beef braised short ribs

We've officially hit the one year mark on our condo investment out here in West Oakland. There’s something about owning your own place that encourages you to stay home on weekend nights. And to explain a bit further, the best off those times are spent in the kitchen slow cooking for long hours and drinking classy (expensive) booze. As we get older, I’ve certainly adopted the mantra to “eat and drink less, spend more”. That’s not a real phrase, but it’s not an unknown concept either (I’ll work on making it punchier). But that's essentially the best parts of our life these days. At least I think so. So the search for new (easy) and flavorful recipes and cooking techniques is a true pursuit. Recently, I stumbled upon this fantastic beef short rib recipe and have had great success with it. It’s basically a one pot meal and takes nothing more than a dutch oven and time (you might also consider some short ribs, aromatics, a bottle of cab and chicken stock). This particular recipe pairs the meat with a parsnip puree but the first time I tried it, I basically made a bowl of minty glue. I haven't made an attempt since.   Thanks for stopping by!

brussels sprouts - a love affair

I am obsessed with Brussels sprouts.

In only the past year or so, I've noticed more and more city restaurants offering up their own take on this traditionally frowned-upon vegetable. What's not to like about these things? They are truly delicious and exciting - my favorite green du jour. Anytime I see it on a menu, I must have it. I've consumed them roasted, deep fried, steamed - they seem like the absolute perfect vegetation to experiment with; they appear indestructible against even the most rudimentary cooking techniques.

More recently, I've caught myself in the produce section of any grocery store staring longingly at the pungent green morsels. "Should I take some home and test them out in Cafe TBLPITR?" I told you; I am obsessed.

I love their taste, aroma, texture, shape, color. I even like the name.

Because of this, I'm embarking on a Brussels sprouts culinary journey. I desire to know this vegetable intimately and extend well beyond memorizing a few simple recipes. I want to understand their composition and how to control textures and know their breaking point. I want to learn how to coax out the earthy pungency (that so many find offensive) in every bite. I want to know when they are in season, what the ideal harvesting climate is. I want to know everything about them.

I want to start a fan club. I want to extract its essence and wear it on my face before I go to bed. I want friends and family to be startled anytime I don't bring a heaping plate of them to our next potluck. I want to decorate a Brussels sprouts tree for Christmas and settle our gifts under it. I want to cook them.

First attempt. Emmelle and I debuted our first Brussels sprouts effort at a familial gathering on Easter Sunday. The recipe called for yukon potatoes, shallots, pancetta, lemon and butter. It was a solid first effort - flavorful and properly seasoned. However, the Brussels sprouts took a bit of a back seat to the main starch and protein. Additionally, the butter and lemon both acted as neutralizing agents, mellowing out the intense Brussels sprouts' aroma and taste. On the contrary, I'd like to celebrate their nuttiness as much as possible. If these vegetables need a certain level of fat and citrus (and a lot of recipes do call for this combination), I prefer some kind of lemon-based aioli to dip - I've seen some restaurants play it this way. I'm copying. Stay tuned.

Brussels sprouts. A love affair begins.

Thanks for stopping by.

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green curry with chat mingkwan

No words will follow. This is it. I make green curry. You don't.

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mr beer

Laser recently gave me a home brewing kit from Mr. Beer (I never got to say thanks!).

It had been sitting in my room for a couple of weeks until ML and I opened it up the other day and crafted a pale ale. At least that's what it's supposed to be. I'll be checking on its progress in a week or so and then bottling thereafter.

If you would like a formal invitation to the tasting party in three to four weeks, please submit a comment as to why you would like to put this poison to your lips.

Thanks for stopping by!

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seafood paella

Don't buy shellfish late at night

ML and I executed a seafood paella from a recipe we found online over the weekend. An oversight on our part prevented this dish from being something truly spectacular on the GreensandBrowns menu. 

We shopped for groceries fairly late, and the majority of the 1 lb. littleneck clams purchased at Andronico's failed to open during the cooking process (they were dead). Thus, some of the clam juice that we expected the rice to soak up never occurred. Unfortunate, but I would still consider this a successful dish. The snapper and shrimp were nicely cooked and the saffron provided a subtly powerful aroma. We have a lot of leftover saffron threads for future use in Spanish/Mediterranean cuisine.

Funny thing, ML always tells me that she will be my 'sous chef' whenever I fancy a home-cooked meal. I somehow always find myself tasked with things like peeling shrimp, dicing and chopping vegetables, washing ML's feet, etc. Keeping to the basics...

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hunting in the pacific ocean

Thanksgiving weekend, a few buddies and I went on a deep sea fishing excursion for Laser's 26th birthday. The trip didn't sound very appealing, but we all obliged since Laser rarely requests anything on his special day. I channeled my hunter/gatherer instincts and directed all of my energy into providing sustenance for our females - barefooted and waiting patiently in the kitchen to prepare a king's feast with our bounty. Laser didn’t grasp this chauvinistic opportunity and chose to bring Laser Girl along. 

I offer a Bill Simmons-esque time journal of the day's highlights:

Captain’s log: 5:50am

Federal Investigation, Wonq, and I are the first ones to arrive, followed by all others with plenty of time to board the ship. I am impressed by everyone’s promptness. Most of us are bundled up as if our final destination is a snow capped mountain peak. Well, all of us except for Laser Girl. She is wearing – a thin hoodie and sweat pants that cut off at the ankles. I am astonished by this. At the very least, I will witness perhaps the worst date in the history of mankind.

Captain’s log: 6:35am

We set sail. Besides the captain and his two crew members (Coop and Joey), there are roughly 15 additional passengers, several of whom have previously partaken in these sea escapades. The crisp ocean breeze cuts through our morning grogginess. The boat motor roars vociferously and is distracting at first, but quickly becomes a rhythmic backdrop to the boat's rocking motion. 

On the bathroom door, there is a sign that reads, "Do not throw up in the bathroom". I gladly accept the motion sickness pills Laser distributes.

Captain’s log: 7:30am

We travel under the Golden Gate Bridge and are headed 40 miles west of it. How long will that take? I long for a calm afternoon on a lake, catching fish under a warm, sun-drenched sky, a memorable afternoon spent counseling each other through our twenty-something angst. Maybe next time. Riding under the bridge is very neat; I have never seen it from that perspective before. There is a magnificence to the Golden Gate bridge that I have never been able to appreciate until now. 

A humorous development is unfolding; Laser Girl appears to be sick (much like several others in our party). Laser mentally prepares for a long day.

Captain’s log 8:45am

Where are we? I miss ML. I miss my family. If we died here, nobody would know it. I am having an internal panic attack. I do not show it, however, and continue to smile and feign immense enjoyment of our adventure. Both Laser and Laser Girl are flushed in the face and sick. She is no longer speaking with any of us, concentrating on keeping her breakfast in her stomach. I feel sorry for her. Laser informs me she refused to take motion sickness pills. My sympathy vanishes.

Captain’s log 9:20am

Along the way, we circle pre-set crab traps, the contents of which will be distributed among the passengers. The crew gathers about 25 or so. They throw back any that do not meet size standards. What must a crab be thinking while it slowly sinks back to the bottom of the ocean floor? They are stupid and deserve a fateful end in my stomach.

Captain’s log 10:30am

The motor ceases and the boat settles. The sun slowly pierces the morning haze. We are instructed to cast our fishing poles. There are not enough for our entire group so I watch my mates cast their lines. As soon as they go in, pretty much everyone gets a bite. We have come across a school of mackerel and everyone is reeling them in. Linn-Duh catches one, but it’s not even caught in one of the hooks. The fish had just merely caught itself in Linn-Duh's tangled line. All we are doing is dropping our lines into the water where schools of fish are innocently swimming by. It's almost as if we are smacking them in the face with our bait. This is not fair and a bit boring.

More people are sick. I turn to watch my buddy Wonq cast his line. While doing so, he spews into the water. He pretends as though nothing has happened and continues on with his business. Coop grabs a hose and washes his vomit towards me. This is gross. 

Our casted lines are so close to the boat that you have to look down to reel in your line. This is not good for my stomach. I feel nauseous and lie down and fall asleep. 

Captain’s log 11:30am 

I wake up to a warm sun. Everyone seems to be having some success with their catch. Rock fish are flapping on the boat, waiting to be stuffed into the burlap sack the crew has provided for us. 

I have also missed watching the majority of our party yuke into the ocean. They have forever changed the Pacific Ocean’s eco-system. I am proud of my friends.

Coop sets me up with my own pole, and I quickly catch two rock fish on one line. The constant motion of the boat is making me sick again. I go back to sleep.

Dancer-for-Money proudly announces that he threw up into a fish’s mouth while Wonq reeled it in. This is gross. I imagine what it might be like to be that fish. Criminals don't deserve such a cruel fate. Or do they? It seems like it would be an interesting interrogation tactic to yack into a suspect's mouth.

Captain’s log 1:30pm

The worst date ever continues to unfold nicely. Laser Girl has been unconscious for at least three hours. In fact, she has not moved. I surmise that she has stopped breathing. I share this grave news with Laser. He scratches himself and eats a Doritos chip (in that order).

It is about time to head back but the kind-hearted captain informs us that they will be extending our fishing time for a bit longer. This is like telling a prisoner that shower time has been extended. I am not sure whether I should cry or go back to sleep. I do neither. I sit and think about how long it will take to get home.

Captain’s log 2:45pm

We are slowly headed back to Berkeley Marina. However, we have been circling the waters to wrangle up all of the crab traps the crew had set along the way. I sit inside with some of the sick. We eat, sleep, and commiserate. Laser's master plan has come together; we are galvanized through shared misery. Laser Girl rises from the dead.

Captain’s log 6:00pm

We are back in Berkeley Marina. It’s just as dark as it was when we left.

...........

We arrived home and murdered over 20 crabs. Some put up a fight. I won. 

Fish were pan-fried and oven baked (most are vacuumed sealed in the freezer and will never be seen again). Linn-Duh did a great job of filleting the pieces. The mackerel was extremely tasteful, and I thought it was better than the cod. ML (not barefoot) executed Shindokdo’s famous mae-uhn-tang, a spicey Korean fish stew consisting primarily of radish and tofu.  We augmented the stew by adding one of the steamed crabs, melding the stew with the subtle sweetness from the crab. 

It was delicious and a warm, comforting highlight to a grueling 16 hours. 

Notes: Laser Girl was unavailable for dinner...Dr. Phil never touched a fishing pole

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mushroom pizza (with an egg)

The last time I dabbled in homemade pizza was when I was in middle school. At the time, my mom was considering a career change to food, possibly a deli. She was taking lessons in Americana cuisine and to practice, would leave us small balls of pizza dough for us to prepare as an after school snack. My tasty creations usually consisted of mushrooms and pepperoni, along with a slightly burnt or undercooked pie (depending on how engrossed I may have been in that afternoon's television programming).

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago when I spent the weekend in northern Sonoma with ML. We found a pizzeria called Rosso in Santa Rosa. The pizza (thin crust) was good, and they had a fair selection of wines from local wine makers. The owner was of Italian descent and created a menu based on his heritage. We even heard one of the bartenders mix a champagne cocktail for a patron sitting next to us as he told her how this was borne out of a recent trip the owner had taken back to the homeland. We were clearly in the right place for pizza, but there wasn't anything particularly exceptional that made this establishment stand out. 

And then I was blown away. 

As we neared the end of our meal, the owner sat down to ML's right with his son and they were both brought out pizzas. On top of each pie rested a slightly undercooked egg. I watched in astonishment as the two devoured their pies, each bite preceded by dipping the slice into the egg yolk that had fallen to the plate. I think I might have drooled a little while I watched them eat. Our server then tells us that it is an option for all of their pizzas (thanks). It was glorious and depressing all the same; I could think about little else in the kitchen since then.

Today, ML and I endeavored to mimick that creation. I think we were fairly successful. We found some decent dough and sauce recipes on Food Tv and made a few variatiations of the Rosso masterpiece. The very best one turned out to be the first pie that we made, a beautiful mushroom pizza with sauted cremini mushrooms and an aged fontina. And the egg! 

Some recipes for mushroom pizzas call for some gorgonzola cheese but the aged fontina we found was strong enough to stand on it's own. We didn't perfect the egg addition at first; we quickly discovered it only needs to sit in the oven with the pizza for a couple of minutes to get that truly stupendous, runny goodness. It brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it.

I'm a little sad that it took me nearly thirty years to learn of how eggs augment a pizza. What else should it go on top of? I think more pizzerias should have an egg option on the menu. Now, pizzas just look naked without them.

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