have to go right to...ludicrous speed!
[The entire crew gasps.]
Sandurz: Ludicrous speed?! Sir, we've never gone that fast before. I don't know if this ship can take it!
Dark Helmet: What's the matter Colonel Sandurz... chicken?
Sandurz: [stuttering] Prepare ship...prepare ship for ludicrous speed! Fasten all seat belts, seal all entrances and exits, close all shops in the mall! Cancel the three ring circus! Secure all animals in the zoo...
Dark Helmet: Give me that, you petty excuse for an officer! NOW HEAR THIS: LUDICROUS SPEED!
Sandurz: Sir, hadn't you better buckle up?
Dark Helmet: Aw, buckle this! LUDICROUS SPEED, GO!!!
[feeling the force of going at Ludicrous Speed] My brains are going into my feet!
There’s no more fitting analogy for modern culture than this – most people live life at ludicrous speed, have little time to eat, and less time cook.
As a result, we prefer instant this, quick that, and tolerate timers on our lunch tables so we can be assured that no more than 15 minutes will pass between the time we place our order and our food arrives.
If we do cook, we want to throw something on the grill or in the sauté pan. NOW!
Being slow in the kitchen isn’t a highly prized attribute.
But that’s exactly what the braising cooking method requires: time.
A combination of dry and moist heat methods, braising is one of the seven classic French cooking techniques and is defined as “cooking covered in a small amount of liquid.”
Braising is a simple, uncomplicated procedure that doesn’t require “skill” or special know-how other than these three basic steps:
First, brown the meat to develop color and flavor. Browning is typically achieved with a dry-heat method called pan-frying.
Second, this is where it gets creative. Place the meat in a covered pan; add a small amount of liquid and aromatics, herbs, spices etc. Water or stock can be used, but beer and wine are more interesting options. The combination is limited only by your imagination.
Third, place the covered pan in the oven on low heat and leave it for a while. Yes, a while; more than likely, hours.
The range top can also be used to braise, but I prefer the oven method for more distribution of heat around the pan rather than the bottom up heat of the range. More importantly, oven braising requires less babysitting than range-top cooking.
Herein is the irony of “time” in the braising method: It requires very little active cooking time especially when braising in the oven. (I recommend reading a book, or, perhaps, even napping as a way to fill the time while the oven does the work.)
Cuts of meat preferred for braising are typically less expensive because the low and slow cooking method in addition to the acid-based braising liquid will break down the connective tissue producing a tender, flavorful, and moist dish.
Technically vegetables can be braised, but I’ve yet to discover a veggie that I would prefer braised over some other cooking method.
Crisp, cool weather brings on my mood for braised meat. There’s just something that seems wrong about braising meat in an oven for six hours in the middle of a Texas summer. Especially when you step outside and it feels like you’re living in an oven.
As cooking techniques go, braising isn’t a standard on American menus or in American home kitchens nowadays; it’s not showy, flashy, or quick.
And I don’t remember the last time I watched a cooking show where the chef browned a piece of meat, placed it in a braising pot with some liquid and then turned to the camera and said “Stay tuned! Just six hours from now and this hunk of meat will be transformed into something juicy and delicious!”
But sometimes I like going slow in the kitchen just so I can keep my brains from going into my feet.
Here is my favorite braised recipe.
Wine-Braised Short Ribs
4 1/2 pounds 3-inch long beef short ribs
Kosher salt
pepper
2 cups dry red wine
1 14.5 oz. can diced tomatoes in juice
1 6 oz. package sliced button mushrooms
1/2 cup finely chopped onion
6 garlic cloves peeled
6 fresh Italian parsley sprigs
2 bay leaves
Heat oven to 275.
Sprinkle ribs with salt and pepper. Place in even layer in oven-proof dish with lid. Add next 7 ingredients; cover and cook until meat is tender, about 6 hours.
Using slotted spoon, transfer ribs to serving bowl. Discard parsley and bay leaves. Spoon fat off top of sauce and pour sauce over ribs.
Sandra's Cooking Notes:
- Alice, the woman whose guest room I am now occupying, was inspired to braise short ribs after reading the above post which began as a paper I wrote for my Culinary Skills II class. I take back every bad word I said about braising in the summer. She served the boneless ribs with Potato, Leek, and Goat Cheese Timbale with a basil and oil emulsion. Back in her New Jersey days, Alice owned her own restaurant and cooking school. Life is good.
- To make the ribs even easier, throw the whole lot in the crockpot in the morning. Eat it in the evening.
Dark Helmet: ….What happened where are they?!
Sandurz: I don't know. They must have hyperjets on that thing!
Dark Helmet: And what have we got on this thing, a Cuisinart?!
Sandurz: No sir!
Dark Helmet: Well find them, catch them!
Sandurz: Yes sir! Prepare ship for light speed!
Dark Helmet: No no no, light speed is too slow!
Sandurz: Light speed too slow?
Dark Helmet: Yes, we'll have to go right to...ludicrous speed!
[The entire crew gasps.]
Sandurz: Ludicrous speed?! Sir, we've never gone that fast before. I don't know if this ship can take it!
Dark Helmet: What's the matter Colonel Sandurz... chicken?
Sandurz: [stuttering] Prepare ship...prepare ship for ludicrous speed! Fasten all seat belts, seal all entrances and exits, close all shops in the mall! Cancel the three ring circus! Secure all animals in the zoo...
Dark Helmet: Give me that, you petty excuse for an officer! NOW HEAR THIS: LUDICROUS SPEED!
Sandurz: Sir, hadn't you better buckle up?
Dark Helmet: Aw, buckle this! LUDICROUS SPEED, GO!!!
[feeling the force of going at Ludicrous Speed] My brains are going into my feet!
There’s no more fitting analogy for modern culture than this – most people live life at ludicrous speed, have little time to eat, and less time cook.
As a result, we prefer instant this, quick that, and tolerate timers on our lunch tables so we can be assured that no more than 15 minutes will pass between the time we place our order and our food arrives.
If we do cook, we want to throw something on the grill or in the sauté pan. NOW!
Being slow in the kitchen isn’t a highly prized attribute.
But that’s exactly what the braising cooking method requires: time.
A combination of dry and moist heat methods, braising is one of the seven classic French cooking techniques and is defined as “cooking covered in a small amount of liquid.”
Braising is a simple, uncomplicated procedure that doesn’t require “skill” or special know-how other than these three basic steps:
First, brown the meat to develop color and flavor. Browning is typically achieved with a dry-heat method called pan-frying.
Second, this is where it gets creative. Place the meat in a covered pan; add a small amount of liquid and aromatics, herbs, spices etc. Water or stock can be used, but beer and wine are more interesting options. The combination is limited only by your imagination.
Third, place the covered pan in the oven on low heat and leave it for a while. Yes, a while; more than likely, hours.
The range top can also be used to braise, but I prefer the oven method for more distribution of heat around the pan rather than the bottom up heat of the range. More importantly, oven braising requires less babysitting than range-top cooking.
Herein is the irony of “time” in the braising method: It requires very little active cooking time especially when braising in the oven. (I recommend reading a book, or, perhaps, even napping as a way to fill the time while the oven does the work.)
Cuts of meat preferred for braising are typically less expensive because the low and slow cooking method in addition to the acid-based braising liquid will break down the connective tissue producing a tender, flavorful, and moist dish.
Technically vegetables can be braised, but I’ve yet to discover a veggie that I would prefer braised over some other cooking method.
Crisp, cool weather brings on my mood for braised meat. There’s just something that seems wrong about braising meat in an oven for six hours in the middle of a Texas summer. Especially when you step outside and it feels like you’re living in an oven.
As cooking techniques go, braising isn’t a standard on American menus or in American home kitchens nowadays; it’s not showy, flashy, or quick.
And I don’t remember the last time I watched a cooking show where the chef browned a piece of meat, placed it in a braising pot with some liquid and then turned to the camera and said “Stay tuned! Just six hours from now and this hunk of meat will be transformed into something juicy and delicious!”
But sometimes I like going slow in the kitchen just so I can keep my brains from going into my feet.
Here is my favorite braised recipe.
Wine-Braised Short Ribs
4 1/2 pounds 3-inch long beef short ribs
Kosher salt
pepper
2 cups dry red wine
1 14.5 oz. can diced tomatoes in juice
1 6 oz. package sliced button mushrooms
1/2 cup finely chopped onion
6 garlic cloves peeled
6 fresh Italian parsley sprigs
2 bay leaves
Heat oven to 275.
Sprinkle ribs with salt and pepper. Place in even layer in oven-proof dish with lid. Add next 7 ingredients; cover and cook until meat is tender, about 6 hours.
Using slotted spoon, transfer ribs to serving bowl. Discard parsley and bay leaves. Spoon fat off top of sauce and pour sauce over ribs.
Sandra's Cooking Notes:
- Alice, the woman whose guest room I am now occupying, was inspired to braise short ribs after reading the above post which began as a paper I wrote for my Culinary Skills II class. I take back every bad word I said about braising in the summer. She served the boneless ribs with Potato, Leek, and Goat Cheese Timbale with a basil and oil emulsion. Back in her New Jersey days, Alice owned her own restaurant and cooking school. Life is good.
- To make the ribs even easier, throw the whole lot in the crockpot in the morning. Eat it in the evening.
Posted at 07:47 PM Read More
Thu - July 23, 2009
Big Girls Don't Cry Over Gnocchi
Most importantly I did not cry.
My gnocchi disintegrated and my angel hair pasta clung together in coagulated dough lump at school yesterday.
Was it a full moon?
Ah, well. It wasn’t anything an after-school-swim-off-your-frustrations-dip in the pool, a couple of flutes of sparkling wine, and a tasty grilled steak dinner (with some very nice quadrillage marks) couldn’t cure.
Did I mention the after school stop at the store for potatoes to make another run at gnocchi that night at home?
Success! But, sheesh, how much flour does it take, really?
George Burns once said, “I’d rather be a failure at something I love than something I hate.”
I like it George! Yes, a bad day in the kitchen beats the best day I ever had selling technology!
Maybe.
Today I learned that my daughter, Ariel, coincidentally and with no knowledge of my dumpling and pasta disaster, made pasta for the first time ever with her boyfriend the same day. It was perfecto she reported.
Most importantly I did not cry.
Did I mention they started over on the dough at least three times?
Due to technical difficulties there's no photo of my gnocchi, but I do have a picture of Ariel and her boyfriend from January 2009.
And here's the gnocchi recipe with my cryptic production notes.
Gnocchi
*Please note that the flour and potato measurement is by weight, not by volume.
12 oz russet potato (8 oz. baked weight)
3 oz all-purpose flour
1 egg yolk
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 pinch nutmeg
Bake the potato. Cool. Peel. Pass through a food mill or potato ricer.
Add nutmeg and kosher salt.
Incorporate egg into potatoes.
Incorporate flour. Add more flour if needed.
Cut a section of dough and roll from the center outward into the diameter of a dime.
Cut into pieces and roll each piece into a ball.
Using your thumb, roll the gnocchi balls down the fork times to create the signature gnocchi grooves.
Cook gnocchis in a pot of boiling, salted water.
When gnocchis rise to the top they are done.
After boiling I like to fry them in a bit of clarified butter for a warm color.
My gnocchi disintegrated and my angel hair pasta clung together in coagulated dough lump at school yesterday.
Was it a full moon?
Ah, well. It wasn’t anything an after-school-swim-off-your-frustrations-dip in the pool, a couple of flutes of sparkling wine, and a tasty grilled steak dinner (with some very nice quadrillage marks) couldn’t cure.
Did I mention the after school stop at the store for potatoes to make another run at gnocchi that night at home?
Success! But, sheesh, how much flour does it take, really?
George Burns once said, “I’d rather be a failure at something I love than something I hate.”
I like it George! Yes, a bad day in the kitchen beats the best day I ever had selling technology!
Maybe.
Today I learned that my daughter, Ariel, coincidentally and with no knowledge of my dumpling and pasta disaster, made pasta for the first time ever with her boyfriend the same day. It was perfecto she reported.
Most importantly I did not cry.
Did I mention they started over on the dough at least three times?
Due to technical difficulties there's no photo of my gnocchi, but I do have a picture of Ariel and her boyfriend from January 2009.
And here's the gnocchi recipe with my cryptic production notes.
Gnocchi
*Please note that the flour and potato measurement is by weight, not by volume.
12 oz russet potato (8 oz. baked weight)
3 oz all-purpose flour
1 egg yolk
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 pinch nutmeg
Bake the potato. Cool. Peel. Pass through a food mill or potato ricer.
Add nutmeg and kosher salt.
Incorporate egg into potatoes.
Incorporate flour. Add more flour if needed.
Cut a section of dough and roll from the center outward into the diameter of a dime.
Cut into pieces and roll each piece into a ball.
Using your thumb, roll the gnocchi balls down the fork times to create the signature gnocchi grooves.
Cook gnocchis in a pot of boiling, salted water.
When gnocchis rise to the top they are done.
After boiling I like to fry them in a bit of clarified butter for a warm color.
Posted at 07:43 PM Read More
Sun - July 19, 2009
Lucky Me
After I lost my job in December 2008, my
practical side, “get another job, you have a house and two daughters in
college” wrestled with my passion, “do what you love”; I
wanted to go to cooking school and leave my technology sales career behind.
I’ve always admired people who knew early in life what they loved and pursued it wholeheartedly, whether or not it involved full-time employment. Lucky them.
That wasn’t me.
My passion grew slowly. Despite growing up in a house where the kitchen was the heartbeat of the house and where I willingly assisted (the picture below is circa 1963 and yes, my mother did not know how to trim my bangs), my yearning for the stove did not take hold until later in life.
The more time I dabbled in and played in the kitchen learning about new foods and trying new recipes, the more time I craved to spend there. Eventually I decided that I would be very happy if I could spend all day every day with my pots, pans, whisks, and mixing bowls.
Four months after my job loss and no success in the job market, I toured the Le Cordon Bleu Dallas – just for informational purposes only, of course. I didn't leave until I had paid the registration fee, was fitted for uniforms, and registered into classes.
My passion had won.
To make my finances work, I sold my 2,500 square foot home, stored my furniture, and moved into the guest room of a friend who lives less than 10 minutes from school.
A handful of people have warned me that sometimes a passion pursued full-time becomes drudgery. I'm two months into this now and I think there's nothing more enjoyable than getting up (very early!) every day to pursue something I love. This even though the price was the rearrangement of my life as I knew it and a rethinking of my future. While most people my age are planning for retirement, I'm retooling my life and will graduate owing school loans.
That's ok. The way I figure it, if I do what I love every day then it's not work. And in the end I will be happier.
Lucky me.
I’ve always admired people who knew early in life what they loved and pursued it wholeheartedly, whether or not it involved full-time employment. Lucky them.
That wasn’t me.
My passion grew slowly. Despite growing up in a house where the kitchen was the heartbeat of the house and where I willingly assisted (the picture below is circa 1963 and yes, my mother did not know how to trim my bangs), my yearning for the stove did not take hold until later in life.
The more time I dabbled in and played in the kitchen learning about new foods and trying new recipes, the more time I craved to spend there. Eventually I decided that I would be very happy if I could spend all day every day with my pots, pans, whisks, and mixing bowls.
Four months after my job loss and no success in the job market, I toured the Le Cordon Bleu Dallas – just for informational purposes only, of course. I didn't leave until I had paid the registration fee, was fitted for uniforms, and registered into classes.
My passion had won.
To make my finances work, I sold my 2,500 square foot home, stored my furniture, and moved into the guest room of a friend who lives less than 10 minutes from school.
A handful of people have warned me that sometimes a passion pursued full-time becomes drudgery. I'm two months into this now and I think there's nothing more enjoyable than getting up (very early!) every day to pursue something I love. This even though the price was the rearrangement of my life as I knew it and a rethinking of my future. While most people my age are planning for retirement, I'm retooling my life and will graduate owing school loans.
That's ok. The way I figure it, if I do what I love every day then it's not work. And in the end I will be happier.
Lucky me.
Posted at 08:46 PM Read More
Sat - May 16, 2009
Let's Be Honest About Grapefruit Tart
There’s no hiding a less than stellar
result in the kitchen. But I’ve grown to live by the Julia Child
approach to such disasters, serve it with a smile and offer no apologies.
And so I did the day I tangled with a grapefruit and lost.
It should have been an “oh, so easy dessert”: grapefruit sliced onto a layer of mascarpone cheese spread on a tart shell.
The directions were simple: cut the peel including all the pith from a grapefruit and then cut the segments free from the membrane. However, the more I cut, the more the grapefruit disintegrated until I gave up and in frustration crushed the segments with my fingertips.
I spread the unruly mess on top of the mascarpone, which looked more akin to shredded salmon than grapefruit, and finished it with a few slices of grapefruit and a sprig of mint from my herb garden.
“What is it?” my mom inquired when I presented the tart at the conclusion of the Mother’s Day meal I had cooked for her.
I smiled and said, “Grapefruit tart!” as if it looked exactly as I intended.
Grapefruit Tart
Sweet pastry dough
4 grapefruit (preferably 2 pink and 2 red)
8 oz mascarpone cheese at room temperature
3 tablespoons finely chopped candied ginger
4 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar
Roll out dough with a floured rolling pin into a 13-inch round on a floured surface and fit into a tart pan (if pastry breaks, press together with your fingers). Trim excess dough, leaving a 1/2-inch overhang, then fold overhang inward and press against side of pan to reinforce edge. Lightly prick bottom of shell all over with a fork. Chill 30 minutes.
Preheat oven to 375.
Line shell with foil and fill with pie weights. Bake in middle of oven 10 minutes, then carefully remove foil and weights and bake shell until golden, 13 to 15 minutes more. Transfer shell in pan to a rack to cool.
Make filling just before serving:
Cut peel, including all white pith, from fruit with a sharp pairing knife, then cut segments free from membranes and pat dry with paper towels. Squeeze 3 tablespoons juice from membranes into a bowl. Whisk together mascarpone, candied ginger, 2 tablespoons juice, and 2 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar. Add remaining tablespoon juice if mixture is too thick.
Spread ginger mascarpone evenly in tart shell and top decoratively with fruit. Dust with remaining 2 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar and serve immediately.
Sandra’s Cooking Notes:
-From Epicurious.com.
-Not intended for those with dull knifes or for the faint of heart. The grapefruit will wage an impressive battle.
-Although instructions were given on how to bake the pastry dough, the recipe did not include an ingredient list or preparation instructions for the dough.
And so I did the day I tangled with a grapefruit and lost.
It should have been an “oh, so easy dessert”: grapefruit sliced onto a layer of mascarpone cheese spread on a tart shell.
The directions were simple: cut the peel including all the pith from a grapefruit and then cut the segments free from the membrane. However, the more I cut, the more the grapefruit disintegrated until I gave up and in frustration crushed the segments with my fingertips.
I spread the unruly mess on top of the mascarpone, which looked more akin to shredded salmon than grapefruit, and finished it with a few slices of grapefruit and a sprig of mint from my herb garden.
“What is it?” my mom inquired when I presented the tart at the conclusion of the Mother’s Day meal I had cooked for her.
I smiled and said, “Grapefruit tart!” as if it looked exactly as I intended.
Grapefruit Tart
Sweet pastry dough
4 grapefruit (preferably 2 pink and 2 red)
8 oz mascarpone cheese at room temperature
3 tablespoons finely chopped candied ginger
4 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar
Roll out dough with a floured rolling pin into a 13-inch round on a floured surface and fit into a tart pan (if pastry breaks, press together with your fingers). Trim excess dough, leaving a 1/2-inch overhang, then fold overhang inward and press against side of pan to reinforce edge. Lightly prick bottom of shell all over with a fork. Chill 30 minutes.
Preheat oven to 375.
Line shell with foil and fill with pie weights. Bake in middle of oven 10 minutes, then carefully remove foil and weights and bake shell until golden, 13 to 15 minutes more. Transfer shell in pan to a rack to cool.
Make filling just before serving:
Cut peel, including all white pith, from fruit with a sharp pairing knife, then cut segments free from membranes and pat dry with paper towels. Squeeze 3 tablespoons juice from membranes into a bowl. Whisk together mascarpone, candied ginger, 2 tablespoons juice, and 2 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar. Add remaining tablespoon juice if mixture is too thick.
Spread ginger mascarpone evenly in tart shell and top decoratively with fruit. Dust with remaining 2 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar and serve immediately.
Sandra’s Cooking Notes:
-From Epicurious.com.
-Not intended for those with dull knifes or for the faint of heart. The grapefruit will wage an impressive battle.
-Although instructions were given on how to bake the pastry dough, the recipe did not include an ingredient list or preparation instructions for the dough.
Posted at 06:44 PM Read More
Sun - May 3, 2009
Savory Parmesan Shortbread Rounds
My philosophy has always been: Have recipe, can
cook.
Even if I substitute ingredients or alter quantities, if I have a recipe base from which to start I’m golden.
When people compliment my cooking I think, “Give a well-trained monkey a recipe and they could cook this too.” Regardless, I am appreciative, I do have manners, I always say “thank you”, and don’t mention anything about monkeys.
I’ve realized, however, that perhaps I overestimate the abilities of monkeys and some people.
We had an interesting discussion in my Slow Food Dallas Book Club the other night about people who follow recipes and still cannot cook. It seems that when one of our book club members shared a recipe that called for “whipped cream”, her friend added “whipping cream” instead.
Big difference.
If Parmesan is your thing you’ll love this recipe; these rounds literally melt in your mouth, and despite the fact that they look like cookies, they are savory not sweet.
And this is an easy, easy, recipe. So easy that I’m convinced a well-trained…
Savory Parmesan Shortbread Rounds
1 3/4 cups all purpose flour
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese (about 2 1/2 ounces)
1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
1/2 small garlic clove, minced
Pinch of cayenne pepper
1 cup (2 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Preheat oven to 350. Line baking sheet with parchment paper. Mix flour, 3/4 cup Parmesan cheese, salt, garlic, and cayenne pepper in processor. Add butter and, using on/off turns, process until dough begins to come together. Gather dough into ball. Divide dough in half. Roll each half into 12-inch log, and cut each log into 1-inch pieces. Arrange dough balls on prepared baking sheet, spacing about 1 1/2 inches apart. Press each ball into 2-inch diameter round. Sprinkle remaining 2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese over.
Bake shortbread rounds until tops are dry and bottoms are golden brown, about 20 minutes. Transfer shortbread rounds to rack and cool completely.
Shortbread rounds can be made 1 week ahead. Store rounds in airtight container at room temperature, or freeze up to 1 month.
Sandra’s Cooking Notes:
-Recipe from Bon Appetit
Even if I substitute ingredients or alter quantities, if I have a recipe base from which to start I’m golden.
When people compliment my cooking I think, “Give a well-trained monkey a recipe and they could cook this too.” Regardless, I am appreciative, I do have manners, I always say “thank you”, and don’t mention anything about monkeys.
I’ve realized, however, that perhaps I overestimate the abilities of monkeys and some people.
We had an interesting discussion in my Slow Food Dallas Book Club the other night about people who follow recipes and still cannot cook. It seems that when one of our book club members shared a recipe that called for “whipped cream”, her friend added “whipping cream” instead.
Big difference.
If Parmesan is your thing you’ll love this recipe; these rounds literally melt in your mouth, and despite the fact that they look like cookies, they are savory not sweet.
And this is an easy, easy, recipe. So easy that I’m convinced a well-trained…
Savory Parmesan Shortbread Rounds
1 3/4 cups all purpose flour
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese (about 2 1/2 ounces)
1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
1/2 small garlic clove, minced
Pinch of cayenne pepper
1 cup (2 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Preheat oven to 350. Line baking sheet with parchment paper. Mix flour, 3/4 cup Parmesan cheese, salt, garlic, and cayenne pepper in processor. Add butter and, using on/off turns, process until dough begins to come together. Gather dough into ball. Divide dough in half. Roll each half into 12-inch log, and cut each log into 1-inch pieces. Arrange dough balls on prepared baking sheet, spacing about 1 1/2 inches apart. Press each ball into 2-inch diameter round. Sprinkle remaining 2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese over.
Bake shortbread rounds until tops are dry and bottoms are golden brown, about 20 minutes. Transfer shortbread rounds to rack and cool completely.
Shortbread rounds can be made 1 week ahead. Store rounds in airtight container at room temperature, or freeze up to 1 month.
Sandra’s Cooking Notes:
-Recipe from Bon Appetit
Posted at 05:55 PM Read More
Sun - April 19, 2009
Pecan-and-Armagnac-Stuffed Dates
When I needed a French appetizer for a French
movie night with friends I turned to Jacques Pepin, one of my favorite French
chefs. I watch him on the local PBS station on Saturday afternoons and
always learn something new. He teaches as much about technique and quality
of ingredients as he does about the mechanics of the recipe.
And he licks his fingers. Right there on television. I feel right at home.
I've never seen him make Pecan-and-Armagnac-Stuffed Dates, I found it in the only book of his I own, "Encore With Claudine."
The linchpin of taste to this recipe is the Armagnac, a French brandy that Americans for the most part know little about.
Don't think of substituting Cognac for the Armagnac in this recipe. There's a more interesting palette of flavor, depth, and texture in a sip of Armagnac (more on this later). I used a 1978 Marquis de Maniban given to me as a gift by the owner of Chateau du Busca, the producer of this fine spirit, at the conclusion of a personal tour of the Chateau and grounds in 2008.
I had to laugh as I crushed my gingersnap cookies and mixed them with the Armagnac, one of the oldest eau de vie's on the planet with very strict standards for the growing and harvesting of the grapes, as well as production, aging, and bottling.
Written in great big letters on the front of my box of gingersnaps were the words "Made with REAL GINGER & MOLASSES!"
What a concept.
Pecan-and-Armagnac Stuffed Dates
20 regular size dried pitted dates or 12 very large Medjool pitted dates
3 ounces cookies (Pepin recommends gingersnaps, but chocolate chip, tuiles, or even graham crackers can be used)
1 1/2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 1/2 tablespoons Armagnac or Cognac (don't do it!)
1/3 cup coarsley chopped pecans
1 tablespoon minced fresh mint
20 small spearmint or peppermint leaves, for use as a decoration
1. Using a sharp knife, split the dates, stopping before cutting them in half entirely, and open each one like a book. Crush the cookies coarsely in a small bowl, and lightly mix in the lemon juice and Armagnac. Add the nuts and minced mint, and mix until the ingredients are well combined.
2. To Fill Regular Dates: spoon about 1 teaspoon of the cookie mixture onto each date, then gently fold the date to partially close it around the stuffing. Follow the same procedure to fill Medjool dates, but use 2 teaspoons of the cookie mixture for each date.
3. Decorate the dates by inserting the stem end of a small mint leaf in the center of the stuffed edge. Arrange the dates on a platter, and refrigerate them until serving time.
Sandra's Cooking Notes:
- I used orange juice as a substitute for the lemon juice.
And he licks his fingers. Right there on television. I feel right at home.
I've never seen him make Pecan-and-Armagnac-Stuffed Dates, I found it in the only book of his I own, "Encore With Claudine."
The linchpin of taste to this recipe is the Armagnac, a French brandy that Americans for the most part know little about.
Don't think of substituting Cognac for the Armagnac in this recipe. There's a more interesting palette of flavor, depth, and texture in a sip of Armagnac (more on this later). I used a 1978 Marquis de Maniban given to me as a gift by the owner of Chateau du Busca, the producer of this fine spirit, at the conclusion of a personal tour of the Chateau and grounds in 2008.
I had to laugh as I crushed my gingersnap cookies and mixed them with the Armagnac, one of the oldest eau de vie's on the planet with very strict standards for the growing and harvesting of the grapes, as well as production, aging, and bottling.
Written in great big letters on the front of my box of gingersnaps were the words "Made with REAL GINGER & MOLASSES!"
What a concept.
Pecan-and-Armagnac Stuffed Dates
20 regular size dried pitted dates or 12 very large Medjool pitted dates
3 ounces cookies (Pepin recommends gingersnaps, but chocolate chip, tuiles, or even graham crackers can be used)
1 1/2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 1/2 tablespoons Armagnac or Cognac (don't do it!)
1/3 cup coarsley chopped pecans
1 tablespoon minced fresh mint
20 small spearmint or peppermint leaves, for use as a decoration
1. Using a sharp knife, split the dates, stopping before cutting them in half entirely, and open each one like a book. Crush the cookies coarsely in a small bowl, and lightly mix in the lemon juice and Armagnac. Add the nuts and minced mint, and mix until the ingredients are well combined.
2. To Fill Regular Dates: spoon about 1 teaspoon of the cookie mixture onto each date, then gently fold the date to partially close it around the stuffing. Follow the same procedure to fill Medjool dates, but use 2 teaspoons of the cookie mixture for each date.
3. Decorate the dates by inserting the stem end of a small mint leaf in the center of the stuffed edge. Arrange the dates on a platter, and refrigerate them until serving time.
Sandra's Cooking Notes:
- I used orange juice as a substitute for the lemon juice.
Posted at 09:35 AM Read More
Wed - January 14, 2009
The Accidental Gardener
During my teenage years my dad was an avid
gardener: okra, tomatoes, squash, zucchini, bell peppers, blackberries, onions
and more.
I didn’t appreciate it then, but I do now. And I miss it.
Somewhere in my mid-life years I had this wild idea that I wanted to garden. My children laughed. I’ve killed almost every houseplant we’ve ever had and have paid someone to take care of the yard for years.
How could I ever nurture plants to sprout leaves much less bring forth food?
But I persevered and with the help of a couple of friends built a garden bed late one summer and planted early the next spring: okra, tomatoes, squash, zuchinni, eggplant, bell peppers, jalapenos, herbs galore, including thyme, oregano, sage, and mint.
It was quite the undertaking for a self-admitted plant killer.
While I had visions of plump tomatoes and oodles of squash dancing in my head, I’m here to tell you that growing food is not a magical experience. It’s hard work and my first year of gardening ended in disappointment and discouragement.
There was one exception: Swiss chard, a beautiful green-leaf vegetable with red veins and ribs. My Swiss chard out-produced every other plant in my garden and is still going strong.
Looking out my kitchen window in mid-January at my bare garden except for the abundant and tangled stalks of Swiss chard, my friend Tailor remarked that perhaps I could christen my city as “Swiss Chard Capitol of the World.”
That might be possible. A quick Google search did not reveal a place yet claiming this title. I'm not surprised. Previous to my attempt at gardening most of my friends and family were not familiar with Swiss chard.
So how, oh how did my Swiss chard grow? I planted it and left it alone; it's growth seeming to be accidental except for the singular act of planting it last March.
I’m going to continue my expert gardening technique of ignoring it and see how long it grows. Maybe it will still be around this time next January.
For now I’m content that the children who doubted I would ever plant a garden or be able to make something grow in it are eating their words and love to eat my Swiss chard.
Swiss Chard with Garlic
Swiss chard cooks up like fresh spinach. Sautee it with olive oil, fresh garlic, and a dash of red pepper flakes for a quick and easy side dish.
2-3 bunches of Swiss chard
Olive oil
4-5 cloves of garlic
salt
red pepper flakes
Wash and clean the Swiss chard removing the stems. Roll the leaves and slice into thin strips. Drizzle some olive oil in a pan; when oil is heated add garlic and sautee for a minute. Add the Swiss chard and sprinkle with salt. Sautee until Swiss chard is wilted. Sprinkle with red pepper flakes.
- You will need a lot of Swiss chard to feed 3-4 people. When it seems like you have too much to cook is probably when you have enough.
- I’ve never been good at measuring ingredients when I throw things together. Learn to live on the edge in the kitchen.
I didn’t appreciate it then, but I do now. And I miss it.
Somewhere in my mid-life years I had this wild idea that I wanted to garden. My children laughed. I’ve killed almost every houseplant we’ve ever had and have paid someone to take care of the yard for years.
How could I ever nurture plants to sprout leaves much less bring forth food?
But I persevered and with the help of a couple of friends built a garden bed late one summer and planted early the next spring: okra, tomatoes, squash, zuchinni, eggplant, bell peppers, jalapenos, herbs galore, including thyme, oregano, sage, and mint.
It was quite the undertaking for a self-admitted plant killer.
While I had visions of plump tomatoes and oodles of squash dancing in my head, I’m here to tell you that growing food is not a magical experience. It’s hard work and my first year of gardening ended in disappointment and discouragement.
There was one exception: Swiss chard, a beautiful green-leaf vegetable with red veins and ribs. My Swiss chard out-produced every other plant in my garden and is still going strong.
Looking out my kitchen window in mid-January at my bare garden except for the abundant and tangled stalks of Swiss chard, my friend Tailor remarked that perhaps I could christen my city as “Swiss Chard Capitol of the World.”
That might be possible. A quick Google search did not reveal a place yet claiming this title. I'm not surprised. Previous to my attempt at gardening most of my friends and family were not familiar with Swiss chard.
So how, oh how did my Swiss chard grow? I planted it and left it alone; it's growth seeming to be accidental except for the singular act of planting it last March.
I’m going to continue my expert gardening technique of ignoring it and see how long it grows. Maybe it will still be around this time next January.
For now I’m content that the children who doubted I would ever plant a garden or be able to make something grow in it are eating their words and love to eat my Swiss chard.
Swiss Chard with Garlic
Swiss chard cooks up like fresh spinach. Sautee it with olive oil, fresh garlic, and a dash of red pepper flakes for a quick and easy side dish.
2-3 bunches of Swiss chard
Olive oil
4-5 cloves of garlic
salt
red pepper flakes
Wash and clean the Swiss chard removing the stems. Roll the leaves and slice into thin strips. Drizzle some olive oil in a pan; when oil is heated add garlic and sautee for a minute. Add the Swiss chard and sprinkle with salt. Sautee until Swiss chard is wilted. Sprinkle with red pepper flakes.
- You will need a lot of Swiss chard to feed 3-4 people. When it seems like you have too much to cook is probably when you have enough.
- I’ve never been good at measuring ingredients when I throw things together. Learn to live on the edge in the kitchen.
Posted at 03:16 PM
Tue - January 6, 2009
The Lowly Lentil: Big Flavor, Long History
When the weather turns chilly I say, “Bring
on the soup!”
My meat and potatoes family rarely turned to soup during my growing up years unless it was canned. When we did consume a bowl, it was for a quick meal usually slurped alone, ala tomato soup with crackers. Canned chicken noodle soup and Sprite will forever remind me of youthful days spent recovering from one short-term ailment or another.
How delightful as an adult to have discovered the beauty of homemade soup as a simple, satisfying meal.
Oh, have I mentioned that soup is easy on the wallet?
Whether you choose it for its taste or economics, soup is also good for you.
Consider the lowly lentil, a lovely soup choice.
As legumes go, the lentil doesn’t get much respect in the United States. We export 80% of what we grow and rarely does the lentil get a showing on our dining room or restaurant tables.
Yet lentils are high in fiber, provide the body with seven of the eight essential amino acids, serve up more folic acid than any other unfortified food, and is a good source for several important minerals like iron, magnesium, and zinc. Small and shaped like a lens, lentils come in an array of colors including black, brown, green, yellow, and red.
And lentils will also make your taste buds dance.
Lentils have a long history with the human race being one of the first crops domesticated in the Near East. Esau was so enticed by this legume that he traded his birthright to his brother Jacob in exchange for bowl of red lentil stew (Genesis 25:34).
Let’s do our part to keep more homegrown lentils on American soil and eat healthier at the same time; I say, “Bring on the lentil soup!”
In the meantime, I am giving thought as to what hungry heir/heiress I might tempt with a scrumptious bowl.
Red Lentil Soup
1 large onion chopped
1 tablespoon of olive oil
4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 Turkish or 1/2 California bay leaf
1 sprig fresh Thyme
1 cup red lentils (7 oz.), picked over and rinsed
3 1/2 cups chicken broth
3 cups water
2 tablespoons flat-leaf parsley
Cook onion in oil with 1/2 teaspoon salt in a medium heavy saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 8 minutes. Add garlic, cumin, bay leaf, and thyme and cook, stirring 1 minute more. Add lentils, broth, water, 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper and simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally, until lentils are very soft and falling apart, about 30-45 minutes. Discard bay leaf and thyme sprig, then puree 2 cups of mixture in blender and return to pan. Stir in parsley and season with salt.
Serves 4-6
Cook’s Notes:
- I use an immersion blender to puree the soup. My immersion blender is one of the best investments I’ve made in kitchen tools; it makes pureeing a cinch.
- Red lentils turn golden when cooked. Don’t ask me why.
- From "Gourmet", October 2007
My meat and potatoes family rarely turned to soup during my growing up years unless it was canned. When we did consume a bowl, it was for a quick meal usually slurped alone, ala tomato soup with crackers. Canned chicken noodle soup and Sprite will forever remind me of youthful days spent recovering from one short-term ailment or another.
How delightful as an adult to have discovered the beauty of homemade soup as a simple, satisfying meal.
Oh, have I mentioned that soup is easy on the wallet?
Whether you choose it for its taste or economics, soup is also good for you.
Consider the lowly lentil, a lovely soup choice.
As legumes go, the lentil doesn’t get much respect in the United States. We export 80% of what we grow and rarely does the lentil get a showing on our dining room or restaurant tables.
Yet lentils are high in fiber, provide the body with seven of the eight essential amino acids, serve up more folic acid than any other unfortified food, and is a good source for several important minerals like iron, magnesium, and zinc. Small and shaped like a lens, lentils come in an array of colors including black, brown, green, yellow, and red.
And lentils will also make your taste buds dance.
Lentils have a long history with the human race being one of the first crops domesticated in the Near East. Esau was so enticed by this legume that he traded his birthright to his brother Jacob in exchange for bowl of red lentil stew (Genesis 25:34).
Let’s do our part to keep more homegrown lentils on American soil and eat healthier at the same time; I say, “Bring on the lentil soup!”
In the meantime, I am giving thought as to what hungry heir/heiress I might tempt with a scrumptious bowl.
Red Lentil Soup
1 large onion chopped
1 tablespoon of olive oil
4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 Turkish or 1/2 California bay leaf
1 sprig fresh Thyme
1 cup red lentils (7 oz.), picked over and rinsed
3 1/2 cups chicken broth
3 cups water
2 tablespoons flat-leaf parsley
Cook onion in oil with 1/2 teaspoon salt in a medium heavy saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 8 minutes. Add garlic, cumin, bay leaf, and thyme and cook, stirring 1 minute more. Add lentils, broth, water, 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper and simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally, until lentils are very soft and falling apart, about 30-45 minutes. Discard bay leaf and thyme sprig, then puree 2 cups of mixture in blender and return to pan. Stir in parsley and season with salt.
Serves 4-6
Cook’s Notes:
- I use an immersion blender to puree the soup. My immersion blender is one of the best investments I’ve made in kitchen tools; it makes pureeing a cinch.
- Red lentils turn golden when cooked. Don’t ask me why.
- From "Gourmet", October 2007
Posted at 12:18 PM
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Published On: Jan 23, 2010 05:15 PM
Published On: Jan 23, 2010 05:15 PM