Moonlighting at www.examiner.com

I know, I know, it's been a long time since I blogged. But I have an excuse, I swear! And it doesn't involve being abducted by unicorns (which could totally happen and would be a very legitimate excuse for not blogging). I have been writing about food for www.examiner.com. You should check it out:

http://www.examiner.com/x-9871-Seattle-Ethnic-Restaurants-Examiner

If you have a favorite ethnic restaurant, or food, that you think I should check out, just drop me a note!

Casseroles With Klass

I did not grow up in a casserole family. While I truly enjoyed the toothsome, bright green broccoli my mom steamed up for me, I longed to drown the little trees in Campbell's cream of mushroom soup, blanket them in melted Velveeta and top them with fried onions from a can. I was a California kid longing for a taste of the Midwest. I wanted to spray my cheese, not slice it!

Decades later, I have still never tasted a Tuna Casserole and have come to the conclusion that a jiggly log of Velveeta is nastier than a string of Brutha Lynch Hung lyrics. But White Trash with Klass was the theme of this weekend's cooking club, so I dutifully dusted off my Pyrex and went in search of a soup that was canned, condensed, and cream of.

With a menu that included jalapeno macaroni and cheese, pigs in a blanket, and Jell-O marshmallow fruit salad, I felt it was my duty to incorporate a fresh vegetable into our gut busting meal. My recipe for Broccoli Casserole called for a cup of mayonnaise, a can of cream of mushroom soup, a cup of cheddar and a cracker crust. But the "Klass" component allowed me to use fresh broccoli (in lieu of the recommended frozen) and add soft nugs of goat cheese, sauteed garlicky mushrooms, and a drizzling of truffle oil. I topped the hot mess with a scattering of crushed garlic cheese croutons. Fresh, healthy vegetable dish indeed!

She came out melty, bubbling and comforting; but anytime broccoli goes up against bacon it is sure to lose. The obvious favorite of the night was inspired by the great Elvis Presley, himself. I give you the peanut butter, banana, honey and bacon sandwich, in all of it's stony glory.

If you would like to replicate this fantastic fried creation, and you will, it is really quite simple. First, put on your favorite Elvis Presley album. Second, crack a can of Pabst. Third, get out the scissors and hack your hair into a handsome mullet.

Now all you have to do is butter two slices of white bread, one side only. Smear the peanut butter of your liking onto the un-buttered side of one slice. Add a layer of sliced bananas. Drizzle on some honey. Lay down a few slices of already-fried-up bacon. Top with the other slice of white bread. Fry on the stove like you would a grilled cheese sandwich.

Warning: filling your belly with assorted casseroles and fried sandwiches can result in a head-to-toe white trash makeover, complete with skin-tight, leopard print jeans. Just look what happened to us:

Bad Day, Great Lunch

I have always wanted to be one of those people who loses their appetite when they're upset. These are the people who snarl phrases like "How can you eat at a time like this?!" in movies. These are the people who burst out of their depression cocoons looking like beautiful, lithe butterflies complete with jutting hip bones. I am not one of those people. I emerge from a bad mood looking like a two year old: crumbs in my hair, smeared chocolate on my cheeks and brie on my breath.

So today, when I was hit with a bad case of the the blues, I pointed my Prism in the direction of the International District. I took my melancholy self out for a meal that I have been saving just for me. I needed to be alone. Well, alone with a plate of Vietnamese noodles.

Huong Binh is the perfect place to go when you're in a funk. The wait staff is sweet, but not overly chatty, and chances are you won't run into anyone you know. Stuffed into a Jackson Street strip-mall, the only decorations are a string of Chinese lanterns and a random, but oddly comforting, "I Love You" poster featuring a giant red rose.

I ordered the Banh Uot Nem Nuong, rice rolls with pork meatballs, and added a skewer of charbroiled pork for good measure. This, my friends, is serious fast food. I opened my book, read a single page, and Tada! a tray of food was placed before me.

Turns out, a single page was all I needed. When eating alone, I usually occupy myself with a book, a magazine, a soy sauce label, anything really. But this meal was so entrancing, so flavorful, so delicious - I felt compelled to pay strict attention to the textures, the flavors, the assembling - and simply enjoyed my lunch, distraction free.

Rice rolls are actually long sheets of soft, squishy rice noodles folded into bundles. In this case they were sprinkled with crushed peanuts, green onions and topped with warm skewers of tender pork meatballs (I expected the dense, rubbery, fat laced, bouncy-balls usually found in pho - and was relieved and delighted by these juicy orbs) and chunks of grilled pork. A huge pile of cilantro, Thai basil and lettuce leaves comes alongside the dish, prompting you to create different combinations of herb-lettuce-noodle-meat until the plate is licked clean. A little bowl of tangy nuoc cham rounds out the meal, and it was liberally spooned over everything, along with generous dabs of fiery, brick red, hot sauce.

With every tongue awakening bite, I felt myself relaxing and feeling just a little bit better. By the time I got up to pay my $6.50, I was able to communicate with humans again. I told the lady with the bright red lipstick and heavily painted eyelids how much I enjoyed the meal. She chirped: "Oh good! You need try more! You come back tomorrow!"

Tomorrow! I ran across the street to Saigon Deli and handed over a $5 bill in exchange for a BBQ pork banh mi and a pack of five rice noodles rolled with shrimp. You know, just in case I'm in a bad mood tomorrow.

The Only Reason I Want to Turn 40

I am a gal who loves a dip with her chip. That's why I like parties so much. The chances of chips and dip are high. The chances of multiple chips with multiple dips are even higher!

So when I heard that my friends, Cathy & Sean, were planning to build a 40 Layer Dip for a 40th birthday party - I immediately started pricing plane tickets to California. Unfortunately, there is no frequent flier program for dip lovers, so I was forced to live the dip dream through the magic of digital photos. And so will you!

This tall drink of water includes layer upon layer of deliciously disgusting combinations like bacon, fish sticks, hash browns and guacamole. Oh, and that big empty section? That's the air layer. You know, for trendy people on the Master Cleanse.

But one very important question remains. How do you successfully navigate your chip toward those 20 bottom layers? I'm thinking creepy, elbow-length plastic glove. This season's hottest accessory for any dedicated dipper.

Seven layer dip? HA! That's for babies. I can't wait to turn 40.

Confessions from a One Bedroom Apartment

To say I eat well is an understatement. Us food obsessed folk tend to make sure we fill our bellies with a healthy assortment of deliciousness, on a daily basis. But, of course, it can't always be caviar – or even carnitas. Sometimes, when I am alone in my apartment, I fall victim to some secret cravings. Things I only eat alone, with the blinds closed, and a Sex and the City disc in the DVD player. Now is not the time to judge. I see you out there! Eating Lil Smokies. Cold. Straight from the package.

Confession #1: Sour Cream.

I first discovered I had a serious problem back in 2004. I was entertaining a friend in my apartment when she popped into the powder room. By the time the bathroom door clicked shut, I was hunkered down in front of the fridge spooning the tart, creamy condiment into my mouth. I realized I had actually been waiting for her to leave so I could dive head first into my sour cream stash. My endearing love for sour cream had turned desperate, and something had to be done. I couldn't buy the stuff for six months after that. It was just too dangerous! I would take down half a carton in minutes flat, a dribble of spicy Tapatio on each white bite. Now I respect the sour cream. I eat it in moderation. Well, by my standards. I still enjoy a couple spoonfuls, straight from the container, while standing in the guilty, glowing light of the refrigerator.

Confession #2: Secret Tortilla Behavior

Hours after dinner, if I'm at home and snuggled up on the couch with some good food porn (Bon Appetit) or a new culinary memoir (just finished My Homemade Life by Seattle blogger orangette), my taste buds begin to beg for something salty. As I am a girl with little willpower, they never have to beg for long. I slide off the couch, pad into the kitchen, and snatch the ever-present sack of flour tortillas off the top of the refrigerator. Flick! The gas burner comes to life and I drag the tortilla over the flame, until it is warm, toasty, chewy and freckled with charred brown bits. Here's where it gets weird. I drizzle truffle oil over the tortilla. I sprinkle Bacon Salt on top of that. It's like Mexico meets Food Snob meets White trash. One is usually not enough.

Confession #3: Kraft Macaroni & Cheese

Show me the home of an American child, and I'll show you a pantry brimming with the Blue Box. Word has it, some infants are clutching the Kraft in their tiny, pink, clenched fists when they squeeze themselves out of the womb. Despite the general food snobbery (truffle oil, homemade macaroni and GOAT cheese) I have an every-now-and-then weakness for this insanely comforting, fluorescent orange, treat. But so do a lot of people. The confession? I have to eat the entire box in one sitting. It's the law. But first, I usually gussy her up. A few flakes of tuna, a handful of peas, a crank of the pepper grinder, maybe a splash of Tapatio (have you noticed a trend) and she's good to go. But I'm no good to go anywhere. Except to bed. Pharmacists should cook up a batch, cram it into one of those plastic orange pill tubes, and prescribe the shit to insomniacs.

So, what's your poison?

Got time? Make Tamales!

In my private moments, I like to fantasize about having a Mexican mother who insists on spending hours, days, maybe even weeks (it's only make-believe so it's okay to turn my imaginary mother into a slave) behind a stove, cooking me authentic Mexican dishes. While I love the annual dose of matzo ball soup my own (read: not Mexican) mother cooks up, a cold slab of gefilte fish ain't got nothin' on a pan of fragrant chicken enchiladas. Sorry real mom.

So last weekend I decided to take matters into my own hands, and become my own Mexican mother. I then waved my magic wand and turned my entire cooking club into a gang of Mexican mamas, and together we went to work on making a whole lotta homemade tamales.

Tamales require several hours to make, but the end result is so completely worth it. A tamale fresh from the steamer is the moistest, most tender you'll ever taste. We stuffed most of ours with fork-tender, red chile-tinged, pork but accommodated the lone vegetarian with a roasted poblano chile, jack cheese and black olive version.

Tamales are best tackled by a hungry group, so get your posse together and get cooking!

Red Chile Pork Tamales
Recipe adapted from Rick Bayless
Makes about 18 tamales

For the Pork:

16 large (4 ounces) dried guajillo chiles: stemmed, seeded and torn into pieces (They actually had these at the Queen Anne Safeway. I was shocked and impressed.)
4 garlic cloves
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cumin
1 1/2 pounds lean, boneless pork (preferably from the shoulder), cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Salt

In a blender, puree the chiles, garlic, cumin, black pepper and 3 cups of cold water. You may have to do this in batches. Push the fiery-looking red puree through a sieve and into a big pot with the cubed pork. Add another three cups of water and a bunch of shakes of salt. Bring this to a boil then drop the heat to medium/medium-high and reduce until it becomes a nice, thick sauce. This could take about an hour and a half. Stir often. Taste and add salt if needed. It will be needed. When the pork has sucked up most of the liquid, shred with a fork and let it cool to room temperature.

For the dough:

I bought a bag of Instant Corn Masa Mix (also available at Safeway). Mix 2 cups masa mix with
1 1/2 cups warm water or broth, 1 teaspoon baking powder, ½ teaspoon salt and 2/3 cup lard or vegetable shortening. I went the shortening route, and you'll need to whip it with a hand mixer until fluffy before mixing it into the dough. It should be moist, but not too loose.

The Wrappers:

Get a bag of dried corn husks. Soak them in cold water for about 20 minutes. You'll need two or three husks per tamale, depending on their size.

Assembly:

Take two corn husks (bigger are better) and lay them down so that the wide end of each overlaps by a couple inches. Spread masa dough over the husks, no more than 1/8 inch thick, leaving a wide border on all sides. Spoon a thin line of pork down the center of the masa. Fold her up like a burrito, smushing the masa together to hide the filling.

The tamales will need to steam in a big pot (a steam basket, flat metal veggie steamer, or bamboo steamer all work) for about an hour. You will probably have to add more water – so keep a close eye on the pot so it doesn't burn!
Leftover, refrigerated, tamales can be brought back to life with a revitalizing 15 minute steam. Don't you dare warm them in the microwave!

Top your little beauties with a scattering of cilantro, a dollop of sour cream and a splash or three of Tapatio or fresh salsa.

Finally, wave your magic wand and un-Mexican-mother yourself. Savor a tender tamale. Que Beueno!

I ate breakfast! Like, a whole bunch of times!

If you've heard it once, you've heard it 9,654 times: Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day. Frankly, I feel sorry for lunch and dinner. No one has bothered to create an adoring and catchy slogan for them. There is no "Lunch is the Most Awesomest Meal of the Day" to boost its confidence and morale.

So to support the underdogs of the eating world, I have chosen to boycott breakfast for much of my adult life. Yes, this is the true reason I so seldom eat breakfast. It's for the cause! I am an activist!

But whenever my boyfriend comes to town, the breakfast ban goes up in flames. My fridge fills up with bacon and eggs and more bacon and more eggs. I have learned that boyfriend, in fact, equals bacon. You can't have one without the other. And you can't have boring breakfasts. Generic Grape Nuts and nonfat milk are not welcome.

Here is a five-days-in-the-life photo diary of the breakfasts we recently cooked and enjoyed:

Monday: Breakfast Tacos!
Mexican food should not be limited to lunch and dinner. Scramble up some eggs and fold them up in a warm corn tortilla with cilantro, sour cream, avocado, refried beans, quinoa, and leftover steak strips. Shake the Tapatio bottle over the taco like you're angry it at. Confucius Says: Spicy Breakfast = Good Day.











Tuesday: Egg & Sausage Toasts
As a huge supporter of the marriage of sweet & savory, chicken apple sausages are a favorite breakfast meat. Here they join fried eggs, sauteed mushrooms, melted sharp cheddar and basil on slices of toasty sourdough.





Wednesday: Homemade Parmesan Pepper Biscuits, Sweet & Red Potatoes, Bacon & Fried Egg
I have a reputation as a bad biscuit baker. You'd be more apt to use one of my lil biscuits as a door stop, rather than put it in your mouth. But thanks to science, I am improving! I learned that the butter must be ice cold and should be left in the dough as pea sized bits. I learned about folding the dough, before cutting, to create flaky layers. I am now the biscuit master! Ok. I'm not. Yet. But these were pretty dang good.


Thursday: Pineapple Bacon Pancakes with Apple & Pineapple Topping
Breakfast in bed! Whoever invented that concept deserves a medal in the shape of a bacon strip. I ate these pineapple/bacon pancakes under the covers, along with a side of (burnt = sad) potatoes and some fancy fruits.








Friday: McNotMcDonald's Egg McMuffins
Yes, Mcdonald's is bad. But their Egg McMuffins? Those are good. I like to make my own at home in under 10 minutes. Fry up an egg and a slice of ham while the muffin toasts. Let some cheese melt on your hot egg. Get out that Tapatio and go to town. Voila! McYum.

A Wish Come True: Seattle's Best Pizza

Growing up as a little girl in suburbia, one of life's great excursions was a trip to the mall. And in the center of my mall was something grand: a real, live, working fountain. My mom would dig deep into the folds of her eel skin wallet and produce two pennies. One for my younger sister and one for me. She instructed us to make a wish and toss them in. I have no idea what my sister wished for. A better haircut (it was the 80's)? A pony? A trust fund? But I wished for the same thing every single time. I'd squish my eyes close, squeeze the penny in my fist and chant this mantra: "I hope we have pizza for dinner. I hope we have pizza for dinner. I hope we have pizza for dinner" and chuck the copper coin into the fountain.

Things have really changed since then. I'm older, I don't live in suburbia, and all of my local malls are fountain free. Seriously! Not a single pizza wishing fountain in sight! So I am forced to be proactive: if I want pizza for dinner, I have to go get pizza for dinner. Sigh.

Luckily this is an easy task, as I only have eyes for the pies at a single Seattle pizzeria: Via Tribunali.

You can forget about pineapple, green peppers or even pepperoni; VT doesn't use them. They stick to traditional Italian ingredients like prosciutto, fresh mozzarella and olives. Their incredibly fresh tasting pizzas strictly follow the guidelines set by Verace Pizza Napoletana, a Naples based organization that sets the standard for authentic Napoli style pizza.

Via Tribunali's wood fire brick oven looks like an adorable Alaskan igloo, but the bricks (made from the ashes of Mt. Vesuvius) were flown in from Naples. This extra hot oven cooks the pizza in a flash, and allows the thin crust to stay chewy underneath, and bubbly brown around the edges.

Ordinarily, I fall victim to being a topping whore. But at Via Tribunali I am perfectly content with the margherita pizza, topped only with the freshest, vibrant red tomato sauce, blobs of fresh mozzarella and basil leaves. But I'd never refuse the Piazza Dante (pictured) topped with that amazingly bright tasting San Marzano tomato sauce, melty provolone, pink prosciutto, cherry tomatoes and a leafy layer of peppery arugula.

Slice by slice, I chowed down on both varieties last night. In fact, I ate half of each pie, which means I ate *ahem* an entire pizza for dinner.

But so what! Over the years, I probably tossed fifty pizza pennies into the wishing fountain. The actuality of my parents ordering pizza on one of those nights? It might have happened once. Once! It doesn't take a mathematician to see that I am owed 49 pizzas. And I plan to eat them, one delicious bite at a time, at Via Tribunali.

A Non Food Related Post

I am definitely a supporter of good dental hygiene. Brushing, flossing, tongue scraping - yes yes and yes! But apparently I am a boring brusher: I tend to tend to my teeth in the comforts of my own bathroom.

This morning, as I walked up my street to get a decaf latte (it really perks you up!), I saw a man brushing his teeth. While walking briskly down the street. He was really taking care of business too! He appeared angry at his teeth, violently scrubbing the plaque off them, while carrying a little paper cup full of rinsing water and a tube of toothpaste in the other hand.

I found this sight thrilling! It reminded me that I do, in fact, live in a quirky city, and not an oversize town parading as a city. The last time I felt this good about my street was the day I moved in. I walked out of my building to find a woman taking her kitten out for a walk on a leash.

So thank you teeth brushing guy! You made my Seattle Sunday.