MacGyver Would Be Proud...

This was last night's dinner.

melted cheez...

A sourdough panino (panini is actually plural) with roasted garlic chicken breast, salami, Swiss cheese, pan roasted tomatoes and Balsamic caramelized onions.  I'm not big on sandwiches for dinner, but we've been stuck with this seemingly bottomless bag of Costco chicken breasts - I'm sure I've made frequent mention of my dislike for chicken breast elsewhere if not here - for what feels like forever, and I've been running out of novel uses for it. (If I don't particularly care for chicken breast, I am grateful for the challenge it presents: how to make yummy out of possibly the most uninteresting cut of protein known to man.)

panini fixins :)

While the notion of a sandwich just screams practical, workaday, utilitarian LUNCH, there is something delightfully elevated about a panino with the buttery crisp of the pressed bread and the unique flavor phenomenon that occurs when salty, savory meats meld with tangy tomatoes, sweet caramelized onions, (and peppery arugula if I'd had it) in that loveliest of goos that is melted cheese. And it can't be achieved by just toasting bread and melting cheese.  No.  It MUST be pressed with sufficient weight (on an oiled OR buttered cooking surface) to bring and bind those fillings together while the bread has a chance to crisp to a dark golden brown that tells you that all the stuff inside is deliciously intertwined.

Golden brown goodness...

The obvious vessel for this job is a panini press, but my sense of practicality extends to a general disdain for most kitchen gadgets, and a particular one for those that don't get used often and take up lots of space. I've heard it suggested, and it stands to reason, that a foil covered brick makes for a good press.  But the only bricks I've got laying around belong to a retaining wall and are so heavy as to render my panino a crepe, so my solution was a stock pot filled a third high with water.

Double Duty Stock Pot

Enough surface area to press 2 panini at once and enough weight to marry the ingredients without turning them into pancake.  Not to mention no loose dirt or mortar should you fail to wrap it properly (or at all).

A couple of these and a bottle of Sam Adams for dinner, one more chicken boob down, two to go, stock pot goes back into the cabinet, and I've still got the same amount of counter space I had yesterday. 

WWMD?

How's them for tricks?

shinae

Baking For Dummies (Why Cobbler Is Like Concealer...)

There is a short list of things I do well in this life: cooking, singing, dancing, reviewing contracts, listening, and, on a good day, making my friends and family laugh.  Note this list does *not* include BAKING.

It's not that I don't love baked goods, but I grew up in a home where dessert most days was fresh fruit - peeled, cut just so, and neatly arranged for company, or just peeled and/or cut and taken directly from the hand of the handler and munched indiscriminately if no one was watching. We would pick up the occasional napoleon or fruit tart from the patisserie, but bake we did not.

The other thing is that I am a practical kind of gal, and cooking was, if nothing else, a very useful pursuit that allowed for efficiency, substitution and improvisation.  Baking, on the other hand, always seemed to me an exercise in folly what with all the precise measurements and mise en place and list of ingredients and equipment I never seemed to have on hand and all that BAKE time...

But then one day I had all this leftover bread that had gotten too stale to eat, and conservationist that I am, I resolved to make bread pudding.  At last a baking recipe after my own heart: short and practical ingredient list (Who doesn't have milk, eggs, butter and sugar on hand?), short prep time, and of course the very efficient idea of repurposing an ingredient that would otherwise have gotten canned. 

From that day, I realized that there were indeed baking recipes for pragmatists like me, and every once in a while, when inspiration (sweet tooth) and situation (main ingredient already in pantry or fridge) collide, I will bust a Betty Crocker and bake something like this here cobbler:

What to do with a week old basket of blueberries
and a handful of frozen strawberries.

Berry Cobbler

Serves 4-5 over ice cream, 2-3 eaten by itself

Berry Mixture

- 1 small basket of blueberries (I think it was 4.4 ounces.)

- 6 strawberries cut in quarters (fresh or frozen)

- 1 teaspoon sugar (2 if berries are extra tart)

- 1/8 teaspoon salt

- 2 teaspoons flour

Stir gently until berries are
coated with dry mixture.

Streusel Topping

- 2 Tablespoons butter cut into cubes

- 3 Tablespoons flour

- 5 Tablespoons brown sugar

- 1 teaspoon cinnamon

- 1/4 teaspoon salt (or 1/2 if using unsalted butter)

Get in there with
your hands...

...and mush it up til it
looks like cookie dough.

1) Preheat oven to 425F.

2) Make streusel topping and put in freezer while mixing berries in a baking dish, 5 - 10 minutes. This gives the butter a chance to re-solidify before baking, otherwise the topping will spread too much in the baking process.  I used a Pyrex bowl, but if you're using a pie dish, stack the berries in the middle of the dish, leaving about a 1.5 inch margin around the sides.  (It's a small recipe.)

3) Spread streusel topping over berries:

4) Pop that sucker in the oven for 25-30 minutes or until it looks like:

Bubbly berry juices thickened by the flour. Sweet,
lightly salted and slightly crunchy streusel topping.

5) Serve over vanilla bean ice cream (or don't).

And THAT, folks, is how berry cobbler makes a crap baker like me appear a little less crappy.

shinae

Fool Proof - Korean BBQ Tritip

Having grown up on it, I have a special affinity for Korean food, particularly the spicy dishes.  But as much as I love it, I can also see how the ubiquitous pungency, more than occasional spiciness and bold flavor profiles can be a challenge for some.  If I were to choose just one dish to ensure a Korean food virgin would return for more, Korean barbecue would be it.

Assload of tri-tip.  4-5 pounds.  
Serves 8 at least.

Umami from the soy sauce, savory from garlic and green onion, just a hint of nuttiness from the toasted sesame oil and a touch of sweet - I have yet to come across a carnivore or omnivore who doesn't LOVE this stuff.  

Like every recipe, variations abound on the net, but I personally think a lot of them make this marinade a LOT more complicated than it needs to be, calling for stuff like mirin (not a bad pantry item to have lying around, but not terribly common, either) and/or pureed fruit (intended to be a meat tenderizer, but using the right cut of meat for the marinade obviates the need). And I tend to favor shorter ingredient lists and simpler processes when I know the result will be just as tasty and ultimately more accessible for a home cook.  

BOOLGOHGI (Korean BBQ) MARINADE

This soy-based marinade works best with fattier cuts of meat like ribeye, tri-tip, cross-cut short ribs, flank or skirt steak, or even chicken thighs.  Leaner cuts tend to take on a cured texture if marinated for long periods.  

Should season 3-4 pounds of meat
without too much waste.

- 1 cup lite soy sauce

- ½ cup sugar

- 3 Tablespoons brown sugar

- 3 Tablespoons water

- 2 to 3 Tablespoons minced garlic, to taste

- 2 green onions, chopped

- ½ teaspoon black pepper

- 1 Tablespoon distilled white vinegar or 1/4 cup apple sauce as a tenderizer if needed

- 1 Tablespoon toasted sesame oil
- 1 Tablespoon neutral oil

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and stir or whisk until sugar is dissolved. Some soy sauces are saltier than others. If your marinade's too salty, try adding 1 teaspoonful of water at a time to dilute the saltiness to taste.  Keep in mind as you're tasting, though, that the juices from the meat will also dilute the flavors.


I like to let the meat marinate for at least 30-45 minutes if I'm in a hurry, and 1.5 - 2 hours ideally.  Really fatty cuts can even marinate overnight without suffering too much change in texture.


This is also a great base for a potsticker/dumpling dipping sauce. Just add:


- 1 tablespoon of distilled, red wine, or white wine vinegar (or more if you like your dipping sauce more tangy) and
- 1 teaspoonful (or more) red chili flakes (a GREAT use for the packets you get with your pizza delivery)


If you're going to store this sauce to use for dipping, LEAVE OUT THE CHOPPED GREEN ONIONS until just before serving as they tend to get a bit metallic tasting when they sit in the sauce for hours.

Right off the grill.

Sliced after a 5-10 minute rest.
Nice, juicy, pink medium rare/rare. 

I like to serve this with plain steamed rice and a side of salad or stir fried veggies.  Fried or seasoned rice seems a bit of an overkill with the flavors to me.  I do notice, however, that gringos tend to like to douse their steamed rice with soy sauce, but I think it's in part due to the fact that Westerners have a very compartmentalized way of eating, i.e., they like to keep their courses separated - both on their plates and in their mouths.


We Asians use steamed rice as a palate for other flavors. So plain rice goes in the mouth WITH a bite of some other seasoned component, and the rice becomes a foil for the salty, savory and sweet of the barbecue. Fried rice, with its seasoning and the addition of meat and vegetables, is considered somewhat of an entree unto itself.


And one last pointer for anyone who cares (and y'all know I do): the word is pronounced BOOLgohgee with a stress on the first sylLABle and not buhGOEgee (as I often hear), which aside from being an incorrect pronunciation just sounds like a 10-gallon hat wearin' Texan butchering my father tongue. :)


Hope this is helpful,


shinae

P.S.  The use of tri-tip and the medium rare doneness are NOT traditional.  This marinade is usually used on thinly sliced ribeye to make boolgohgi or on cross-cut shortribs to make kahlbi.

Tsunami To Salad...

This is my kids' favorite salad.  Baby spinach and fresh strawberries with a rather uniquely sweet, tangy and zippy Worcestershire laced dressing that almost seems to have been designed to appeal to a kid's palate.

Monster Food

Soy-Worcestershire Dressing

Dresses 6-8 salads (using 2 cups greens)

- 1/4 cup light soy sauce

- 1/8 cup Worcestershire sauce

- 1/8 cup distilled white vinegar

- 3-1/2  Tablespoons sugar

- 2 Tablespoons minced bulb onions (red, brown, white all ok)

- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper

- 1/8 cup oil (canola, vegetable, grapeseed or light olive)

1)  Combine all ingredients except oil and stir or whisk until sugar is completely dissolved.

2) Taste and adjust seasoning before whisking in oil. If too salty, try adding a teaspoon of water. Too sweet? Try adding a dash more soy sauce. As a general rule, I always adjust seasoning BEFORE adding the oil because the oil coats the tongue and makes it hard to taste the underlying flavors.

3)  Whisk in oil. DONE. :)

It's on my brain because I woke up this morning to news of an earthquake and subsequent tsunami in Japan and because I am away from my children Monday morning through Friday afternoon while they are with their father in the house I made a home for almost a decade. 'Tis a long and hairy story why, but suffice it to say that it was not my wish, that truth is stranger than fiction, and that as a 23 year old, I was a much better cook than judge of character.

Lucky

In that tangential way we parents leap from a natural disaster on the other side of Earth to our children, wherever they are, I am reminded that life is full of surprises - some of them the worst kind, that I am away from my children should some sort of disaster strike their lives between Sunday at 8pm and Friday at 3pm, and that this salad they both love, the ebi sushi my daughter always asks for, and the beef tataki my son craves often, are all good and lovely moments, memories and indulgences tucked into short weekends between long weekdays of DiGiorno and Maruchan.

While I wait patiently for circumstances to change, food - in the planning, anticipating, preparing and sharing of it - finds a way to calm and comfort us, and to nourish and sustain me for another fight, another day.

shinae

You Are How You Eat...

The other day in HuffPo, some gal wrote one of those trite bits about how men's eating styles or preferences clue you in to who they are at their core.  Not sure what I make of her pat assessments, but I do agree with her premise that a person's food preferences and eating styles can speak volumes about who they are.

Growing up in a Korean-Vietnamese home, food was not just sustenance.  It symbolized so many things - belief, memory, emotion, affection.  For my Korean father who grew up during the Japanese occupation and the Korean War, certain foods, particularly the sweet ones and fatty ones so hard to come by in his youth, were a symbol of luxury and freedom – from occupation, deprivation, and poverty. 

For my mother, it was memories of a truly blessed food culture that benefited (if at least from the culinary standpoint) from French colonization and the bounties of a Southeast Asian tropic. She introduced me not only to pho, goi cuon and bun, but also to the joys of pate de campagne on a fresh baguette or a light and airy eclair topped with rich chocolate ganache and filled with a perfectly smooth and delicate pastry crème...  

Both parents used food as a way to show concern and love where their cultures didn't encourage open displays of affection. To ask if you had eaten was to ensure your welfare and wellbeing. To cook a meal to your liking was the epitome of care and consideration.

For me, food became all the things it was to my parents and more.  It was something to come together for some times; something to be grateful for all the time; something in which to lose myself when life became chaotic; something to soothe, calm and focus my mind in its preparation; and best of all, something to bond me instantly to just about anyone, no matter the distance or difference, with a mere mention of a familiar dish.

Food was also a teacher – of patience, forbearance, gratitude, creativity and adaptability. Learning to cook naturally lends itself to learning those traits, but not everyone needs, wants, or is inclined to cook. Everyone does, however, EAT.  And it was as much, if not more, through the eating of it, that food shaped my character and personality. 

When my parents were poorer than rich, we ate 25 cent packets of Sapporo Ichiban ramen with a poached egg and some cilantro and/or green onion chopped on the bias for a bit of glam.  It was salty, savory, filling and comforting as anything.  Doctoring that little brick of deep fried noodles and foil seasoning packet into a satisfying dinner taught me that a little ingenuity and creativity could turn poverty into bounty. 

When times were better, our family’s diet indulged my dad’s love of (huge bowlfuls of) chocolate ice cream and well-marbled rib eye steaks.  My mom would pan-fry those rib eyes to a lovely, pink medium rare, and I learned how especially delicious rich and fatty foods are when you have to wait through more than a few packets of ramen to have them. 

When things stayed better for a while and my parents could afford other indulgences like hwae (Korean style  sashimi), live Dungeness crabs, kalbi (Korean barbecued shortribs), pate de foie gras, imported French butter and all sorts of other goodies on the regular, I learned that there was a whole world of good and delicious things to eat if I was willing to try something I might not like in order to discover something I might love.

Oysters on the half shell and the rather obscene looking geoduck clam taught me that some times, things are really ugly on the outside and a complete treasure on the inside.  Eating dragon fruit for the first time taught me that some things, while captivating to look at, are really just meh once you get past the outer layers.  And bitter melon taught me that some stuff really is just as nasty and difficult as it looks.

When I became a starving student and Life tightened the belt once more, I looked forward to a monthly dinner out (on a coupon, no less) while eating for days from a pot of chili or spaghetti sauce.  This time, food showed me that nothing lasts forever.  Not the ramen, not the rib eye, and eventually not the spaghetti sauce, either.

And all the while, the lessons I was taught not just BY food, but THROUGH it remained with me.  Serve others, especially elders and children, first. If eating buffet or family style, take a judicious helping of any dish – someone else should not be left wanting for your greed.  Take just enough and finish what you take because there is always someone, somewhere, who would be grateful to be able to eat what you discard.  


If someone went to the trouble of cooking a meal for you, eat it graciously, completely and gratefully.  When in Rome, do as the Romans do and eat pasta even if you’re used to rice.  You will certainly survive and most likely find that pasta can be quite deliziosa.  And most importantly, be happy and thankful for whatever is set before you, humble or indulgent.  There is a season for, sustenance from, and value in, all of it.

That said, food isn’t so magical as to render me any less odd, eccentric (or crazy, depending on who you ask), bitchy, snarky, sarcastic, unruly, undisciplined or underachieving.  But it did teach me to be grateful, flexible, easygoing, adventurous and adaptable. Make me a dry meatloaf, I’ll squeeze a healthy dollop of ketchup on top and gobble with a smile.  No ketchup? I’ll just wash it down with water.  Leave me with nothing but a can of baked beans and a turkey dog, and I’ll make trailer park party in a bowl.  Put a bowl of menudo in front of me, I'll ask for extra tripe.  Take me to Marche Moderne and I’m all over the hamachi crudo and foie gras torchon.  And if ramen’s all we got for lunch the next day, then ramen again it is!

But what a fantastically doctored bowl of ramen it will be. :)

shinae