Endless Simmer - A Food Blog

Hey Foodies-

I write to you, ES readers and the food blogospehre, in need of your help. This weekend I am going to a picnic with some friends here in DC. The irony of this is that despite being British I have never been to a picnic before (I know, crazy, bad, British Britannia). I can only claim to have taken a bag of chips and salsa to Screen on the Green in years past but I don’t think that counts, does it! So here’s the deal, I need your ideas and thoughts as to what I can make for this. My group will consist of about eight people and it’s going to be a potluck kind of thing. I am encouraging my friends to be creative, trying to steer them away from the pre-made of Whole Foods. My own thoughts so far would be focaccia bread with dipping oils, cheeses and salsa, a fruit bowl of some kind and maybe a selection of sandwiches.

The picnic is at the National Cathedral. They are hosting an event this weekend called “Lighting to Unite”; acclaimed Swiss light artist Gerry Hofstetter is lighting up the Cathedral to celebrate its centennial, and the Cathedral is inviting people to bring picnics. The weather looks like it will make for a great evening outdoors.

Please let me know any ideas you might have by writing in the comments section, I promise to tell you all about my picnic in a post next week. Thanks in advance.

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Editors Note: This is going to be a long Editors Note, way too long for all italics.

Hi, it’s gansie. So I really do hate when a blogger starts getting, um, well new gigs and writes incessantly about the new gigs and stops writing about what you originally came to the blog for. Here’s an example. This is all to say, of course, that I am going to talk about myself and my new gig as a famous person.

Last weekend I was asked to be a JUDGE for a contest. Yes, me, a judge. ES’s good friend, Britannia, passed my name along to be the food judge for the third annual Progressive Dinner. (Full Dis - In order to make this contest fair, Brit decided to stop commenting and posting for the duration of the contest planning.)

But this night was way more than just a dinner. It’s 120 gay men, spending close to 10 thousand dollars, enjoying a night of: eating, drinking, dancing, lip syncing, decorating, and wearing itty bitty underwear-as-outwear. It was fucking amazing. Luckily my sister was in town to be my “assistant” as I ate my way through the night.

Continue to read about the actual food.

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Editors Note: Now that BK has taken a breather from bashing our friend, Alton, he’s now talking smack about vegetables.

Recently, I made pico de gallo and my hands reeked like onion for three days. Which stinks, both literally and psychologically, because it came out really well, but I am discouraged to make it again due to the odor. I tried some pretty aggressive soaps, but to no avail.

So I did a little research on the subject and found that if you rub your hands on stainless steel while running them under water, it would remove the smell. I gave it a shot with my stainless steel spoon rest (sadly, some of my spoons have chronic fatigue.)

Not surprisingly it worked. I loved this new discovery so much that I bought a stainless steel bar made to look like soap from MoMA. It now serves the doubly important role of removing onion and garlic smells from my hands and confusing people at my kitchen sink.

If only during my single days they would have made some sort of stainless steel gum that I could have used after garlic loaded Italian dinners. I may have done better with the ladies.

Pico de Gallo

No particular amounts. Just tomato, onion, cilantro, salt, pepper and white wine vinegar and little bit of diced cucumber to brighten it up.

Photo: 80P / Title: A Rose? Get it?

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I’m sure everyone remembers the extremely profound episode of Seinfeld that dealt with the sensitive issue of “double dipping.” Costanza gets in a fight when his girlfriend’s brother Timmy chastises him for dipping a chip in dip, taking a bite, and returning the bitten chip to the bowl for more dip.

A little disgusting but a little bit necessary, to re-dip or not to re-dip is a burning question we all face from time to time. One dip just can’t feasibly grab the correct ratio of chip to dip. You really need that second submersion to get two perfect bites of chip and dip, but unless you’re eating the whole bag by yourself at home  , there’s always that worry that someone at the party might be waiting to publicly out your double dipping. So what to do???

The answer you’ve been waiting for, after the jump.

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As 80 mentioned earlier, we were hit by a barrage of boys from his college days. Playing the role - woman of the household - I deemed it necessary to whip up a quick snack before we got lazy and just ordered pizzas for dinner. I really don’t know why I must create a homemade anything when guests arrive. It’s surely not from my “dogs in a blanket” dad gansie nor my anti-entertaining mom. (Yes, I know it’s usually “pigs in a blanket,” but remember - the gansie household maintains an air of kosherdom.)

Maybe it’s from Barefoot Contessa. Ina constantly hosts guests at her gorgeous Hamptons house, whipping up anything from breakfast bread pudding to Rack of Lamb Persillade. Alright, so I have a bit of work ahead of me. But dips are a start. They really are my favorite thing to make. It’s a game in creativity - what can I throw together from my pantry and fridge that will actually be interesting, delicious and quick.

And, if you haven’t noticed, we added three new categories to our already monstrous list: celebs, sports, and jewish. And because we ended up watching ultimate fighting, mixed martial arts style (or something like that) during the night (and much to the dismay of h diddy and me), I’m tagging this with sports. Actually, I cannot tell a lie, I ended up getting very into the violence and destruction of these poor human beings. Although I’m still not a fan of blood, a “sport” where wrestling, kick boxing, traditional boxing, and more or less, humping, is involved, is something that is so truly terrible that I can just can’t turn away.

Um, back to the dip. Recipe post jump.

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My brother, sister and I kicked our parents out of the house to throw a small Eagles party. Sure, the Birds didn’t have anything to play for, well, except to break our collective hearts by actually winning a fucking game. Regardless, friends came over to watch, eat and drink. And drink. We were taking shots of Hypnotiq by the time the 4 o’clock games were starting. And I was passed out by 6pm. This is all to say - I don’t really have any pics of the food. Oops.

I made a chipotle, beef and three bean chilli - served with cornbread muffins (from a box, but hey, I never claimed to bake); chickpea, artichoke and roasted red pepper dip - served with pita chips; spinach and cheese stuffed mushrooms; SAG’s homemade spicy pickles; SAG also made a chiptole dip; and we put out some extra sharp cheddar and Emmental cheese with crackers.

BUT, there were some leftovers of the spinach-cheese mixture, so I turned that into an ad hoc spinach and artichoke dip. Recipe for the mushrooms and the dip post jump.

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(See that beautiful white bowl in the back - it’s courtesy of 80P’s mom.
The thank you note is in the mail!)

Fine. I’m a total fucking homemaker.

Last minute, 80P and I had friends over for the Bengals game before we headed to El and h diddy’s holiday/birthday party. Godforbid I don’t have an appetizer greeting them on their arrival. I assess the contents of the fridge and decide a dip is totally workable. I also have wholewheat pita that I can turn into pita chips. Perfect. I’m turning into Martha Stewart. Well, except for the fact that since I used all of my prep time to cook, I answered the door in my sweats and a t-shirt. And then insulted the beer they brought over. Well, maybe I’m not Martha quite yet.

Post jump: More beautiful pics from 80P and, of course, recipes

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My first job post-college helped elect Annise Parker to her first term as Houston City Controller. During this period - the first time in my life where I didn’t have homework and I couldn’t get wasted and skip class - I forced myself to be semi-responsible. Thus, instead of going to happy hour every night, or going out to eat, I tried to cook dinner myself. If really only a means to waste time between getting home from work and getting to bed. But I’ll get more into those first cooking atrocities another time.

I remember how much I hated getting up for work. Not that being “Volunteer Coordinator” was all that awful, but I just thought - wow, do I really have to sit in front of a computer for 7 hours a day, 5 days a week (campaign - 7 days/week and 10 hours/day) for the next 45 years?!?! I hated being an “adult.”

Then, one of my coworkers brought in cheese and crackers for lunch. I stared at her in awe. I was so jealous. Here I was, eating my awful frozen veggie Cajun-seasoned stir fry enhanced with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter spray (thanks, Mariah!), and she had the brilliant idea to bring in cheese and crackers.

As a kid, no one would ever allow you to eat just cheese and crackers for lunch. But as an adult, and as an adult making an embarrassing $750/month, the absolute genius of a cheese and crackers lunch made me thankful for finally being able to make my own decisions, be it lunch or a host of any other adult situations.

That being said, I now make lots of dinners that don’t necessarily pass as full fledged meals.

Are those “gasps” I hear from my ES readers? Yes, I know, I’m sure you think that every meal I create deserves its own Hollywood Star, but sometimes I keep it low-key. Shocking, I know.

The other night for dinner I made my own little plate where I could mix-and-match the items to create bite-sized pita canapes.

Read on for my sample platter.

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Personally, I like eating fresh mangoes and tomatoes and kiwis every day of the year, but the latest trend is all about the local, seasonal thing (global warming is so hot right now). Despite my aversion to not being able to have everything I want, when I want it, I have to say it is exciting to roll up to the farmers market and see a fruit I ain’t never seen all year. This week’s discovery: beautiful golden persimmons.

I had no idea what to make with these pretty little things, but they were three for a dollar so I picked up a trio. I got home and started to google, discovering right off the bat that there are two distinctively different types of persimmons.

One type, Hachiya persimmons, are acorn shaped and apparently cause an awful astringent taste if they are bitten at any point before they are perfectly ripe. I am actually a little intrigued to taste this sensation because the blogosphere hates on it with a vehemence usually reserved for Bush and Britney.

Upon further inspection I realized that the persimmons I bought were Fuyu persimmons, which have a rounder shape, don’t cause the nasty astringent taste at all, and can be eaten while still firm. (My farmers market called them Fuji, but they appear to be similar, if not the same, as Fuyu).

After cutting one open and finding it sweet and delicious, though not particularly strong, I decided to mess around and see what could be made out of a persimmon. My adventures, detailed after the jump, are attempts to incorporate this mysterious ingredient into some of my favorite foods. In case you don’t know me well enough yet, that means there’s some olive oil, alcohol, and of course, cheese.

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