Al Dente

Red Hot Super Bowl Battle: Tabasco vs. Frank's Showdown

In Monday's New York Times business section, there was a story about the rivalry heating up between Frank's RedHot and Tabasco, which recently released a Buffalo-style sauce in time to catch the wing nuts who gobble tons of those spicy bites on Game Day. 

I'm a huge fan of pepper sauce and have a rainbow of shades in my pantry that I use on everything from soup to nuts. My tastes have changed over the years, but I think that has more to do with the explosion in the variety of sauce that are now available. Currently, I'm pretty fond of Texas Pete, which is actually made in North Carolina! I also like Crystal Hot Sauce Louisana Pure Hot Sauce and the green version of Tabasco. Sometimes, just for fun, I mix them up until my food looks like a Jackson Pollack painting.

This story stirred something, awakening curiousity, so I took a quick poll among my Twitter pals and Facebook buddies and - hot dang - were people fired up about this hot topic.

Most folks didn't just have one favorite, they had two or three, each with different purposes. A chef friend broke his preferences down like this: Crystal for straight-up fried chicken. Frank's for wings. Tabasco for anything with rice. Another friend said she chooses hot sauce like she chooses wine. It all depends on what's being served.

There was a lot of heat for sambal,  Cholula and Sriracha (aka Rooster sauce), with one of my clever writer friends declaring he loved it so much that he would pour it on cheesecake! Fans of Tapaito and Valentina cheered the peppery goodness. 

I also learned a couple new names: Baron West Indian Hot Sauce from the Caribbean and Secret Aardvark. Another friend raved about the lineup of Marie Sharp's Hot Sauces, an accidental discovery he made years ago while eating oysters in New Orleans. "I thought I was reaching for a bottle of Tabasco, but when I took that first bite I knew it was different. It's got great flavor and great heat." And a friend, who's living in Great Britain praised a sauce she picked up while on a trip to Vancouver. It's called Organic Oddball Nuclear Nectar. 

When the final votes were tallied in this pepper sauce poll, one thing was clear: There was no clear winner. But that's not a bad thing. It just speaks to the bold tastes of a great nation of eclectic eaters. Go team! 

-- Leslie Kelly

Giving Oatmeal An Upgrade

On weekends, breakfast is usually a big eggs-and-bacon-and-pancakes kind of meal, a substantial feast some might even call brunch. Except that we eat way too early for that designation.

But this Sunday morning was so blustery, only hot cereal would do. What should it be? Cream of wheat? Grits? Lately, I've been kind of obsessed with congee, the Chinese rice porridge. I've been ordering at Tom Douglas' Seatown Seabar at the Pike Place Market. It's embellished with chunks of pork and finished with chili and black bean sauce. A poached egg nests in the savory bowl of something you'd never call mush.

That's what my sibs and I dubbed all hot cereal when we were growing up and it was the source of much misery. Mush was best shoveled down quickly because it tasted so paste-y.

But I've learned to make oatmeal properly, Bob's Red Mill Steel Cut variety that takes 30 minutes to cook. Instead of letting it boil furiously, it's best to slowly simmer it. I keep the water hot in the kettle in case it starts to dry out and stick. And when it's done, that's when the fun begins. Chopped fruit and nuts pile on top. Brown sugar and maple syrup sweeten things up. Today, insipration struck and I splashed some rum on currants and zapped in the microwave for 20 seconds. What a good idea!

Guess what my husband said? It was the best oatmeal ever!

-- Leslie Kelly

High Praise For Lowly Parsley

Is there a more humble herb than parsley? Often relegated to a garnish that is rarely eaten, this relative to celery is a vitamin powerhouse that deserves a more prominent place at the table.

I'm a convert, looking to spread the gospel of green cuisine. Over the past year, I've boosted my parsley consumption considerably. And, while I don't want to jinx my health, I've managed to dodge the bullet during this cold and flu season. Coincidence? I cannot say for sure and I don't just eat parsley because it's good for me. It's also a real character builder.

Let me explain what I mean by that: On its own -- as that sad sprig sitting next to a pile of hash browns -- parsley has a strong flavor. Whether it's curly parsley or flat leaf, that green tastes mighty green. But mix it with breadcrumbs and lemon zest and you've got a dynamite topping for pasta and soups. You can even give it a fancy name, gremolata. Try tossing a handful of chopped parsley into a green salad to add a new, sharp dimension. I even experimented swirling a couple tablespoons of chopped parsley into the blender with my morning smoothie. That's probably not something I'm going to repeat, though.

My favorite parsley preparation is one I've written about before, a recipe I watched Food Network star Anne Burrell prepare at a demo in Seattle a while back. A mix of equal parts toasted hazelnuts, parsley and Parmesan cheese is pulsed in a blender until it resembles a dry pesto. It's an absolutely terrific salad topper, but I've also spooned it into creamy tomato soup and toasted it on top of slices of rustic bread. Yum!

Unlike stronger herbs such as basil, tarragon and rosemary, parsley doesn't dominate. It doesn't scream, it whispers. And, it's cheap! Compare a bunch of parsley at your supermarket to a Vitamin C supplement. 

What do you say? Have I convincingly made my case for this humble herb?

-- Leslie Kelly

Making Meatless Monday's Rice And Beans, Italian-Style

I'm a complete and total omnivore, but I have jumped on board the Meatless Monday movement and for the past year or so, the beginning of the week in my home has meant some variation on rice and beans.

That's a fairly famous practice in New Orleans, where Monday was set aside for doing laundry, so Mama needed something simple simmering on the stove. Of course, the traditional red beans and rice has meat in it, but as far as I'm concerned, it tastes just fine without it. Especially if you use a method for cooking beans that I've been using. More about that in a minute.

My newfound love for legumes has prompted me to make soupy pinto beans, which I top with pico de gallo and sliced avocado with a squeeze of lime on top and pair red lentils with the ancient grain farro. Not exactly rice and beans, but close enough to the formula. I've even stretched that definition to include wok-fried brown rice embellished with edamame, aka soybeans.

Inspiration for a new dish struck the other day while I was shopping at DeLaurenti in Seattle's historic Pike Place Market. I love browsing the cram-packed store, which carries a large selection of beans I've never seen anywhere else. There on the shelf, I found Chestnut Lima Beans, which are also known as Christmas Beans and Pope's Beans.

I know there are different schools of thought when it comes to soaking beans, but I don't bother and here's why: I've tried soaking overnight and doing the quick soak, where you bring to a boil, let sit for an hour before draining and cooking. And guess what? It all tastes the same to me. And soaking doesn't seem to eliminate the rumbling in the lower G-I either. You know what does? Eating more beans.

I simmer the beans on the stovetop in a can of beer and enough water to cover, adding more (boiling hot) water as needed. It's also possible to cook in the oven, but make sure to keep an eye on the liquid to make sure the beans don't burn. I've learned the hard way! 

I cooked the beans earlier in the day and cooled them down in preparation for a second simmering, this time with the rice and veggie stock.

For the risotto component of this dish, I used carnaroli rice, which is slightly less starchy than arborio. That's what I learned a couple of years ago during a Tom Douglas Culinary Camp presentation by James Beard award-winning chef Holly Smith from Cafe Juanita. She also instructed the group not to be afraid to let the risotto bubble furiously for a bit without stirring. 

The recipe follows on the jump!

Celebrating National Pie Day

That's right, the American Pie Council has declared Jan. 23 National Pie Day! I am a true-blue pie fan!! (See photo on the left.)

When it comes to this sweet (or/and savory) treat, everybody seems to have very strong opinions about their favorites. The Twitterverse has exploded today with #NationalPieDay declarations of love. Apple, cherry, blackberry, pumpkin, lemon meringue, chess are just a few of the best-loved names popping up. Remember when every restaurant dessert list had a French silk pie? I miss those days. I also miss the spectacular fried pies from my adopted hometown of Memphis, Tenn. The fried peach pie at Payne's Bar-B-Q was not a thing of beauty, but it tasted fruit-tastic.

A few years ago, I got schooled in making my own pies by the woman who's been nicknamed "The Pie Whisperer." Seattle-based Kate McDermott teaches the Art of The Pie in small, hands-on classes, emphasizing the "anyone-can-do-it" spirit that's infectious. The most essential piece of advice I took away from this entertaining workshop was to stay chill. And that goes for everything from keeping the butter cold to not getting flustered if your crust doesn't roll out smoothly. "Use a little bit of water," Kate suggests. "It's like glue."

Ever since graduating -- your "dipolma" is the pie you to take home after the class -- I conjure Kate's can-do spirit when baking. Just last week, I made a galette, an open-face pie from pears that were on the verge of going soft. It was as easy as... well, pie. It's a rustic presentation, so nobody's going to see any "flaws." (See photo on the right.) Its appearance might have been humble, but that galette got raves all around the dinner table.

Will you be making pie today? What's your favorite kind to bake?

-- Leslie Kelly 

Where There's Smoke, There's Roast Chicken

My daughter made roast chicken at her apartment the other night and before dinner was served, a fire truck showed up. She was crimson with embarassment, but the bird eventually turned out golden and juicy.

To get her meal rolling, I had walked her through the steps I take to prepare Barbara Kafka's suberb recipe from her 1995 book, Roasting: A Simple Art. It involves cranking up the heat to 500 degrees for the first 15 minutes and then lowering it to 450 for the final 45 minutes. As you might imagine, that approach can produce some unexpected consequences. Where there's high-temp roasting, there's likely going to be smoke.

The best way to deal with that pesky problem? My buddy Nick Vergos, one of the owners of the World Famous Rendezvous restaurant in Memphis, Tenn., gave me some great advice once. (And this is a guy well-versed in dealing with loads of smoke.) He said it's important to create a draft before you begin cooking, turning on the fan and cracking a nearby window. This is especially critical at the tail end of the first 15 minutes because you open the oven to add vegetables, onions, carrots and potatoes.

My daughter's mistake was opening the door to her apartment, so the smoke was sucked into the hall and the smoke alarms went crazy. That's one cooking lesson she's not ever going to forget. 

I'm roasting chicken for Sunday dinner and that fan is already fired up. 

-- Leslie Kelly

A Place For Everything And Everything In Its Place

When it comes to organizing my kitchen, I've come up with a system that makes sense... to me.

Pots and pans go in the cupboard next to the stove, while serving dishes are on the other side of the room, tucked into a shelf in the oversized pantry. Cooking utensils are in the drawer I can easily reach while tea towels and napkins dwell in separate spaces.

All that's fine and dandy until somebody else comes along and sticks things where they don't belong. Yes, I know, they're just being helpful emptying the dishwasher. But, darn it, after three years of living in this house, you'd think my dear husband could recall where the food processor goes and that the spatulas do not belong in the compartment reserved for corkscrews and such.

Maybe this sounds like a ridiculously minor matter, but it can mean a major disaster if I have to go searching for something in the heat of cooking a meal.

Fortunately, during my post-New Year's push to tighten up my organization skills, I had an epiphany. What if I used labels to designate everything's proper place in the kitchen? A guide that would make it easy enough to keep chaos from creeping into my cupboards, drawers and pantry.

I ordered some straightforward labels and grabbed a Sharpie and I was in business. It took no time at all. And you know what? So far, so good.

Do you have suggestions on staying on track when it comes to keeping order in your kitchen?

-- Leslie Kelly

Praise The Lard!

On Sunday afternoon, I did a fried chicken demo for my daughter and her friend, Isabel. They've been asking me to show them how-to for some time and it was a happy coincidence the date we settled on was also the birthday of legendary chowhound, Elvis Presley. 

I picked this particular spot on the calendar because I knew my husband would be off skiing. It drives him bananas when I fry chicken because he's the one who cleans the wood floor in our kitchen and frying chicken is a messy, grease-splattering process. So, the first order of business is to lay down a bunch of newspaper on the floor near the stove. It helps catch molten splatters.

Learning to fry chicken is pretty easy. It just takes time. At least mine does because I brine it the day before and then soak it in buttermilk before dredging it in flour with a heaping tablespoon of cornstarch. Then, I fry the bird in lard in my Lodge Cast Iron. This is a variation of a recipe that's been called the best fried chicken in the world and after cooking it and eating it for the past five years, I'd have to agree. It's from The Gift of Southern Cooking by Edna Lewis and Scott Peacock.

The trick to getting the chicken golden brown and crispy is getting the cooking fat to the proper temp. An instant-read thermometer is essential for that. And it's important not to crowd the pan. Too many pieces at once brings down the temp and cools the oil and makes for greasy chicken.

On Sunday, just for the heck of it, I decided to do a little experiment, frying half the chicken in lard and the other half in peanut oil. I sent the young ladies to the store for the lard and guess what they came back with? Crisco! HA! Crisco was invented as an alternative to lard.

A second trip to the store and we were in business. I stressed several times the importance of being overly cautious when working with red hot cooking grease, emphasizing the point with a cautionary tale about a woman I knew who ended up in the ER after a mishap. Also not a bad idea to keep a box of baking soda handy just in case there's a flare-up. Never throw water on a grease fire.

We sat down to a big Sunday lunch that included greens, red beans and rice and lumpia made for me by my friend Veronica. Hey, the Filipino spring roll might not exactly match up with the rest of the meal, but thought I'd make use of the hot oil by frying some up.

In a side-by-side tasting, we all agreed: Lard rules! The chicken fried in lard was crispier and more flavorful. Good thing we were having it for lunch, so we could take a long afternoon walk to help digest. It's not something I eat that often, but it sure is a great treat when I do go to the effort of making this labor of love.

-- Leslie Kelly

Confessions Of An Accidental Elvis Fan

On Jan. 8, I celebrated Elvis Presley's birthday by fixing a Southern feast, a mess of greens and fried chicken. A feast fit for The King.

I feel just a little sheepish admitting that I'm one of the gazillions around the globe who admires a legend who's long gone. But it was Elvis the eater that first sucked me to into this giant fan club. Oh sure, I had heard his music and seen his movies and heard the endless pop culture references when I was growing up, but it wasn't until moved to Memphis that I really got on board this train.

While living in a city best known as the birthplace of rock 'n' roll, home of the blues and the center of the smoked swine universe, it's not surprising that we had a steady stream of visitors. And most of them wanted to go to Graceland, the home Elvis bought for his parents when he hit it big. And so, I took out-of-towners. 

The first thing everybody says when seeing the "mansion" is how small it looks. It was probably grand back in the day, and it sits on a big piece of property. But what's fascinating about taking this tour is that wandering through the place is like opening up a time capsule from the 1970s. Nothing has changed since Elvis passed away in 1997. Shag carpet on the walls, vintage appliances in the kitchen, animal prints in The Jungle Room. It's all there.

That way retro kitchen stirred my curiousity during my first trip to Graceland. What was cooked in there? What was the drill? Was it the heart and soul of the house, like so many kitchens are?

I was tickled to later discover that his longtime cook had become like part of the family. Elvis bought her cars and a house and Mary Jenkins Langston kept him well-fed. While the peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwiches have taken on mythical quality, Elvis probably loved meatloaf best and he drank gallons of Pepsi.

In a British documentary called "The Burger and The King", Ms. Langston was quoted as saying that Elvis told her eating was the only thing he got enjoyment out of in life. Some of his favorite comfort foods included cheeseburgers, chicken-fried steaks, hamburger steaks, caramel cakes and family-size bowls of banana pudding, according to a New York Times obituary of the cook who worked for Elvis for 14 years. The ultimate chowhound or a cautionary tale?

Naturally, the man with legendary appetites inspired a bunch of cookbooks, not to mention memorabilia in every imaginable shape and form. 

The more I learned, the more I came to appreciate the rags-to-riches story, the star's great sadness at the untimely death of his mother and his generous nature. There's a wall of cancelled checks displayed in the Graceland museum, written to Memphis charities long before it was the celebrity thing to do. And that's how I became a fan. 

-- Leslie Kelly

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If The World Is My Oyster, Make It A Kusshi, Shigoku Or Blue Pool

I'm nuts about oysters. I love them fried, baked and simmered in creamy stews. But first and foremost, I love them cold and crisp on the half shell, a briny bite straight from the sea. You can't get much closer to nature than when you slurp a pristine oyster.

On New Year's Eve, my honey and I did a bit of bar hopping and we started by ordering a couple dozen beauties from the frigid waters of Puget Sound at Blueacre Seafood. It's always a treat to watch a skilled shucker at work. I'm a rank amateur, but I keep trying to work my trusty oyster knife.

When asked to name a favorite from the extensive list, our server didn't miss a beat: "Try the Blue Pools," he suggested. And, boy, they were good. (Pictured above.)

These gems are Pacific oysters that are "tumbled" while growing. This process, which has only been around for less than a decade, gradually shaves off the edge of the shell and forces the oyster to grow a deeper cup. This seems to be a trend among oyster growers in this part of the world, a welcome development to bivavle fans who appreciate a meaty oyster that's smaller in size.

Stellar Bay Shellfish on Vancouver Island was the leader in this innovative growing process, raising the oysters in suspended trays. Taylor Shellfish introduced its tumbled oyster -- the Shoguku -- three years ago, which are raised in bags that float up and down with the tides, pictured right. Effingham Inlet calls its version the Pacific Rim Petite. Last weekend was the first time I had spotted the tumbled version of a Hama Hama oyster. I'm sure there are more.

Oysters can be a little bit intimidating, especially when you are looking at a long list from which to choose. If you're on the West Coast, you're likely eating crassostrea gigas, a species originally from Japan. They're also known as Miyagi, but most commonly called Pacifics. Pacifics look and taste different, depending on where they're grown and how they're raised. No wonder people get confused!

My advice is to go to a good oyster bar and put yourself in the hands of a smart shucker. The best are like sushi masters, who will always steer you toward the best. Happy slurping! 

-- Leslie Kelly

Why Professional Restaurant Critics Matter

While reading the delightful debut review of Wong by The New York Times' restaurant critic Pete Wells in Wednesday's paper, I couldn't help cheering the continuation of this noble tradition. Sure, the rise of the populist Yelpsters has forever changed the way people think about getting advice on where to eat. Even Marge Simpson jumped into the mix on a recent, very entertaining episode of that long-running comedy. But there's still nothing like the objective ear, eye and palate of a trained observer to chronicle the endlessly interesting pursuit of inspired meals.

The best professional critics slip into a restaurant as anonymously as possible -- though that's much harder to do these days when it seems everyone's got a photo in the Internet etherworld. They order a variety of dishes, not just their personal favorites. They also drink in the surroundings, including the lighting, the music, the leftover lipstick smudges on the glassware. They evaluate the service and the drink menus and, sometimes even offer insight into what motivates a chef. (In Wells' review, for instance, readers learn the owner/chef had suffered a heart attack when he was younger, a crisis that set him on a path to explore exotic flavors across Southeast Asia, which are realized on the plate at his new place.)

As a recovering restaurant critic -- I wrote reviews for three different newspapers over the course of more than 15 years -- I truly appreciate and admire the effort involved in a calendar stuffed with non-stop eating. Believe me, I'm still carrying the extra baggage of being required to dine at least three times before writing a review. But I think that's what distinguishes a pro from even the most well-intentioned amateur. The critic is looking for consistency, whether good or bad, with repeated visits. Trashing a place after one bad meal is just bad form.

And whether they want to admit it or not, the professional critic plays the role of tastemaker by pointing out shining qualities as well as shortcomings. When a wine list is faulted for being skimpy on its selection, you can bet that's going to be addressed by any savvy restaurateur. And that's got to be a good thing, right?

Finally, professional restaurant critics remain relevant for the same reason drama critics and movie reviewers do, too. They serve as modern day historians, documenting the ebb and flow of chef's creative visions and the dining public's response to it. Even if I never plan to eat at a New York City restaurant that's been reviewed, I still get a big charge out of reading what's cooking in the center of the food universe. 

-- Leslie Kelly

Here's To Hoppin' John And A Very Lucky New Year

Don't you just love holiday traditions that revolve around food? 

One of my favorites is the practice of serving the rice and beans dish known as Hoppin' John on New Year's Day in the hope that it'll bring you good luck in the coming year. It's said to have originated among slaves, who had used black-eyed peas to represent coins, which were meant to impart future good fortune.

While the dish is typically prepared with pork, one of my favorite versions is meatless. It's from Kim O'Donnel's critically acclaimed The Meat Lover's Meatless Cookbook, an ingenious rendition that gets its fine smoky quality from exotic paprika and chipotle peppers.

Ever since I recipe tested this dish for Ms. O'Donnel back in 2009, I've been hooked on smoked paprika. I've even made my own seasoned salt using that fragrant spice and it now sits on my table. Another tip I picked up in this mighty fine version is the use of beer in preparing beans. It's especially awesome when using dried beans. It seems to make them tender over a shorter cooking time and imparts a subtle flavor.

And yes, that old rule still applies: Some dishes taste better the next day, which is why this is slowly simmering on New Year's Eve.

Here's hoping y'all have a happy and prosperous New Year!

-- Leslie Kelly

 

Forecasting A Few Food Trends For 2012

While poring over a recent post on the James Beard Foundation Web site predicting which foods will be hot/hot/hot in the coming year, I couldn't help wondering what these pronouncements were based on. Was it a kind of chicken-or-the-egg scenerio?

Does a dish or a culinary technique become big because it's riding some imaginary wave of popularity? Or does the simple act of forecasting spark rising interest in authentic Thai food, smaller portion size and foods enriched with animal blood? (three of the trends coming in 2012, according to this report.) Who cares? It's good fun and I'm going to take a crack at calling a few, too. Most of mine are based on wishful thinking, but I did rightly predict last year that macarons would have their moment in the spotlight. 

1. Curative cocktails. With the shocking embrace of coconut water as the "it" beverage of 2011, I'm hoping to see bartenders take heed and go real retro with some of their concoctions. Because, if you know your liquid history, you'll know that the original drinks were meant to be tonics. I'm not imagining a wheatgrass and rye on the rocks, but something delicious that has some "healthy" ingredients to balance out the booze.

2. The rise of Southern-style layer cakes. While cupcakes and pies are still going strong, it seems only logical that restaurants pastry departments would want to give a fresh twist on the homey discs of cake spread with creamy frosting. Yes, Red Velvet's leading the charge, but here's hoping we'll also see more caramel and coconut layer cakes in the near future. Layer cakes shouldn't just be reserved for birthdays!

3. Better kid's meals at restaurants. Why must pint-sized diners be saddled with limited options like grilled cheese and plain pasta? I'm sure most picky kids don't want to stray from that time-honored formula, but these small customers deserve a little more respect and some cleverly cooked veggies.

Getting Organized: Recipe File Redux

I do not make New Year's Resolutions. Because we all know those are so easy to break.

Still, I try to chip away at a few self improvement-type goals throughout the year and being more organized is always at the top of my list and my latest project is a real challenge. I'm trying to figure out a way to put all my assorted recipes right. Some of these missives pre-date the Internet, which means they're often hand-written. I miss that tradition, especially seeing the penmanship of the dearly departed. 

Years ago, I put together a collection of my grandmother's signature recipes, typing them out and copying them. I then gave the "self-published" cookbook away as a Christmas gift. But it lacked the personality of the imposing figure who stood 5-foot-tall and was known as Nana, a dynamo who wrote down instructions for cooking dishes on scraps of paper, bank deposit slips and the occasional notecard. I cherish those originals.

Likewise, glimpsing hand-written recipes from old friends and former neighbors (Nell's Wine Cake was always something to look forward to during the holidays) always makes me smile.

After working in a few professional kitchens in 2009, I was surprised to discover recipes stored in utilitarian three-ring binders, shoved into plastic sleeves to protect them from splatters and spills. That system isn't pretty, but it certainly is handy.

I started searching for something that offered a combination of sleeves I could stash old-school recipe cards as well as full sheets I might print out from various Web sites. It's a tall order. There are pretty albums that look more as if they belong on a book shelf in the living room. Recipe boxes are too old-fashioned. I've got a nifty vintage clip book with pockets and dividers, but it's so small. I could tuck them into an accordian file, but then they're out of sight and out of mind. What a pickle!

For now, the hunt goes on. Any suggestions?

-- Leslie Kelly

 

 

My 11 Favorite Bites From 2011

I had a stupendously delicious year, both on the road and at home. Filling out my tasty calendar, there were two trips to New York City, where I was doing research for Tom Douglas' Chef's Walk project. I wandered around Manhattan and Brooklyn with Butter's chef de cuisine Ashley Merriman for this Kindle-exclusive guidebook, which will be out in early 2012. One of the many highlights from those trips was spending the day eating around the world in Harlem, dining at Marcus Samuelsson's high-flying Red Rooster, as well as strange and super-yummy Senagalese food, fragrant Cuban black beans and the best gyros I've eaten outside of Athens.

There were also two trips to my old stomping grounds in Memphis, in search of great barbecue, but also indulging in some incredible fine dining. I was thrilled during my two treks to Vancouver, B.C., and Whistler, once in the winter and back again in the summer. A weekend in Portland, Ore., further convinced me that it's one of the most exciting dining destinations in the country. And, in Seattle, there were many reasons of swoon over spectacular plates of food. 

The one constant? Nothing was part of a long, involved fancy meal. Casual was king. I'm looking forward to more of the same in 2012.

Here are my Top 11 Bites from 2011: 

11. Kenny & Zuke's Reuben sandwich, pictured above. Love/love/love the non-traditional smokiness of the tender pastrami on this terrific sandwich at this popular deli in Portland.

10. Scotch eggs at The Breslin. A simple pub staple takes an elegant detour at this star bar in The Ace Hotel in Midtown Manhattan. The runny yolks are a perfect compliment to the pork-y coat it wears. 

9. Shrimp and grits at Big Bad Breakfast. Lots of kitchens tackle this now-famous Low Country dish, but this luxe diner in Oxford, Miss., is the first place I've found them on the morning menu. Loved every last bite of them!

 

Happy Boxing Day! Who's Up For Curry?

For our neighbors to the North, the day after Christmas looks a lot like our Black Friday, a time for competitive bargain hunting. But this "bank holiday" goes way back to pre-retailing times.

Thanks to Wikipedia for filling us in on the nitty gritty: As long ago as the 17th century, this day was traditionally recognized as a time for the upper crust to be charitable and generous to the people working for you. Right before you hopped onto a steed and gallop off on a fox hunt!

Naturally, I was curious about the menu for this under-the-radar holiday. Sure, I've seen the 2001 film Bridget Jones Diary a dozen or so times, and I adore the scene where Ms. B meets the stuffy Mark Darcy over a Boxing Day buffet of turkey curry. Could that be the quasi-official dish of the day celebrated in England and Canada?

I love the idea of dispatching leftovers into a aromatic stew flavored with that intriguing mix of spices known by its generic title "curry powder". I've long been marinating on the idea of creating my own curry powder, something that's long on notes of tumeric and cumin, cardamon and fenugreek, but a little lighter on the fiery chilis. Which is why I finally invested in spice grinder.

This isn't one of those instances where a small appliance has got to multi-task. It's not going to be a coffee bean-slash-spice grinder. It's going to be dedicated to the task of turning whole herbs and spices into powdered versions that can be blended together. 

For the skinny on that process, I turned to a super nifty cookbook I've had a lot of fun playing with, 660 Curries by Raghavan Iyer. I love the straightforward how-to in this thick tome, describing the best way to make your own curry powder. The most important thing to remember about getting the most out of almost any spice is to gently heat it first in a dry saute pan, releasing its essential oils and maximizing the flavor. The fragrance this creates is unbelieveable. Just be careful not to take it too far, too fast.

Because my family had leg of lamb for Christmas dinner, our Boxing Day buffet will feature Lamb Vindaloo instead of Turkey Curry. Can't wait! What's on your Boxing Day menu?

-- Leslie Kelly

Christmas Countdown: Great Gadgets For Stuffing Stockings

In my family, we all act like little kids when it comes to digging into our stockings Christmas morning. Maybe it's a silly tradition, but for me, good things truly do come in the smallest packages.

Every year, I get some culinary gizmo that I didn't know I needed until I got one. And now, I don't know how I got along without my OXO lemon zester, the Vinturi wine aerator or that nifty gnocchi paddle, which makes little ridges in my hand-rolled pasta pillows.

As my kiddo continues to build her kitchen arsenal, the stocking makes for a fine spot to add to her growing collection of tools. Even if none of these items are exactly on her official wish list.

Here are my picks for cool tools worthy of stocking stuffing: 

They're so cute in that ice blue hue, that set of Wilton spatulas which make folding effortless and bowl scrapping a breeze. 

Are you a pincher? I am and that's why I embrace my tongs. Yes, some chefs banish them from their haute kitchens -- The French Laundry's Thomas Keller is not a fan -- but I think tongs are a huge help.

What separates most home cooks from pros? This instant read thermometer. Takes the guesswork out of getting the right temps for foods, just like they do at restaurants.

Stay sharp with this good-looking gadget from knifemaking experts Zwilling J.A. Henckels.

This might be a stretch when it comes to stuffing it into a stocking, but here's an old-school, stovetop espresso maker just like they use in Italy. Who needs one of those super spendy one-shot machines when you've got a Bialetti?

Keep your wine fresh with Vacu-Vin. This set includes no-drip pour spouts, too.

I love cheese so I really love this cheese knife from Zyliss. 

For ice cream fans, there's nothing cooler than a scoop that gets that treat out of the carton and into the bowl with ease. Like this Norpro Nonstick "Antifreeze" model.

Good luck with your holiday shopping! Unlike most years when I already have gifts wrapped and under the tree, this time around, I haven't even started yet. 

-- Leslie Kelly

 

The Restorative Powers of Cooking

The worst thing about having a broken arm is that I've been virtually banished from the kitchen. It's amazing how many tasks require two hands! And, as much as I've tried to stay positive, that change in my daily routine has been making me cranky.

Last week, though, while watching an old episode of The French Chef on Amazon's Instant Video, the one where she walks us through cooking coq au vin, I couldn't resist the pull on the pots and pans. I had a friend go with me to the supermarket to pick up the ingredients and set out to recreate that saucy braised dish that's perfect for the chilly nights of autumn.

As soon as I had sauteed the chicken and added the wine, I turned the burner down and headed upstairs for a minute, up to the only keyboard I could comfortably type on. At least, I thought I had turned the burner down. And I only meant to be upstairs for a few minutes. Then I smelled something smoky. And not the good kind of smoke, either.

Yes, as if I needed any further proof that I really wasn't myself, I had burned the chicken! Drat! The only good news was that my Calphalon nonstick saute pan wasn't a nightmare to clean. And, as soon as I wiped out that last bit of char, I started all over again, this time staying on task, in the kitchen. I think that's where a lot of aspiring cooks go wrong. They get distracted and then they get discouraged.

But soon, the second batch was simmering away, filling the house with the fragrance of red wine, garlic and onions. The dish is finished with a roux, a mix of butter and flour that makes old-fashioned pan gravy seem downright rustic. As I was working the flour into the slightly softened butter, my left arm ached a little bit. Preparing this meal had been a bit of an ordeal. Nothing was easy.

Still, as the sauce began to thicken and after I took a taste before adjusting for seasonings -- needed a little salt -- I took great pleasure in seeing meal take shape. It took me back to those early days in the kitchen with my grandmother, watching her magically get the meatloaf and the side dishes on the table all at the same time, all tasting great. That's quite an accomplishment. That's how I felt after spending the afternoon cooking one-handed.

My coq au vin got a four-star review from my husband, but I think that had something to do with the fact that he's been making do with frozen pizza and burritos for dinner. It wasn't my best effort, but it sure tasted fine.

-- Leslie Kelly

Pears Are Primed For Their Turn In The Spotlight

Pears are so under-appreciated. They’re kind of like the Brad Pitt of the fruit world, so handsome and sweet and so versatile yet nobody’s clearing a place on the mantle for any stellar statues.

I’d like to turn back the clock see Mr. Pitt win an Oscar for Benjamin Button (he was robbed!) and then zip back to the present and give pears an award for the tree fruit most likely to succeed in 2012. Why? Partly because USA Pears is pressing a convincing full-court blitz among plugged-in food lovers and respected chefs designed to generate buzz and elevate its status as a staple for salads and tarts. Not that there's anything wrong with pear tarts and pear salads! 

During a lunch last week in Seattle, celebrity chef Ethan Stowell (pictured here, pouring bubbly into an aperitif garnished with pears) created a four-course menu that showcased the fruit by coming up with some surprising, well… pairings.

At the downtown lofty-chic Tavolata, Stowell and his crew married slender matchsticks of pear with Italian olives, sections of Meyer Lemon and peppery watercress, which were artistically arranged on an ahi tuna crudo. Gorgeous!

That was followed by a soup that redefined the word creamy. Its velvety texture had to come from enough butter and cream to float Paula Deen’s boat, right? I asked Ethan and he said nope. The richness was the result of pureeing slow-simmered sunchokes and pear. There was a hint of sweetness, but the arrow definitely tipped more toward savory, a quality Stowell said he appreciates about pears. The recipe is featured on Pear USA’s Web site, with one minor adjustment. At lunch, the soup was topped with a seared scallop and fried sage leaves instead of the chanterelle mushrooms and bacon in the recipe. 

The main course was another spectacular use of pears as a vehicle for perfectly complementing meats, especially during the cool weather months. A slow-roasted duck breast was accompanied by a pear and parsnip puree that proved the age-old notion that the sum is even better than the parts. 

One of the challenges the pear people face is educating consumers and chefs about how to determine when a pear is ripe. They’re always picked firm, which makes them great for buying in bulk and storing in a cool, dark place over winter months.

The slogan they’ve come up with sounds a bit corny, but I suppose it makes sense: Check the neck. I always buy pears on the hard side and plan on giving them a few days at room temp to ripen. By pressing gently on the neck, you can tell if it gives, you’re ready to receive. (Sorry, couldn’t resist a little holiday pun!)

One of the most encouraging experiences on this media tour, timed to coincide with National Pear Month, was the warm reception the team got from producers of Iron Chef America. At a lunch in New York City, the Iron Chef reps were impressed with the many preparations in which pears shined brightly. 

So, if you see pears pop up as a secret ingredient on that popular Food Network show, you won’t be shocked because you’ll already have discovered the pleasures of this fruit, right? I'm sure game to try rolling out some new preparations after that inspiring lunch!

-- Leslie Kelly

Spending Some Quality Time With The French Chef

So, after busting my arm, I've been spending a lot of time on the couch, trying to hold still. Which is a challenge for somebody who's used to being overscheduled.

The best discovery I've made during my recovery is a treasure trove of vintage cooking shows on Amazon's Instant Video, with 10 seasons of The French Chef rising to the top. (Available for free to Amazon Prime members!) These relics are filmed in black and white on a bare bones set and it looks like they were done in one take. There are plenty of lessons that seem terribly outdated, including a recipe on how to turn instant mashed potatoes into something worth eating. Why would Julia Child add cream and egg yolks to dehydrated spuds? Because, I suppose, they were all the rage way back when.

Yet, most of the preparations and techniques still seem as relevant as they were when this ground-breaking series first aired back in the 1960s. While watching, I've been inspired to one day try my hand at making croissants, pate and tiny tarts filled with sweets and savories for holiday entertaining. That was Julia Child's gift, wasn't it? Making every home cook feel as if they could do just about anything. She's forever encouraging. You goof up, as she often does, but you don't let it slow you down.

There are dozens and dozens of cooking shows out there now, most with better ingredients and certainly with slicker production values. But there's never been anybody quite like Julia Child and it's been a pleasure watching these tasty blasts from the past.

-- Leslie Kelly