Forays Into Thai

I am an equal opportunity eater; in my cook book, open immigration is a plus. I have never met a cuisine I have not liked and as my cooking has developed, there has been no one vein to my adventures. I have, at different times, experimented with Moroccan, Lebanese, Ethiopian, Greek, Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Latin American, most European styles, and Southern food (which feels foreign to me).

I have never, until now, tried making Thai. Though I love Thai food dearly, it felt, somehow, as though there were some invisible barrier to cooking it. I thought there were perhaps too many exotic spices (false) or sauces (not really) or ingredients (maybe for SOME dishes). In short, I felt about making Thai food the way many people feel about making any food at all.

I decided to reject that notion. I believe in brotherhood through brunch, sisterhood through supper. Without experimenting with Thai food, how could I welcome Thailand into the family of nations the fusion of which informs my cooking?

Now, I would LOVE to make phat kee mao (drunken noodles) or phat see ew (or however you transliterate those sweet, stir fried noodles) but I can't find the wide rice noodles (help, D.C. friends!). I did discover thin rice noodles -- perfect for phat thai.

Phat thai is an extremely simple dish in terms of ingredients. Other than the noodles, which apparently are found in many grocery stores, the only exotic is the fish sauce (if you've made certain Japanese or any Thai you probably already have some on hand). I had some boneless chicken breasts already, and in an effort to make the whole thing more colorful and more wholesome, I decided I would throw in some broccoli and a red bell pepper. I wanted to use chopped peanuts, but Giant was out (I know!!!) and I forgot I had some. Whoops.

Vamping off the noodle package directions, this is how I went about fashioning my first attempt at Thai:

Pad Thai

3/4 of a package of thin rice noodles (about 8 oz.)
4 T. fish sauce
1 T. brown sugar
1 t. paprika
3 eggs
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (VEGGIES -- use tofu instead)
2 scallions, sliced finely
2 heads of broccoli cut into small pieces
1/2 red bell pepper, sliced thinly

Small handful of chopped peanuts

half a can of bean sprouts (just throw away the other half, unless you make a lot of asian dishes. Blech)
garlic
salt and pepper

1) Place the noodles in warm water, spreading them out as much as possible, and allow them to soak for 30-40 minutes. Meanwhile, whisk together the brown sugar, fish sauce, and paprika.

2) Meanwhile, split the breasts lengthwise into cutlets using a sharp knife (a process called "butterflying") and slice thinly. Saute on medium in oil (I always just use olive oil; I'm sure it would be more authentic with something else) and garlic and season with salt and pepper. Cook through until no pink remains, but no further, then remove from pan.

3) Scramble the eggs in the bottom of the pan until done. Then, add pepper, broccoli, chicken and the (well-drained) noodles and stir fry over medium. After a minute or two add the fish sauce mixture and about a half cup of water. Continue stir frying, adding more water if need be. This is the tricky part, because underdone, rice noodles are inedible and overdone they're a sticky mass of noodles -- there's a window of perfection that I hit, but totally on accident.

4) When noodles are cooked through (lots of taste-testing required) but before they get too sticky, remove everything from the heat to a serving bowl and toss well. Top with chopped peanuts, scallions, and bean sprouts (which, despite their tinged look, actually have some health benefits -- Vitamin C most notably).

Enjoy!

A Wholly Incomplete Discussion of Buffalo Wings

Having attended the University of Rochester, and having lived in upstate New York, then, for just less than five years, I know a little about chicken wings. On Sunday, I had a pleasant and surprising wing experience I wish to relate. Read on.

FIRST: a brief message to my readers in the upstate New York region.

Hi friends. I'm going to talk about wings for a moment. I need you to basically pretend I'm not. I've spent far too many hours arguing the merits of Anchor Bar v. Duff's (2008); I grew too many gray hairs advocating for On The Rocks over The Distillery. I can't take it. I know you all have an opinion; the good Lord knows I do too. But all I wish to do here is mention and extoll the virtues of the wings I've discovered at one particularly place in DC. There is in the text hereafter no implication whatsoever that these wings are in any way better than Nathaniel's or Mark's or any of the other wonderful options available in the Upstate. Thanks!

Now that's out of the way, I will provide context. On Saturday night, I was faced with an extremely concerning situation: I had yet to find an acceptable location to watch the Patriots' home opener the following day. The food wasn't really a concern; I had brunch plans with RLK, JB, and Suburban Sweetheart (@Ulah Bistro, a staple in my brunch rotation). Having food was a plus, however; we ARE talking about a three-hour football game, but in finding a sports bar, the keys were a) must be showing the game, b) must be showing the game WITH volume, c) reasonably close to U street so I wouldn't miss kick-off, and d) must not be a Colts bar (as in a place where Colts fans assemble. Oy.)

I made a series of calls and did my research through Yelp and elsewhere, and settled on Buffalo Billiards. I'd been before, so I knew the venue was pretty huge with plenty of TVs; it didn't seem that it would be overrun with fans of another team; and I'd had a decent time in the past, so I figured, what the hell.

GREAT DECISION. Though the volume for my game was lower than I would have wished (too many others being played concurrently), the beer was cheap, the Pats won, I made friends (Go 'Skins!) and, as it turned out, the chicken wings were EXCELLENT.

Let me back up. Chicken wings aren't a staple in my diet -- I would die of cholesterol poisoning. They are a treat, like a cigar or a scotch, and as such, I treat them similarly -- as an experience. I'm not being over the top; I'm serious. Wings make me think of football. They bring me back to the best wings I've ever had, and the people I shared them with. Good wings remind me of half-priced appetizer nights with my best friends in college, of visiting Rochester, of a perfect Patriots season (16-0-0!).

For all this to happen, for a wave of nostalgia and contentment to crest and break and wash over and through me, a certain threshold of quality needs to be attained in my wing. It needs to be BIG; it needs to be tender and juicy. Wings need to have sharp, spicy, Buffalo sauce-flavor throughout, not solely on the exterior. They shouldn't have crusty skin and the sauce shouldn't be syrupy. A lot can go wrong in a wing -- and nothing did with the wings at Buffalo Billiards. They were solid, respectable, tasty, and cheap (10 wings for $5.50/20 for $9/30 for $12.50).

I personally believe that solid, respectable, tasty, and cheap are about the best accolades possible for a wing outside upstate New York, so Buffalo Billiards: Hungry Sam Salutes You.

The one picture I could take before my wings were...unphotographable:

Shana Tova Sandwich

Shana Tova, Happy New Year, readers! Today (well, last night) marks the holiday of Rosh Hashanah and the beginning of the year 5771 in the Jewish calendar!

Like many other holidays, Rosh Hashanah (literally "Head of the Year") has a couple of traditional foods (though not as many as some other Jewish holidays). We still tend to serve challah, but in a different form -- rather than being braided, the dough is wrapped in a large circular bun shape and it often will have raisins.

The other traditional "food" is pretty vague; if I had to define it, the food is "something sweet" to symbolize our hope for a sweet new year (very deep, I know). In American Reform Judaism, "something sweet" normally means apple dipped in honey. There's a song.

Now, in modern American culture, pretty much EVERYTHING is sweet, so I suppose the notion of eating something sweet just isn't that special. This, however, was not always the case, and as with all rituals, it is the underlying sacred meaning and interpretation of otherwise mundane or profane actions/objects that gives it power.

I go into all of this just to provide the cultural milieu in which I crafted the following sandwich.

I took two slices of fresh rye bread (with caraway seeds), added a thick slice of maple-smoked vermont cheddar, some avocado, two macintosh apple slices, and toasted this in the broiler for a few minutes. Then I added as much of the mango walnut chicken salad I made last night as I could and closed the sandwich. THEN I ATE IT. (With a delicious Imperial Pumpkin Ale from Weyerbacher Brewery in Easton, PA. God, there are some awesome breweries in PA.)

It looked like THIS!

It was a great sandwich, and eating it outside in what has felt like perhaps one of the first true days of autumn was a special way to spend my Rosh Hashanah afternoon.

B'teavon!

On the Menu: Tomato-Oregano Chicken and Four Bean Salad

Those who know me well know that I no longer have a real excuse to be remiss in regaling you all with my food adventures. The last six weeks have seen many -- Maryland Blue Crabs slathered in Old Bay spice; four separate takes on Shrimp, Grits, and Andouille stew; and the bounty of my home state, Maine -- is it weird to eat a total of 6 different types of shellfish and crustacean on about 10 occasions during a 4-day trip home?

This evening's post, however, is a bit more instructional. Perhaps you all were not yet bored with stories of my wild excitement at trying new foods and dishes, but I was becoming tired of sharing them. After all, I don't want to wear anyone out with my over-exuberant energy and passion for comestibles.

As a change of pace, then, tonight's post is...USEFUL. [Cue gasps from the studio audience.] We will be making Tomato-Oregano Baked Chicken and Four-Bean Salad. There will be a recipe, instructions, photos, and of course, Hungry Sam commentary.

On that note, it must be weird to cook in front of an audience. I digress.

Before we begin, allow me to say this: Everyone can make this dish. I know most of my readers, and I know some of you have poor chef-images (does that pun work?). have the urge to throw your hands up and forget about it. But really -- although some dishes are legitimate challenges, and although improvising, balancing complex mixtures of spices, and certain techniques require practice, these and many similar dishes are within your reach.

Where there's an appetite, there's a way.

Tomato-Oregano Baked Chicken and Four Bean Salad

Closely follows a recipe from Everyday Food magazine. I love this publication -- if you're a beginner, it provides easy recipes and lots of helpful background and knowledge; if you're a health nut, all recipes have per serving health facts; and if you're experienced, it provides inspiration.

The utensils/implements you will need:

-A good knife (For the love of God, do yourself a favor. Go out, and buy ONE good knife. Find a sale and get a decent Calphalon blade -- good Ohio steel -- or something, preferably a santoku or a simple paring knife. It won't break the bank.)

-A frying pan (9" or 12" will work, depending on the quantities with which you're working. Better if it's an oven-safe pan, because then you won't need...)

-An oven-safe pan or dutch oven

-A cutting board

-Tongs

-A largish stock pot, the sort of thing in which you'd make pasta

-A colander

-A bowl

-Something to prevent first degree burns when removing pans from the oven, like an oven mitt.

If you're not sure what any of these items are, click the links or Google them. If you don't own these things and want to, I guarantee you can get them all on the cheap online or at Target. Just please, please don't skimp on the knife. One good knife is all I ask. I only own four and I do better than fine.

Next, the list of ingredients you will need (in the order you will need them):

TIP: If you shop intelligently, this should be an inexpensive meal and many of the ingredients are staples that will keep in your cupboard for ages.

Chicken:

-5 or 6 bone-in, skin on chicken thighs (There's a temptation to go with a healthier cut. Don't, in this case -- the recipe just wont work. You'll be able to cut fat later in the preparation. This is also close to the cheapest cut; I buy the family pack and freeze the extra.)

-Olive oil (you should have this in your kitchen, always.)

-Salt and Pepper

-1 Yellow or Vidalia onion (I love Vidalias; they're super sweet and don't make me cry.)

-1 T. Garlic (I keep minced in the fridge)

-1 29-oz (large) can of diced tomatoes (Another thing I tend to keep on hand.)

-4 or 5 sprigs fresh oregano (Sometimes you can substitute for dried. Don't do it in this case.)

Salad:

- 1 lb. green beans

-4 T. cider vinegar (you could get away with red wine vinegar but I wouldn't use balsamic or white) and (the capital "T" means tablespoon; the lowercase "t" means teaspoon)

-4 T. olive oil

-1 T. finely chopped fresh oregano

-2 shallots (They're like onions but way better and cooler. If you want to be lame, you can use a wicked small yellow onion instead.)

-4 T. grainy mustard. If you want feel tempted to use the cheap yellow stuff instead, don't. Also, throw that crap away.

-3 cans of your favorite beans. I used 1 dark red kidney beans, 1 garbanzo beans (chickpeas) and 1 butter beans (my favorite)

-Salt and Pepper

Finally, the skills you will need:

-Literally, an ounce of patience. Lots of people think they're lousy chefs because they stop paying attention and take a nap. This leads to failure and possible oven fires. Just pay attention.

-A self-preservation instinct. As in, can you avoid cutting your fingers off? If not, stop reading. I don't want to be responsible for accidental amputation.

Last tip: Wash dishes and put things away as you go. I am not a super punctilious person when it comes to neatness; it honestly just makes your life easier and your cooking more efficient.

Here we go.

1. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. TIP: Never put anything in the oven while it's preheating. The oven preheats by applying LOTS of heat fast; things will burn.

2. Turn on a burner and set it to medium heat. Place your frying pan on the burner and add about a T. of olive oil.

3. "Season" (add salt and pepper, a reasonably small amount) to both sides of your chicken. Place your chicken thighs skin-down in the pan and cook until the skin gets golden and a bit crispy-looking, about 7 minutes. TIP: Watch out for spatter. Hot oil spatters, burns, and hurts. Think about long sleeves, an apron, and perhaps wearing something you don't mind get covered in oil.

4. During this time, slice your onion nice and thinly, open your can of tomatoes, and get out your garlic. No reason not to use down time wisely.

5. Flip the thighs, and cook for about a minute.

6. Remove the thighs from the pan and put on a plate. I put a paper towel underneath to absorb excess oil and fat. Pour out excess oil in pan, and BE CAREFUL.

7. Throw your onion into the pan and cook until it's soft -- it will become semi-translucent. Then, add your garlic and cook until fragrant.

8. Add the tomatoes and bring to boil. Assuming your frying pan is oven-safe, gently place the chicken back in the pan, skin side up, nestling the thighs into the sauce and distribute the washed fresh oregano springs around the chicken. If you need to transfer pans, go for it. Put the pan in the oven (which will definitely be preheated by now) and set a time for 25-30 minutes. TIP: Set a timer. Really.

9. Now the salad. Put the stock pot, 1/3-1/2 full of salted water, on a burner set to high and bring it to a boil. Trim the ends off the green beans and cut them in half. Open your canned beans and rinse them off in the colander, then transfer them to a bowl.

10. Once the water is boiling, toss in your beans and cook for 3 minutes. What you're doing is called "blanching" and it's a great way to make beans and a few other types of veggies a little sweeter and way crispier. After 3 minutes, drain in the colander and rinse them with cold water to bring the temp down.

11. Finely chop some fresh oregano (you'll have bought enough if you purchased a little package), about 3 or 4 sprigs worth of leaves ought to do. Finely slice your shallots. In a bowl or measuring glass (pyrex measuring glass is my go-to) mix together the vinegar, oil, mustard, oregano, shallots, and add a little salt and pepper. TIP: Taste it -- if it's bland, that means there's not enough salt. In this case try adding a scootch more vinegar and mustard.

12. Combine the dressing mixture, the canned beans, and the green beans; toss well.

13. Your chicken should be done. Remove it from the oven and let it cool.

14. Now send pictures to your loved ones to make them jealous of how awesome you clearly are. This step is vital.

15. Oh yeah, EAT.

As you eat it, think about the flavors and ingredients. Does the meal taste like something else you've eaten before? How? What were the ingredients or spices which made the earlier experience different? What's your favorite part about this meal? What would improve it? By asking yourself these questions, you can teach yourself how to improvise by combining the successes of various meals and drawing on that knowledge later.

There you have it: An easy, inexpensive, and reasonably healthy meal. As to the last point, although I've improvised a little, Everyday Food notes that each thigh with some of the sauce comes to 217 calories, 7.9 g fat (1.4 g sat fat), 19.3 g protein, 20.7 g carbs, 2.4 g fiber. The bean salad is tougher to estimate, given how I've altered the recipe, but it's beans and such -- high in protein and fiber. The only fat in the salad is the olive oil, which is heart-healthy monounsaturated fats and low in sat fat. Ok, there's some sodium in there too.

B'Teavon! Bon Appetite!

Marinating in Yogurt: A First Attempt

I used to be a pretty chubby kid, mostly because I viewed eating, as so much else, as a form of competition in which you won by eating more than anyone else. As I learned portion control (and found tennis, track, rugby, cycling and the gym) I slimmed off and now I compete by cooking tastier, cheaper, or more beautifully than I ever have before. That said, I have my moments in which I want to pig out and the end result of this recipe created just that sort of moment. I had one bite of this garam masala and yogurt marinated chicken and immediately set aside leftovers for lunch -- otherwise, they wouldn't be there tomorrow.

Spurred on by low price-per-pound chicken and a half-dose of boredom I decided to try marinating in greek yogurt. For those unaware, greek yogurt is a denser, more proteinaceous version of the regular type, one in which excess liquid and whey have been pressed or drained off -- it's pretty healthy too, hence its recent availability in stores. I'm not exactly a health nut, but I try to maximize protein in my daily diet so I keep the stuff on hand.

I've not marinated in yogurt before, and though I've heard the process lends itself to keeping meat moist and still imbuing intended flavors, I was still wary. I've had some bad experiences with marinating in general and have in the last several years become much enamored of using rubs as an alternative.

But, my hesitations aside, I mixed the yogurt with finely diced onion, minced garlic, lemon juice and salt and pepper, these being the combinations I recall from eating similar dishes in restaurants. A quick online search suggested garam masala (a pungent mixture of Indian spices) and ginger as a great way to flavor the marinade; I could have gone more Mediterranean and used cucumber and dill, but I was feeling more Asian today. It took ten minutes to prep; I threw everything in a bag, mixed it up and put it in the fridge. Six hours of wandering around D.C. in 50 degree weather and five minutes on the Foreman grill later, and I was sold on yogurt marinades.

Wow. The yogurt created a thin crust on the outside of each thigh and made the interior nearly creamy. The lemon and garlic was evident in every bite and made my mouth water for the next. Interesting, the spices I chose were pretty much indiscernible; either I used too little or I used precisely the right amount and they melded perfectly into the greater complex of flavors. I am literally sad looking at this empty blue plate.

Last week's recipe was NOTHING to this. THIS is what I want to do with chicken from now on; I can't wait until I can grill this recipe over charcoal. Now my mouth is watering again...

PS: I need to get a better way to take this pictures. This Blackberry bullshit is awful.

Wine-Braised Saffron Fennel Chicken

So, I frequently choose recipes by buying the meat that's on sale, deciding generally the way in which I want to cook the meat, then Googling the ingredients I have. I prefer certain Food Network chefs, anything from Tastespotting, and much from Epicurious, and roll with what I find.

Tonight, having thawed some chicken thighs and knowing I wanted to braise them, I just typed "chicken" and "braised" into the Tastespotting search bar and found Wine-Braised Chicken with Shallots. I stopped at Whole Foods on the way home from work, completely forgot the pancetta and decided I'd use onion instead of shallots. I already had most of my ingredients at home (a later post will describe what I consider to be a well-stocked kitchen); the herbs and fennel were all I needed and of the latter I purchased way too much. This all added up to some key changes to the recipe.

Out of habit I prepped everything (chopping the veggies takes some time) before beginning to cook. I wasn't under the clock and prefer a leisurely experience - also, though I find braising rather easy I think giving the process all of my attention probably contributed in the past.

Braising is a two-part cooking technique in which the chef dry sears in high heat then finishes slowly and gently in a spiced or flavored liquid at relatively low heat. I feel the process, which I only discovered several months ago, helps a chef to avoid all the potential pitfalls of cooking meat (particularly chicken) such as dryness, toughness, and flavorlessness, while simultaneously allowing the maximum creativity in spicing and bringing out the most delicate character of the meat. As sinew and fibers break down, the meat pulls away in gorgeous, neat slivers, tender to the touch and tongue, and positively imbued with the intended flavors.

Working with my wonderful dutch oven, I seared the chicken (having seasoned it with salt and pepper), sauteed the vegetables, added the wine and broth and tied my herbs into a small linen packet. Now, for this recipe, I decided to focus on bringing out the fennel by using a citrusy sauvignon blanc, reducing the thyme, including the stalks of the fennel bulb in my herb sachet, and in a moment of inspiration added saffron threads.

Finally, because I consider lemon to be fennel's best friend, I added long strips of peel (no pith!) to the mixture just before sending it covered into the oven. I braised for about 45 minutes at 300 degrees. Finally, I removed the chicken and the spices and simmered to reduce the sauce down to a few, savory cups. I served the chicken over rice with the sauce and vegetables on top.

VERDICT: I'm going to consider this dish quite good, not incredible. The flavor was excellent: the whole dish, top to bottom, had a citrusy, tangy flavor; the fennel scent infused the entire dish and the chopped bulb itself was mouth-watering. The chicken flaked away from the bone in long slivers, each juicy bite pregnant with intensity and zest. In a broader sense, I also consider the dish a win because it was so cheap. Even with my hearty appetite, I'm going to get 3 or 4 meals out of the leftovers, and the skinless bone-in chicken (the most expensive ingredient) was very reasonable at only a buck fifty a pound.

Some things I would change (DELTA!): I would have used some egg noodles instead of rice, I might have pulled the chicken off the bone during the last step to make it easier to eat, and I might have added some potato or another starch in order to help thicken the sauce. I'm not going to call this a "go-to" recipe, but it was an excellent use of the ingredients and that's my priority.

The final effect:

The Categorical Imperatives of Salad

I generally feel a little lame ordering a salad at restaurants -- after all, one of the reasons to eat out is to benefit from the wisdom and verve of a real chef. Salads are often the menu items which involve the least skill or forethought, and so I compensate by ordering Cobb salads, stacked with bacon, chicken, egg, etc. Somehow, it helps.

Photo: Flickr CC/Nemo's great uncle

But tonight, as I chowed down a Cobb at Trio on 17^th and Q NW (Washington, DC), this flexibility as to what constitutes a salad ate at me even as I ate at it (HUMOR!). So what IS a salad? What makes a salad a salad and not something else? What are the necessary conditions of salad-ness?

After much thought and some debate with Liz, I contend that four key factors lie at the firmament of any salad:

1. A salad is a stand-alone food – it does not inherently require a complementary food outside itself;
2. A salad is composed of a semi-random mixture or “tossing” of multiple distinct ingredients, each of which exists as a legitimate food unto itself;
3. The ingredients of a salad are themselves fully cooked or prepared prior to inclusion into the salad;
4. A salad must have a dressing, sauce, or relish which complements and connects disparate ingredients.

NOTE: The above are all, of course, reliant upon the general intent of the salad creator and each can be perverted for the creation of pseudo-salads, such as fruit salad which (with few exceptions) has no unifying dressing.

These attributes, I feel, constitute a sort of set of Kantian categorical imperatives; properties necessary to the nature of the proposition (in this case, a salad). They exclude some related foods, such as mixed nuts, dips and stews while effectively including salads ranging from traditional vegetable salads (leafy-greens-based or otherwise) to chicken, potato, pasta, tuna, and even Waldorf salads.

The key, however, as mentioned above, is intent. What makes a salad a dish and not just a pile of random foods is that a Creator-figure (e.g. chef) intentionally chose the elements and combined them in a pleasing way. Whether working from a recipe or improvising on a theme, human creative energy is a necessary condition for a true salad.

I know that this and other descriptors are controversial, and some people seek to modify salads in such a way that they cease to be salads. One common example of this is the situation in which people take a perfectly well-designed, intentional salad and ask that it be served without dressing. These are no longer salads; they are crimes against salads – aberrations of the lowest sort. This denies the plan of the Salad Creators and the salad's intended deliciousness.

As a final note, I'll add that the dressing factor (Key Factor Four) was a tough call. Traditional fruit salad is considered by many a salad and excluding it was no easy decision. But I feel strongly that fruit salad, while delicious, is far more reliant upon the inherent tastiness of the fruit than upon the techniques, talents, and recipes of the chef.

Oh, and the Cobb at Trio was pretty good.