• 18Jan

    57-10808-sm.jpeHere’s a recipe for the folks over at the Food network: Take one awesome show. With a fine sieve, extract everything that made it at all fun. Serve with cheese.
    I know it

    Permalink Filed under: Etc 5 Comments
  • 17Jan

    dragon.jpg It’s amazing how many children’s stories revolve around food. There was the story of “Stone Soup”, where a wandering soldier duped villagers into pitching in a potato here, a carrot there to add to his simple meal of rocks and water. There was Frances the bear, who would only eat bread and jam for dinner, until one day she discovered she actually liked eating veal cutlets along with all the grown-ups. Even Harry Potter has his Butterbeer and Everyflavor Beans.
    When I was a kid, my favorite food-friendly fable was “Dragon Stew,” a now-out-of-print story my mother read to my sister and me. Years later, it’s hard to remember the details of the tale, but I do remember the twist: Dragon Stew was not, in fact, stew made from dragon meat, but rather stew cooked by a dragon chef. My mother would drag my sister and me into the kitchen, convincing us to help with mealtime by letting one of us “be the dragon” for the evening. Her cajoling paid off – now you have to drag me OUT of the kitchen.
    Here’s the recipe for Dragon Stew, courtesy of my childhood.
    Some people like their stew more potato-heavy than the recipe requires. Instead, I top mine with good, old Bisquick-box dumplings. It feels a bit like cheating, but hey, that

  • 17Jan

    Authentic refrigerator odor is the key to this ill-conceived variation* on the classic breakfast staple.
    stack.jpg
    1. Combine 2 Tbsp sugar, 2 tsp baking powder, and 1/2 tsp salt with 1 1/2 c unbleached all-purpose flour from the sack that was stored in your freezer and then forgotten for over a year. You don’t want to waste all that flour, do you?
    2. In a blender, combine 1/4 c water, 1 1/4 c milk or soymilk or whatever, 1 tsp vanilla extract, and 2 Tbsp flaxseeds. Blend until smooth.
    3. Notice the powerful fridge smell wafting from the dried ingredients in a bowl several feet away. Convince yourself that the fridge odor will “cook off” once the pancakes are fried and then doused in honey and maple syrup.
    4. Combine wet mixture with dry ingredients. Fry pancakes in a skillet, then serve hot with your favorite toppings. With every bite, try to ignore the fridge odor, now manifested as overwhelming fridge flavor and assaulting every tastebud in a palatable finger-wagging over your poorly-organized freezer and irregular baking habits.
    5. Admit defeat, discard the remaining old flour. Go to the store and buy a fresh supply.
    * Alternative version: Use fresh flour. Your pancakes probably will taste good.

  • 16Jan

    nattyboh.gif
    Those of you bouncing around our little gritty city know that for the best in refined entertainment nothing beats an evening of balletic inebriation at one of DC’s finest cultural establishments.
    Last Saturday (1) was Bluestate at the Black Cat backstage bar. Four hours, four DJs, four dollar rail. (And three-fifty beers but that doesn’t square with my quartenary fetish. Get it? “Square” with…).
    So break out your church-keys and swizzle sticks–we’re going to review the drinks, learn about beer, and maybe learn a little about life (2).
    Part 1
    or: Righfully ashamed of your heritage.
    The choices at the bar (3) were Domestic, Furrin, and Rail.
    Now there seems to be some sort of mental block about American beer amongst the mildly educated. It’s ok for British beer to taste like watered down weasel piss because “It’s Supposed To”. It’s all right for Irish beer to taste like rotting coffee grounds because “I.S.T.”. Similarly, no one notices the German removal of all whimsy from their beer and the Belgian beers crafty substitution of fruit for flavor because (say it with me) “They’re Supposed To”.
    Normal American beer taste likes the alchohol-reduced proceeds of a dialysis session because it’s supposed to (4). But please keep in mind that its signature “flavor” developed in an era (5) when people were pretty much blitzed 24/7. They’d have hard cider for breakfast, whiskey at dinner and spend all day in the sun. Picture this: your wagon wheel just snapped again, you’re hot, tired, and that 5am eyeopener is starting to turn on you. You may choose one of the following: warm mucousy milk, raw throat-peeling whiskey, cloudy cholera-ridden water, or a cool refreshing barely alcholic, lightly-flavored beer. If you have to think about this you’ve been insufficiently exposed to the elements. I recommend being duct-taped to the hood of an LA-bound Greyhound in August.
    That being said, I’m also not going to defend American beer’s flavor. Proctoscopy and root canals have their place but they aren’t something to be proud of.
    Part 2
    or: Yer eether with us or agin’ us!
    Import beers as commonly stocked are a cruel joke. Instead of taking the opportunity to provide a balanced bar and serve some novel flavors, most bars serve whatever tastes the most like the domestics they already provide (6). It means that you can be guaranteed a Mexican beer with a piece of fruit jammed in the neck to disguise its flavor, an imported lite beer that no one’s heard of in the old country, or a German beer that you couldn’t give away to a homeless alchoholic in Berlin. If they won’t drink ’em back where they came from why would you? It’s like dating foreigners; don’t drop your standards just because of the cute accent. (7)
    Part 3
    or: Where am I and who are you?
    Rail drinks are the barometer of bartending. Broke? Poor? Just plain beat-down? If you can walk up to your bartender and ask him for a vodka tonic sure in the knowledge that you’ll be getting enough off-brand nail polish remover to lift off the top of your head, then you’re at the right bar. The Black Cat is a huge winner here. The bartenders are fast, generous, and happy to provide the drink-appropriate fruit accompaniment. My lovely assistant had a turpentine and cranberry that was just slightly pink and my other colleague was given a drain cleaner and tonic that betrayed the presence of tonic only by the barest hint of carbonation. These guys know that when you’re ordering rail you don’t need the comfort of not-tasting-the-booze.
    So three cheers for the Black Cat bartenders, long may their heavy hands slosh paint thinner!
    ————————————-
    (1) Some of us need multiple editorial revisions before we can so much as sign our name. Please bear with the delay.
    (2) You won’t learn anything about life, I promise.
    (3) As far as those of us on an age-appropriate income are concerned, call drinks aren’t a viable option.
    (4) As opposed to Sam Adams style microbrews which taste like that because they were brewed by guys with a PHD in marketing and no taste buds.
    (5) The era when people who dressed like the Amish were called hipsters.
    (6) Not to mention that by the time a big shipment of beer makes it across the ocean and is distributed, a disturbing number of the bottles have become skunked.*
    (7) Unless it’s that breathy Persian accent. You can totally drop your standards for that.
    —————————
    *Would you drink wine that had become corked? Of course not! Spew that mouthful of stale brew right back at them and don’t take any of the bartender’s “Imports are supposed to taste like that” crap.

  • 14Jan

    vidalia.jpgLast night, which appears to have been the last night of this mini-summer here in DC, I joined NM, Kanishka, and Richard for Restaurant Week dinner at Vidalia.
    Vidalia is really all about the food; the entry is so unremarkable as to be entirely too easy to overlook, with no menu or even indication of restaurant-ness in the window. Entry is down a flight of stairs into a lovely, pale onion-colored (that *must* be intentional!) basement dining room. Not too dark, but a bit chilly for my taste. We were escorted to our table, in the far back room, with a window to the wine cellar/room. I sat closest to said window, always wanting to be as near to the wine as possible.
    Drink orders were immediate. Two Gibsons, mine with Sapphire and Kanishka’s with Stoli (a Martini, except with onions instead of olives or a twist. Richard had his from the bar), and a tasting portion of wine. Our server arrived shortly with two Martini glasses and two small shakers, which he shook and poured. He even knew to be more vigorous on the Sapphire than on the Stoli – gin is best well broken. Richard said he’d had better onions, but they were soaked in booze, so I at least didn’t mind. We drank and chatted and munched on mostly unremarkable cornbread made divine by addition of luscious apple butter.
    Many of the items on the menu had added costs ($4 for appetizers and $6 for entrees, mostly), and after some deliberation, including much discussion of Restaurant Week pricing here and at other places around town, we ordered.
    I decided to go for it, and got the cost-extra Grillade with Grits to start. The plate is gorgeous, a rectangle of veal cheek over a clover-shaped mass of yellow grits, covered in a deep crimson sauce and garnished with alfalfa greens. The sauce, a compote mainly of dried tomatoes and onions, is exquisite, with what I think was a hint of chipotle. The grits were perfect, not overly sticky and with just enough, well, grit. The veal cheek was so tender it was almost jelly, but I felt like its flavor was too delicate to withstand the sauce. I would have preferred a gamier cut, but the sauce was so good I don’t actually care. I abashedly admit I have no idea what my compatriots had for appetizers – mine was so engrossing. One thing noticed and discussed by all was the extreme curviness and heft of Vidalia’s forks. NM and I agreed to be unsure how we felt about these, but in the end, since flatware is generally so boring, I like seeing some variety, and these were unique.
    By this point in the meal, I was ready for a wine. The wine list is extensive, and expensive, full of names I don’t know, which really surprises, excites and impresses me: it’s rare I don’t know anything about any of the wines on a list, except by varietals and year. So I picked one that looked interesting, and asked our server.
    “Light and pineappley,” he said.
    “Not with what I’m eating,” I replied, and away he went, promising to return full of ideas.
    Return he did and I sampled a wine which was suggested by the restaurant’s sommelier. It was lovely, so I had a glass. Our meals arrived soon thereafter.
    NM had Atlantic Salmon, which she said was “OK,” but reminds herself that after visiting Iceland, she ought not to order salmon ever again. Richard ordered the Southern Style Cassoulet, which looked lovely, and he said was great, a nice mix of meats and beans, well sauced. Kanishka had Fluke, a light, flakey fish that he said was again “just OK,” and the anduille was not as spicy as he’d have liked, but the dish was really made by its sauce. My chicken and dumplings was really good, rich (but not heavy), and savory cream sauce. Most remarkable though was the wine pairing – while relatively light, it had enough acidity to it to break up the richness of the food, and the flavors, some fruit and mild herb, set off the food beautifully.
    Then came dessert. Two of Vidalia’s famous Lemon Chess Cakes, and one Pecan thingey, and an assortment of sorbets. The Pecan thing was very yummy, not too rich or molassessey. The Lemon was very good too, although not my thing, so I shan’t say more. The sorbets were … mixed. The red (presumably raspberry) one was nice, tart and smooth; the yellow (not sure what the flavor was) was earthier, sweeter, and lovely; the pale yellow (I think lemon or lime) was basically nothing.
    The service was very good: timely and well-timed, gracious, helpful. The trick of restaurant week is that while your meal may be much less expensive than you normally expect at a given restaurant, drinks are not. $11 is, frighteningly, not too steep for a Sapphire in DC, but I have now fulfilled by annual quota of one glass of wine over $10, and it was well worth it!
    On the whole, from what I had and heard from others at the DC F

  • 14Jan

    vidalia.jpgLast night, which appears to have been the last night of this mini-summer here in DC, I joined NM, Kanishka, and Richard for Restaurant Week dinner at Vidalia.
    Vidalia is really all about the food; the entry is so unremarkable as to be entirely too easy to overlook, with no menu or even indication of restaurant-ness in the window. Entry is down a flight of stairs into a lovely, pale onion-colored (that *must* be intentional!) basement dining room. Not too dark, but a bit chilly for my taste. We were escorted to our table, in the far back room, with a window to the wine cellar/room. I sat closest to said window, always wanting to be as near to the wine as possible.
    Drink orders were immediate. Two Gibsons, mine with Sapphire and Kanishka’s with Stoli (a Martini, except with onions instead of olives or a twist. Richard had his from the bar), and a tasting portion of wine. Our server arrived shortly with two Martini glasses and two small shakers, which he shook and poured. He even knew to be more vigorous on the Sapphire than on the Stoli – gin is best well broken. Richard said he’d had better onions, but they were soaked in booze, so I at least didn’t mind. We drank and chatted and munched on mostly unremarkable cornbread made divine by addition of luscious apple butter.
    Many of the items on the menu had added costs ($4 for appetizers and $6 for entrees, mostly), and after some deliberation, including much discussion of Restaurant Week pricing here and at other places around town, we ordered.
    I decided to go for it, and got the cost-extra Grillade with Grits to start. The plate is gorgeous, a rectangle of veal cheek over a clover-shaped mass of yellow grits, covered in a deep crimson sauce and garnished with alfalfa greens. The sauce, a compote mainly of dried tomatoes and onions, is exquisite, with what I think was a hint of chipotle. The grits were perfect, not overly sticky and with just enough, well, grit. The veal cheek was so tender it was almost jelly, but I felt like its flavor was too delicate to withstand the sauce. I would have preferred a gamier cut, but the sauce was so good I don’t actually care. I abashedly admit I have no idea what my compatriots had for appetizers – mine was so engrossing. One thing noticed and discussed by all was the extreme curviness and heft of Vidalia’s forks. NM and I agreed to be unsure how we felt about these, but in the end, since flatware is generally so boring, I like seeing some variety, and these were unique.
    By this point in the meal, I was ready for a wine. The wine list is extensive, and expensive, full of names I don’t know, which really surprises, excites and impresses me: it’s rare I don’t know anything about any of the wines on a list, except by varietals and year. So I picked one that looked interesting, and asked our server.
    “Light and pineappley,” he said.
    “Not with what I’m eating,” I replied, and away he went, promising to return full of ideas.
    Return he did and I sampled a wine which was suggested by the restaurant’s sommelier. It was lovely, so I had a glass. Our meals arrived soon thereafter.
    NM had Atlantic Salmon, which she said was “OK,” but reminds herself that after visiting Iceland, she ought not to order salmon ever again. Richard ordered the Southern Style Cassoulet, which looked lovely, and he said was great, a nice mix of meats and beans, well sauced. Kanishka had Fluke, a light, flakey fish that he said was again “just OK,” and the anduille was not as spicy as he’d have liked, but the dish was really made by its sauce. My chicken and dumplings was really good, rich (but not heavy), and savory cream sauce. Most remarkable though was the wine pairing – while relatively light, it had enough acidity to it to break up the richness of the food, and the flavors, some fruit and mild herb, set off the food beautifully.
    Then came dessert. Two of Vidalia’s famous Lemon Chess Cakes, and one Pecan thingey, and an assortment of sorbets. The Pecan thing was very yummy, not too rich or molassessey. The Lemon was very good too, although not my thing, so I shan’t say more. The sorbets were … mixed. The red (presumably raspberry) one was nice, tart and smooth; the yellow (not sure what the flavor was) was earthier, sweeter, and lovely; the pale yellow (I think lemon or lime) was basically nothing.
    The service was very good: timely and well-timed, gracious, helpful. The trick of restaurant week is that while your meal may be much less expensive than you normally expect at a given restaurant, drinks are not. $11 is, frighteningly, not too steep for a Sapphire in DC, but I have now fulfilled by annual quota of one glass of wine over $10, and it was well worth it!
    On the whole, from what I had and heard from others at the DC F

  • 14Jan

    Apparently, Iron Chef America will have Roberto Donna from DC’s Galileo on it this season, so sayith the NYtimes and they are never wrong. About anything. ever.

  • 14Jan

    grillin_sizzs.jpgMaranoia

  • 13Jan

    ComputerMonitor.gifApparently, last Wednesday was De-Lurking Day — at least so according to the food-loving DCFoodies.com. Since over here at DCFUD we’re always a bit behind schedule, we’re declaring today and tomorrow DCFUD de-lurking days.
    We know you’re out there. We can read server logs. We see you floating in from various government agencies, reputable (and not so reputable) publications, and corporations and non-profit organizations whose acronyms we can’t even begin to decipher.
    We’re not asking you to unmask your identity. But we are flesh and blood and we, too, crave love. So if you’ve been enjoying DCFUD the last few months, have been hating DCFUD the last few months, or just stumbled upon us today, please leave us a note in the comments. Let us know your favorite restaurant in the D.C. metropolitan area, offer suggestions on spices, or simply say “Hi, DCFUDders!” But please let us know you’re out there!
    On a related note, DCFUD needs some new writers. We’ll probably post more on this in the coming days, but if you like what you’ve seen here and want to contrinbute, send an email to dcfud.writers@gmail.com with an example or two of writing you’ve done (nothing formal necessary) and/or some topics you’d like to post on. This is, of course, unpaid. But it gives you a good excuse to eat out and try new recipies. Plus, you can claim you’re a blogger within the great Smorgasblog family of bloggers. It’s a great way to pickup guys or girls at your local hipster party. Really. I swear.

    Permalink Filed under: Etc 7 Comments
  • 13Jan

    Web_Carved_Gourd_Bombilla.jpg
    For those who aren’t feeling the coffee love or are looking to expand their beverage horizons, there are options. Yerba mate is a Latin American drink made from leaves of the yerba plant and consumed in a hollowed out gourd using a metal filtered straw-like apparatus called a bombilla. It is consumed mainly in Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay, and parts of Brazil. Many who drink it report multiple health benefits including improved energy, mental clarity, and whatnot. The beverage is shared, using the same mate gourd and bombilla, among close friends and family. It’s a whole bonding experience. You can read more about the traditional ways of serving and drinking mate here and here.
    Many brands are available in the U.S. I used to like Pajarito, but my fondness was probably more for the pretty packaging* than the taste of the product. Pajarito is mostly stem and powder, and therefore tastes bitter and tends to clog your bombilla on the first few pours. I have since switched to the superior Cruz de Malta brand, which I recommend for starters. I get mine at Rodman’s (5100 Wisconsin Avenue), where they stock at least three or four different brands at any given time in their wonderful “international” foods aisle. You can also get it at Vace’s (3315 Connecticut Avenue) and just about any Latin American grocery store in the city. Do not, I repeat, do not buy your yerba mate at Whole Foods.
    *True fact: You can make a purse out of an empty yerba mate package. Just reinforce the base with a small piece of cardboard, coat the entire thing with a few layers of varnish, attach a strap using some metal snaps, and voila! You have a post fit for a different blog. Oh wait…

    Permalink Filed under: Drinks 6 Comments

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