It’s true that the biggest revelation is the simplest. J and I went to Eastern Market one day to make a summery meal. So we bought basil, heirloom tomatoes and fresh pasta. We also bought 15 lemons, as we now find ever more excuses to use our electric citrus juicer. Many mojitos and mimosas have been made using the FRESH citrus juice; this along with lemon cakes, hummus and guacamole (all dishes that require fresh citrus).
So of course we wanted to make lemonade in honor of the summer bounty. After juicing a whole bunch of lemons, we didn’t feel like making simple syrup. “If only we had superfine sugar!” we whined. And upon further thought, we realized that we DID have superfine sugar. Unprocessed superfine sugar (read: granulated). If superfine sugar is simply finely ground sugar, why can’t we throw batch in the food processor. Doesn’t a food processor grind things?
I’m happy to say that our theory was correct. We made out first, very large batch of superfine sugar and it dissolved into our lemonade wonderfully. We are still drinking our way through the huge pitcher of lemonade, but are looking forward to making individual glasses with the superfine sugar. Individual glasses work better with superfine sugar, since it just seems silly to simmer 1/2 cup of water with 1/2 cup of sugar.
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30Aug
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26Aug
Editor’s Note: This story originally read to say Chef Roberto Donna owns Il Radicchio. According to Roberto Donna’s PR department, Donna founded the group of restaurants, but has since sold the venture.
Sure, for some of us, All-You-Can-Eat Spaghetti is kind of an unnecessary concept, whether it be on account of our fear of carbohydrates or a lack of capacity to polish off more than a helping or two of the dish.
That being said, naysayers shouldn’t be turned off by Il Radicchio’s bottomless bowl of the classic pasta. The “spaghetteria” with locations in Arlington, Fairfax and DC, is an inexpensively-priced venture founded by Galieo restauranteur Roberto Donna, and one branch is conveniently within walking distance from my new home in Courthouse.
The place has specials, salads, panini, appetizers and a wide array of gourmet pizzas from which to choose, but my family, who was in town for the weekend, went straight for the spaghetti. For $6.50, you get all the pasta you can eat, and can choose from a variety of 8 oz servings of sauce, ranging in price from around $2-4. The menu I found online was different from the one I had in the restaurant, but still gives a general idea of the place’s selection.
My family sampled three sauces: a mascarpone-based cream sauce, a marinara with artichokes and shrimp and a gorgonzola-pistachio offering. The mascarpone was only adequate; it had a sourness I wasn’t expecting and was a bit runny on the texture. But the other two were delicious, particularly the pistachio. If none of our choices sound appealing, there are over 15 more that should suit your fancy; a friend of mine enjoys mixing pesto with a red pepper sauce, creating an Italian-flag worthy plate.
Other notes: bruscetta is generously piled with tangy tomatoes and drizzled with balsamic. Service at lunchtime was attentive, but not intrusive, offering us complimentary cappucinos when our waiter heard I was new to the area. All in all, the meal was a perfect welcome to Arlington for this former Silver Spring resident.
Il Radicchio
1801 Clarendon Blvd
Arlington, Va
703-276-2627 -
25Aug
Coober Pedy. In the local Aboriginal dialect it means ‘White man’s hole in the ground’. And there’s a reason for that: the 2700 miners who call ‘the Opal capital of the world’ their home reside on top of, around, and often underneath the conical mountains of white waste-soil from earlier generations. This means that million dollar finds are often attributed to hollowing out a bedroom.
But while it’s easy to spot the toothless old-timers noodleing in the piles of dust at the side of the road, the open mine shafts in the middle of town, and the many 4-wheel drives rushing explosives to hidden claims out in the ruined dessert, it’s a little more difficult to spot a more basic cultural phenomenon: Almost everyone in Coober Pedy seems to be Greek.
In a town large enough to support four restaurants, two are greek, one is Serbian, and the other one is a pizza place that also serves Greek food.
Zaf and amg had just trudged in from a hard day excavating in the mines with pickaxes and an animal-hide bucket*. They craved a big chunk of cow, or at least kangaroo. There was only one place to go: Tom and Mary’s Greek Taverna, noteworthy both for its inexpensive meals and for the fact that the road to it is paved.
I’m not sure who Tom and Mary were but the actual owners are Anastasios and Maria Klosses. They’ve been cooking in one location or another since they arrived for the second opal rush 15 years ago, and unlike most of the town, this incarnation of the taverna is built above ground. Huge feta and olive salads, fabulously aromatic lamb, and grizzled old men with beards down to their belts and steel-toed workboots knocking back unlabeled beer like they don’t want to live, all combine to give the dining room a really cosy feel.
We tried the all-meat platter and smelled it even before it came out of the kitchen. There were patties of spicy ground meat patties, huge lamb chops, huger pork chops, a steak, and an unbelievably juicy lamb kabob. Non-meat additions included tzatziki, another olive salad to ward off scurvy, and a mass of boiled potatoes bigger than the Devils Marbles formation just 1000 K up the highway.
Tom and Mary’s is a welcome retreat from the dusty scrub-desert where more dentally-challenged locals wait to buy or sell you opal. Its also one of the few places in town not covered in warning signs never to walk backwards when taking a picture. We were even given an entire pitcher of free water which is apparently something of a luxury out here. The whole meal was inhaled with serious gusto. Mining** can do that to a person.
*Driving around in a rental car being tourists
**More driving -
24Aug
During the past year or so that I’ve lived in DC, my Thai restaurant experiences largely have been mediocre. From Tara Thai to Sala Thai to some-place-in-a-Falls-Church- shopping-center-I-can’t-remember-the-name-of, no restaurant has stood out in my mind as one deserving a repeat visit.
And while my recent trip to Benjarong in Rockville, my second trip in about 8 months, wasn’t flawless, the restaurant still justifiably has earned my repeat business. Despite the uber-suburban setting, the place delivers tasty Thai food at reasonable prices in a pleasant atmosphere.
I’ve chronicled before that pineapple fried rice is one of my favorite dishes, and Benjarong delivers a juicy, flavorful version bursting with fruit, cashews, chicken, and even bits of ham (though I confess I could do without the ham). Another standout dish is the roast duck with asparagus, its skin crisp and the meat not too fatty. Lao Dang, a deep fried beef dish in a red wine sauce, tasted a bit more BBQ-sauce-esque than I’d expected, though my companion enjoyed the tangy entree. Soups are the usual fare – both Tohm Yum and the coconut milk-based Tohm Kha were fine, but unremarkable.
All in all, I enjoyed Benjarong, but I’ve yet to find a Thai restaurant in the area to best my favorite New York offering or even a recent Pittsburgh discovery. Thai fans, where should I be looking?
Benjarong Thai Restaurant, Wintergreen Plaza
885 Rockville Pike (Rt. 355)
Rockville, MD 20852
(301) 424-5533 -
23Aug
The results are in from the Washington Post’s Best Bets Readers’ Choice awards. Thousands of people from across the metropolitan area voted in such diverse categories as bakeries to romantic restaurants.
Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is decide of the voting populace is just on crack, or even go through the list and find a couple keen locations for yourself. -
22Aug
So J and I were at the Eden Center stocking up on all of the Asian ingredients we can’t access from Whole Foods or Safeway and we start talking about our need for a good curry paste. We’re looking for a curry paste with a deeper flavor than Thai Kitchen and less heat. And this little old Laotian lady comes up to us and tells us to get the Thai Mae Ploy Mussaman curry paste. It appears that she thinks the picture of the Thai lady on the jar is trustworthy. She tells us that she uses this at home. As I am used to following the orders of little ladies from Southeast Asia (Thank’s Mom!), I do what I’m told.
And of course the little old Lao lady is right. It’s a great curry paste, with a strong flavor of both chili pepper and lemongrass. I use it for everything now. One of my fav dishes using this key ingredient is Satay chicken. This has a been a reliable party item as it can be served room temperature and can be made ahead of time.
Satay Chicken
1/4 cup nuoc mam
2 tablespoons lime juice
1 tablespoon honey
1/4 cup Thai Mae Ploy Massaman Curry paste
1 teaspoon sesame oil
2 pounds of those chicken tenderloins (that you use for making chicken strips), cut in half
Throw all of the ingredients into a large ziploc bag and marinate at least an hour and preferably overnight. You can even freeze the bag and thaw for later use. In a nonstick skillet, pour a thin layer of oil and let it get hot. Sear the chicken on both sides. Place chicken on a foil covered cookie sheet. Bake at 400 degrees for about 10 minutes. Cover with a top layer of foil until cool. Place chicken pieces on skewers. Serve with peanut sauce.
Peanut Sauce
1 can of coconut milk
3 tablespoons Thai Curry paste
1 tablespoon nuoc mam
1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup
Throw everything into a saucepan. Simmer until thickens and combined. This is just a guideline. Adjust flavors as needed. -
21Aug
Speaking of Sangiovese…
I wasn’t able to go to my “company picnic” this summer, because I work in a restaurant and someone had to be there to feed the hungry people. The next morning, my manager handed me a bottle of wine. Apparently, I had been entered in a raffle and won the wine in absentia. Never being one to turn down free…anything…I took the wine more than happily.
I opened it the other day, and experienced something completely different from the last Sangiovese I had (the Il Turchino Chianti). Luna Vineyards‘s 1999 Sangiovese was a much better sipping wine than the Il Turchino would have been. It was incredibly smooth, with low acidity and tannins, and hints of black pepper, almonds, and tobacco. For a meal, I’d pair this wine with a roast chicken, but it was so good to drink on its own, I think I’d like it with a simple cheese plate with apples, walnuts, and hard cheeses.
We didn’t finish the bottle that first night, and I thought I’d drink it with dinner the next night to keep it fresh. Unfortunately, we had pizza for dinner. The wine was still good, the pizza was good, but the combination of the two was…less than good. I do not reccommend drinking this wine with pizza! It was not pretty.
This wine retails for around $19.99. The Luna 1999 Sangiovese Reserve retails for $40. -
19Aug
Summer is coming to an end, and considering the awful humidity and the fact that it no longer means vacation for me, I am thrilled.
Except, of course, that it means the days of cookouts and picnics will soon end as well, and I do love me some barbeque. A staple of the American cookout or picnic is cole slaw – a dish I must admit I really love.
The best I ever had was, confusingly, at arestaucafeshack on the island of Anegada in the
BVI’s. I remember it being a bit spicy, and loving it.
Earlier this summer, I was preparing to go to a barbeque, and had decided to make cole slaw – something I had not previously attempted. I bought pre-shredded cabbage (as I’m lazy), and followed the recipie on the bag. Borrrrrrinnnggg. I rummaged around my kitchen, and found a few things that seemed like they might be good additions: serrano peppers and caraway seeds. I edited my slaw, and headed to the party. I thought it was really good, but then, I like things spicy; others thought it was too much.
Some consideration and weeks later, I found myself again making cole slaw for a barbeque, and again with only the dull back-of-bag recipie. This time, I went in a different direction – letting summer in the
Carribbean color my imaginings. This time, I used cherry peppers (not as hot as serrano), vidalia onion instead of white, allspice, white pepper, and much less caraway. The result tasted good to me, and seemed to be a hit (or at least quickly consumed) at the party.
The two recipies are below, with estimates of what I used (I guess that makes them ‘guidelines’ as opposed to ‘recipies,’ whatever):
1 lb. bag of Fresh Express 3-color coleslaw (green cabbage, carrots, red cabbage)
1/2 white onion, minced in food processor
4 Serrano peppers, minced (I used a food processor)
.75 tbs. caraway seeds – bruised but not ground with pestle
3 tbs. lemon juice
3 tbs. mayonnaise
2 tbs. red wine vinegar
1 tbs. salt
3.5 tbs. pepper
1 tbs. garlic salt
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1 lb. bag of Fresh Express 3-color coleslaw (green cabbage, carrots, red cabbage)
3 hot cherry peppers, minced (I used a food processor)
1/2 vidalia onion, minced in food processor
1 tsp. caraway seeds – bruised but not ground with pestle
2 tbs allspice seeds, crushed with mortar and pestle
3 tbs. lemon juice
3 tbs. mayonnaise
3 tbs. red wine vinegar
1 tbs. salt
2 tbs. white pepper -
19Aug
No one but the phlegmatic English could have invented something as obnoxiously bland as Yorkshire pudding, and tapas could only come from a culture that needed to support the late-night Spanish drinking habit. No early Japanese foody would ever tolerate a cuisine less obsessively anal than sushi.
Which is why it’s unsurprising that the few truly authentic Australian foods all require beer. After all, they are all invented by Australians, a bunch of lanky crocodile wrestlers who nightly drink me under the table with Carleton Draft, Toohey’s New, and Victoria Bitter. That’s not true actually; some of them wrestle emus instead.
While camping in Kings Canyon (of ‘Priscilla, Queen of the Desert’ fame) our bushman guide started with a bowl gripped between his knees, filled with flour. No, wait, first he got a stubby out of the esky and knocked back half of it. There was a hose with running water, so that got sprayed into the bowl for a bit, as did all the remaining beer. He kneaded it a few times, formed it into a round shape, stuck it in a black cast-iron pot, and buried it under the coals of our camp fire with a big-assed shovel.
About forty five minutes later we had a really decent loaf of heavy, crusty bread to go with our dinner of beer, more beer, and a different type of beer.
Here’s a slightly less authentic recipe.
Australian Cattleman’s Damper Bread
Preheat the oven to 350. Stir together 3 cups of all-purpose flour, 3 teaspoons of double acting baking powder, a teaspoon of salt, and 2 teaspoons of sugar. Then mix in 24 ounces of beer. That’s important.
Spoon the whole thing into a greased pan, smooth the top (and maybe dust with some flour if you’re feeling posh). Bake it for an hour until the top looks golden brown. Rip off chunks and shove in mouth. -
18Aug
Who the hell would rollerblade across the Australian red center? The Swiss, that’s who. And when they blow out a tire four hours north of Alice Springs, their only choice is to hitchhike with whatever crazy Americans happen to drive by on a food tour down the Stuart Highway.
We were on our way to Red Centre Farms when we picked up our underage rollerblader. I was eating Nutella out of the jar with my fingers. Amg was singing loudly to a punk cover of Mama Mia and banging on the dashboard. It wasn’t exactly a situation to inspire confidence, so when we turned off onto a small dirt track into the bush he probably assumed that he would never return to the fondue of his home again.
Red Centre Farms is just south of Ti-Tree, and their tagline is ‘A tin shed in the bush, not a castle in France’. Their prime export? Grapes and Mangoes. The entire area of dusty desert floats on a lake of water half the size of Sydney harbor if you dig down a meter, and dig they have. Perfectly geometrical rows of vines reach out into the hot hazy distance on one side, and an orchard of 1700 trees sprawls on the other.
The headquarters, a, yes, corrugated tin shack, instructed us to ring the bell if no one was in. Eventually a small weathered lady bustled around the side of the building, took one look at us, and declared, ‘we’ll have a tasting’. In no time we were herded to a plywood table with an alarming number of bottles. The lady gripped them between her knees to work out the corks while we slapped at the flies and sweated in the heat.
There was a uninspiring cabernet and shiraz mix, and a Riesling so dry that it could have been used for salad dressing. But that didn’t matter because Red Center Farm’s real export is Mango wines.
Oh yes, oh yes. All the nuance and delicate flavors of an excellent wine- and not a dessert wine either-but from a mango. We happily quaffed our way through a ‘Mango Magic’ (good with chicken or seafood) Mango Moonshine (a fortified liquor) and Mango Mist, a champagne better then anything I’ve ever had from grapes. The Swiss guy tucked right in, probably deciding that if he was about to die he might as well go happy.
There was much debate over mango chutney, marinade, topping, and jam, but in the end I bought only some champagne and our hitchhiker was persuaded to some mango sundae. Swaying from happy fumes, I had to ask: why don’t we get this stuff in the US? The answer was a shrug as she rang up our purchases- apparently almost their entire output each year goes to Japan. This gives me just one more reason, along with Pocky and tentacle porn, why it is imperative to invade right away.
