Smooth landing

Having been in a holding pattern for the past few weeks due to both foreseeable and unforeseeable work-related reasons, I was able to come in for a smooth landing over the weekend. Friends forgave me for being completely MIA over the past month, the sun shone brightly and briskly over my London streets, I partook in some scrummy pink prosecco and pints of beer, caught up on my yoga, and was able to do some hard-core cooking.

I’d been on the fence about making either some gourmet mac 'n cheese or just some old-school spaghetti and meat sauce. Digging around my fridge I discovered I had nearly all the ingredients for both. Thinking that if I made one of them next week, some ingredients would protest at their misuse (or lack thereof) I squashed the imminent revolt and just made both.

So what if I currently have enough food in my kitchen to easily serve 15 people? That’s what my extraordinarily large freezer (for London) is for. Plus, ever the planner – having JB over for dinner tomorrow night and MBG over from NYC later in the week – I knew I needed to keep my friends well fed.

Now the chocolate toffee bars I made as a last minute addition are a different story. Why did I make them? I suppose the answer to that question is the very scientific 3rd grade response of, “well, why not?”

A side note about these brownies...
Growing up there was never a baked good far away and they often manifested themselves in a circular rotation. Chocolate brownies (the world famous ones mentioned in a previous entry), brown sugar brownies, dream bars, and toffee squares were the ones on repeat mode. This toffee square recipe comes from an old-school land-o-lakes butter recipe book that I think was purchased at Stop and Shop in the 80’s. They are still one of my all-time favourites.

I suppose having two older brothers scarf most of them up before I could even really get to them meant they didn’t do too much damage to my growth (unless you count the ridiculous amount of times I had to go to the dentist). I'll just chock that up to genetics.

Gourmet Mac and Cheese – Adapted from Foster’s Market Cookbook
Note: This is one of my all-time favourite cookbooks. Every recipe I've ever made from it has been absolutely delicious (and ridiculously fattening). There is a scientific correlation here.

1 lb (450 grams) orechiette, ziti or penne pasta (I used penne)
1 cup sour cream (I used crème fraiche)
1 tbsp olive oil
3 tbsp butter
1 diced onion
1/3 cup flour
3 cups milk (I used semi-skim)
1 ½ cups sharp cheddar cheese, shredded
½ cup parmesan cheese
85 grams (3 oz) cream cheese (I used reduced fat)
1 large bag spinach
½ cup sun dried tomatoes
1 tbsp lemon juice
2 chicken breasts
Salt and pepper

1. Preheat oven to 350 F or 176 C
2. Grease a 9 x 13 pan
3. Bake chicken on separate tray for 10 minutes until nearly cooked through, cut into pieces and set aside
4. While chicken is cooking, cook pasta and then toss with sour cream
5. Heat oil and butter in a large pot. Sauté onion for 2-4 minutes until translucent
6. Stir flour into onion, stirring constantly for approximately 3 minutes or until flour is brown
7. Slowly whisk milk and cook, stirring until it boils and thickens (about 5 mins)
8. Remove from heat and add cheddar, parmesan, cream cheese, spinach, sun dried tomatoes, lemon juice and chicken. Stir until spinach wilts
9. Add to pasta and sour cream with some salt and pepper to taste
10. Bake in dish (uncovered) for 40-45 minutes


Toffee Squares
http://www.landolakes.com/mealIdeas/ViewRecipe.cfm?RecipeID=4368D

This is one of those rare recipes that I don’t switch up at all. Just be careful when making the toffee. One trick is to place a cold glass of water next to you. When you think it might be done use a fork and drop a tiny bit of the toffee into the cold water. If it solidifies into a ball it means it’s done. I've no idea when I was taught this, but for some strange reason it works.

Super Bowl Monday

Ex-Pat Pat’s Fan means Super Bowl Monday instead of Super Bowl Sunday

The fact of the matter is that if the New England Patriots hadn’t been playing in the Super Bowl then I probably wouldn’t have pushed ahead with this crazy idea of finding a friend to host a get-together which started at 11 p.m. As devastating, gut-wrenching and heart being ripped out (and stomped and spit on) the night turned out to be, one thing that managed a complete pass was my sweet and sticky wings.

The journey of making these wings really showcased some fundamental differences between what's "typical" and "normal" in grocery stores here versus in the US.

From previous experience of making wings in the States, the typical thing to do is buy a hefty bag of chicken wings (usually of the 5 lb bag variety) to start your recipe off right. I didn’t really expect to find this in my local supermarket, but at least I'd find the not unusual 8-10 piece package.

So off I go, sporting my Boston Red Sox hat to start getting me excited for some good American sports watching. When I arrive at the chicken section, low and behold chicken wings only come in the organic variety (which ok, probably is a good thing and worth the extra money) but they also only come 4 per package. 4 dinkily winkily organic chicken wings per package. Utterly ridiculous.

Since there were only 2 packages on the shelf I had to ask for more. “How many more?” the guy asked. “Um, maybe 8 in total, so 6 more.” He said "Oh wow, you must be hungry!" Hardy har har buddy. Was it so unbelievably strange to think people might bring chicken wings to a party? Apparently so since the only package they were offering catered to a yuppie organic-loving party of 1.

Anyway, I didn't really care. I took my 8 packages of chicken wings to the til, alongside my organic yogurt, granola, and beet greens and paid.

These wings were gone (to quote Chuck Woolery) "in 2 and 2".

NOTE: The second image above would be displaying the fine attempt by some friends to make nachos. No, that Doritos bag did not randomly end up in the photo - they are the foundation for the delightful dish. Brits really need to work on their Mexican food.

Sweet and Sticky Chicken Wings
5-8 lbs chicken wings
1 cup fresh lime juice
1 cup apricot preserves
3/4 cup soy sauce
2/3 cup sugar
2 tbl chopped ginger
5 scallions sliced thinly
4 garlic cloves
1/2 cup sesame seeds

2 large roasting pans

Place chicken wings in a large plastic container or ziploc bag.
Purée all ingredients except sesame seeds and pour mixture over wings.
Marinate overnight or for at least 8 hours.
Preheat oven to 425°F.
Divide wings between 2 large pans, in a single layer.
Sprinkle sesame seeds on top of wings.
Bake wings in upper and lower thirds of oven 45 minutes.
Turn wings over, sprinkle sesame seeds again and switch position of pans in oven.
Bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour more. Wings should caramelise and almost look burnt.

When a treat turns a trick

Shit days require treats.

On my way into work this morning, after my chest x-ray, I regressed back to my senior year of college and got a vanilla latte from Starbucks. These little cups of joy were with me through exams and papers, getting up at 3 pm on Sundays, and some of the best conversations with my closest friends.

This latte was a treat for me for a couple reasons:

1. As a general rule I bring my coffee to work in a travel mug because I’m fairly certain that this drink cost me $42 if I convert it from its GBP price.

2. If I do get a latte – it’s never the vanilla ones I used to love because I’m fairly certain they have the same caloric intake as a milkshake.

But, as work has been pretty blech recently, and it’s never fun being put on antibiotics and told you have a “wheezy chest”, I figured I deserved a treat.

I should have left well enough alone. I jumped on the tube to make it into the office and as I sat down, well…the only way to describe it is that my latte “jumped” out of that tiny mouth hole in the cover and landed smack dab on the khaki trousers of the guy sitting next to me.

I turned approximately 2 shades darker than fuchsia, and even though he didn’t notice at first, the people sitting opposite me certainly had. It was only when he put his hand down a moment later and then lifted it up, wet and confused, that I muttered my “I’m so sorry, apologies.” The death look he gave me was pretty much the worst I think I’ve ever received. Note: Even worse than the one I received at 17 – showing up to my senior prom wearing the same exact dress as a fellow classmate.

Two more stops to go and they were the longest, painful, and most embarrassing I’ve ever taken.

I’m blaming it on those stupid lids. Being from Boston there’s always a debate over whether one is a Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks coffee drinker. Regardless, with a flap that can cover that open bit on the cover, hands down DD gets my vote and my heart.

Sour Cherry and White Chocolate Muffins

When it’s time for a good old-fashioned girly catch-up session over brunch at my flat, it also means it’s time to dust off my muffin tins…or to be more precise…vigorously dust them with butter and flour.

The following recipe was perfect for a lazy Saturday with KS, which included 2.5 hours of eating, a good dose of banter, a dash of career/life coaching, and a booked flight to Iceland for the first bank holiday in May (can we say Harðfiskur, anyone?).

I had plenty of time to sleep in, mosey on to the grocery store, and make the muffins – all with time to cram in an Economist article or two - before her 11:30 am arrival.

These sour cherry and white chocolate muffins are ridiculously easy – they don’t even require a hand mixer. It's a pretty basic muffin recipe - not complex at all. It's the perfect canvas to the tartness of the cherries and the sweetness of the chocolate.

Additional recommendations (please know that it goes without saying that the following are not additions to the cherries and white chocolate but in lieu of them)!

-Dill and cheddar folded in at the end

-Smashed banana and toffee bits folded in at the end

-Apricot and/or rhubarb preserve dollop in the middle of the batter (pour half of batter into prepared tin, place a big scoop of preserves and top with the rest of the batter. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar

1. Pre-heat oven to 375 F° or 190 C°
2. Butter and flour a 12 cup muffin tin
3. Mix 2 cups flower, ½ tsp salt, 1 ½ tsps baking powder, ¼ cup packed brown sugar – set aside 4. In a separate bowl, beat 2 eggs
5. Add ½ cup (113 g) melted butter and 1 cup whole milk to eggs
6. Slowly add the dry ingredients to the butter/egg mixture
7. Fold in ¾ cup dried sour cherries and ½ white chocolate chips
8. Pour into prepared muffin tin and bake for 24-26 minutes

NYE in NYC

4 of my 14 days in the States were spent in Queens / NYC. Under fear of penalty of death by 1 or 2 Manhattan friends I’ve clearly noted that there is a distinction between the two. It’s true that NYC is famous for its food and restaurants; unbeatable by any other major city it’s even been suggested. My 4 days and nights did bring me some outstanding nosh, both in the city and in Queens – however, for the most part, spare one or two exceptions noted below – the highlights were of the more random variety (e.g. homemade pickles and beer at the Blind Tiger Ale House, Vietnamese beef roll-ups in Jackson Heights, and homemade nachos in LB’s apartment).

Hands down and thumbs up to The Spotted Pig. On my first night in NY, LB and I hopped the E train from Jackson Heights into the city. We were armed with a list of fall-back joints because the popular too cool for school gastropub is reservation-free, and the wait for a table might have exceeded our hunger limits.

Not surprisingly, we were told (at the ridiculously early hour of 6:45 pm on a Saturday night) that it was already a 2 hour wait. Instead of turning our heads around in despair we decided to get a drink and see if perhaps we could finagle our way to a couple seats at the bar. Considering that even “standing room only” was scarce and the bar was at least 2 people deep trying to order, we were both shocked and decidedly thrilled when the bar stool fairies came down and sprinkled some magic on us. Two folks stood up to leave and the pair in front of us, who’d seemed to be hovering closely turned to us and said – "these are all yours if you want them". “Hip hip hooray! I love you!” is what I wanted to say in response, but fearing I’d be spotted as a non-New Yorker I simply dropped my Marc Jacobs bag on the stool and gave a quick, “thanks so much.” LB and I were in – and only after 15 minutes of people watching.

The highlights of our tasty and shared bar fare were without a doubt the side dish of brussel sprouts and a chargrilled burger with Roquefort and shoestring fries.

No, that was not a typo. The Spotted Pig served up the tastiest dang brussel sprouts LB or I had ever tasted. It’s no secret that brussel sprouts are not typically the prince of all veggies. Often delegated to the Christmas dinner they are often boiled, overcooked, and the tasteless wallflowers of the party. What we were served were the exotic celebrity cousins of these wallflowers, in for a brief visit of dancing and drinking champagne until 4 am. These were the brussel sprouts of my dreams. Now, I can often figure out (more or less) how dishes have been prepared. LB asked me and I couldn’t get beyond commenting on the butter to brussel sprout ratio and that it was pretty much a 1 to 1 measure. Most likely blanched and then roasted with butter, balsamic vinegar and some sugar, the brussel sprouts were perfectly cooked - crispy on the outside and soft little pillows of heaven on the inside.

The chargrilled burger with Roquefort and shoestring fries was one of the best burgers I’ve ever had. As someone who eats a burger about once every 3-5 months I like to make sure it’s going to be a good one. The meat was bouncy and moist in the mouth and combining it with the Roquefort cheese and nothing else, was brilliant. The shoestring fries had been made with fresh potatoes that day and mixed amongst them were little slices of fried garlic pieces. If any complaint could be made it was that the shoestring fries had been so thinly sliced that it was hard to eat them with either your fingers or a fork. Brilliantly, I realized that by creating an adhesive of ketchup one could pack a lot of those puppies onto a fork or my fingers at once. Fine if I looked like a little piggie eating them, let's call a spade a spade here. I don't mind.

LB asked a couple of times if I’d spotted any celebs yet. LB’s first visit to The Spotted Pig had resulted in her food not being the only hot item in the restaurant that night, Tom Brady was there with a friend. And apparently the Olsen twins had been there the week before that.

Anyway, no celebs that night – unless you count the brussel sprouts. I’ll take a plate of those sprouts over the Olsen twins any day of the year.

Side note: Can someone please tell me why those two are famous? I mean seriously, Full House?

Sugar, Spice, and a whole lot of butter

It’s nearly Christmas when:

1. I’m obsessing about every little gift I plan on giving.

2. I’m annoyingly humming Christmas Carols during 75% of my waking hours.

3. JT may have brought sexy back, but I'm bringing Rudolph back with a bloody cold that's 2 Legit 2 Quit.

4. I’ve a penchant for all things sparkly, and am magnetically drawn to clothes in red, green and gold. If it’s combined all in one gorgeous frock, cheers to that.

AND

5. I start breaking out sticks of butter with wanton abandon, far too many cups of sugar, and excessive amounts of chocolate that would even make Mr. Hershey blush. Then, I bake.

Dark Chocolate-Chunk Shortbread: http://www.boston.com/lifestyle/food/articles/2007/12/12/chocolate_chunk_shortbread/
I followed the recipe I found in this week’s Boston Globe. I had some lovely Lindt 85% cocoa chocolate so used that in lieu of their recommendation. My taste buds are only at about 75% due to the cold, but danggit - it smells unbelievable in my kitchen at the moment. It's all about the butter.

Cranberry Coffee Cake - based on: http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/107775

2 cups fresh cranberries

1 3/4 cups granulated sugar

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

3/4 teaspoon salt1 stick

(1/2 cup - 113 g) unsalted butter, softened

2 large eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 cup whole milk

I also added 1/2 cup pecan pieces and 1 tsp cinnamon.

- Pulse cranberries with 1/2 cup granulated sugar in a food processor until finely chopped (do not purée). Transfer to a sieve and let drain while making batter.

- Sift together flour, baking powder, cinnamon and salt.

- Beat together butter and remaining sugar until light and fluffy, about 5-8 minutes.

- Add eggs, then vanilla.

- Add flour mixture and milk alternately in batches, beginning and ending with flour and mixing until just incorporated. Add pecans.

- Spread one third of batter in well-buttered loaf pan, then spoon half of drained cranberries evenly over batter. Top with another third of batter and remaining cranberries.

- Bake in middle of oven until golden brown and a tester inserted in center comes out without crumbs, 1 to 1 1/4 hours.

- Cool cake in pan on a rack 30 minutes.

- Serve warm or at room temperature.

Wild about Wild Honey

Last night I died and went to…the USA. Don’t get me wrong, I love the UK for a number of different reasons, some of which include how wonderful the people can be. However, living in London, one thing I miss the most is the good, old-fashioned customer service I get at home.

Of course I’ve had State-side restaurant service debacles that have left me frustrated, angry, and hungry. The norm however, is of the “customer is always right” variety. Last night, after a happy ho-ho-ho-lidays Christmas concert at Grosvener Chapel where our friend AW was singing, and a glass of wine at a nearby Mayfair pub called the Audley, KC and I meandered to a new restaurant I’d recently read about called Wild Honey. We arrived a few minutes before our scheduled booking, and as the table wasn’t ready, we popped up to a couple seats at the bar.

Immediately the bartender was over to us, smiling at us like old friends who’d just called in for a quick visit. How could he help he wanted to know? After a bit of idle chitchat, and letting him know we were waiting to eat in the dining area, he was off – he’d just spotted some other friends who’d come in to visit. Over strolled a waiter who wanted to chat with us about the food while we waited. Not only did he answer our questions about the menu but gave us some in-depth details on how some dishes were prepared. I didn’t have the heart to stop him when he was explaining what Mushroom Duxelle was. He was so jolly in his teaching mode, so what if I already knew what they were, KC most likely didn't. The best bit about talking through the menu? He insisted we do it with a cocktail – on the house. Now as anyone who’s lived in London before knows, this NEVER happens – Ever, Ever, Ever! We were a bit shell-shocked by the offer but I recovered quickly enough to say, “yes, that would be lovely thank you.”

The cocktail? A mixture of Prosecco and Braeburn apple juice. So amazing, I’ve decided to smuggle some quality Braeburn juice from Borough Market in my suitcase next week when I head home.

The food was excellent, simple and straightforward, and the décor followed suit with high ceilings and lots of wood panelling and leather banquets. It felt somewhat reminiscent of what an Ivy boys club might look like – subtle, sleek and sophisticated.

Both KC and I had a salad of warm roasted winter vegetables. There were onions, squash, celeriac, pumpkin, and red and yellow beets all sprinkled with a light milk based sauce prepared with garlic and herbs. The starter was satisfying, delicious, and in its own way healthy (the sauce was lightly drizzled and very light).

As a main I had the Icelandic Cod with braised radicchio and roast onion squash. The cod was prepared roulade style and was served looking like a mini tower of pisa. The braised radiccho and roast onion squash were somewhat reminiscent of my starter, which actually suited me just fine.

Throughout the meal the service remained outstanding. There was only one questionable moment. KC and I had decided to skip dessert and sat chatting and finishing our wine. A waiter came over to us, looked us both squarely in the eyes, smiled and said – “what can I do for you ladies, is there anything you need?” After a brief awkward silence KC coyly smiling back and said “no, we’re fine thank you, just finishing our wine. ” As he strolled off I looked at KC a bit confused and told her she shouldn’t have said no so quickly, I’d been about to ask him to juggle and half expected he would have done so.

With most of their wines sold by the 250 ml carafes, prices that are very reasonable, a menu that changes daily with the seasonal produce available, a cosy interior, and service that tops all charts for the UK, it’s no wonder I’m wild about Wild Honey.