Pear Tartine

Dear Devon,

I subtly lobbied for an apartment located near one of Barcelona’s many vibrant markets. Within its various and colorful streets, Barcelona houses forty green markets, selling an abundance of brightly colored fruits and vegetables, farm fresh eggs, sun dried fruits, cured meats and cheeses, and rich meats, fish, and poultry. My local market, situated a mere 3 blocks away, is a deep well of inspiration. Saturdays are the major market days. The crowds and rush are incredibly dense. At the moment, I don’t have the nerve to slide up to the counter. I do my shopping on the much slower paced Tuesday afternoon.

I am slowly making friends with the local vendors, who are starting to show a glint of recognition as I walk pass. For their part, they are very patient with my faltering Spanish and American indecisiveness. The practice of browsing does not exist. Spanish shoppers know exactly what they want, how much of it, and from whom. They don’t ogle and oh-and-ah the crates of pungent spring onions or wonder at yellow plums and mint green skinned citrus fruits. Like a lion, I pace in circles in front of each stall, carefully selecting my purchases and double-checking my conversions from metric to English measurements.

A friendly smile and a cheerful “Hola, buenas tardes” will take you a long way in building relations with vendors. My first week shopping, the fruit lady suspiciously eyed me in that small town way. Though I asked for four pears, she gave me eight and refused to be corrected, even after I persisted. Somewhat defeated, I slunked home with double my order, vowing not to return to her the following week. Midway through the week, I had a major change of heart. Enjoying one of those delectable pears, my resolve failed and I found myself in her debt. The pears were so good that four is not enough to get you through the week, eight was a much more suitable number. The following week, her stall was the first one I visited. I asked for eight pears and hoped I wouldn’t end up with dozen (though I wouldn’t complain too loudly).

Though relatively petite, the pears pack some major flavor. The flavor is clean and distinct, like spring water with undertones of honey and a soft citrus flavor. The pears are wonderfully aromatic, like freshly bloomed blossoms. The rounded shapes fit snugly in the palm of my hand. The soft, yellow skin wonderfully blushed with speckled rose tinted flecks on their smooth bellies. Each bite contains the perfect balance of crunchiness to juiciness. None of that mealy, coarse skinned fruit back home, but napkin worthy, juice dribbling down my chin fruit.

The pears are so tasty that improvement or embellishment is really not necessary. In the end, spreading chocolate-hazelnut butter on freshly baked baguette and topping with pears is not really cooking. It could be considered cheating. But this combination is so good that if you consider this cheating, you can call me a cheater with a capital “C.”

Pear Tartine

Baguette
Ripe pears
Nutella or some similar hazelnut chocolate spread

Using a serrated knife, divide and halve the baguette into six-inch segments. Generously spread each half with a thin layer of nutella. Thinly slice pears lengthwise. Arrange sliced pears on prepared baguette.

Good for a quick dessert or at breakfast with tea or even as a midnight snack. Good anytime.

Japanese Style Cabbage Pancakes

Dear Devon,

I woke up this morning and realized that I won’t be returning to New York for a long time. I ran to an Asian grocery store because I can’t stand being without kimchi any longer. Three weeks into my stay and I would kill for a Q-tip and a pork laden, umami rich, generously scallioned, steaming bowl of ramen! You would think in a country where pork is the national food, a veritable mascot, ramen would quickly follow. And yes, there are Asian people here. I just don’t know what they are eating or more importantly, where.

I suppose I should be grateful that there is an Asian grocery nearby. In my present state of Asian food withdrawal, this fetid garage that sells Asian-made products was a beacon to a weary sailor. I already commented on the distinctive smells of Barcelona, but this grocery store brings the concept of malodorous stink to an Olympic level. My sense of smell has never been better tested than in the streets and in this case Asian markets of Barcelona. Let’s put it this way, the smell made the fishmongers’ stalls in New York Chinatown smell like the florist.

If that wasn’t enough, I experienced the greatest shock of my entire life in this shop. With my nerves strengthened by the plum sauce in my hand and the friendly company of dried ramen and pho, I approached a shopkeeper to inquire about other necessities. She looked Asian, so I addressed her in Cantonese. She shot me the blank look of incomprehension. My desire to guzzle down an entire bottle of sweet soy milk encouraged me to question her again, this time in Mandarin. Immediately, the same look of utter confusion! I don’t give any pretensions toward fluency in either Cantonese or Mandarin, but I certainly know how to ask, “Where is the soy milk?” Now, I’m sure that the look of incomprehension was on my face. I stumbled to the cashier and hardly notice as he rang up a bottle of soy sauce at 6 euros ($10), the second greatest shock of my life. And no, it’s not the fancy organic kind, it’s not even low sodium (the store doesn’t even carry it).

On a happier note, I did manage to track down my beloved Korean red chili paste at a food stall at the Boqueria market off La Rambla, a modest 2.50 euros. She did not have in stock the bright red chili flakes, but promised to set some aside for me the next week. My plan is to make kimchi. I half dread the visit to the market to inquire about Napa cabbage. Imagine explaining that in Spanish. Do they even know where Napa is? Not to mention, every time I go the market, I leave with my nerves completely shot and the back of my shirt soaked with sweat. The vendors are all extremely friendly. It’s me, I’m extremely anxious, not to mention lost in the metric system (1/2 kilo of ham = about 1 pound, which is now cooling in my fridge). If a kilo sounds like a lot, ½ a kilo is still more than I would probably ever buy at home.

How many import laws would be violated if you FedExed me a bowl of Momofuku ramen and pork belly buns?


Japanese Style Cabbage Pancakes
(makes four pancakes)

1 cup flour
1 cup water
1 tbsp salt
1 egg
¼ head of cabbage, shredded
½ small onion, thinly sliced
1 clove garlic, thinly sliced
1 hot pepper, diced

Spicy Red Pepper Sauce
(makes about 1 cup)

2 tbsp Korean red pepper paste
2 tbsp plum sauce
2 ½ tbsp soy sauce
1 ½ tbsp brown sugar
1 ½ tbsp corn oil
½ tsp sesame oil

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together flour, water, egg, and salt. Carbonated water can be substituted for still water. It gives the pancakes an extra bit of lift, but is by no means necessary. Allow batter to rest for about 15 minutes before using.

Shred cabbage, thinly slice onions, garlic, and hot pepper. Make four separate piles for the cabbage, onions, garlic, and hot pepper. Toss together a quarter of each pile into a separate mixing bowl. This insures an even distribution of each ingredient per pancake.

Bring a medium sized skillet to medium high heat. Add a drop of oil about the size of two quarters into the hot skillet. To the hot oil, add the cabbage and onion mixture. Gently fry for a minute or two, just to get some nice color. Splash in about a quarter cup of water. The water creates a steaming affect and slows down the cooking process. It is very easy to burn the cabbage. When the water has just about evaporated and the cabbage is about transparent, pour in a large ladleful of batter. Using a wooden spatula, fold the batter on to the cabbage to make a circular pancake. Add a drop more oil. When the edges begin to brown and bubble, flip the pancake. Add a bit more oil as needed. The pancake is done when both sides are nicely browned and the pancake has a solid feel.

Serve with a spicy red pepper sauce. Combine the ingredients listed above in a large mixing bowl. Mix together thoroughly. Adjust seasonings to your taste. I prefer my sauce slightly sweet. The sauce is greatly enhanced with the addition of toasted sesame seeds and/or a generous drop of honey.

Hungarian Goulash with Poppy Seed Dumplings

Dear Michelle,

New York is at its best right now, but I'd trade cities with you in a second. Who needs a food processor when you have such incredible ingredients! I can't wait to hear about it when you start cooking.

Though today was beautiful, we had a cold spell last week, and I was moved to make goulash. I make it at least once a year now, but happened upon it by accident. Maybe five years ago I was making a birthday dinner for my friend Kate, and asked her if she had any requests. She said that her favorite Winter dinner was goulash, and I agreed to make it, never even having had it before. I came home after work and did the shopping, started the stew right away, drank some of the left over beer and thought, "this does not look very good." My dutch oven was full of onions and peppers, beer, meat, and a full half cup of paprika. It was all very. . . red. It smelled of raw onions and peppers, and seemed to be overwhelmed by the paprika.



We didn't eat that night till very late, and by that time I no longer doubted Kate's choice of birthday dinner. The meat fell apart, the onions and peppers melted, and the rich, spicy, smokiness of the paprika pervaded the stew, bringing it all together. We ate this deep red savory deliciousness over egg noodles tossed with butter and poppy seeds, as per Kate's request. I was won over.



Now every year when Winter descends and the windows close, I wait for the radiators to turn on and start thinking about what needs to cook for a long time in the stove or the oven, and I think of goulash. This year I tried a mix of pork and beef stew meat, and I've decided that beef works best. I did add a smoked trotter (pig's foot or ankle; a ham hock would work too) for some extra flavor and gelatin, to make the stew really glossy. I've made the mistake before of using mostly hot paprika, and I'd advise against it unless you're one of those masochistic people who eats hot sauce by the gallon. I also tried making dumplings instead of noodles, with success.



I think paprika is produced in Spain, as well as Hungary, so you should get some! I bet chorizo would be an amazing addition to this dish.




Hungarian Goulash with Poppy Seed Dumplings, '97 Joy of Cooking, not verbatim

Notes:

A smoked trotter or ham hock tossed in works well. I've tried just beef stew meat and a mix of beef and pork, and I think just beef works best. The last time I made this I only used 2lbs meat and the same amount of vegetables, but for carrots which I increased. I've always used beer instead of wine, and beef instead of chicken stock. GO EASY ON THE HOT PAPRIKA. Seriously. It is really easy to make this too hot. Start with all sweet, then add more for extra heat later if you like. The JOC calls for the caraway to be added with the rest of the herbs/spices, but I think I read somewhere that it becomes bitter if cooked too long, so I add it at the end. The first taste I had of the dumplings I thought they were a bit paste-y, but they quickly became addictive. Egg noodles are also a classic pairing, with poppy seeds and butter. I've never used the sauerkraut, or the sour cream, but I bet both are delicious.

4 oz bacon, smoked ham, or Hungarian paprika sausage, diced
3 lbs beef chuck, or half beef, half pork or veal shoulder
3 c thinly sliced onions
6 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 c (2 oz) sweet Hungarian paprika, or a mix of sweet and hot
3 bell peppers, diced
1 c diced carrots
1 T dried marjoram
1 t caraway seeds
1 t ground black pepper
3 bay leaves
2c beef or chicken stock
1 c dry white wine or beer
1 lb sauerkraut, drained (optional)
1/4 c tomato puree, or 2T tomato paste
1/2 - 1 c sour cream or creme fraiche (optional)

Make sure everything is chopped, etc.- this makes the process easier. Brown the bacon or whatever in a Dutch oven, then remove to a plate or bowl. Pat stew meat dry, season with salt and pepper, and dredge in flour, shaking off the excess. Brown in batches in bacon fat, making sure not to crowd the pot. Add oil/fat as needed; the flour tends to soak it up. Remove as it browns to a plate.

Add onions to pot, and cook till soft and lightly browned (you could go further towards caramelizing if you like). Add garlic and peppers and saute till just soft. Add tomato paste and cook a few minutes, then stir in carrots and all herbs but caraway. Add liquid, scraping up the burned bits on the bottom. Add sauerkraut if using. Cook on stovetop or in oven at 300F for several hours, until meat is fork-tender. Stir in caraway. Add dumplings (recipe following), or serve over egg noodles tossed with butter and poppy seeds, or rice. If using sour cream, stir in at the last minute.

Poppy Seed Dumplings

2c flour
1T baking powder
3/4 t salt
3T poppy seeds
3t butter
1c milk

Bring milk and butter to a simmer on the stovetop. Meanwhile, mix together dry ingredients in a large bowl. Add simmering liquid to dry ingredients, stirring with a fork or kneading by hand until the mixture comes together. Divide dough into 18 dumplings. Roll each piece into a rough ball. Gently lay dumplings on top of stew and let simmer for 10m.

Vietnamese Iced Coffee

Dear Devon,

Let me tell you how the Spanish day is structured:

8:00	El desayuno: coffee, toast or croissant
9:00	Arrive at work
11:00	El cafecito: coffee, croissant, maybe a small beer
2:00	La comida: 3 course lunch including beer or wine, dessert, and more coffee
5:00	Return to work (from lunch that is)
6:30	La merienda: coffee or beer and snacks (cigarettes, tapas, fried anything)
8:00	Work day ends
10:00	La cena or dinner

It seems the further south you travel, the less time you spend working and the more time you spend eating. But who am I to complain? Any tradition that tells me to eat two croissants in one day can’t be too bad.

The workday schedule above is not an exaggeration. I had a minor problem with my water service at the new apartment. Being a newly arrived American, I was extremely anxious to have the situation resolved, but knowing a Spaniard’s distinctive schedule, chose to call my landlord at midday, as opposed to at dawn. My landlord, a respectful and generous man, but distinctly Spanish, hurriedly told me to come to his office at 6 pm. Spanish people are never in a hurry, except at closing time or before meals. To call at noon and to meet at 6 pm seemed like a long wait. What I didn’t realize is that the day really begins at 6 pm. But less than an hour later, they take another break, so that thirty-minute window is essential to Spain’s economic future. Honestly, I don’t think I will ever be able to re-adjust to an American working schedule!

Given the amount of coffee consumed here in a single day, I have had to adopt a coffee habit. My favorite coffee is the cortado. With an espresso machine, steam is quickly shot through a disk of tightly packed grounds. Just short of a full shot, the steam is prematurely shut off and a splash of whole milk is added to the glass. The result is a thick, syrupy shot of espresso with the most heavenly, dense, frothy foam. Use a tiny spoon to vigorously mix in a bit of sugar (make sure you clank the sides of your glass loudly). Even if you don’t think you like coffee, the intoxicating fragrance of a cortado will reveal your deepest coffee fantasies.

Historically, I have preferred tea to coffee, but in hot weather, a good iced coffee can really hit the spot. I am partial to Vietnamese style iced coffees sweetened with condensed milk, which in Vietnam’s colonial period substituted for unavailable fresh milk. Vietnamese iced coffees have the same intense richness as cortados and are flavored with a hint of spicy chicory. The infused chicory gives the coffee a distinct aromatic character that is woody and tangy. The coffee brews in a small metal container that rests on top of an ice filled glass. The heavy condensed milk supports the lighter coffee, forming two distinct layers of liquid that require vigorously stirring to sufficiently balance the sweetness of the condensed milk to the dark and spicy undertones of the coffee.

Gathering together the requisite ingredients is usually the most difficult part in the brewing process. Sweetened condensed milk and the unique brewing filters can usually be found at an Asian grocery store. Chicory is a bit harder to find. Zabar’s sells chicory in individual containers and can pack it to order, so you can buy a ¼ pound instead of a full pound (which I recommend). Don’t buy your chicory mixed into whole coffee beans. It will ruin the beans if it is ground with them. Chicory is extremely fragrant, slightly bitter, and a bit overwhelming, so I suggest using it sparingly. On another important note, do not go crazy with the sweetened condensed milk, unless you have excellent dental coverage.



Vietnamese Ice Coffee
For 2 servings

One kettle of boiling water
2 metal Vietnamese drip coffee filters
½ tsp of chicory
2 tbsp of ground coffee (French roast)
2 to 3 tbsp sweetened condensed milk

A Vietnamese coffee filter has three parts: the lid, the canister, and an internal perforated disk that screws into the canister. A metal piece with a screw at the end extends from the perforated disk. To remove the disk, twist the screw to the left.

To prepare the filters, carefully unscrew the perforated disk and metal lid. Grind coffee beans until the size of quinoa. Spoon one tablespoon of ground coffee in an even layer into the base of the canister. Add a pinch (1/4 tsp) of chicory. Secure the perforated disk onto the canister, turning the screw until the coffee is tightly compressed between the disk and the base of the canister. Rotate the screw two full turns to the left. This step is really important. The disk must be loosened a bit to allow for the water to flow through the coffee grounds. If the disk is too tightly secured, the water cannot flow through the filter. Shake the canister several times over the sink, to release excess or undersized coffee grounds.

Bring a large kettle of water to a boil. Prepare two glasses. Pour condensed milk into each glass. Depending on how sweet you like your coffee, add 1 to 1 ½ tbsp of condensed milk. It is always easier to put in too little at first and adjust, than to put in too much and ruin the coffee. Top with ice cubes. Set the prepared filters over each glass.

Pour boiling water in a slow, steady stream into each canister. Stop at about a quarter of the way full. Wait about 20 seconds. If the water has flowed through, the filter must be tightened. The coffee should trickle out slowly. Continue adding the boiling water until the container is roughly three quarters full. The entire brewing process should take about 5 minutes.

At The Butcher

Dear Devon,

The last time I ate your delicious egg salad was the morning after your wedding. Now that I am so far away from you and New York, I was excited to read your last post and to be reminded of that lovely afternoon at your parents’ house. I have tried many times to replicate your egg salad, but never succeeded! Your notes will be especially helpful for future egg salad experiments.

Barcelona is amazing, but I must confess to bouts of homesickness, mostly for my friends and the crisp autumn air of October in New York. I doubt that I will miss the New York winter. Seeing everything in Spanish is shocking, although I suppose I expected it. I am enrolled in an immersion course. I spend the majority of my days trapped in the world of irregular verbs and gendered nouns. But after discovering La Central, a sophisticated and carefully curated bookstore, and its immense selection of cookbooks, I am completely resolved to gain some measure of fluency, if only to share Ferran Adrià’s secrets with you!


I am nicely settled in a small apartment in the Eixample neighborhood. I can see Nouvel’s glowing Torre Agbar from my bedroom window. The apartment is furnished, though I question the interior designer’s choices. At first, the neon peach colored walls seemed a bit abrasive. A week later, my complaints about the color have subsided. The boy who carries my groceries hates the white lamps on our bedside tables. Briefly banished to the living room, his lamp was quickly reinstated to accommodate late night reading. The washing machine that I was so excited about cleans clothes, but boasts neither speed nor efficiency. I am wary of the super rapido cycle, which claims to wash the clothes in 15 minutes. A normal cycle takes 3 hours. And just to clarify, that’s washing, only, not drying, which happens outside on our sixth floor balcony.

The kitchen consists of a two-burner electric stove above a medium sized electric oven and a mini fridge. Not ideal for large dinner parties, but amazingly efficient for cozy dinners for two. I am really impressed with this electric stovetop and must re-evaluate all my preconceived notions of non-gas appliances. I am still in the process of setting up the kitchen, which I find very stressful. Forced to rethink kitchen necessities, I must make several difficult choices like: food processor or mortar and pestle, paper towels or waffle maker. It feels more like Sophie’s Choice than leisurely visits to Sur La Table.

For the moment, I have limited myself to one non-stick pan with an oven-proof handle, a large aluminum cooking pot, two glass mixing bowls, a single wooden spatula, a vegetable peeler, one chopping board, the (requisite) mocha pot, and four knives. I equate cooking with the large pot to cooking on a hubcap, but you can do almost anything with one pan and a good set of knives. I did run into a slight problem when I had to remove the burning hot pan from the oven. An oven mitt will be my next purchase.

No recipes today, sorry to disappoint you. But, I know these shots from a local butcher shop will whet your appetite.

Chocolate Chunk Hazelnut Coffee Ice Cream

Dear Devon,

Before you put away your ice cream maker for the season, you have to try my amazing recipe for chocolate hazelnut coffee ice cream. I don’t have a fancy name for my flavor like Ben and Jerry’s, so if you think of a better one, let me know. Besides coffee, I don’t go for the rich brown flavors like dulce de leche and rum raisin. Strawberry, peach, and pear are more my style. But every so often I get that craving for something a bit more decadent. Coffee ice cream always hits the spot, especially when laced with chunks of chocolate and crushed, toasted hazelnuts. Each spoonful is delectable. Smooth, coffee infused ice cream balanced against bitter morsels of dark chocolate and smoky, crunchy hazelnuts. I promise you, it’s a recipe you’ll want to repeat.

We have discussed methods for making ice cream several times. While you lean towards more unusual recipes like cornstarch gelato or almond milk bases, I prefer a more traditional custard base for my ice cream. There are a multitude of ice cream recipes, all vaguely similar. In my experience, I have found the most success with a one to one ratio of cream to whole milk mixed with five egg yolks. Cream based ice creams are overwhelmingly creamy, almost like eating a chilled, viscous flavored butter. And 100% whole milk ice cream lacks the luxurious decadence inherent to any good ice cream. Egg yolks impart body and richness, more like frozen custard than just frozen milk. I can’t stress enough the importance of whole milk and cream in ice cream. On this, you and I agree. It’s ice cream after all: If you want a healthy dessert, eat a pear instead.

Barcelona’s ice cream and gelato is addictive. The flavors are intense, pungent, and refreshing. The rainbow of fruit flavors is spectacular. Subtly flavored fruits like melon, fig, and peach are intensified. Fig ice cream goes beyond suggesting the taste of fig but actually embodies a more advanced stage of a fig’s growing process, from tiny seed to fruit to ice cream! I tried an incredible plum ice cream the other day and promise to keep you updated on any other unusual flavors. Still, I’m dying for my ice cream maker. Unfortunately, our tiny excuse for a freezer can’t hold a frozen pizza, let alone an ice cream workbowl. Así es la vida! I’ll have to content myself with the multitude of impressive ice cream shops.



Chocolate Chunk Hazelnut Coffee Ice Cream
3 cups half and half (or 1 1/2 cups whole milk + 1 1/2 cups cream)
5 egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar
2 tbsp decaf coffee beans
1/4 cup coffee (decaf)
1/2 cup toasted hazelnuts, skins removed and chopped
1-12 oz chocolate bar with hazelnuts (for extra nutty flavor)

In a large pot, bring half and half to a light boil over medium-high heat. Turn off the heat. Pour in decaf coffee and whole coffee beans. Cover with a lid and let coffee steep for 30 minutes. Fifteen minutes would probably be enough, but for a richer coffee flavor allow the beans to steep longer. After 30 minutes, the milk-cream mixture will turn a soft brown color. Remove and discard the beans.

Beat egg yolks with sugar in a large mixing bowl until pale yellow. Gradually add hot milk mixture to the egg yolks one ladleful at a time. Add about one third of the cream mixture, whisking the entire time. The egg yolks need to be slowly introduced to the hot cream, otherwise the eggs will cook and scramble. It's really unpleasant when this happens, and it ruins the texture of the finished ice cream. Combine the tempered egg yolk mixture into the remaining hot cream. Heat slowly over a medium low flame, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until thickened. When the first bubbles begin to burst along the edges, test the custard for doneness. The custard is ready when a line drawn with your finger on the back of the spoon holds it shape. Transfer the pot into an awaiting ice bath to instantly stop the cooking. Pour the cooled mixture into a clean bowl and cover with plastic wrap, pressing the wrap onto the surface of the custard. Cool in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours, preferably overnight, before continuing.


Roughly chop toasted hazelnuts and chocolate bar. Set aside. Pour ice cream base into ice cream maker. Freeze according to your manufacturer's instructions. It should take about 25 minutes. At the 15 minute mark, add the chopped hazelnuts and chocolate. Continue to freeze. Using a rubber spatula, carefully scrape down the sides of the workbowl as the machine spins. This is a bit tricky, but it prevents the ice cream from freezing to the workbowl, giving you more delicious ice cream to enjoy. Remove finished ice cream to a container. Freeze for 30 minutes to an hour more before serving. I use a glass loaf pan with a lid. When storing ice cream, it is always preferable to store it in a container that allows for greater surface area exposure. It is supposed to affect the flavor of the ice cream. After reading this, I noticed that all ice cream shops store their product in long, narrow containers, so I started doing it too. It allows you to make perfect, rounded scoops for nicer presentation.

Egg Salad

Dear Michelle-

I can't believe you're really all the way across the Atlantic! Lucky you. You'd better eat some extra figs and Spanish ham for me. I'll expect a full, detailed report. When your Internet is up, of course. Oh, I wish I could come visit you!

But I should not complain; I recently got to spend two and a half weeks with my parents down in Virginia. It's always nice to get out of the city, especially when Autumn greets my return. Those days in the northern South felt like the last of Summer, hot and sunny with frequent thunderstorms and the beautiful foggy mornings that follow them, abundant tomatoes and basil, perfect peaches, iced tea, sunbathing and swimming in the Maury River with friends, reading romance novels, falling asleep to the chirping of crickets- I could go on, but I'll spare you.




While I feel like I didn't do much while I was home, that's not true. I went horseback riding almost every day. I went to the farmer's market, visited and photographed the local slaughterhouse/butcher and a family friend's dairy farm and cheesemaking operation (more on those two later), helped my father in the garden, and made a ton of egg salad. I probably made 4 or 5 batches of it, maybe more. My father had a habit of finishing it off if it was more than a day old, so the batches did not last long.



This egg salad was what sparked the idea of a food blog in my head, before you and I even started talking about it. My good friend Julie had come over for lunch and I made it, an easy meal and a treat as Jeff does not like eggs in any overt form. She loved it, asked for the recipe, and told me I should write a cookbook. Clearly, you don't just write a cookbook, with everything that's involved, but a food blog seemed doable.

The recipe I gave Julie was very vague, you know, some of this, some of that. The first time I made egg salad, who knows how long ago, I looked in several cookbooks, determined the basics, added what I thought would taste even better, and have been making some version of that since. I've written down exact measurements for you as a starting point, but the variations seem endless.


Of course I start with perfectly cooked hard boiled eggs; too little time and the yolk does not crumble, too much and the white is rubbery and the yolk an unappetizing greenish gray. Of course it all gets blended up, but if you know how to do it the right way, why not?



Then I crumble the yolks, and mix with chopped shallot, mayonnaise, mustard, vinegar or lemon, and olive oil. The whites go in next, then fresh herbs. Last, I usually stir in a pickle of some kind, and add salt and pepper. And here's how it should taste: creamy, but not too rich due to the lemon and pickles; light, because of the olive oil; flavorful with mustard, shallot, and bright chopped herbs; a sum of its parts but not a monotonous mush, as its deli-case step-sibling would lead you to believe.


When I was home I used chives, basil, and chopped cornichons, but most French or Italian light herbs (e.g., tarragon, basil, sorrel, dill, chives, parsley; not rosemary, sage, or lavender) will work, as will red onion, and other pickled vegetables (beets--though they will turn the salad magenta if you use the red variety--and onion are both good) instead of cucumber pickles. In the winter, dried dill, herbes de Provence, and paprika can all be used for a little flavor. I used standard grocery store mayonnaise, and tried out a fancy whole-grain beer mustard my parents had, which was delicious. I should really make my own mayo, but this is usually something I throw together to have for lunches and I want it to be as easy as possible, but tasty enough to look forward to.

So, when you get homesick, make yourself some iced tea, go buy some of those beautiful Spanish eggs, and make yourself some egg salad sandwiches. They miss you, too.

Egg Salad

Remember when I told you that I wrote the recipe down for you? I did, I swear. But it seems to have gone missing. If I had to guess, I'd say my father probably "cleaned it up" after I left, not knowing what it was. And then, then, I wrote it out here, only to have it erased by Blogger!

So here's the deal: I don't have the exact measurements for you. But this is a recipe that lends itself well to approximation; there are so many different kinds of mustard, mayo, pickles, and herbs you can use, and each will mix differently with the others. So I'll give you the measurements as I remember them, but start with less and add more. Let your taste buds be your guide. I know some people prefer to always have a recipe- for those people, let this be an experiment, a lesson in trusting your senses.

Another note- lots of people, when served this egg salad, have called it "deviled eggs." I always thought those were when the yolk was mixed up with similar additions and added back to the halved whites, but maybe there's some naming overlap?

6 eggs, cold
shallot
mayonnaise
mustard
vinegar or lemon (light vinegar in color, so that the salad does not turn brownish- you don't want to use balsamic)
olive oil
pickles
fresh herbs (see above for ideas)

Bring an almost full, medium-large pot to a boil. I like to put a steamer basket inside, to elevate the eggs and allow the water to flow all around them. It also keeps them from knocking into each other. Add eggs. Bring water back to a low simmer, and turn down the burner to maintain this. You don't want to cook the eggs at a full boil; it makes the white rubbery and discolors the yolks. (note- even if properly cooked, storing the eggs in the refrigerator seems to also turn yolks gray) Set a timer for 12 minutes for large eggs. (I'd go a minute either direction for medium or extra-large, but since I don't usually buy these, that's just a guess.)

Meanwhile, finely chop the shallot and put in a medium bowl (large enough to mix the salad) with 1t of the vinegar or lemon juice. Letting it sit for a few minutes like this mellows the raw shallot, and is also a good practice when making salad dressing. Chop the herbs.

Chill eggs in ice water, or cold running water. I like to drain the pot, roll the eggs around to crack the shells, and run cold water in. This both cools them faster and makes them easier to peel. Peel, chop in half, and deposit yolks in the bowl. Mash with shallot and vinegar. I like to use a pastry cutter- it works perfectly. Add 1-2t mustard, 2-4T mayonnaise, and a dash of olive oil.
Mix all well. Chop whites and add, mixing and mashing with the pastry cutter or a large fork (a whisk might work too, or a potato masher). Add herbs and pickles and mix to combine. Taste. If too bland, add more mustard and/or herbs. If too creamy, add more pickle or vinegar. If too acid, add more oil or mayonnaise. You want this thick enough to stay put in a sandwich or on toast (this is how I prefer to eat it).

Enjoy!

Portobello Mushroom Tacos

Dear Devon,

Things are about to get a bit hectic. After a week of pounding the pavement, we found an apartment and will be moving in on Saturday. I don't know when our internet will be up and running so I wanted to squeeze in this last post before I disappear into Barcelona's landscape. I dragged out and revamped an unsent post from months ago. My geographic location may have changed but this recipe for portobello mushroom tacos is still just as delicious.

Rummaging through the fridge in search of a quick dinner, I came up with the brilliant idea of making portobello mushroom tacos. Tortillas are regularly found in my fridge. I buy them in packs of 50 at my neighborhood market. Though they aren't as tasty as your homemade tortillas, they are an adequate substitute. At $1.25 a pack, they come in handy in the 7 o'clock hour.


Rich, hearty portobello mushrooms seem an obvious substitute for grilled meats. First, I roast them with a generous sprinkle of olive oil and salt, then set them aside to cool. I slice the large mushrooms into 1/2 inch strips. Tucked into a warm tortilla, and topped with some salty white cheese and fresh salsa, the flavor combinations are astounding. The richness of the mushrooms' flavor reminds me of the damp earth. Chunky tomato salsa, flecked with jalapenos and shredded cilantro, adds a spicy citrus tang to the succulent mushrooms. The mix of salty cheese provides a nice balance to the bright salsa, while adding a bit of savory creaminess.

Vegetarian and Mexican food aren't two words that usually go together. But these mushrooms tacos defy that logic. I served them alongside eggplant and Swiss chard enchiladas to a group of veggie friends. I'd say it was a big hit. Leftovers? There weren't any, only smiling faces and full bellies.


Portobello Mushrooms
serves 2 (makes 4 to 6 tacos)

3 large portobello mushrooms
6 tbsp olive oil
3/4 tsp salt
6-8 tortillas

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with foil. Set aside.

To prepare mushrooms, brush off any dirt and remove the large woody stems. Sprinkle each mushroom with 2 tsp of olive oil on both sides (1 tsp per side). Salt both sides with 1/4 tsp salt. Set on prepared baking sheet.

Roast in oven for 15-20 minutes or until the edges are lightly browned and shriveled. Place on a cutting board to cool. When cool enough to handle, slice into 1/2 inch thick slices. Serve on a large platter next to warmed tortillas.

To warm tortillas, place tortilla on a hot griddle or skillet over medium high heat, roughly 2 minutes per tortilla. The tortilla should be pliant and hot to the touch.

Tomato Salsa
3 ripe tomatoes, diced
1 yellow onion, diced
1/2 jalapeno pepper, thinly chopped
juice of 1 lime
1/2 tsp salt

Combine the ingredients above into a large bowl and toss. Set aside to marinate for 15 minutes before serving. I don't like cilantro, so I always served chopped cilantro on the side.

P.S. These are also fantastic with guacamole. Avocado makes anything taste better.

Eggs En Cocotte

Dear Devon,

There is little to complain about and much to celebrate in Barcelona. That being said, adjusting to life here has its challenges. Aside from the obvious language barrier, which will soon be conquered, my biggest annoyance is the plumbing. Europeans built incredible, soaring cathedrals in the 12th century- how can the logic of the bathroom escape them? It seems that every bathroom should come equipped not only with a toilet, sink, and shower, but also with a mop. The flimsy plastic curtain doesn't quite reach the lip of the shower floor, which pretty much guarantees that water will splash everywhere. After three nights, I solved the mystery of how to shower without flooding the entire bathroom. Long American-style showers are not an option in our narrow, coffin-like ducha. I won't even get into the funky smells. After all, this is a food blog.

We have already had a slight laundry mishap. I don't blame our small, but adequate, washing machine. It was a case of operator error. Unfortunately, what began life as faintly rose colored t-shirt has blossomed into a still desirable, if unintentional, purple one. I'm not sure which was the culprit: The dark blue shirt, the detergent, or the water temperature (a scorching 40 degrees C or 104 degrees F for the unschooled). The difference between 40 degrees C and 40 degrees F is pink to purple.


The apartment is equipped with a washing machine, but no dryer. Using a clothesline four floors up in a narrow light shaft is a tricky operation. As of now, no articles of clothing have been lost to the neighbors' cantilevered radiator hood... but I'll let you know if my favorite shirt ends up there.

Your big question for me is: How is the food? My reply: I don't really know yet. So far, I can only tell you about the markets. Covered markets dot the landscape of Barcelona. In three days, I've been to four, two of them twice. Dining out is always nice, but what's the need when the markets are stocked with amazing produce? I bought fresh eggs from a lady who only sells eggs. I made an easy scramble with pasta, beans, and tomatoes, and fried them for ham sandwiches. These are eggs like I've never tasted before. The yolks are practically orange, when cooked they have the richness of butter and an almost cream-like consistency. I already regret when American eggs will once again be the norm.

Before leaving New York, I became obsessed with baked eggs. I first tried out this recipe for an intimate brunch hosted on our roof deck. I loved them so much that I made it three more times that week. The elegance of the dish obscures the relaxed ease of the recipe. All you have to do is crack an egg into a ceramic ramekin filled with a splash of hot cream and top it with cheese and dill. It's hard to imagine how something so simple can taste so incredible. The egg white firms up in the oven, while the yolk remains gooey and buttery. Dill and eggs are a natural combination, and when mixed with freshly grated Fontina cheese, they bring out its grassy undertones. Puncture the bright yellow yolk with a large shard of buttered grilled toast for maximum enjoyment.

Spanish eggs will pump up this already amazing dish another notch. I'm dying to try it out. But first, I have to find an apartment with an oven.

Eggs en Cocotte
(serves 2)

2 eggs
2 tsp cream
1 tsp butter
1 tsp dill
1 tbsp shredded fontina cheese
2 wedges of tomato

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Arrange two ramekins on a baking sheet. Add 1 tsp of cream and 1/2 tsp of butter to each ramekin. Bake in the oven on the top shelf until cream-butter mixture is bubbly, about 5 minutes.

While the ramekins are in the oven, prepare your ingredients. Cut one tomato in 1/8's, finely chop dill, and shred fontina cheese. Remove the baking tray with bubbling hot cream-butter mixture from the oven. Crack one egg into each ramekin. The egg should start sizzling as it hits the hot cream. Place one tomato wedge into each dish. Be careful not to hit the yolk. Sprinkle with a small pinch of salt. Top each dish with 1/2 tsp of dill and 1/2 tbsp of shredded cheese. Pop in the oven and cook until the whites have set: 5-7 minutes for a runny yolk, 10 -12 minutes for a hard yolk.

Serve with large shards of buttered toast.

P.S. These photos were taken pre-Barcelona. As of now, nothing extraordinary has emerged from my kitchen here.

Hola Barcelona!

Dear Devon,

My apartment is empty. The piano is with a friend. A quarter of our stuff now belongs to the Housing Works Thrift Shop. And... the kitchen has been carefully packed into 80 quart plastic containers and lives in a dark storage space. My carefully orchestrated move to Barcelona has come down to a frantic dash to the laundry room and the vexing task of marshaling my electronic devices (over fifteen of them, not including chargers!). Six weeks ago, I was gainfully employed, enjoying a pleasant New York summer, and writing regularly to you. Today, I fly out to Barcelona for an extended stay. My plans are a bit hazy and my Spanish is almost non-existent. Fortunately, that won't stop me from enjoying the food!

Thanks again for coming all the way from Brooklyn to see us last night. It's always a treat to see you and Jeff. I only wish the bar were a bit quieter and had better seating arrangements. Lucky for us, we had our real goodbye on Wednesday.

The car comes at four o'clock to pick me up. I'll be writing to you from 3,839 miles away.

Hugs,
Michelle