Inspiration

Growing up I never really considered myself an overly creative person. I couldn't draw a straight line if you paid me and loved the concrete formulas and solutions that maths such as algebra and calculus offered. I dabbled with writing poetry, but was always overshadowed by my more talented older sister. I learned to play guitar and sang in small coffeehouse performances (I was only boo-ed during my first performance ever), but wasn't talented enough to make the school musical at my very competitive high school. Perhaps that is why it shocked no one more than me when I decided to go to culinary school because I wanted to become a recipe developer and food editor and be a part of the conversation of creating recipes and food content.
My mother always had magazines and cookbooks that we would contentedly leaf through over a mug of tea in the afternoons and evenings. I remember reading Canadian Living when we were in Winnipeg and then Southern Living when we moved down to Dallas. With such a big family to cook for every day, she was always looking for something new to add to the dinner rotation and I loved being surprised by new ideas, ingredients and flavors. A casserole with black beans, Tex-Mex flavors and a cheesy lasagna-esque layer...sweet almond kissed butter cookies...the million dollar winning cake from the Pillsbury Bake-Off that featured a can of pears as a secret ingredient...so many great ideas!
It has been a bumpy 11 years since I decided to enter the work study program at ICE and eventually obtain my Culinary Arts diploma, but I am now contributing to the food world with ideas and recipes and techniques and still get a bit of a thrill when I see my recipes in print, or read a positive review online from someone who really enjoyed the meal and better yet, plans to add it into their usual dinner rotation to shake things up.
Now that I am contributing, I face a new dilemma. I sometimes find myself needing some inspiration. Every person who cooks has a favorite item they use all the time, whether it's oregano, hot sauce, balsamic vinegar, or even ketchup. When I am brainstorming for projects, however, I have to be careful to not always go to my own culinary comfort zone but branch out and try to offer flavors that will appeal to a wide audience. It's not always easy. For example, I really do not like anchovies, but sometimes it is just the right addition to a dish that will really have wide appeal and I must put my own personal tastes aside and judge it in a neutral, almost detached, frame of mind.
I am lucky to work with great people who offer tips, thoughts and ideas and I read as much as I can to try and think about ingredients and techniques in new ways. Between those two sources of help and inspiration I can usually find my way through my blocks and stumbles . It is my own kind of creativity I can offer and I'll take it. I may have to since I still can't draw a straight line but I can roll dough to an even thickness or slice uniform pieces of chilled cookie dough. Maybe not an even trade, but it works for me.

Tales from a Novice Gardener

It has been almost 4 years since my sweetie and I bought our house. It was also January and we had about 2 pieces of furniture to bring with us, so I was way more concerned with the inside of the house than the outside. As we settled in and the weather warmed up, my other half (who has a very green thumb) announced one sunny Saturday morning that it was time to ready our garden. Now, let me be clear about a few things. We live in Jersey City about 3 blocks from the PATH train so "garden" is a loose term for the L-shaped strip of dirt that runs along the side and front of our house. It's probably about 14-inches wide, and I really didn't think we would be able to grow much of anything. That first year we just turned the soil to get rid of all those huge rocks that like to get in the way and added about 1,000 pounds of top soil and 700 pounds of mulch. I counted the bags. The next year it was flowers. The next year I added basil, thyme and some cucumber sprouts that were calling my name at Lowe's. When my cucumbers grew into a huge bush that I thought was beyond possible, I realized that I could try something a little different next year. So this year I saw a 6-inch little shoot at Lowe's and the tag read tomatillos. Great. Perfect.
As a chef, I have used tomatillos in a bunch of different ways, although there is nothing wrong with a good old salsa verde. I thought I would get a few dozen fruit, make some salsa and maybe some preserves...you know, play around. Things did not go exactly as planned.
The plant started to grow well...a little too well. The tag said 60 days for fruit and around that time I did see a few husks forming, but for the most part I had a huge bush seemingly growing several inches each day with tons and tons of flowers all over. The bees have been very happy...and a little territorial.

See the little husks growing...cute, no?



Yeah...it's even bigger now. That fence is about 5 and half feet tall.

So I ended up with a big tangle of cucumbers (you can see their big leaves on the right hand side of the photo) and tomatillos but was surprised to find that it was several weeks from the time a husk would form to the time I had a tomatillo ready to pick. I would go to this giant plant with my scissors and find only one or two ready in all this greenery. Perhaps if I had pruned the plant back I would have had a better yield, but these are the things you learn when you try something new.
For the past few weeks I have been collecting the tomatillos and today I finally had enough to make a salsa.



Garlic, onion, Fresno pepper, tomatillos




So nice and charred under the broiler.




Blended up with lots of fresh cilantro, lime juice, salt and pepper. Spicy!

With the warm weather holding out, there are still tons of baby husks popping out all over the plant, so I'm hoping I will get an end of the year bumper crop. If not, that's ok too. I'm still proud to have grown a lovely garden this year full of life and learned a few lessons for next year.

Bright and Breezy

The hurricane has passed. The water is ebbing, the power is being restored, businesses are reopened and people are back to work.
Most of us in New York City, the surrounding boroughs and across the Hudson in Jersey City embraced the usual jaded, whatever attitude. It's not that there wasn't concern about the severity of what could have been coming, but we couldn't stop the storm, don't experience this very often and besides posting out of boredom on Facebook, didn't know what to do except to eat and drink. I admit, I was caught up in it as well. Saturday afternoon I had a sudden flash that if power went out and I didn't want to cook in the dark  I didn't have enough snacks! Off to my local 7-11, which as both open and well supplied. I didn't lose power (gratefully) and just ended up with a weekend of too many snacks and perhaps a few too many glasses of wine. This seemed to resonate with many of my friends.
So if the official drink of last weekend was the Hurricane and perhaps a close runner up should have been the Dark and Stormy, I propose a post-hurricane drink: the Bright and Breezy. It's a refreshing and alcohol-free way to embrace a little personal recovery. After all, it's almost Friday of a holiday weekend and that will certainly be a new reason to celebrate.

Bright and Breezy
Makes 1 drink

4 small cubes watermelon, about 1/4 cup
1/4 lime, cut into small pieces
4-6 basil leaves
1/2 to 1 teaspoon honey, to taste
1 cup chilled seltzer, flavored or plain

Place watermelon cubes in the freezer until just frozen, about 30 minutes. In a glass, combine the lime, basil and honey. Crush them together with a muddler or a spoon until the limes have released their juice. Add the frozen watermelon cubes and top with seltzer.

A Sweet Solution

I've got the blues. It's true. The flood-in-the-basement-summer's-almost-over-need-to-fix-the-car-why-are-there-still-ants-in-the-kitchen blues.
I understand in the tragedies of life, this does not even register and as much as I feel like Eeyore, I can see blue skies poking through those gray clouds despite the weatherman's forecast for a day of thunderstorms. What do they know anyway?
I could just wallow, but I get a little bored after about 5 minutes of that so I guess I am going to have to look for another solution. It's time to bake some brownies.
Much like chocolate chip cookies, people seem to have very personal views of what makes the best brownie. There are many factors to consider: nuts or other stir-ins, fudgy,cakey or chewy, dark with cocoa powder or light and sweet? Also, don't forget about the "dark" horse in the race: the blondie! Much like me, it is the red headed stepchild of the brownie world, overlooked and often passed over for it's chocolate sibling even though it is just as decadent, sweet and soul satisfying. Ok, one last wallow there I guess.
I love all baked goods so I usually try and hone in on what is calling to me on that particular day and one of my top candidates for today's pick me up is a recipe I accidentally developed. I was working on a photoshoot and had to prepare the ingredients for a television talent to make bar cookies in front of the camera. The talent aced it in the first two takes and I found myself with lots of extra ingredients. Since everything was measured out there was little to do with it all besides throw it away or bake yet another batch of the talent's bar cookies (there were already about 4 or 5 batches kicking around the kitchen from the shoot). Since I hate to throw food away, I stood there looking at the tray of ingredients in front of me and realized I had what I needed to make some brownies if I just changed things around. I melted the butter with some chocolate instead of creaming it, kicked up the cocoa powder and mixed in the room temperature cream cheese for flavor and texture. The result were soft and creamy brownies studded with chocolate chips. The best part is that these brownies are best served warm or just room temperature so there is no need to wait.
A little treat to yourself is sometimes all it takes to brush the raindrops off your shoulders and realize that the clouds are gone for now and it's time to feel a little sun on your face.

Creamy Triple Chocolate Brownies

 by Melissa Gaman

½ cup unsalted butter

3 oz. bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped

¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

¼ teaspoon fine salt

1 8 ounce package cream cheese, softened

¾ cup sugar

3 large eggs

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

¾ cup flour

2 tablespoons milk

¼ cup milk or semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 350F. Line an 8x8 baking dish with aluminum foil, allowing a 2” overhang and lightly coat with nonstick cooking spray.

In a medium saucepan set over medium heat, melt the butter and chocolate until smooth. Remove from heat and stir in the cocoa and salt until smooth. Set aside.

Beat the cream cheese and sugar on medium-high speed until smooth and fluffy. Reduce speed to low and gradually beat in the chocolate mixture until combined. Beat in the eggs, 1 at a time, and then the vanilla. Alternately add the flour and milk, beginning and ending with the flour, until just combined. Pour into the prepared baking dish, spread evenly and sprinkle with the chocolate chips.

Bake until the top is set and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out with moist crumbs, about 15 to 20 minutes. Cool in the pan about 15 minutes and then, using the foil overhang, transfer to a wire rack to cool. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Makes 16 brownies.

Food Memories

Memories are tricky things. They slowly sway around in your mind and step into sharp focus when you least expect them. They are not necessarily about cataloging the truth, but about taking a mental and physical snapshot of a moment and, in that way, memories become singularly unique to each person.

When I was 9 years old my family moved from Winnipeg, Manitoba to Dallas, Texas. People often raise their eyebrows at this and comment on what a huge shift it must have been. That is an understatement.

When I lived in Winnipeg I was surrounded by grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends down the street. My favorite times were the long afternoons we would spend with my maternal grandparents. My grandmother is Welsh and moved to Canada after meeting my grandfather during World War II when she was a nurse and he an injured soldier. Her Welsh sensibilities always had us children being productive and doing something. We would help her shell peas, trail my grandfather around his garden or be left to practice the wood burning techniques he had taught us with some old wood and a magnifying glass.

Then, we would all come together for dinner. I don't actually remember what we had for dinner, but I specifically remember dessert. She made amazing date and oat squares (she calls them matrimonial squares) or maybe a  lemon bundt cake with a sweet tart lemon glaze that would gently pool at the bottom of the cake and we would swipe off the plate with our fingers when she wasn't looking. Sometimes it was a big bowl of ice cream. Maple ripple was my grandfather's favorite. And sometimes it was a big bowl of strawberries with a small bowl of sugar next to it. I wasn't much for believing that fruit was really dessert, but when I dipped those strawberries in sugar it was more than enough for me. I loved how the sugar stayed a little crunchy against the soft berries and the sugar bowl would slowly become tinged pink. I could never believe how good, sweet, ripe...perfect they tasted.

 

The last few weeks have brought local strawberries to my farmers market. Stopping to buy a quart one day the farmer told me to lean in and smell them. They were picked at 4am that day and were the essence of strawberry. In a moment I was back sitting at my grandmother's table in the house she still lives in, in a t-shirt and shorts, blissfully unaware that those long afternoons were about to become only memories.

I did the only thing I thought was right. I came home, put a bunch of strawberries

on a plate, poured a little bowl of raw sugar and added a spoonful of mascarpone cheese to the plate (I guess some things can change a little.)

As I savored the crunchy sugar against the sweet berries and rich mascarpone I let my mind wonder about how much these memories played into my decision to work in the culinary world. Would different childhood memories have altered my future?

  

 I suppose it's impossible to know, but by the time I finished my plate, my spirit felt a little lighter. It was the best quart of strawberries I have every bought.

My Catch of the Day

I love to fish. I vaguely remember, as a young child, fishing for trout in a little pool for kids at a campground vacation in Minnesota with my family. The bulk of the memory is me holding a little fishing rod and being angry that I didn't catch anything because there were prizes for the ones who caught the most fish. I guess even then I had a competitive spirit. Fast forward about 20 years to being invited to go fishing on a pier in Jersey City by my, then new, boyfriend. I was wearing boots and a leather jacket, not quite understanding all I was getting into. He showed me how to cast a treble hook to try and snag a live baitfish and I was surprised to actually hook into one. As I reeled it in, under his instruction, the rod suddenly felt very heavy and it was increasingly difficult to turn the reel. I was encouraged to keep going (my sweetie thought I was being weak and a little strange) and much to both of our shock there was a beautiful striped bass on the end of the line! The bass had gone after my bait fish as I was reeling it in. Not to be too cliche, but I guess you could say I was hooked.


I told you I was in a leather jacket. Manhattan skyline behind me.


Since that day I have had the opportunity to fish from piers, rock jetties, boats and riverbanks for trout, striped bass, bluefish, steelhead, dolphinfish and tuna, although I have not been lucky enough to catch the last two kinds. We fish in the winter and the summer and I find there is something peaceful and beautiful about being on the water at daybreak or sunset and something exciting about literally seeing a fish jump out of the water for your bait.


Peace


Beyond that, of course, is the opportunity to eat the freshest fish you can get. It is a special day that begins with a fishing rod and ends with gorgeous sides of fish so fresh that as you fillet you can have a little sashimi as well. Even though I am a chef, I cannot afford or choose to buy and live all organically and free range, but I take pride in doing what I can to eat cleanly and well.

Striped bass is wonderful because it is so mild that it adapts well to a variety of cooking techniques and flavors. I like to keep it simple so you don't just taste the spices or sauces you have added to it.

For this dinner I rubbed the fillets with some minced garlic and pepper, added a squeeze of lime juice and let them stand for about 30 minutes and then rubbed them with a mixture of salt and chili powder. I seared them in a nonstick skillet until golden brown on each side and gave them a light brush of barbecue sauce in the last few minutes of cooking. Served with a corn and tomatillo salad and some cold lightly dressed soba noodles, it was a perfect summer meal.

A Sour Start

As a recipe developer I have come to expect that the first pass on something unknown will turn out....questionable. The stubborn perfectionist in me always holds out hope that from the start it will be amazing and perfect and delicious and that I am, unquestionably, a genius! Not quite. I must remind myself when looking at the actual finished dish as opposed to the image in my head that the process of creating a recipe is the most valuable part of the process. I remind myself often.

My current project, despite the 90 degree heat in my old house without air conditioning, is no knead sourdough bread made from a wonderful sourdough starter that was gifted to me. I love making bread and have a solid track record with both sweet and savory loaves. I have, however, never made bread from a sourdough starter instead of yeast and I have never made no knead bread. This kind of challenge is right up my alley.

The beauty of the no knead process is two fold. The first is that it cuts several steps from the traditional process and since I do have other things to do with my days (yes, days plural - bread takes time!) than fold, proof, shape and proof various stages of dough, this is perfect. The second is that all the equipment you need is a bowl, a wooden spoon, plastic wrap, parchment and an enamel coated cast iron pot. This is ideal for me since my old house also lacks in counter space and storage in the kitchen.

I started by researching no knead sourdough bread recipes online. I found a range of techniques and ingredients and settled on one based on tips from Nancy Silverton since the starter was from one of her cookbooks. I really wanted to use all starter instead of starter plus yeast so first I had to tend to my starter. I had been keeping it in the fridge so the first thing I did was to let it sit at room temperature for a while and get it all active and bubbling again. It was so warm yesterday this took only a few hours. I then mixed in a bowl some bread flour, kosher salt, honey and the starter. It looked sort of shaggy and dry, which didn't quite seem right so I mixed in a few tablespoons of water. I let it double at room temperature for 5 hours and then let it sit in the fridge overnight, as the research suggested in order to let the sourdough flavor really develop but not allow the bread to over proof and become excessively sticky.



The next morning


My dough the next morning was not quite as expected. It didn't really change at all overnight and still seemed too dry and tight. At this point there was really nothing to do to try and fix it. I knew perfection was out the window on this loaf so it was time to just wait and see what was going to happen. I let the dough stand at room temperature while I preheated my oven with the Dutch oven in it at 475 degrees F for 45 minutes. I then put a piece of parchment at the bottom of the Dutch oven and turned the dough right into the hot pot. I baked, covered, until puffed and firm and then lowered the oven temperature to 400 degrees F and finished baking, uncovered, until it was golden brown and firm when tapped.



The cooling loaf







Checking out the crumb



The bread turned out to not be a total disaster. Although it had a very crunchy crust and a wonderful sour flavor from the starter, there was too much salt and the crumb was too dense. The denseness was really no surprise since I felt the dough was itself was too dry.

Further reading leads to me believe that it all comes back to my starter. Perhaps I need to let it sit out of the fridge and feed it for a few days so that it is more aggressive? Perhaps I need to add a bit more water to my recipe as my starter may be firmer than the ones I was referencing? Is the problem as simple as the fact that I tried to make a half batch and the proportions just don't translate?

As I chew this over for a few days and read some more, at least I can be comforted by having some fresh bread to chew on as well.