The Kumquats of Wrath

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UPDATE: Good idea, Margot…consider this “Lakshmi-Spiegel Green Chutney” entered in AFAM

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I never spend much time with dead tree cooking publications. After I get through all the blogs, there’s just no time left. Plus, as you can probably tell, I’m not one for following recipes.

However, as Gansie mentioned previously, every time I go down to D.C., she sends me back on the bus with a pile of Bon Appetites, Gourmets – and if I’m lucky – Cook’s Illustrateds. Because she’s strangely obsessive a truly dedicated co-editor, she even steals little arrow flags from her office and marks every page for me that mentions pine nuts, phyllo or Padma Lakshmi.

It was this way I learned that the December issue of Gourmet featured the famed cookbook author/Top Chef host/2nd runner-up for Eater of the Year, and offered a few of her chutney recipes. The new Gourmet.com doesn’t seem to have this one in their archives, so here it is:

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Pitt of my Stomach

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I’m a Carolina bar-b-que guy. …pig butts, unseasoned, pit cooked, finely chopped, and seasoned with a little vinegar and, maybe, a few spices. Memphis, Kansas City, and Texas all have something great going for ‘em. If you hit the right places, they make some excellent beef and pork, especially ribs, but it ain’t BBQ. For god sakes, half those places cook in indoor ovens. Folks, if it’s cooked in an oven, it ain’t BBQ.

But hell, everyone has their vices. And Lord knows I have mine. And while my favorite BBQ place is in the land of Dixie, does pitt [sic] cook their pork, and is a classic road-food stop, they do break an important law of NC BBQ …the tomato. Any respectable Carolina bar-b-que lover will tell you that tomatoes have no place in traditional BBQ sauce. But hey, we’re a progressive lot, and I think we all know that sometimes innovation simply trumps tradition. Continue after the jump to find out what the hell I’m rambling about.

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Eastern Market

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It’s cold out. That means a few things here in the nation’s capital: false predictions of snow, networking functions disguised as holiday parties, and the seasonal closing of farmers’ markets. While the first two remain hallmarks of D.C., there is hope for the District foodologist (the term “foodie” is sooo over)—historic Eastern Market (7th and C Sts., open Tues.-Sun.).

When a better part of the South Hall—the area designated for food vendors—burned earlier this year, shoppers were saddened by the loss of both the community dwelling and the delicious crab cakes from the Market Lunch. Luckily, with the help of many devoted advocates, including federal and local elected officials (they can create change!), Eastern Market’s food vendors continue to sell their goods in the newly created East Hall.

The interior of the market conveys a different feel now: The bright white walls, floor, and ceiling of the new structure is in stark contrast to the original dingy-yet-homey atmosphere. Fortunately, much of the food remains the same, with fresh produce and unusual cuts of meat. So while D.C. collectively holds its breath until spring for the rest of the region’s markets to reopen, check out what the Market’s top vendors have to offer in their new digs:

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Is That Hot Dog in Your Sushi or are You Just Happy to Sashimi Me?

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Mango, persimmon and raspberry sushi with coconut shavings

Scene: 6pm. Thursday night. Pinch of Minch and BS lounge on the couch
during hour two of Curb Your Enthusiasm marathon. A crumbled bag of
pretzels lay on the table. Somewhere, a stomach growls.

Pinch of Minch: Dude, Brendan, I’m hungry.
BS: Yah.
P o M: I mean, really hungry.
BS: Uh huh.
P o M: I want sushi. Real bad. Like, if I don’t have it, I may die.
Do you know what I mean?
BS: No I don’t, but sushi sounds good.

They go back to watching TV, until 30 minutes later….

P o M: Dude, I’ve got a crazy idea. We should make sushi.
BS: Eureka.
P o M: Out of what’s in the fridge. Like what-ev-er is in there,
mayonnaise and mac and cheese sushi. Pickle and coffee ice cream
sushi.*
BS: Hmmm. What about fruit? Fruit plus sushi is fruishi.
P o M: I have some frozen hot dogs. I’m making hot dog sushi. I am a genius.
BS: Let’s make some crazy sushi.
P o M: This could be really gross.

They give each other high fives and race to the kitchen. What follows
is a Lewis and Clark expedition of culinary craziness. And a short
time later, some of the oddest- and damn fine- sushi emerges from the
kitchen and into the bellies of our two protagonists.

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We’ll Pretend It’s 8 AM

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Editors Note: One of our fav ES fans, Britannia, offered to cook us an authentic English Breakfast, with even the bacon shipped from England. Here is his account of the night. And, thanks again, Brit, lovely “dinner.”

It was my first outing cooking for the great Gansie, 80 Proof and BS, the pressure, the stress, what to do! I’m not a fancy cook, well, I can be, but if I tried and then messed up I’d never live it down. There was only one thing I could do, something I grew up with all my life, and I had the supplies. An English Breakfast.

The Meal: Eggs; scrambled and fried, bacon, sausage, baked beans, tomato, mushrooms, toast, brown sauce, and apparently vodka (special drink to be detailed in later post.)

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Bacon, it’s from a pig. American bacon is cut from the under belly of the pig, this creates a more streaky meat, more fat. English bacon is cut from the back of the pig, this provides more meat, almost like a ham quality. English bacon (and I’m ready to duck, here) is far superior than American bacon — it just is. No further discussion. The only problem is I can’t get it here, this is a problem unless of course you have a kind mother who is willing to FedEx it overnight to you, or you have a friend visiting to bring with.

I cooked the bacon on a broil pan, cooking this way helps maintain its flavour, less greasy than a frying pan but not as healthy as grilling.

Read on for the rest of the breakfast-as-dinner meal.

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Can You Spot the Clone?

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Despite all the concerns about making sure everything we eat is organic and local and free-range, WIRED reports the latest trend in meatpacking is most decidedly not any of those things: cloned meat.

Remember that whole bruhaha about Dolly the cloned sheep and all those other animals crazy scientists from Scotland to Korea started cloning? Well it turns out they weren’t just doing that as a basis to create a Nazi scientist-esque world of human cloning where everyone looks like Brangelina. Apparently, there’s already a lot of money in cloning animals just for the sake of meat production.

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L’Enfant Cafe

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Editors Note: This is the restaurant where 80 Proof and I ate before the whole appendix debacle went down. We thought his stomach ache was from their sausage, not from an internal body malfunction. We will always have fond memories of this place.

Amid the rough-and-tumble neighborhood bar scene, L’Enfant Cafe aims to be an escape to a quaint Parisian eatery. Forget French bistro staples such as steak frites and mussels; instead L’Enfant Cafe features a light menu of crepes, sandwiches, and salads. Crepes here swing both ways, with savory options such as goat cheese, spicy sausage, and roasted red pepper sauce, and sweet choices such as Nutella and banana. Beers are Belgian, and expensive, but the selection is impressive. The small patio outside lends itself to relaxing people-watching and inside is equally cozy, with only a few tables and a dark wood bar.
For: Your ABCs—Adams Morgan, beer, and crepes.

Entress: $7-$15. 202- 319-1800. 2000 18th St, NW

Originally in the Onion / DC local edition /October 11, 2007

Photo: L’Enfant Cafe

L'Enfant in Washington

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