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by gansie

Yellow Changes the Day

My mom is a nursery school teacher. She needs to teach exacts. Strawberries are red. A is the first letter of the alphabet. A shining sun equals a warm day. But then she met me and my farmers’ market ways.

All of a sudden cauliflower could be bright yellow. Broccoli could be purple. Grapes could be navy blue. Asparagus could be white. And holy crap, as I just found out at J&G Steakhouse in DC: watermelon could be yellow.

Amanda said that she had enjoyed “yellow dollies,” mini-watermelons with yellow interior, on the shores of South and North Carolina. I’ve never seen such a feat until tonight.

And while I believe in some certainties, like the ABCs, I do believe that teaching about produce is an entirely different, yet terribly fun, always changing and delicious game.

in Veggie 6 comments

by gansie

Golden Bubbly Showers

Editors’ Note: Our newly relocated friend Westcoast, has, as you can guess, finally moved to the West Coast. San Fransisco to be exact. In his first month out there he’s already been tasked with an Endless Simmer assignment. Grueling. Miserable. Terrible. Assignment. Party for Pride. Here’s his story, turned into a drinking game.

Disclaimer: If you are looking for a drinking game (since drinking has become muy popular on ES this summer) you’re in for a Pride 2010 treat! Drink each time you find a gay-themed word (some are sexual, some not and some are disguised as other words, but spelled the same as their naughty cousins).

Second Disclaimer: I am writing this from my new home in San Francisco and you might find some of the content offensive. That sucks for you. [Drink.]

Ok. So San Francisco Pride is kind of a big deal. For a gay, err, queer (have to use the new left coast lingo) young man like myself, coming to San Francisco Pride is like being welcomed home to the mothership. Two years ago Lady Gaga headlined the festival before we even knew what a poker face was or meant. This year the Backstreet Boys are the headlining act. Next year maybe we’ll have Paula Abdul and MC Skat Kat (obligatory use of scat complete). Because sometimes moving forward in time is like moving backward in time, to a time you don’t really miss that much (two steps forward…two steps backstreet boys).

Supperclub San Francisco once again invited ES to experience one of its amazing events. If you have never been to a Supperclub (Los Angeles opens soon), I strongly encourage you to consider. It is truly an experience you won’t regret. All of your senses are dazzled at Supperclub…there’s amazing food and drink, a DJ spinning funky thump lounge, a VJ opening up your brain to dramatic, yet artistic visuals and live performance art throughout the night, all culminating in a huge dance party. Oh, and we had a spectacular hostess extraordinaire, Miss Vee, who poured sparkling wine all over herself during a dance number.

This event was billed as an official San Francisco Pride Event and birthday bash for all Geminis. It just so happens that my best friend, who just turned 30 himself, is a Gemini and likes to paint live performers with paint brushes in front of an audience (we all have our fetishes). His arm also makes a nice prop for pictures. Though we weren’t ever completely sure that we were at a pride event, we certainly had a blast. On tap for the night was a surprise four-course dinner created by Executive Chef Daan Jetten and event-specific, yummy drinks. Here’s where the review begins and the blow-by-blow of the food, since we all like to eat out.

The Countdown Begins: Thirsty for Some Snookie

I refuse to concede my Jersey Shore to those fuck faces on MTV. I’m used to being mocked because I’m from Jerz. But this show. This show. Ugh. That’s not actually the Jersey Shore. Or at least not mine. Mine is tame. Mine involves sunning on the beach and not in a capsule. Mine is full of bitchy, jewelry-encrusted old Jewish women and not tatted up frat boys.

But fine. The show is totally addicting. And while I may tune in to an episode or two when season two airs–in just one month—on July 29th, I will not, however, indulge in their celebrity status. So you could imagine my terror when I spied these drink specials at Commissary in DC.

My mouth is too ajar to form hateful words. You can, though.

in Drinks / TV 10 comments

by gansie

Cheese in the Far East

Even though I’ve been home from Japan and Korea for about a month, I’m still seeing different friends for the first time and telling travel stories. I’m often asked what my favorite meal was or what country’s food I liked better or what was the craziest thing I ate. Often I mention the one instance 80 and I tasted cheese in the Far East as one of our best dishes.

We were shopping and strolling in the area near Seoul Women’s University. It was drizzling. Kinda chilly. Comfort was in need. It became our ritual to walk in, sit down and then leave restaurants if we couldn’t maneuver the menu or waitstaff. Because sometimes even hand gestures get lost in translation.

My co-worker Sherry told me about her sister’s views on Korean food while she lived in the country. The sister wasn’t fond of Korean food but enjoyed the country’s take on Italian food. 80 and I really did, for the most part, dine on each country’s cuisine. But at this moment, with seventy-five percent of our trip past, we needed something a tinge familiar. We needed cheese.

We walked into an Italian restaurant but then quickly left. We couldn’t communicate and weren’t up for the long batter of guesses. We snuck out. And instead we found college grub. Fusion college grub.

This place would fucking kill in the US. Huge bowls of hot rice, options of kimchi, veggies, chicken, whatever, then topped with melted mozzarella. Stir together with metal chopsticks. Awesomeness. Spicy, gooey, stomach-coating. Perfect drunk or hungover food. Plus, this place serves a side cup of broth to start. God I miss broth at every meal.

(PS–I hated Korean chopsticks: metal and thin. Hard to hold, become slippery easily. )

in Food Travel 8 comments

by gansie

The Search Continues: Bulk Bin #3387

The grains from bulk bin #3387 are about to be shown Who Is Boss. I’m tired of #3387 mocking me as I push past it to reach for properly labeled grains. I will figure out what the fuck this grain is and use that entire bag in one sitting. So. There.

In case you are wondering what I’m talking about, last week I pleaded for someone to come forward and name this unmarked grain I had sitting in my cabinet. To recap…

We had a few guesses:

NeeNee: really short grain brown rice or wheat berries
AW: some sort of barley
Maids: yellow dent corn from the Andes. Or Kamut.
dosdos, negged those guesses: I’m pretty sure farro is longer than that. Kamut’s pretty long and narrow. Wheat berries is a good guess but it doesn’t have the line down the middle splitting it in half like a little long booty…. I’m really leaning towards rice.
Danielle: Amaranth?
ajjelibean: Does raw sunflower kernels from Tree of Life sound familiar?

But no one could claim certainty and I have no idea what the Tree of Life is.

Although there were a few other tips. Olga from Mango & Tomato suggested I cook it like brown rice and Brit and westcoast thought I should think just a bit harder where I may have bought the grains to trigger an answer.

My guess is farro because I know that I’ve wanted to try it. But no one thinks that it looks like farro.

Oh well. So here is one last shot. Maids suggested that I show the mystery grain in comparison to other identified grains. See above. Please help.

Who are you bulk bin #3387?!?!

in Veggie 10 comments

by gansie

Raw Is All the Rage

Tom Colicchio was seriously mean last week when he pounded Jacqueline about how she didn’t know the recipe of her (failed) chicken liver mousse after preparing it hundreds of times. Jackie – I feel your pain. I have simmered enough bulgur wheat over the years that I should remember the proportions of water to grain and its cooking time. In fact, the first recipe I ever shared on Endless Simmer was for a salad with bulgur wheat.

But I still googled for a recipe. And this is when I found an awesome idea: cook bulgur with chickpeas. Because I never muster the forethought of soaking and boiling dried beans days ahead of when I would consume them, I always turn to canned beans. I don’t think to prep them very much. But now, I will think different. The Second Lunch provided guidance to cook a big batch of this bulgur wheat and chickpea combo and save it throughout the week for a few different meals. It took her up on it. Her timing was right on. But more, the chickpeas became ultra tender and not chalky as they sometimes can be coming right out of the can. So thank you, The Second Lunch. I dedicate this salad to you.

Raw Kale Salad with Bulgur, Chickpeas and Avocado in a Cottage Cheese-Red Wine Vinegar Dressing

Sorry, I had to name everything in the title of this salad. All of the ingredients are too important not to mention. Amongst my friends raw kale salad is becoming a major topic of conversation. Raw kale is not bitter like some greens and can take a huge smacking of an aggressively flavored dressing; the green just won’t wilt under its weight.

I decided to jump on the trend. On top of raw kale add cooked (like this) bulgur wheat and chickpeas, chunks of avocado, scallions and salt and pepper. In a small bowl mix two spoonfuls of cottage cheese with salt, pepper and red wine vinegar and pour over salad. (I asked, it’s okay to add cottage cheese to salad.)

in Cheese / Recipe / Veggie 9 comments

by gansie

You Shouldn’t Be the Chef

I wasn’t sure if it was a dream or a nightmare. I was in New Jersey (no jokes) with my family (really, no jokes) and I scanned the American-Italian menu. The usual suspects appeared: chicken parm, eggplant manicotti, veal marsella. And then I saw what should be the biggest kitchen disaster: customers allowed to create their own meal. There were no guidelines. No suggestions. No boundaries. Just boxed-in text suggesting the customer be the chef.

Maybe without a price range this option could be lucrative. But all I imagine are bitchy, bossy, hungry South Jerseyans ordering outrageous requests. Triple lobster. No butter. No Salt. Extra crab. No fat. No sugar.

This can’t be a step in the right direction in restaurant-patron relations, can it?

in Restaurants / Trends 6 comments