appetizers Archives - Page 2 of 3

pear & gorgonzola salad with cinnamon-glazed walnuts

10.07.2014

After vacation last month and a slow start getting back into the swing of things, these last couple of weeks feel like we’re settling back into old routines. Slow mornings aided by snooze buttons (why is it so much harder to get up when it gets chilly out?) later evenings in the office with a salad and extra coffee with PSL syrup. On my commutes I tap out ideas for these posts on my phone, or play with Steller. Other times I doze off on the person next to me and things get awkward.

Lately, in an effort to keep my forehead from landing on my neighbors’ shoulders, I’ve been reading a lot — the ubiquitous Fault in Our Stars; The French Lieutenant’s Woman; South of the Border, West of the Sun; on Molly’s rec, Jeffrey Steingarten’s awesome and hilarious essay compilations. Reading food writing (well, the non-blog kind) is new for me, but awesome — I’ve been nose-deep in One Souffle at a Time by Anne Willan, and I’m super loving it so far.

To be totally honest, I’m a spring and summer girl all the way. But I kind of savor the evenings after busy fall days in a certain way that I don’t summer nights. Bowl #2 puts on some TV series or another (right now, a rewatch of How I Met Your Mother — yess) while he keeps working and I pretend to work but actually just lie prostrate under the favorite extra-nubbly throw blanket I’ve been longing for since May, nursing a cup of hot tea. We stay up too late, then spend too long talking in bed, leading to … another slow, snoozed-alarm morning, when it starts all over again.

Awhile back, when we were still in the midst of summer and spontaneity, B2 and I trekked up to New Haven for the day and visited an old haunt of his, Bar, to do a little recon on a recipe I’ve been wanting to recreate. We went for the pizza, but as it turns out, they also serve up a pretty mean salad — the one that gave rise to this version. The combination here is nothing new, so I won’t say too much more, but I thought it was a perfect fall segue salad, with the sweet spiced decadence of autumnal comfort foods, but the freshness of crunchy fruit and leafy greens for balance. It isn’t the kind of salad you order for dinner at work when you’re trying to be good, the kind where you’re thinking about protein and good fats and staying power. It’s just the fun kind, the kind on the side that’s kind of dessert hiding out in a camouflage of greens. But it’s cool, because we have like five years before it’s beach season again, right? 🙂

hokkaido milk bread

09.29.2014

This week, a new class of associates is starting at my firm. This is strange for a whole host of reasons (like, wait, I still don’t know anything, how can anyone be junior to me?) but mostly because it doesn’t feel like a whole year has passed since I started. Maybe the thing that stands out to me most about this new “grown” quotidian is that time suddenly feels a little unchained. Instead of living life in neat, segmented bites of time, fed to us through semesters, summer breaks, and midterms, it’s now nebulous seasons, the next three-day weekend, a new wave of co-workers.

So it all feels more free-form, and hallmarks seem to ambush me a little more. (Do not let me say “I can’t believe it’s almost [insert month or holiday]” again. … But really I can’t believe it’s almost October.) I realized while making this bread that it was only about a year ago that I first ventured into baking with yeast. Which is remarkable, because even though I still find rising dough completely crazy — it’s alive — it’s now hard to imagine a kitchen without it.

This loaf might just be my favorite yeasty recipe in my nascent bread-making life. I was a tad freaked when I first started testing recipes for it, given that Hokkaido milk bread has a reputation just about as lofty as its sky-high crumb — but thanks to a recipe adapted from this one by Christine’s Recipes, the result was everything I imagined it would be. Soft, wispy sheets of bread with a rich, tender crumb and just a touch of sweetness, good enough to eat plain, but even better toasted and smothered in condensed milk. You can find the recipe on Food52.

Wishing you all lovely weeks ahead!

korean soy-braised tofu (dubu jorim) // a guest post for with food + love

09.10.2014

We’re back! As of an hour ago, Bowl #2 and I are back in our Brooklyn nook, a little tanner, a lot rounder, kind of sleepy, and trying to remember what it’s like to be hungry.

Before I go nap off our red-eye, I just wanted to drop in a little hello and a note that I have a guest post up this morning on With Food + Love! Sherrie’s blog is a gorgeous and inspiring take on vegetarian, gluten-free eating, and I’m so excited and honored to be able to contribute something today (especially as a gluten-ful omnivore!)

When it comes to tofu, I’m generally not persuaded by it unless it’s the chewy dried version that crops up in stirfries and savory braised meat dishes (or, if my dad is involved, eaten plain out of the package). But when Bowl #2’s mother introduced me to this banchan last fall – incidentally, on our last trip to visit his family almost exactly a year ago – I was totally smitten, even despite my textural bias. The tofu is pressed with paper towels to remove moisture, then briefly panfried to add a touch of crisp, and finished by braising in an intensely flavored soy sauce and sesame oil mixture, punctuated by bright scallions, garlic, and a touch of red pepper. It’s vegan, and if you use tamari, gluten-free – more importantly, it’s just really good. Hop on over to Sherrie’s blog for the recipe!

And now it’s time for a nap! Hope you’re all having lovely Wednesdays!

kimchi & bulgogi nachos

08.26.2014

So here’s what happens when you live with someone who is usually indifferent to food. You’ll go for weeks racking your brain for what to make for dinner or what to post on your blog, procrastinating at work by making lists and going down Pinterest rabbit holes, feeling generally uninspired … and then one day, as you’re drifting off to sleep, he’ll pipe up casually with something like, “Hey … what about bulgogi nachos?” And then you won’t go to bed for another 20 minutes (while he falls asleep right after) and you’ll spend about 10 seconds of that thinking why didn’t I think of that! and the other 19 minutes and 50 seconds contemplating whether making nachos at 1 AM on a Wednesday is a normal and worthy endeavor.

And then, as soon as you can (though maybe not at 1 AM), you make them and post about them. Because dude, bulgogi nachos. With kimchi, and plenty of melted cheese, and a pile of spicy greens on top? Perfection. Of course, Korean Mexican fusion is nothing new, and it receives a healthy share of ire as the poster child (it seems) of what people perceive as unnecessary fusion cuisines, but I really feel like it works here. The well-salted tortilla chips are a fantastic balance to the savory-sweet beef bulgogi, and the tang from the kimchi helps liven up those otherwise heavy flavors. And anyone who’s been here in Cambridge knows that there’s nothing closer to heaven than a healthy pile of melted mozzarella on tender Asian-marinated beef.

The best part is that I’m not the only one feeling the need to put Asian food on nachos this week (which is how you know you’re onto something!) because Steph at I Am a Food Blog put a California roll all on tortilla chips and it looks so, so good. Can I just start a diet where I eat only things on nachos? I feel nothing but good things and low cholesterol can come of this.

grilled peach & burrata salad

08.07.2014

The first time I had burrata was just a few months ago, at this little shindig. It was served over stone fruit in a salad that inspired this one, and it blew my mind. Burrata is like a present but the present is wrapped in a present — it’s more like two cheeses in one, a thin, supple pouch of fresh mozzarella that holds soft, creamy ricotta-like curds in its hollow belly. The contrast in textures fascinated me, and since then, it’s been on my list of foods to experiment with at home.

So a week or so ago I picked up two snowy-white specimens from Murray’s Cheese to take home with me. One I cut up and tossed with penne, tomatoes, & basil for a simple but so satisfying dinner (the creamy insides melt into the best sauce!), and the other I used in this grilled peach salad, a humble take on what we had at Sensi in May. I feel like this salad embodies everything a summer salad should be — fresh and sweet, a little bit decadent, and full of vibrant yet uncomplicated flavors. Grilling the peaches lends an extra smoky sweetness to them, perfect for those few that are a little less ripe than their friends, and the bite from the arugula and the pungent balsamic glaze help balance out the richness of the peaches and ~~cream~~ burrata. To top it all off I added a little bit of caramelized onions, just because caramelized onions make everything better.

potstickers, three ways

07.10.2014

According to my mother, ours is a wonton household. I grew up watching my parents deftly fold armies of plump little wonton soldiers at the kitchen table, watching my mother boil plate after plate of them, slurping copious bowls of soup, and, if I was lucky, crunching into a panful of fried wontons on a special occasion. But when it came to dumplings, our consumption was mainly of the frozen variety — bought in bulk and boiled or pan-fried by my dad on weekend lunch duty. (The other two members of the rotation were ramen and Papa John’s. In other words, weekend lunches were the best.)

So, when I set out to make dumplings from scratch last year, I didn’t have a whole lot of experience behind me. But it turns out they’re delightful. The dough is simplicity at its best, and I find the pleating miles easier than the flip-and-twist-and-seal dance that wontons call for. I think they’d be perfect for an afternoon when you have a little extra time on your hands, or a DIY dinner party (which, I guess, is why dumpling parties are a thing). You can find my take on potstickers, plus recipes for three different fillings, over at Verily Magazine this morning. Hope you’re all having lovely weeks!

fig, ricotta, & honey tartines

06.25.2014

Once upon a time, a miniature version of me hated cheese.

Right? I know. I don’t know. Somehow I went through an addled childhood as an outspoken enemy of cheese, picking shreds of it out of salads, scraping it off lasagna, and generally living a deprived existence. (And then one day I ate a Kraft single at a friend’s house, and the next thing I knew, half a pack of highly processed cheese was gone and a lifelong obsession with all things melt-able was born. Also, indigestion. Also, I was clearly an excellent house guest.)

Back in my inexplicable cheese-hating days, ricotta was Public Enemy No. 1. My only exposure to it was in school cafeteria lasagna, more or less, and the watery, gritty, faintly sour form it came in back then was anathema. Even after I grew into my cheese, ricotta was one that I could pretty much take or leave, haunted by that substance lurking between formless, soggy sheets of pasta on my lunch tray. It wasn’t until one day a few summers ago, mid-bite into a crostini at Frankie’s 457, that I changed my mind. Spread thick on a crusty, toasted baguette with a drizzle of honey, good ricotta is creamy, richly decadent but not overpowering, not in the least soggy or gritty or bland. And has me, a dozen-odd years later, eating it with a spoon straight out of the cheesecloth.

chamchi kimbap

06.04.2014

It’s Bowl #2’s birthday today! Hip hip hooray!

Honestly, I’m a little embarrassed this year, because our recent life whirlwind bit me in the butt and I didn’t have anything particularly special planned for him – unlike last year’s Hawaii food–stravaganza. It’s particularly tragic because my man has been so downright amazing lately — powering through my brother’s visit, an estrogen-packed few days in Vegas, and an apartment move (hyper-organized and virtually stress-free, all thanks to him). On top of that, he’s been absolutely slammed with work. To say he’s been a trooper and the best fiance a girl could ask for is a gross understatement.

Luckily (or, even luckier) for me and my lack of birthday planning, Bowl #2 is low-maintenance, especially when it comes to food. In a sharp and somewhat baffling contrast to me (indiscriminate gluttony personified) he has about six edibles and potables that he’s wild about:

Beer.
Spicy ahi poke.
Bacon, scrambled eggs & rice. (Every single time I make this he says, “This looks amazing!” like I just whipped up a tower of soufflés.)
Kimchi fried rice. (In fact, kimchi anything.)
Pizza.
And lastly … chamchi kimbap.

farro & asparagus salad with sesame-miso dressing

05.28.2014

After such a long and lingering winter this year, it feels like this late, coy spring is hurtling into summer faster than I can keep up with. One moment it was snowing in April, a perpetual winter, a movie on pause, and the next it was everything at once — an 80-degree Memorial Day, violently green foliage everywhere we look, another year’s worth of friends getting illustrious degrees, my brother finishing his freshman year and coming to visit New York for the first time. A wedding venue booked (!), a date set, a trip to Vegas to celebrate some amazing friends. Our first New York lease on the cusp of expiring, an apartment move next weekend.

With the whirlwind of things that have been happening lately, this past long weekend could not have been more welcome. There were things to do, but spread out over three days instead of two, it gave us the chance to take a couple much-needed deep breaths, pump the brakes a little, and relax. We took a break from packing to watch Joss Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing, which appealed to every sentimental whim of my English major heart; we enjoyed our favorite things about this creaky “has character” apartment in our last weekend before the move, like the green-tinged, dappled sunlight that filters lazily through our vine-covered balcony in the early afternoons. (And the in-apartment washer-dryer. We’ll miss you, world’s oldest and smallest washer and dryer. You may have been highly inefficient, you may have threatened to explode, but you were in our apartment.)

pimento cheese

05.21.2014

I have kind of a funny relationship with the South. I spent most of my childhood in the land of sweet tea and fried chicken, but while living there, I don’t know if I would have ever identified as “Southern.” There are some ways in which the South and I just didn’t really get along, and when I left, I figured I’d head out and not look back. In that funny twisty-turny way that life likes to go, though, since leaving for the Tundra I’ve come to appreciate the South in ways I didn’t anticipate. I’ve found that there are a lot of things I’ve come to miss, a lot of things that I’ve brought with me, many of which I didn’t even know were Southern until I left.

Like the word “poot.” Y’all, somebody just pooted.*

*I am alarmed by some of the Urban Dictionary definitions of this word. No, guys, it just means fart.

And, more relevantly, pimento cheese. It’s no secret that the one thing I’ve had no trouble embracing about my quasi-heritage is the cuisine. Batter it and fry it, dump a pound of sugar in it, extra mayo, extra butter, please and thank you. When it came to pimento cheese, though, I didn’t even know it was a thing that was Southern, and not merely ubiquitous. Until my first summer in New York, where I got hit with a sudden craving for a plain old pimento cheese sandwich on white bread — simple enough, until I spent literally hours combing the lower part of Manhattan for a store that sold it. I was baffled. And then informed by Google and Wikipedia (my most reliable sources of information) that it is “a common food preparation in the Southern United States.” Um. The entirety of the rest of the United States was a food desert.

I kid. (Partially.) But I mean, cheese and mayo? And not only that, but creamy, just barely pungent extra sharp cheddar, paired with the sweet tang of rosy pimiento peppers and a touch of heat from a pinch of cayenne, and married with mayonnaise? From my perspective, that seems like a recipe for culinary ubiquity however you slice it. There’s still hardly anything I’d want more than cold pimento cheese and a sleeve of Ritz crackers on a hot picnic day.