Testing, Testing, One, Two, CAKE...

One of my best girlfriends has an adorable child who is turning 1 in January.



Rachelle picked out this adorable cake for her daughter's birthday and asked if I would duplicate it and show a step-by-step for her. Luckily, it was my mom's birthday last week, so I had a great excuse to try out the cake. Here is the photo she showed me:



Cute, huh? Butterflies are always a good choice for tiny, beautiful children.

So, here's how you do it.

First, gather your ingredients. You can use any white/yellow cake mix. The point here, (Rachelle and I both agree) is the decorating. No one's going to care that you used a mix once they see how adorable this cake is.



In reality, you'll need only one can of frosting. The other one I got for snacking. Don't worry, it was the Reduced Sugar one.

Pour the batter into two greased 9x9 square cake pans. I only had one, so I repeated the process twice. Follow the time instructions on the boxed mix. I think mine took about 25 minutes.



Flip both cakes out onto cooling racks. Once they're both cool, CAREFULLY move them onto a flat serving surface - I used a wood cutting board, but a cookie sheet would work well. Or a doily. I was told once, 'never underestimate the elegance of a doily.' Good advice.



Next, you're going to cut out the shape of the butterfly. It's hard for me to explain in words, so here's the pictures. I did the top first and then the bottom and then rounded the wings. It's easiest to do this with a small paring knife. SHARP. Don't use a dull knife. Ever.



Divide the frosting into five bowls. I found three-four drops of food coloring for each color - green, pink, yellow and blue - worked really well for the pastel colors. For the purple, use five drops of each red and blue food coloring. Preeeetty. I don't remember the last time I used food coloring. I'll be using it more often.



I found that the easiest way to ice this cake (and believe me, it's harder than it looks), is to start from the inside out. The green "body" of the butterfly should get iced first.
Then, the pink parts of the wings. To frost the cake, I used a small silicone spatula. I think that works the best for detailing and smoothness.





Then, the blue sections.



Then, the yellow and purple edges. Don't forget to ice the edges of the cake, too. The best way to do this without getting crumbs in the icing is to use a LOT of icing at first. this will make sure the crumbs stay put.



I'm not a huge fan of these "spray" frostings, but it seemed to work pretty well for the edging. The original photo shows the little dot tip, but I like the stars much better, don't you? I think it turned out rather well, don't you? If you really hate those spray icings, a pastry bag with a #26 or #30 tip (#6 for the little pearls) will work just as well or better. The star edging is really what transforms this cake into something really cute and special.



Here's the finished product. Remember, it's humid and disgusting in Florida in October, so that's why it looks a little melty. The only things I forgot were the pipe cleaner antennae. But those are pretty intuitive.





My mom loved it! Happy birthday, Mom! Have fun, Shell!

I Like That Boom Boom COW!

Okay, Summer, you and I need to have a little talk.

It's September, alright, but it's about time to start getting chilly. Now, don't mistake me, I love the afternoon thunderstorms and never having a good hair day as much as the next girl. But as the conversation at the water cooler turns from beach days and grilling to cinnammon brooms and chili, I start to get antsy.

It's okay, Summer, I realize you're going to steal September away in a wash of 90% humidity and possible tropical storm force winds, but at this time of year, I just can't help trying to force Fall. I have wants, too, you know.

I want to wear a sweater somewhere other than my office. I want to empty the stale potpourri from my coffee table centerpiece and fill it with gourds, squash and pumpkins. I want silk autumn wreaths on my door and the smell of rosemary from my shrub outside. I want my nose to freeze and an excuse to wear a scarf and a velvet blazer. I want Fall!

As much as I love grilling and light fish dishes and salads, I've been yearning for that comfort food we all adore. Stews thick with root vegetables, meat loaf, creamy chowders, stone-fruit pies. A co-worker mentioned that she loves to roast in the Fall, a thick cut of tough meat, rubbed with aromatic spices or braised long and slow in the Dutch Oven. "I like pork," she said. "But in the Fall, cow is King.' I couldn't agree more.

All of these things say Fall, and, I admit it, I forced it on an 85-degree evening.

Monday night, I braised short ribs in stock and wine, root veggies and onions, sun-dried tomatoes and thyme. I can't imagine a bowl of Fall any better than that, especially processing the braised vegetables in the Tupperware Quick Chef into a velvety sauce, topped with sauteed kale and garlic. It didn't exactly look like the photo (because I snatched the photo from a food mag), but short ribs are nearly impossible to mess up, and they look like this every time.

Some of my coworkers claim that their local Publix's are already carrying the cinnamon brooms I'm yearning for. I just can't enjoy them until it dips below 80outside. And, for that, I'll most likely have to wait until October.

Come on, Fall. Let's braise something.

*photo credit: Bon Appetit magazine

Why I Learned To Start Eating and Love Norman Van Aken

Here's my review of Norman's for Orlando Style Magazine.

The Aji Amarillo Butter-poached Lobster made me cry. It's that good.

Fast Food...Fancy?

I was just tipped off to this blog by a friend who writes for Health magazine.

Hello, irony. It seems you're well, today.

You have to see this. The blog accepts photos from people who have taken fast food to the haute level. The rules:

1. Buy a fast food meal.
2. Reconfigure it, using no additional ingredients.
3. Take photos and send it in!

This is a great challenge. I can't wait to try it and see what I come up with.

Check this out. Tortellini made from a Taco Bell Burrito Supreme. The tortellini are made from the flour tortilla and stuffed with the burrito stuffing. The red sauce - well, you know what kind of packets that came from. Brilliant.

By far, the best blogpost on Peruvian food. And it's not mine.

My friend Jenn just clued me into this blog by one of her favorite artists. Apparently, she just spent two weeks in Peru, studying art and eating.

This is one of the best blog posts on Peruvian food I've seen, and it makes me want to hop a flight.

Beware - the photos on this blog may cause involuntary and excessive drooling.

READ IT HERE!

Chiffon Cake, Part II

My father loves orange-flavored desserts, due to his Italian upbringing. Put a little orange extract or a little almond extract (or both!) in a batter and he'll demolish every little crumb. Biscotti, amaretti cookies, pignolis, cannoli (is the singular of cannoli "cannolus?), any scented Italian pastry or cookie is fair game.

Instead of trying the mocha cake again, I decided to make the orange version in honor of Father's Day. I love you, Dad!



Well, after my first chiffon cake disaster, I decided to try it again with the Joy of Baking recipe. What a difference the extra cup of flour makes! The batter was much more viscous, the meringue more stable (from the addition of cream of tartar and three tablespoons of sugar), which made everything fold together so much nicer.

Here's the cake as it was coming out of the oven. See how tall it got? Tall like the Eiffel Tower, the Empire State Building, and other masterpieces. Also, I have a kick-ass Top Chef oven mitt. I know you want one.






After 55 minutes of baking, I used my extremely technical and advanced tool to check the middle of the cake. It's a bamboo skewer. It's all-powerful. It's the iPhone of kitchen appliances.



You have cool the cake upside down, which is why the pan has the little prongs. There are two reasons for this, I think. First, if you cool the cake right-side-up, it will fall like a souffle - keeping the cake upside-down sets the proteins in the meringue and keeps them from collapsing.



Second, the air needs to cool the bottom, the sides, and the top evenly and completely (for about 2-3 hours).

Here's the finished product. I glazed the top of the cake before serving, and it was delightfully moist and tender, even three days after baking!




ORANGE CHIFFON CAKE GLAZE:

1 cup confectioner's sugar
3-4 tablespoons fresh orange juice
2 teaspoons orange zest

Mix ingredients together and pour over cake.

Chiffon Cake Catastrophe

For the longest time, about four months, I've been hankering to make a tall, fluffy chiffon cake like the one I made in Birmingham while I lived with Donna Florio (Senior Food Writer for Southern Living, and a good friend). The one I made there, as you can see, was nearly perfect. Tall, lemon-scented, and very moist.



Chiffon cakes are pretty close to angel food cakes, which you've probably seen/heard of/tasted at some point. Angel food cakes are basically whipped egg whites (meringue) combined with dry ingredients like flour, baking soda, etc. The only difference for chiffon cakes is that instead of dry ingredients being folded into the meringue, it's a batter (usually flavored) being folded gently into the egg whites. It's a fun, versatile cake that generally yields gorgeous results.

Not last night.

I finally found a pan that would work at Jo-Ann, Etc.



Do you like the kittens in the background? I do.

The thing about the cake is that it needs to creep up the sides of the baking vessel and stick to something to achieve that height. Non-stick pans just don't do the trick. I'm not sure why the only kind of pans I found for angel food cake/chiffon cakes were non-stick, because that totally defeats the purpose. I finally found a non-non-stick pan, and set to work.

The book I used is called Baking Illustrated, by the magazine Cook's Illustrated, a generally reliable magazine for extremely...well...we'll say "picky" cooks. Cook's Illustrated tests and retests their recipes over and over and over again using different methods and different varieties of ingredients to eventually end up with the flagship recipe for brownies, grilled steaks, banana bread, or other classic recipes. I figured this would be a good starting place. For the cake I made in Birmingham, I used Rose Levy Berenbaum's The Cake Bible, another go-to favorite for bakers.

There were several variations listed for the Chiffon Cake. Banana nut, Chocolate marble, Date-Spice, Lemon/Lemon-Coconut, Mocha-Nut, and Orange/Orange-Cranberry. I'd just bought some new T-discs for my Tassimo, so I settled on the Mocha-Nut, which calls for 3/4 C espresso instead of water, and some shaved chocolate, and ground toasted walnuts. YUM!

While mixing up the batter, it felt extremely loose to me. Not like a cake batter at all, more like a crepe batter, or...just not a cake batter.

Here is the result.



Laaaaame.

The cake didn't rise, and for some reason, the batter just sunk to the bottom of the pan and made this rubbery, eggy layer on the bottom. Gross.

I pored over the recipe for about an hour, trying to figure out what went wrong. Then I went to the Joy of Baking website to compare. There's an obvious typo in the Baker's Illustrated book. It calls for 1 1/3 C cake flour, and every other formula I looked at called for 2 1/4 or 2 1/3 C of cake flour. That extra cup sure does make a difference.

I'll be trying again tonight; I'm just mildly pissed that I wasted 7 eggs and 4 Tassimo Espresso T-discs. But that's cooking, right?

Here's the recipe from the Joy of Baking that I'll be using this evening for the Orange Chiffon Cake.

"Top Chef: Masters" Episode 1

Before I begin with my thoughts on the mini-season of Top Chef:Masters, I have to say, I'm starting to think that Top Chef really jumped the shark last season when they name Hosea (mediocrity) Top Chef instead of Stefan (perfection), mostly due to the fact that Stefan was completely unlikable as a character. They compromised skill for character, and that's not what cooking is all about. Cooking is about skill, technique, and inspiration. Hosea made some of the most boring food I'd ever seen (but not tasted, to be fair). Boring food does not a Top Chef make.

On to the show, though. I am excited for Top Chef: Masters, because it's a complete departure from the up-and-coming young punks and a focus on seasoned chefs making well-seasoned food, although I have a feeling that I'll eventually refer to Lefebvre (later in the season) as a "young punk." I really wasn't expecting the layout for the show, pitting only four chefs against each other to win a spot in the final challenge, but I suppose asking 24 master chefs from all over the country to leave their restaurants for 6 weeks for filming was probably too much. The layout makes sense.

In this episode, Chefs Hubert Keller (of Fleur de Lys, a former Top Chef judge), Christopher Lee (of Aureole), Tim Love (of Lonesome Dove), and Michael Schlow (of 606 Congress) went head to head to, first create a dessert to be judged by four Girl Scouts, and second, cook a three-course meal in a college dorm room using only a microwave, a hot plate, and a toaster oven. The elimination challenges are judged by Gael Greene, Gail Simmons, James Oseland (my future boss), and Jay Rayner.

The host, Kelly Choi, is adorable; more polished than Katie Lee Joel, but still approachable like Padma Lakshmi. I miss Padma, though. She wears skinny jeans like no one can.

Note: When the show was introducing Tim Love, they showed his little Texas flags on top of his dishes as they went out to the dining room. TEXAS TOOTHPICK FLAGS. Anyone who knows me knows how irritated I get when there are inedible things on my plate. This includes sprigs of rosemary or gratuitous branches of thyme. Wow. If I ordered a twenty-dollar steak and a tiny Texas flag was skewered in it, I'd probably walk out. Sorry. The kitsch isn't worth it.

The Dessert Challenge was fun. As one chef who has actually had dessert/pastry experience, I can see how trying to make an exciting dessert without any experience would be extremely difficult. I loved the red-haired Girl Scout and her brutal critiques that made the chefs cringe. She was so honest and unafraid.

Also, as soon as I saw Keller's little whipped cream quenelle mouse on the plate, with the cute little almond ears and chocolate tail, I almost squealed with glee. I would have voted for that immediately. I must have more whipped cream quenelle mice in my life. It's no wonder they gave him 5 stars.

Elimination Challenge: I think it's sad that executive chefs forget how to grocery shop. I love grocery shopping. I also think it's sad that they don't generally make pork chops. Bone-in pork chops are one of life's pleasures.

Surprise! The master chefs will not only be cooking dorm-room style, they'll be cooking in an ACTUAL dorm room, complete with students!

One note about the pasta showering thing Hubert Keller did. That's gross. I have to agree with James Oseland on that one. TMI. I remember how the showers were at BYU when I shared a shower hall with 25 girls. It wasn't completely clean all the time, and wow. I wouldn't have set the colander on that shower seat. No way.

I was impressed with those students at the judging table. When I was in college, I really had no idea about gourmet food, and the idea of a scallop carpaccio or salmon crudo (with popcorn!) probably would have scared the pants off me.

Critics Table: I miss Ted Allen and Colicchio. It seems like the fun is totally gone from the Table. The seems like a total departure from the original Top Chef, a great example of how the right combination of personality can really change the dynamic of the show.

The great thing about these chefs is that they're not afraid to take risks. The risotto made by Christopher Lee was really an issue. To do risotto on a hot plate in a dorm room and then serve it to the likes of the critics is pretty ballsy. If this was a usual Top Chef episode. We'd probably see a lot of maple-seared salmon and microwaved, instant rice tossed with dried fruit, chervil, and walnuts. That's probably what I would have done. Boring.

I was glad Keller won. Lee just seems a little too cocky for me, and Schlow didn't translate well to camers (a little sluggish for my taste), and man, Tim Lee, please get rid of those stupid toothpick flags.

Learn to make Hubert Keller's Shrimp Macaroni and Cheese dish HERE!

Victims: Strollos, Beluga, What-a-Burger

Time for some unfortunate news. Three decent (not fabulous, decent) restaurants have gone the way of the economy and shut their doors: Strollo's Cucina Due in Winter Park, Beluga in Winter Park, and all of the Central Florida What-A-Burger restaurants (3, I think). I'll offer eulogies for these establishments now.

I only went to Strollo's once, but I was so impressed with their array of artisan dry pastas. I now regret not buying several boxes of bucatini (thick spaghetti with holes through the center, perfect for carbonara), and about a case of Orangina. The goat-cheese/portobello panini I had for lunch was divine, and they didn't scrimp on the goat cheese, an error too many places make. Strollo's had a gorgeous case of cheeses, olives, and salumis, perfect for organizing a cocktail platter, and they offered cooking classes in their fully-equipped cooking class kitchen, located in the far corner of the restaurant. It's really too bad this place is gone. Really.

My theory: too many things going on at once. Either do a case of deli food, bread baking, pastries, be an ethnic food store, have a cafe, and do cooking classes SEPARATELY, or don't do them at all. If you try too many things at once, you'll most likely implode.

As for Beluga, I read several articles online talking about why Beluga closed, and there was no conclusive evidence until I actually went to the location, in the Winter Park Village, and saw the property lien tacked to the glass doors. Non-payment of taxes can be a bitch - ask Wesley Snipes. I never went to Beluga, but it always looked swanky and fun, with potentially good signature cocktails. I guess I'll never know. I always imagined delicate caviar served on ice with shots of smooth vodka on the side. Probably unrealistic, but I'll just leave my dreams where they are.

My theory: Pay your taxes.

To me, the real tragedy is the What-A-Burger. Orlando has such a hard restaurant market to crack, but these guys really knew how to make a burger. I would choose a What-A-Burger over most of the fancier burger joints (did I just say 'fancy burger joints'?) like Graffiti or Hue. The fact that I could order pickled jalapenos on my burger was such a plus. Their fries were amazing. I miss the breakfast burrito.
Sure, Five Guys does burgers better than almost everyone, but I held a special spot in my heart for What-A-Burger. During the early days of my relationship with my current boyfriend, after a long night of watching horror movies or "studying," What-A-Burger would often be the only thing still open, and we'd frequent the place as a midnight love snack. You'll be missed, What-A-Burger. You can read the full What-A-Burger story here, from the Sentinel.

My theory: No one will take down McDonalds, Burger King, and Wendy's. To be honest, I'm surprised Sonic is still in business. But they have the girls-on-roller-skates thing going for them.

My sources tell me that the Drunken Monkey coffee bar on Bumby might be in trouble as well. They've cut down their menu severely (only 3 fabulous soups now, instead of the usual 6 or 7), as well as recently raised their prices. All signs of a nervous captain and crew.

My theory: Dunkin' Donuts. Also, I love the Drunken Monkey, but their service is horribly slow and they closed down briefly last year for health code violations. Pick your poison. Doomed from the start, in my opinion. Unfortunately.

The Making of a Chef

For my post today, I thought I'd let you all in on a little secret. As a chef in Paris, it wasn't all wine and les fleurs.

Oh no. In fact, I had some pretty serious disasters.

For this installment, I'll copy some of my writing from my journal I kept while I worked as a personal chef for Mme. Lavigne. I think it'll give some greater insight into where I have been in my career, and even into my thinking on food and work as a whole. Here goes:

"Jardin des Tuileries 25.08.2006

"Apparently all chefs, even me, have off nights. I catered a dinner party for Mme. Lavigne's friend, Michelle, and her cousins from Belgium. What a disaster.

"Well, plates came back clean (except for dessert, which was a CLEAR disaster), so I guess it wasn't all inedible. I really just didn't have enough time, I don't think. Or I just sucked at executing it all, which was likely the case.

"WHAT WORKED:
- the apricot risotto was fabulous. I could eat it every day for the rest of my life.
- the quail wasn't overdone, but...eh.

"WHAT DIDN'T:
- everything else.

"It wasn't that it was horrible. Everything was just "eh," which, to me, is worse than horrible. It's like how the opposite of love is indifference. It works with food, too. I would much rather have someone absolutely hate something and know WHY, and be absolutley certain WHY they hate it than to feel, "Eh. It's nothing special."

"The Nutella souffle was what really crowned the mediocre meal. If I hadn't whipped in the Nutella, it probably would have turned out better. Just a straight meringue. As soon as I touched the Nutella to the meringue, it fell like a 2-year-old on monkey bars. That was a bad simile, but if I had seen a 2-year-old fall from monkey bars, I would have said, "That 2-year-old just fell like a bad souffle."

"Oh well. I'll make up for it on Saturday when I do another dinner party for Michelle.

"I wish I had business cards. I might have to invest in them. I would hand them out to everyone and anyone here basking in the gorgeous day here around the duck fountain at the Tuileries gardens.

"Holly Kapherr
Chef de Cuisine Personnel
06.79.21.24.70"

In retrospect, I wish I'd kept all the recipes for the stuff I made for those dinner parties. That apricot risotto sounds fabulous.

Catch-up...not Ketchup. No, no.

It's about time I got back in the blogosphere, and I have some pretty exciting things to talk about.

First off, I picked up a new freelance gig at MyCityEats and Entertainment magazine here in Orlando. I am very excited to be their new restaurant reviewer, excited to get paid to eat and to share my opinions on the burgeoning food scene here in Orlando, and hope that this is just another stepping stone to the day when I actually get to have a full-time job doing this. Visit their website for coupons and to see my work in the Summer issue (out in June).

MyCityEats - Orlando

Also, I've become newly obsessed with the Asian markets around here, since I no longer have a produce market within walking distance, and because I'm pretty much obsessed with Asian food. At the Dong-A supermarket the other day, picking up some things. It was a gray day, and I was in the mood for a smooth, relaxing green curry with shrimp and chicken. All I needed was some Thai eggplants, some lemon grass, and some sweet Thai Basil. See below:


I got to the check out counter, and the sweet Viet man behind the counter smiled and said, "Oh...someone is making curry tonight!" Yes, Viet man, yes I did. And it was delicious. Green curry and mango margarita nights are my favorite.

Also, I was privileged to meet and interview Chef Norman Van Aken, one of the greatest stars in the culinary world.

He is such a sweet, thoughtful, and interested man, who shares a passion for New World Cuisine. His restaurant in Orlando, Norman's, is highest-rated in Orlando by ZAGAT, and I will be reviewing it for Orlando Style magazine in the near future. What an honor! We had a great time discussing everything from the celebrity chef movement to the relationship between ceviche and sashimi. Look for my review in the July/August issue of Orlando Style.

Other than that, I have made a goal to cook much more this summer and to develop the recipes I'll be including in my thesis. Hold me to it!

Eating Down the Fridge

Yesterday, I spent far too much money at Clemon's Produce. I spent my entire week's allowance on things like Indian Eggplants, tiny cucumbers, three boxes of strawberries (ripe for the ice cream maker, now that it's finally stable weather here in CenFlo), a massive basil plant, gargantuan beets, and too many more things to count.


It's time to eat down the fridge, my friends.

Cliff and I are still in school and desperately trying to get jobs at this point. We just blew our last Spring Break in glorious Key West (more on this later...Food Tour!), so now it's time to buckle down, break the camel's back, and spend less. At this point, we're good on rent money until June. After that - who knows?

Here's the game plan. The fridge, as you can see, is well stocked. Somehow we ended up with a jar of red caviar (don't freak, it's not the good stuff) and a plastic package of quail eggs in the same vicinity.




Yes, there are lots of fruits and vegetables. I collect food. It makes me happy and makes my life worth living. For some people it's stamps, some people collect cats, others collect religious convictions. Me? I collect food.

Other strange stuff in the fridge/freezer:

More corn tortillas I can never seem to use up
Edamame
Half a loaf of pre-made garlic bread (going to Chef Hell for that one...)
A pound of frozen fresh yeast
Tube of smoked salmon pate from IKEA (yes, I said "tube")

Here's the pantry cabinet:


Behind all that stuff, there's also a few cans of lychees, some coconut milk, and a jar of green curry paste that's just dying to get its little mitts on those eggplant. Other strange things in the cabinet:

Chicago-style Kelly Green Relish
Crystallized ginger
a pound of dried Shiitake mushrooms
a can of collard greens (no idea where that came from)

Yes, there is a jar of French chestnut paste in the cabinet. I seem to remember a recipe for a chestnut cream cake floating around in my recipe folder somewhere. That will happen soon, though I should have just gotten it done with in the Christmas season.

Too bad we were barely home during the Christmas season.

Also, check out the liquor cabinet (yes, that handle says, "Holly" on it. I'm protective of RonRico) and wine rack. Full. No reason to head to Total Wine. Sad.












Now for the challenge. For the next month, I will not grocery shop. I will save about $300 this month by not going to Publix, Clemons, Dong-A (local Viet market), Lombardi's, Whole Foods, or any other grocery store to which I have a growing the persistent addiction.

Grocery store = Holly's crack.

I can handle this. We might have some really creative foods over the next month (honey, brace yourself), but the money we'll save will be totally worth it. I'll blog about the adventure from time to time, especially if I end up making something either completely stellar or absolutely horrendous.

Shouldn't be too bad for the first week or two, but I bet that by April 1, things are going to get a little rough in the kitchen...

The Diner's Bill of Rights

I found this on Scott Joseph's blog. Scott Joseph was the food and dining critic for the Orlando Sentinel for 25 years and was recently relocated (read: laid off) to Orlando Style Magazine, whom I also work for as the Contributing Food Editor. Now, I don't necessary agree with many of Scott's reviews, nor do I really like his style of writing - but with what follows, he was right on the money.

So many people scoff at the way I dine - I get angry when I'm asked to "hold on" to my used fork or when I'm asked "are you still working on that?" People look at me like I'm a complete snob and a horrible dinner companion.

The Diner's Bill of Rights totally makes me feel justified in all of my nit-pickiness. I wasn't taught at culinary school how to run a restaurant properly for nothing. The President of the Le Cordon Bleu in Chicago told me that my service was the best he'd received from any "student manager" at the school's cafe. I know what I'm talking about.

Review these. Don't be shafted by a restaurant again. You have rights when you eat.


The Diner's Bill of Rights

You have the right to a pleasant and relaxing dinner.

You also have the right to a speedy dinner. If you plan to catch a movie or have theater tickets, please tell the server before ordering. He or she can alert the kitchen to your schedule and advise if certain items will take longer than others.

You have the right to relax following your meal. The check will not be delivered to the table until you request it.

No one will ever refer to you as "you guys."

In relation to your right to relax and enjoy your meal, you may also expect an environment free of children running about or being unruly. My managers will ask parents to keep such children under control.

You have a right to bring your children to my restaurant, to educate them on the pleasures of dining out as a family and to teach the manners that are expected of them.

You will never be asked if you're "still working on that?" If you find eating our food work, then we have done something wrong.

If you're joining us as part of your celebration of a special occasion, we're honored that you selected us. However, if it's a birthday, my staff has been instructed not to sing "Happy Birthday" so as not to disturb your fellow diners.

When you call my restaurant to make a reservation, you will be greeted warmly and promptly, and every attempt to will be made to honor your preferred date and time.

You have the right to be seated promptly, but please understand that the scheduling of tables is not an exact science and is subject to the vagaries and whims of previous diners (see "right to relax following your meal").

If you are made to wait in the lounge for a table to become available, you have the right to transfer your bar tab to your table.

The server will not read the menu for you, nor will he or she offer a list of his or her favorite dishes unless a guest asks. The servers are instructed not to congratulate you on your "good choice" each time you order an entree.

No one will ever bring food to the table and ask who ordered each item. It's our job to know which guest ordered each entree, even if the food is brought to the table by someone other than your server.

Someone other than your server might bring your food to your table because it is our policy not to allow hot food to linger in the window just because the assigned waiter isn't there to deliver it.

If there is a delay in your order, someone will explain the reason for the delay honestly. Your server will not tell you the cook made a mistake, and the manager will not tell you the server is having a bad night. We will make every effort to correct the problem as quickly as possible.

If it takes longer than 30 minutes for your appetizer, or if you wait that long between courses, the tardy item will be taken off your bill.

If you stop any staff member going by your table and ask for something, you'll never be told "I'll get your waiter." The person you ask will see to your request promptly; everyone on my staff is working for you.

Your waiter will check back with you after you have had a chance to taste your food.

If something is not right with your food, please tell the server who checks back with you after it has been served. We need to know if the food is overcooked or undercooked, or if it is not hot enough. We'd also like to know if the dish is just something you don't like, or it wasn't what you thought it would be. If any of these problems exist, the dish will be removed, and you may either request the same dish be done to your liking, or you may ask for something else. Either way, your request will go to the front of the line and be done as quickly as possible. The server will offer to keep your companions' food warm while the mistake is being corrected. It is important that you let someone know you're dissatisfied right now, tonight. If you wait until tomorrow to call and complain, there is nothing I or my managers can do to make tonight more pleasant.

You have the right to make special requests, and the chef and other cooks will do everything they can to honor them. But keep in mind that our menu was designed with specific ingredients and cooking methods in mind, and to be more efficient as a restaurant, certain things are prepared in advance, so some requests may not be possible.

All my staff are empowered to correct a problem. Once the situation is corrected, a manager will stop by to ask if you are satisfied. There will always be a manager on hand in the dining room.

No one will ever say "no problem" in response to a request or your thanks. They will say "my pleasure" or "you're welcome." You're welcome.

It is considered improper to remove the plate of one person while others are still eating. Doing so can make the others feel rushed and uncomfortable. Therefore, all my staff are instructed not to remove plates until everyone has finished. If you feel you really need to have your plate removed before your companions have completed their meals, you may certainly make that request.

You have the right to privacy. Servers and assistants sometimes can't help overhearing conversations, but no one will ever offer a comment or anecdote.

I have purchased plenty of flatware for my restaurant. Therefore, no one will ever ask you to "hang on" to your fork or knife following a course so that it can be reused for the next course. Clean flatware will be automatically offered.

You have the right to inspect the kitchen and see a copy of my most recent health-inspection report.

You have the right to tip as you see fit. If you feel the service was not worthy of the customary 15 percent to 20 percent, please let me know so that we can bring the service up to your accepted level of standards.

This is a business, and I'm in it to make money. The food here costs more than it would if you were to make it yourself at home because there are costs associated with operating a business that are factored into the price of each dish. But I pledge that my overall markup will be fair and reasonable. Otherwise, everything else here is just talk.


Reprinted from the Orlando Sentinel, Sunday, August 5, 2007

Movin' On Up

This is what my kitchen used to look like.



This is what my NEW kitchen looks like.



An upgrade, I'd say. :)

Bright Knives, Big City, Big Disappointment

I'm not exactly sure what happened to Top Chef this season. Unlike past seasons, I really didn't care who won, or have any real emotional stake in the outcome. I didn't mind that I didn't have time to watch the finale until 5 days after it aired. I didn't particularly like Carla (a little nuts, if you ask me - Hootie who? Really?), nor did I like Hosea (I have to admit that I was pretty happy when I found out that the cheater was no longer with his girlfriend (who I'm sure is much more awesome than that brat, Leah,) after the show), and of course, no one liked Stefan.

Stefan posed a problem for me early on. He was cast as the asshole - the Steven Asprinio (season 1), the Marcel (season 2), the Hung (season 3),and the Dale (season 4) - and yet I worried throughout the entire season whether or not we were going to have a Top Chef this season that NO ONE in their right mind would work for. Really? Tom Colicchio, you know better. None of the above "asshole chefs" won, except for Hung, but even Brian Malarkey, who I had the pleasure to interview and ask in person, thought Hung was a really great guy and he'd work with him again if asked. Of course, he said the same thing about Marcel, but I have a hard time believing that part of the answer.

Carla, on the other hand, was the uber-underdog. One comment on the Village Voice website says that the men (Hosea and Stefan) completely "dismissed Carla all season in a manner I thought was very sexist." During the entire finale, all those stupid boys could talk about was each other - Stefan was the one to bet, Hosea is an idiot, etc - but not one of them thought Carla was ever a threat - never mind that she beat their asses multiple times AND drove away in a new car.


The Village Voice writer Hailey Eber put it best in her line: "In the end, it all came down to one big meh." Really. Usually, at the end of Top Chef, I'm in tears. When Stephanie Izzard won last season, I was ecstatic, and my heart was broken for Richard Blaise and his "I choked," line. So sad. When Hung won, I wasn't surprised, but the live reveal at the end was so dramatic that I still felt my heart jump. Plus, he looked so cute and Vietnamese and happy. I wanted to hug Hung Huynh and take him out for a banh mi.


At the beginning of the season, I took a survey after the first episode to see who people thought would win at the end. I didn't bet on Hosea - he's annoying and has no spine (if I had to listen to him talk about "HOW EXCITED!" he was to cook for the guest judges one more time...). I didn't bet on Carla (which made her even more awesome at the end). I did bet on Stefan, even though I didn't want to. I wanted Jamie. I wanted her to win SO BAD. It didn't happen, but even to the last, Stefan wanted her, too. Which made me laugh. When men have crushes on women that will NEVER LIKE THEM, it makes me laugh. Jamie is a lesbian. She will never like you, Stefanasaurus.

One more thought - the look on Jeff's face at the end of the finale broke my heart into a million pieces. I hate to see a blonde surfer chef from Miami look that sad. It's just not right.

So, Hosea is Top Chef. Meh. Well, Fabio - I guess it is "Top Pussy" instead of "Top Chef".

Local Hardship, Local Harvest

Fair warning: this post is a passionate and vehement call to action in disguise as food writing. Read on, readers.

Since coming back to Orlando, I have found that one of the great joys of living in Florida is its abundance of locally cultivated produce. In Utah, few things actually grow, so the choices for shopping are severely limited to maybe the poor excuse for a Farmer’s Market in Salt Lake, and the once-in-a-blue-moon trip to one of the four Whole Foods markets. Individually owned produce markets? Fuggedaboudit. In Paris, there are tons of markets, my favorite being on the rue-des-Trois-Freres in the St. Germain area. Golden chantrelles and bejeweled blackberries overflow in September, and in March, fresh new goat cheeses add springtime tang to the grassy air. The markets in Central Mexico were an interesting experience, irregularly shaped cucumbers and bruised apples sitting in sky blue Rubbermaid tubs buzzing with flies was the image I would take away from my brief time in a Mexican tiendita (though, I must admit, while in Mexico I tasted the most cucumberiest of cucumbers). Chicago is known for its springtime-early summer Green City Market, but the crowds are thick, and the selection – not always varied.
Florida, on the other hand, is ripe for the picking. Baskets of grapefruits, okra, lettuces, strawberries, bell peppers, and tomatoes are the gems of Florida produce, and every chance I get, I take advantage. There is nothing like fresh March strawberries blended with a mango and a little water and ice to refresh a body. It’s my favorite drink (add rum and you have yourself a party). The beauty of all of this, is that there’s such often such a bounty that tiny family-owned produce stands crop up all over the city. More affordable and fresher than the chain grocery stores, and, often, straight off the vine with no added wax, strange shininess, or attractive arrangement. The yuppiness of Whole Foods, while the selection is fabulous, always makes me a little weary – produce should look like a pile of nutrition and goodness, not a showpiece. When I am shopping for food, I do not want to feel as though I am being had. And when I shop at “specialty food stores” like Whole Foods, that’s exactly the way I feel.

However, if Whole Foods happens to be the only place where I can find (wild) Alaskan sockeye salmon, that’s where I buy it. I refuse to buy fish that has the tiny disclaimer “color added” on the placard. To me, that’s like buying a diamond ring that says, “sparkle added.” Not awesome. Buy wild.
More on local fish markets (I love Lombardi’s Seafood more than life) later.
I had one produce market in particular that I absolutely loved. Only about three miles from my home in Colonial Town, the hub of the burgeoning Viet population in Orlando and home of probably the best pho ever, some of my favorite afternoons were spend in its tiny aisles, picking up dragon fruit and wondering how to use it, enjoying the smell of the “root vegetable room” where the earthy aroma of clay and sand permeated the walls around which sat piles of onions, yucca, potatoes, and other tubers. I loved wrapping the Chinese long beans around my arms like snakes on Cleopatra’s bracelets. I loved ordering a small cup of boiled peanuts (another reason I love Florida), and stuffing my shopping basket with things I would never have time to cook. I loved that my total never seemed to exceed twenty dollars, though when I got home, my refrigerator would be stuffed to the brim with fresh fruits and vegetables.
The economy has been brutal to small businesses lately, and when I returned from Birmingham in December, I drove to my produce market, expecting the same bounty as when I left in July. My produce stand had fallen victim to our interrupted economy (trying not to use the word “recession”). As I peeked through the glass doors and saw all of the stalls in the store empty, my heart sank. There were no potted herbs outside the door, no flowering orchids blossoming with purple and orange blooms. I supposed that my produce stand would be forever lost, and that I would be relegated to the Publix produce section, with its sterilized tomatoes and waxy apples. Never again able to bite into a tiny pickling cucumber without having to wash it first, savoring the crispiness from first bite to last.

I found Clemons’ Produce while riding down Curry Ford Road to Blockbuster to return a few movies. Clemons’ supplies the produce for many of Orlando’s “local food” restaurants like Dandelion, Ethos Vegan Kitchen, and the acclaimed gastropub, The Ravenous Pig. I stopped in, and was aghast at the seemingly endless aisles of unadorned produce. Not only did they have fat royal purple eggplants and skinny, lavender Japanese eggplants, I found an assortment of tiny white Thai eggplants and purple-and-white striped Indian eggplants. Chinese long beans, fava beans, mangos a plenty, durian (gross…but yay!), huge papaya, green and brown coconuts, purple potatoes. No longer would I be forced into overpriced tomatoes or 2 for $5 strawberries when they’re abundantly in season. Now I would buy poblanos to roast and strawberries for 2 for $3.
The moral here is to find local food. You never know who will close next, so buy local, and buy in abundance. No one will be sad when you show up to their door with a warm Thai curry teeming with tender vegetables and piquant spice during these windy months. No one will be sad that you used fresh pinto and kidney beans that you shelled yourself to make the chili and rice you bring to your neighbors.
Buy local, my friends. Buy. Local.

Peru Triumphant!

Occasionally, I crave Peruvian food. I crave its soft textures, its rich sauces, its bright colors, and its ability to justify the eating of rice at any given moment.

Living away from my boyfriend has meant more than one hardship in my life for the past three months, not the least of which is the fact that I don’t get to see his parents very much now. No more weekends in the stifling humidity of Ft. Lauderdale. No more late-night trips to the beach. No more home-cooked Peruvian meals. That one is probably the worst. Every time I drive down with Cliff to see his parents, they see to it that we are constantly well-fed (see La Casita de Carmencita for more on this). My all-time favorite non-ceviche dish is aji de gallina, a stew made from boiled and shredded chicken, yellow spicy aji peppers, and bound together with a thicker-than-thick sauce of Parmesan cheese (a vestige remnant of Italian settling in Peru and Argentina), walnuts, evaporated milk, and bread. This is all seasoned with onions, garlic, and plenty of saffron-hued turmeric. Most recipes call for hard boiled egg (one of the only foods in the world that I hate), and kalamata olives. I like boiled red potatoes. Aji de gallina is to die for and is very easy to reheat again and again.

So – I was craving. I haven’t seen Carmen and Hugo since July, and it was high time that I learn to make the aji. I have a Peruvian cookbook that I trust about 50% of the time. And 50% just wasn’t going to be good enough. I needed aji de gallina, and I needed it to be stellar. I needed it to taste like the comforting, yellow food I have come to look forward to when I drive the four (sometimes grueling, sometime quick, depending on how hungry I am) hours to South Florida.

I found another recipe on AllRecipes.com that received 4.5 stars. You can find it here: Aji de Gallina. I printed it out and checked out the nutritional information. I tend to do that these days, now that I work at a nutritionally-conscious food magazine with stringent guidelines for its fare. The single serving of aji de gallina contained 333 calories (not horrible), but the kicker was the 14 grams of fat, and I’m sure a bunch of it is saturated. Ugh. No thank you. But looking at the list of ingredients, I saw that it would be very easy for me to “lighten up” if I wanted to.

I wanted to.

Instead of using one whole loaf of white bread, I switched to half a loaf of whole-wheat bread. The halving of the amount was for two reasons, one: whole wheat bread has a higher gluten content than white bread, so the thickening agents would be more powerful – therefore, less was necessary; and two: someone on the discussion board for the recipe said it tasted too bread-y. Now, I don’t know about you, but every time I’ve had a fragrant bowl full of aji de gallina, the last thing I’ve tasted was the bread. So I took her advice.

I also honed in on a can of fat-free evaporated milk that I found at The Pig. Great find. Will use again.
The aji de gallina tasted great. No bread-y ness. Still that lovely smoky, depth of flavor from the walnuts, turmeric, chicken, Parmesan, and garlic. It’s in my fridge now, waiting for me to come home and sing to it and eat it again. The recipe makes 12 servings, so I have a feeling I’ll be eating it for a few days. Not that I’m sad about that. I’m actually really happy about that.

When I got back to the office this morning, I entered the information for my new recipe in ESHA, the nutritional software most often used to analyze the nutritional value of a recipe. I was incredibly happy with the results of my lightened version of aji de gallina that I almost shouted for glee and did a jig in my dead-quiet office. Even with the addition of a few boiled red potatoes, the meal only cost me 141 calories and 4 grams of fat. Unbelievable.

Now just add some long grain brown rice, and you’re set for life.

Eating Your Feelings

I've been noticing a pattern sneaking up in my posts. I'm obsessed with comfort food.

Since I started this blog in 2006, I’ve posted 7 entries on the subject of comfort food. Here they are (with links), from most recent to oldest:

1. Stock Market Crash Comfort
2. Paula Deen and Me: The Lady & Sons Review
3. Beyond "Baby Food": Comfort Restaurant Review (Richmond, VA)
4. Catfish Johnny’s Review (Lake Panasoffkee, FL)
5. Grandma Food
6. Comfort Me With Collard Greens
7. Comfortable Food

Maybe it's just that this particular time in my life has been stressful, and the only things I’ve been able to turn to are the classic foods that I remember as a kid being completely obsessed with. The friends that I still have from my childhood, the ones that remember growing up in the Kapherr house as much as I did, still characterize the dinners around our table as “some of the weirdest food I ever ate.” But none of them deny that it was good.

For most of my childhood (HA! I just wrote “childfood!”), we had a Moroccan student live with us. So, my idea of comfort food might not be the same as yours. The smells of curry and roasting chicken and saffron couscous are the aromas that bring back the memories of home for me. Maybe for you, it’s meatloaf, oatmeal (my latest obsession), spaghetti and meatballs.

Whatever it is, tell me. I want to know what you crave when times are hard. Because, as sad (or as beautiful) as it is, we all eat our emotions.

Comparing Apples and Oysters

Sometimes I wander aimlessly around my kitchen deciding what to put in the food processor.


And sometimes, I end up putting a million things in the food processor.

And sometimes, it tastes amazing.

This happened today.

I was flipping through my favorite cookbook, Jamie Oliver’s “COOK: With Jamie,” and I found an interesting combination of anchovies and rosemary pureed together with lemon juice and olive oil to make a sauce for salmon. I, honestly, had never heard of such a combination. But now that I think of it, the combination is just-so-South-of-France it makes my head spin.

I didn’t have anchovies, which, I must admit, is unusual in a kitchen that I inhabit. I generally have a good can of anchovies around in case of emergency oily-salty-fish craving or in the event that there happens to be a frozen pizza around when my boyfriend isn’t. When he is there, he covers it with whatever meat products are in the refrigerator, leaving no room for the humble anchovy.

Instead of the anchovies, I chose another South-of-France ingredient just as salty and briny as the anchovy: capers. I like capers because you can pronounce my last name to rhyme with them, although my last name is actually pronounced with a short “a” rather than a long “a” sound. But no bother. The caper allows my name to be used in limericks, and thus, I love it.

So, I went out to the garden to pick some fresh rosemary from the bush that runs along the path to our fountain. That makes me sound very Jane Austen-y and provincial. And I love it.

I dumped two tablespoons of drained capers into the 150-year-old Cuisinart food processor, owned by my roommate (who is NOT 150-years-old at all) and whizzed it up with the rosemary leaves, a tablespoon or so of olive oil and some ground pepper. It smelled…well…like Nice. And Aix-en-Provence. At the same time.

At some point, I had decided to make cauliflower, because cauliflower is white, and I have only been eating white foods for the past week. It has to do with the stock market. Read the post below, and you’ll understand.

You would think that cauliflower, because it is white, would have no nutrients, or be fattening, like other white things like butter, cream, flour, lard, etc. This isn’t the case, though. (This is going to be a long blogpost, I can already tell.) Cauliflower is actually in the same family as broccoli, broccolini, cabbages, etc., and thus very high in nutrients and very low in calories. Yay! Thus, we can make up the calories in other ways.

When the cauliflower had been steamed, and had turned a lovely and comforting shade of translucent white, I dumped it in the food processor with the caper/rosemary/France mixture. I poured in a half cup of milk. And a half teaspoon of butter (see also: calories). And I processed everything into a creamy, fragrant mess. It tasted insanely good, especially after adding a half teaspoon of salt. It needed something, though. Green apples…something with some tang. I pushed the apple thought away, believing myself to be temporarily insane.

My roommate brought me back to earth, thankfully. “Is that going to be your entire meal?” she asked. I guess I should have something protein-like, huh.

I’d been saving a half-tub of shucked oysters in the freezer for some homemade biscuits and Southern Oyster Gravy, but it was becoming more and more apparent, that I would never have time to make the gravy, let alone homemade biscuits. I barely have time to paint my toenails, which is a much more important duty than making biscuits, surprisingly. So I took the oysters out of the freezer, defrosted them, and put them on the stove.

Soup, I thought.

When the oyster likker started to steam slightly, I poured in my beautiful cauliflower mixture and added another quarter-cup of milk, just to make it soupy. I brought it to a good temperature slowly, being careful not to cook the oysters too much. As I always say (I actually DO always say this), the only thing worse than an overcooked shrimp is an overcooked oyster/mussel/clam. Shellfish is not to be overcooked.

We were chatting, and my roommate told me she felt like she had seen the oyster/cauliflower combination somewhere before. A quick Google search revealed a New York Times recipe for Cauliflower Soup with Oyster Garnish. There it was. Green apples. Right there in the recipe. I was not insane. I was a genius. Or perhaps both.

I quickly took the bag of chopped up Granny Smiths out of the Ziploc where they were being held in the crisper, and dumped them into, what else, the food processor. I pulsed several times until the apples were small chunks, perfect for lying atop a bowl of white oyster and cauliflower chowder.

It was an elegant soup. Elegant in a comforting way. Like Princess Diana. If she had a soup, it would be this one.

Cauliflower, Rosemary, and Oyster Chowder with Apple Garnish
For the elegant and comforting women of the world, with admiration

2 cups cauliflower florets
Leaves from a sprig of rosemary
2 T drained capers
2 T olive oil
8 oz shucked oysters in their likker (juice)
½ t butter
¾ cup 2% milk or half-and-half, divided
½ Granny Smith apple, seeded
Salt
Pepper

Steam the cauliflower florets in a little water until translucent.

Pulse capers, rosemary, olive oil in food processor until blended. Add steamed cauliflower, butter, and ½ cup of milk and process until creamy.

Add cauliflower mixture to a pot on low heat and add oysters in their liquid, as well as the rest of the milk. Heat slowly until the soup reaches desired temperature, about 8-10 minutes. Stir often.

Dice Granny Smith apple with skin on into 1” chunks and pulse in food processor until apple is in small chunks.


Ladle soup into bowls and top with a tablespoon of apples. Drizzle with walnut oil if desired.

Serves 2.

Stock-Market-Crash Comfort

The easiest way for me to say this: we're in trouble. After Congress, led by the House Republicans, voted down the $700B bailout proposal, the stock market plummeted yesterday, losing more points in one day than ever in history - almost 10%. Granted, the stock market isn’t the economy, but it sure as hell isn’t completely disconnected to it.

I left work yesterday channeling Wall Street – in a slump. I’ve been a bit bored lately, coupled with my father’s health problems, and my complete lack of inspiration for writing my thesis, I felt like the only thing that would cheer me up in the least (outside of a surprise visit from my boyfriend, Cliff, a.k.a. the man who makes my world go ‘round), was some serious comfort food.

I forced myself into the car after I got home and fed the cats, feeling the drain of getting an hour and a half of sleep before and 8-hour workday after an 8-hour drive and looking forward to a 12-hour sleep to come. After cruising through the aisles at Publix (yay Publix!) in a half-asleep daze, I ended up with a carton of organic milk, some (full-fat) Colby Jack cheese, a couple of cans of Ro-Tel (more about this later), and a rotisserie chicken.

A note about the chicken: It was the last one under the heat lamps and about five other people were on their way to snatch it.

I won.

I was not about to wait another ten minutes for more chickens to come out of the rotisserie. That’s ten minutes I could have been asleep.

Upon arriving at home, I put some water on the stove an boiled some whole-wheat rotini pasta and started scalding some milk…

A half hour later, I sat in front of half of my lemon-pepper chicken and a mound of steaming, creamy macaroni and cheese. Comfort food is white. That’s just the way it is. I felt bad that I hadn’t steamed some green beans or made a salad, but after listening to Marketplace and the exceedingly dismal economic conditions and projections, I got over it.

Macaroni and cheese from scratch is probably the only thing I’ll actually take 30 minutes to make after getting an hour and a half of sleep the night before. Just letting you know.

Stock-Market Slump Mac and Cheese

8 oz pasta of your choice
2 T unsalted butter
2 T all-purpose flour
1 ½ c milk (fat content of your choice)
8 oz shredded Colby-Jack cheese/Sharp Cheddar
½ t salt
½ t white pepper
Dash Tabasco

1. Boil pasta until al dente, drain, keep warm in a pot.
2. Melt butter in a small pan.
3. When melted whisk in flour and cook 1 minute to a paste. Remove from heat.
4. When milk comes to a boil, add flour/butter roux and bring back to a boil.
5. Cook milk until thick, stirring constantly with wooden spoon or whisk.
6. Add cheese and stir until completely melted.
7. Add salt, pepper, and Tabasco.
8. Pour cheese sauce over drained pasta and stir to coat completely.

Enjoy with other white foods: chicken, mashed potatoes, etc, and large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon or (for extra comfort) extra-light, extra-sweet coffee. Be comforted.