September 2008 – Food Woolf

EcoGastronomy Major offered at UNH

Attention young taste makers: if you’re thinking about first semester plans at college (or hoping to transfer) you might be interested to know that the University of New Hampshire has launched a ground breaking EcoGastronomy Program.

The University of New Hampshire hopes to offer students an integrated approach to ecological education by taking students into the field, in the kitchen, in the lab and as far away as Italy to study the complexities of sustainable food systems.

As a dual major, EcoGastronomy will be taken alongside a declared primary major. The program is a partnership of UNH’s College of Life Sciences and Agriculture and Whittemore School of Business and Economics. In collaboration with the University Office of Sustainability, students will take an integrated approach to their education by complementing their primary major with a combination of hands on learning, practical skills training and international study opportunities.

Inspired by a visit from Slow Food creator, Carlo Petrini in 2006, The University of New Hampshire’s EcoGastronomy Program was created. After Petrini receiving an honorary degree from the University, faculty and staff from the University and the Office of Sustainability came together to develop the core curriculum and plan of study for this new degree.

“We are seeing a growing student interest in food and sustainability and an eagerness to understand and connect with the local, regional and global food system,” says Joanne Curran-Celentano, professor of nutritional sciences at UNH and a faculty founder. “EcoGastronomy is designed to engage students in this deeper meaning of eating and to position them to become informed food citizens.”

September 23November 14

Eating our way back to Normal

Metropolitan Cook Book, originally uploaded by Paula Wirth.

What happens when the world goes topsy-turvy? The shaken up inhabitants create structure where there is chaos and hominess where there is no permanence. A flood sweeps away a home and the survivor painstakingly stacks chipped mixing bowls and dishes in a pile. The stock market crashes and the Wall Street trader eats a baloney sandwich on Wonder bread because it reminds him of lunches with his mother.

For the underpaid, stressed out, unemployed, politically freaked out and fearful men and women of cities all across America, food is the easiest way to calm the F**** down.

NY Magazine reports that even though mammoth casual restaurant chains can do nothing but lose money right now, comfort food brands like Kraft Macaroni and cheese and Oscar Meyer cold cuts are “on fire”. For the first time in decades, powdered cheese on macaroni and baloney sandwich with mustard looks really, really good.

My neighborhood is better than your neighborhood

In the wake of economic uncertainty, people all over the country are suddenly filled with civic pride. Over night, foodies all over the country are clambering to define their city’s specific contribution to the national food scene. Recently, in front of a standing room only crowd in a Los Angeles auditorium, a respected panel that included Pulitzer Prize winning food writer Jonathan Gold and a handful of well-respected LA chefs, spent an evening talking through the defining terms of what constituted a Los Angeles dining scene.

On the opposite coast, NY Times food critic Frank Bruni and food bloggers ignored deadlines and spent precious time to define what was, in particular, the “New Brooklyn Cuisine”. For the fiscally uncertain and totally devoted NY foodie, that’s NBC, for short.

To qualify as the NBC, a restaurant should have “culinary sophistication melded with a wistfully agrarian passion for the artisanal, the sustainably grown, and the homespun…” something new restaurants all over our country currently share. And, following the NBC definition of clientele, people “who quote Michael Pollan and split shares in the local CSA,” I can only imagine that perhaps food loving people all over this country are craving the simple and the basic because they crave something simply NORMAL.

By embracing the back to basics ideas of artisinal and sustainable farming, we hope to eat our way back to better times.

September 22

Naked Pie

Skip the step of making a dough and get right down to the best part of eating apple pie: devouring the inside! Caramelized apples, spice, sweetness and a hint of salt comes together in this fast and easy dessert.

If you shy away from making pastries, this is a great dessert that can wow even the toughest critics. This recipe won me a perfect taste score with the Food Buzz 24×24 Iron Chef judges.

Naked Pie: Caramelized apples with Calvados and vanilla Ice cream

6 Spitzenberg apples (or any firm, tart apple like Granny Smith, Arkansas Black, etc.), peeled and sliced
3 tbls butter
3 tbls light brown sugar
juice of 1/2 lemon
a pinch of apple pie spices (cinnamon, allspice, clove)
a light grating of fresh nutmeg
pinch of kosher salt
1/4 cup Noble Dame Calvados (available at BevMo–or any good tasting Apple Brandy)
1/3 cup heavy whipping cream
pinch of Maldon sea salt

Peel, core and slice apples into ¼ inch wide slices.

In a large saute pan, melt butter over medium-high heat. When the butter foams and starts to smell nutty, add the apples, brown sugar, lemon juice, spices and a pinch of kosher salt. Stir the ingredients together and then–resisting the desire to move the apples around–let the apples cook. After 3-4 minutes (when the apple slices are caramelized) stir or toss the fruit in order to allow the apples to caramelize on both sides.

Add the Calvados (be careful of the flame). Cook down the liquor for 1-2 minutes and then add the whipping cream. Do this slowly, allowing just enough of the cream to thicken. Do not add all of the cream if not needed! Cook 2 minutes or until the sauce has thickened. Taste for sweetness and salt.

Spoon over vanilla ice cream, immediately. Finish with a pinch of Maldon sea salt.

September 21January 4

Foodbuzz 24, 24, 24: Farmers’ Market Iron Chef: Battle in the Kitchen

PRESS RELEASE (Los Angeles) Saturday, September 20th. Celebrating the launch of the Foodbuzz.com, an Internet food blog community, 24 featured publishers from around the world simultaneously participated in an array of culinary events across the globe.

One such event included two food bloggers, Food Woolf.com and SpicySaltySweet.com. The two bloggers—-both writing partners and Food Buzz featured publishers, battled it out in the kitchen in an Iron Chef-styled challenge.

Without the aid of sous-chefs or an arena-sized kitchen, the two Los Angeles-based food writers challenged themselves in a timed cooking challenge inspired by the bounty of produce available at the Santa Monica Farmers market. The challengers had two hours to prep, cook and plate three dishes focused on one main fall ingredient: Apples.

Dishes were presented to a panel of food lovers and food industry professionals and the trio of courses were evaluated on taste, plating and originality.

The judges deliberated over scores and, after some discussion, revealed the winning chef and her slim three point lead score. Food Woolf, also a long time friend and writing partner of Spicy Salty Sweet, was quick to point out to all involved how close the scores were.

“It’s not about who’s the better chef. It’s about whose dishes came out great this one day.”

Battle Apple

The challengers:
Food Blogger–Food Woolf (aka Brooke Burton)

Stats
From: Newbury, Massachusetts
Food Blog: Foodwoolf.com
Current job: writer, waiter
Cuisine: Farm driven American/European
Interests: eating, photographing food, reading cookbooks, hiking Runyon Canyon,
Ideal secret ingredient: bacon
Culinary inspirations: Nancy Silverton, Alice Waters, Mario Batali and farmers
Ideal judge: An enthusiastic eater
Culinary secret weapon: Passion!
Favorite restaurant: Pizzeria Mozza, Chez Panisse Café, Hungry Cat
Favorite food: Do I have to choose just one?
Food you won’t go near: food with a shelf life of over twenty years (think Twinkies)
Favorite food destination: Italy
Alternative food job: cook, restaurant owner

HER CHALLENGER:

Food Blog: www.spicysaltysweet.com

Current job: food & wine writer
Cuisine: Mediterranean
Interests: Cooking, eating traveling, hiking, camping, drinking and making wine
Ideal secret ingredient: tomato
Culinary inspirations: local farmers, Italian grandmas, Nancy Silverton, Mario Batali, Alton Brown
Ideal judge: Anthony Bourdain. He never lies and his critiques are always quotable.
Culinary secret weapon: Homemade ricotta
Favorite restaurant: O Ya in Boston, Pizzeria Mozza, Cyrus in Healdsburg
Favorite food: If I had to eat one thing for the rest of my life it would be pizza, it’s so versatile! And bacon.
Food you won’t go near: brains
Favorite food destination: In the U.S.–Sonoma County. Abroad? Italy, baby.
Alternative food job: Maybe one day I’ll make a little wine.

BEHIND THE SCENES:IT’S NOT ABOUT WINNING, IT’S HOW YOU PLAY THE GAME

7AM. With less than five hours of sleep after a late night at work, I pull myself from bed. I must prepare for battle. I flip on the kitchen lights and inspect the red suitcase I’ve filled with frying pans, knives, cutting boards, wooden spoons and mixing bowls. I empty my pantry and fill three canvas sacks with imported vinegars, Italian olive oils and sea salt. Never can be too prepared.

9 AM. With reusable shopping bags in hand and recipes memorized, Leah and I arrive at Santa Monica Farmers Market eager to discover our secret ingredient. Scanning the stands covered with muli-colored heirlooms and classic breeds of blush and green apples, the bounty of the markets’ abundant fall produce clearly dictates its decision: the secret ingredient is apple.

“May the battle begin!”

With just one hour to collect our ingredients, Leah and I take off in different directions. Within minutes, it the sweet smell of dozens of heirloom apples from Cirone Farms’ See Canyon market stand that draws my competitor and me together.

We sample crescent slices of the dozens of heirloom apple varieties like the Spitzenberg, Jonathan, Jonalicious, Fuji, Bellflower, and Hawkeye from the San Luis Obisbo apple farm.

It is the red-skinned, tart and sweet Spitzenberg (Thomas Jefferson’s favorite apple), however, that both Leah and I are drawn to for its complexity flavor. Leah and I snap up pounds of the Spitzenbergs. She buys Newton Pippins, Muutsus and Red Stripes while I grab handfuls of Jonalicious for their balance of sweet and tart and two softball-sized green Bellflowers, for their crisp texture and abundant, tart juice.

10:30 AM. My hook and go cart is heavy with newly purchased fresh goat cheese from the Farmstead Artisan goat cheese makers; apple cider and squash from Rocky Canyon; spinach and herbs from Maggie’s Farm; and heirloom zebra tomatoes from Munak.

10:45 AM. Thanks to some help from Eddie, the kindly butcher that put aside some organic duck breast for me, the trip Whole Foods of Santa Monica for protein and hard to find ingredients is a success. With a budget of $100 each, Leah and I have successfully purchased fresh, beautiful and straight-from-the-source ingredients for us to feed three courses to five judges.

12 AM. Arrive at our version of kitchen stadium: my friend Pilar’s house. Leah and I unload my kitchen suitcase filled with cooking gear and bagged pantry items from my car. From her trunk we pull a wine crate packed with knives, mixing bowls and serving utensils and a cardboard box filled with dishes. Once inside the large kitchen, we claim a side of the marble-topped kitchen island and begin organizing our cooking stations.

1 PM. Our esteemed panel of judges arrives.

The judges–food professionals, a restaurant publicity maven and a food lover–discuss voting procedure, the ethics of dressing dogs in cute outfits and food culture while Leah and I finalize the organization of our menus.

1:10 PM. Nick, one of our judges, flips a coin to decide which blogger will begin cooking. With a thirty-minute window between the two of us, the kitchen will be free to each chef for thirty minutes and each will have a chance to present their food without losing the dishes’ integrity.

ALLEZ-CUIZINE!

I watch Leah furiously begin chopping apples. I smile at her as she works. Her face is tight with concentration. She rarely looks up from her cutting board. I try to make conversation with the judges, but really, I’m thinking about the time. I watch the digital numbers on my wrist as I wait for:

1:40 Based on my time line and planned menu, I decide to prep and cook my butternut squash puree first. I slice away at the tough skin as I watch Leah drape cheesecloth over a plastic prep container and note the rising temperature of the raw milk she’s poured into a stockpot. As she checks the thermometer on the pot, I gasp when I realize what she’s doing. Leah is making cheese.

While the clock starts to tick away at my prep time, I mix up a blend of apple cider, calvados, Averna and dark rum. I pour it over ice with a nickel-sized slice of lemon zest and serve it to the judges (before judging has even begun) as an apertif. The judges clink glasses with me and take a sip. Mulled apples, pie spices and toast coat my tongue and sends my heart racing. But there’s no time for drinking cocktails. I’ve got cooking to do.

Leah zips past me as I stand at the stove. She washes a pot at the sink and returns it to one of her two burners at the four-burner stove. I watch her begin what looks like an apple risotto. Her smile confirms it as I give her a high five for choosing such high-difficulty dishes.

“Looks like the competitors are much too friendly,” notes one of the judges.

Time shape shifts as I prepare my dishes. There’s a calm that’s come over me. The swirl of sound as the judges speak disappears as I prepare the duck breasts. I slice away at unwanted textures of bone or connective tissue as I replay the memory of the kitchen prep I’ve watched in restaurant back kitchens. I set the mental image of my kitchen heroes and mimic their knife technique. I slice cross patterns into the fat of the duck and admire the patterns of white skin and crimson meat.

Despite the growing level of excitement in the kitchen, I find myself slipping into an almost meditative state. I prepare an apple gastrique and still have time to marvel at the syrupy texture of the sauce. I taste flavors of the veal stock, the sweet and tart of the apple, the balance of salt to pepper. I enjoy the nuanced colors of the apple as they caramelize in the pan. Despite the pressures of time, I find myself enjoying the beauty of cooking a new dish.

It must be my well-seasoned cast iron skillet making me feel this confident. Using a battle-axe of a fry pan, I feel like a confident toddler with a security blanket. I turn up the flame on my skillet until I can feel the heat on the palm of my hand when I hold it just above the pan’s coal-black surface. I toss the duck breasts onto the hot metal and listen to the hiss of meat searing.

My calm waivers while pureeing a cooked butternut squash and apples. Orange pulp splatters the white cabinets like a Pollack painting as my hand held mixer breaks in half. I ditch the immersion blender.

3:40 PM. I pull chilled plates from the refrigerator and begin plating my composed spinach salad. I toss the greens in salt and pepper, drizzle the leaves with a Spanish olive oil and then drizzle the salad with lemon juice and apple cider vinegar. I plate the greens and add the artisan goat cheese, candied nuts, and sautéed Bellewether green apples. I toss the quartered, green heirloom tomatoes in lemon juice and olive oil (just like Alice Waters taught me to do in her Café Cookbook) and add them to the salad. I question my choice of apples and green tomatoes for a moment, and decide to stick with my original plan.

I slice the duck breast and discover the meat is cooked pink all the way through. The meat looks exactly as I wanted it, but the duck’s fatty layer remains. I decide against trying to render off the duck fat, for fear of overcooking the meat.

I finish caramelizing apples with cream and sugar as the judges demand the next course. I add a splash of Calvados from a Normandy and grab the store bought gelato (a cheat, I know) from the freezer. As the last few seconds tick away, I realize the plates I planned to use are much too big. I become frantic as I search my host’s cabinets for smaller dishes. I snatch tea cups from the shelves and claw clumsy balls of vanilla ice cream from the frozen solid pint container. The ice cream scoop hits the floor and I let out an audible yelp.

My husband steps in to pluck the scoop off of the floor. There’s another call for my third and final course. I’m not going to make it! Forget about perfect quenelles of ice cream. I toss the ice cream into tea cups and rush to the judges table. So much for my zen like calm.

My Dishes

Spinach and Bellflower apple salad with Farmstead Artisan Goat Cheese, candied peanuts and green heirloom tomatoes

Pan seared duck breast with Jonalicious gastrique, pureed apple and butternut squash, and candied apples

Naked Pie: Caramelized Spizenburg apples with Calvados and vanilla ice cream

While the judges deliberate, Leah and I stand in the kitchen like two shell-shocked warriors. We share appreciatory smiles while we hungrily chew the extra scraps from our dishes. We’re tired, exhausted, hungry and in need of a drink. Water or alcohol, it doesn’t matter. Something. Anything.

The judges call us to the table for the final judgment. The scores (plating, originality and taste) have been tallied.

“The judges have decided. It was a very close race. With the winning score of 68 points, the winner is…”

The judges announce my name and my face flushes. I can’t believe it. I’ve won? But what about the lacking salt on the duck? The choice of greens in my salad? The big tea cup instead of a bowl for my dessert?

I scan the judging cards and see the numbers all add up. I won by three taste points.

Leah and I take a seat at the judges’ table to taste what remains of the dishes after two judges leave before they’re late for a night of service at their busy restaurant jobs. It’s the first chance we’ve had all day to sit down and relax.

It’s wonderful tasting Leah’s apple dishes. Her palate cleansing apple and fennel salad is refreshingly simple. The perfectly cooked Pork loin with its sweet and spicy relish is by far the best savory course of them all. The doughy fritter, delicate cheese drizzled with honey reminds me of a sophisticated fairground dessert. Even though I feel a sense of pride for winning, I know we both have won. The element of competition raised our game, made us better chefs and inspired us to take chances.

After facing the heat of our make-shift kitchen stadium, Leah and I–two food bloggers, writing partners, featured publishers and, most importantly, friends—are still just as unified as ever. Maybe even more unified than before.

September 12

Lunch at Chez Panisse Cafe

I’m on my own and on foot the day I visit Chez Panisse Café for the first time. I take the train from San Francisco across the bay and, mistakenly, 45 minutes south of Berkeley before I realize I’m going the wrong way. I change trains, take a deep breath of calm and start all over again. When the doors of the BART train open to the Berkeley stop, I’m already thirty minutes early for my lunchtime reservation and feeling as breathless as I did on my wedding day.

The second my feet touch Berkeley’s Shattuck Avenue, I suppress the desire to skip and start walking the 9 blocks from the train station to the ivy covered façade of Chez Panisse.

I take in the Berkeley sights. There’s a half off bookstore on the corner that sells cookbooks along side textbooks and philosophy paperbacks. Almost every corner has a different pair of political students campaigning for the environment, peace or the health of a campus tree. A student in an electric wheel chair passes me on the undulating sidewalk with chair that’s tricked out with a keyboard, mouse and stereo speakers and a tiny dog that looks like Dorothy’s Toto perched on her lap.

Approaching Chez Panisse alone is not as climactic as it could be. Had I been with my food-obsessed husband we’d hug each other in delight or slap an excited high five outside the front door. Instead, I am left to snap discreet digital photographs that, in their sheer number, are the only way I can express the intensity of my culinary awe.

I’m first-date giddy as I take two steps up the well-worn stairs of Chez Panisse. My heart beats with a double-time cadence as I push open the front door. Cherry stained hardwood and a bouquet of green and celadon flowers entice me up the steep stairs to the café. Thought it’s quiet outside, once upstairs I’m struck by the noise of the many diners. The afternoon light pours in through the wood-trimmed craftsman windows, illuminating the tables with movie quality daylight. The space is comfortable as a friend’s house and the air is alive with excitement.

At my table for one, I sit on the banquet and watch the diners around me. Another solo diner finishes what looks like a business lunch and snaps a picture of himself with his iPhone. Three generations of women celebrate the youngest blonde’s birthday with stories of her as an infant. With a smile, a back waiter delivers a basket of perfectly made sourdough bread, butter and a pretty little glass water carafe with Chez Panisse and a wreath of olive branches etched into the glass.

Though the dining room spins with front waiters, back waiters and plates of food, Daniel, my waiter, greets me with a Zen-like calm. I confess to him my excitement. This is, after all, my first trip. I require a little hand holding. He suggests some dishes and, after leaving my table, steps up to a wood banquet that has a lid that lifts up like a child’s school desk. Inside hides the restaurant’s Point of Sale System. It’s clear that every detail, from the mirrored wall panels that allow guests unrestricted views of the room, to the perfectly baked sourdough bread, to the architectural details in the overhead lights, that every detail of the guests’ experience has been considered by the Chez Panisse family.

My appetizer of thin rounds of heirloom tomatoes topped with Bellwether farms ricotta, red onion and basil ($10.50) arrives quickly. The tomatoes are a mixture of red, pink and almost under ripe looking fruit that, when sliced, are clearly at the peak of perfection. Little jewels of soft creamy ricotta top the tomatoes along with vinegar kissed red onions, a muddle of basil and crushed black pepper corns. Each bite offers creamy ricotta, well integrated herbs that become a sauce with the sun warmed tomatoes and the bright acidity of the vinaigrette. This is one sexy California Caprese.

Daniel delivers Alice Water’s favorite wine, Domaine Tempier’s Bandol Rose ($16.25/glass). The wine smells of rose petals and Aix-en-Provence lavender and sparkles with orange zest freshness on the tongue. It is a perfect compliment to the Laughing Stock Farm Pork leg and belly with shell beans, rapini and sage ($22).

“This dish is almost like a classic Chez Panisse entrée, the way it’s made,” Daniel says as he presents the dish. I nod, like a dashboard mounted bobble head reacting to a bumpy road, as I take my first bite of the caramelized, salted cloud of pork belly. Past the salty crunch of the perfectly seared meat, it’s a pillow of pork belly fat that’s both light and rich. The pork leg is both dense and moist, with its tight meat and voluminous fattiness. The fresh shell beans–tongue of fire, trail of tears, black, and lima beans–are a revelation of flavor. The outer firmness of the hand shelled beans gives way to textured creaminess as each bite reveals the elemental protein structure of the beans.

As the dining room empties I order another entrée. I try the day’s pizzette in hopes of discovering how my beloved Nancy Silverton’s pizza dough measures up to Alice Waters’. Daniel delivers a glass of Roagna Dolcetto ($11.75/glass) to go with my wild nettle and mozzarella pizza. The simplicity of the oven roasted wild nettles plays against the creamy mozzarella. I can’t help but compare the Chez Panisse Cafe’s Pizzette to Pizzeria Mozza’s wet, almost alive foccia-styled dough. The Café’s pizza is dense and bready like a flour-dusted bialy.

After wrapping up the leftovers of my meal, Daniel winks at me as he delivers a copper bowl of fruit. I’ve heard stories from other diners about the fruit at Chez Panisse. My friend the very talented chef of Hatfield’s Restaurant, Quinn Hatfield, once told me how miffed he was when he was ser
ved a piece of fruit at the end of his meal. Then he bit into it. “it’s was the most ________’ing amazing peach I’ve ever tasted,” he told me with a smile. “Honestly, it was the best. And I’ve had a lot of fruit.”

With my first bite of the Flavor King pluot I am transported to another world. The tart skin gives with the easiest pressure and explodes with juice that tastes of marzipan and candied almonds. I’m grinning ear to ear as the juice drips down my arm and I treasure every bite until there is nothing left but a semi-naked seed.

Next to the plum, I am more restrained as I eat the teardrop sized green and sun red Flame grapes. Their sweet, palate cleaning sweetness and acidity goes perfectly with the herbal infusion of mint and lemon verbena. A perfect drink for a chilly San Francisco day.

By four o’clock, the dining room is nearly empty of diners and the cooks in their chef whites playfully elbow servers as they line up at the bar for a glass of wine. With the bar filled with happy employees with their shift drink in hand, I watch my brothers and sisters of the service industry bask in the glory of the end of the day’s service.

As I prepare to leave, Daniel offers to show me around. We pass the kitchen, glowing gold in the overhead lights, as a handful of chefs drink their wine and another cuts balls of dough for dinner service. Employees grab plates and enjoy the day’s staff meal of orecchette, wedges of watermelon and perfectly dressed organic greens. Daniel smiles at me. “Chez Panisse makes the best staff meal I’ve ever had.” Looking at the bounty before me–and remembering the frozen hot dogs, butter soaked pasta and mystery meat surprises I’ve eaten while working in restaurants–I nod in agreement. He’s absolutely right.

I can’t wait to go back.

September 4November 14

Hope

Peddling a new sort of Hope. For your enjoyment.

September 1November 14

Food declaration

Hear ye! Hear ye all food lovers! Now is the time to make your voice of concern heard!

Sensing the need for a unified voice for change, Food Declaration.org created a declaration of intent to raise consumer awareness and increase our government’s responsibility to support wholesome food, animal welfare and healthy agriculture.

Based on the organizations mission statement, the Declaration is meant to provide:

1. A clear statement of what kind of policy is needed now, which is endorsed by a broad base of organizations and individuals with a long established commitment to a healthier food and agriculture.
2. An invitation to all Americans to join in the improvement effort by taking action in their own lives and communities and by offering them a way to call on policymakers to comprehensively support change.
3. A set of principles from which policy makers may craft policy that will lead to a healthier system. –from fooddeclaration.org

Organized by Roots of Change, a handful of farmers, national leaders, writers, chefs, and food advocates joined together to create a document that demands agricultural and social justice for food growers and eaters alike.

Drafted and revised sixty times, the Food Declaration was written by a panel of well-respected and agriculturally minded people including Michael Pollan, Alice Waters, the poet Wendell Berry, and Jim Braun of Slow Food USA. The declaration was completed on August 16th, 2008.

To add your John Hancock and get more information about the declaration go here.