Burp! Where Food Happens

New Year's Day: Banana Pancakes with Eggnog & Pecans

2010-01-01T01:30:00.002-06:00

Did you ever wonder what happens to perfectly ripe bananas when you accidentally leave them in the car overnight in December? Yeah, me neither.

But we found out just the other day. And it wasn't pretty.
Apparently a few hours in a car when the weather falls below 30ºF causes bananas to blacken and turn a bit... well, mushy. Kinda like storing them in the refrigerator.

But, as they say, necessity is often the mother of invention.
We just happened to have a quart of eggnog leftover from the holidays. We also happened to possess some unusually beautiful (and tasty) pecans. So, we decided to whip up something wonderful with our blackened bananas... pancakes anyone??

(You'll note that one small bunch of bananas managed to make it into the house with us... and they served as our banana models while the mushy batch ended up in the pancake batter).

Mix together the dry ingredients in one bowl (chopped pecans, whole wheat flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar), and the wet ingredients in another (mashed brown bananas, vanilla, eggnog, eggs, olive oil). Then combine the two and stir until just combined. You can substitute a bit of yogurt or kefir for the eggnog, if you'd like (milk also works, but you'll want to watch the consistency of the batter so that it doesn't get too thin).

Heat up your pancake griddle with a bit of melted butter, and then add your pancake batter about a 1/3 cup at a time to the griddle.

Cook the pancakes until the tops of the pancakes are bubbling, and the undersides are golden brown.

Serve the finished product with a bit of maple syrup and some extra pecans and bananas.

Or, if you're like me, you can serve them up with a bunch of extra bananas and a bit of syrup.

Either way, as a result of our misfortune, you too can take a dark, mushy situation and turn it into something positively delicious! Just perfect for a bit of breakfast on New Year's Day!

Banana Pancakes with Eggnog & Pecans

May this be just the beginning of all that is delicious in 2010!

©BURP! Where Food Happens

The Miracle of a New Year.

2009-12-30T19:21:00.005-06:00

So, here we sit, in the last few days of a year that's been fraught with plenty of good -- but enough bad that I can't imagine wanting to hit "replay". And yet, I'm feeling very peaceful.

It's remarkable to think about the hope, the potential, and the joyful mystery of the new year. I'm certainly not delusional, but I've always somehow believed in the hope that springs new upon the eve of the new year. And, as I sit here contemplating what's to come -- I feel that hope.

Tomorrow we will wake up early. If we get up early enough, there will be coffee. And a bit of kranzkuchen. Steph will arrive and we'll drive off to gather our wares for another New Year's feast. This year, we're exploring Asian cuisine. We'll make up a bit of sushi, maybe some Chinese dumplings, a few eggrolls, some tempura, and whatever else we feel inspired to create. We'll cook all day, and nibble as we go. We'll laugh. Play games. Drink wine. And enjoy one another's company. At midnight, we'll crack open a bottle of champagne and toast the new year.

And when it's all over, we'll drift off to sleep with smiling faces and full bellies. And we'll wake up to a blank slate. A new calendar. And the hope that, somehow, an exciting stretch of days just waiting to be shaped into something new, lay before us.

Although it's virtually impossible to simply place all of our burdens down at 11:59 p.m. on the eve of the new year, and wake up to an utterly clean slate on the first of the year, it's certainly a contemplation worth having.

Our hopes and goals for 2010

Stress less, and pray more.

Love freely and deeply. 
Judge less, and be generous with our grace cards. 
Open up, and reach out. 
Stretch our boundaries.
Do more creating, and less tearing down. 
Eat well, and share meals often. 
Explore the boundaries of new cooking worlds. 
Focus on the immense possibility of possibility.

As you reflect on 2009 and step over the threshold of the new year, may only good await.
And may your 2010 hold nothing less than miracles.


©BURP! Where Food Happens

Christmas Roast Beast and other random shots

2009-12-28T13:08:00.001-06:00

So, how were the holidays at your place?
Our hope is that you were delighted by the company of your most cherished friends and family, satiated by platters of scrumptious food, and made all bright and cheery by a few glasses of great wine.

We certainly were! Nope, I cannot tell a lie. Christmas dinner at our house this year was a positively delicious affair:

Baby winter greens with maple cinnamon walnuts, cranberry goat cheese, fresh raspberries, and lemon-raspberry vinaigrette.
Thyme and garlic rubbed standing rib roast
Porcini & bacon sauce
Parmesan mashed potatoes
Spinach gratin
Roasted romanesco with rosemary garlic butter
Hot buttered rum cheesecakes with rum caramel sauce

We started off by ordering a standing rib roast of beast from our local butcher... Bunzel's Meat Market bequeathed us with ten delicious pounds of USDA prime first-cut beef. We couldn't really argue with that, now, could we?

Preparation of the roast beast began a couple of days ahead. We slashed the roast and slathered it liberally with a mixture of garlic (lots!), fresh thyme (3 T chopped), olive oil (2-3 T), and salt (2 T).

We also threw together ten adorable hot buttered rum cheesecakes (and their accompanying rum caramel sauce -- which we should mention is positively To. Die. For. I think that I could live on it!).

Awesome, huh?

Yeah, well. It turns out we're not the best when it comes to taking pictures of our actual holiday feasts. We get all excited about the preparations, snapping pictures every other minute... but once the festivities begin, we lose all sense of direction when it comes to recording the final product.

We did manage to get a shot of the salad, which we served while the roast was resting in the kitchen... but everything else seems to have gotten lost in the "ooohs" and "aahhhs" and the mumblings of satisfaction as we consumed the roast beast and its swoon-worthy accompaniments.

I'm particularly sad that we didn't get a shot of that bacon porcini gravy and the uber cheesy spinach gratin... soooo good.

*sigh* Maybe next year.

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Burp!'s Holiday Sweet Kitchen (and no, it's not more ice cream!)

2009-12-20T21:35:00.001-06:00

I couldn't tell you what it was, but this morning I suddenly got this eerie feeling that I needed to check my calendar. Boy, was I shocked to see that Christmas is just over a week away!! Where did the time go?

Fortunately, we have been doing more than simply resting on our laurels for the last few weeks. Our Christmas shopping is done (yes, done!!), we've ordered our standing rib roast for Christmas day dinner, and we just finished wrapping our gifts. Oh -- and we did manage to whip up a nice big batch of chocolate covered cordial cherries.

These delicious tidbits have become a holiday tradition at our house. And we couldn't envision Christmas without them. As of this year, we've been making them for twelve years running.

The cherries soaked in brandy for over a week this year, so these little gems are packing a bit of a punch.

And they're tasting particularly fantastic. We've packed up most of them to give as holiday gifts. But, we'll set aside a few for eating as well... I might even manage to hoard a few long enough to enjoy them on New Year's Eve, if Peef doesn't find them first.

Of course, if you're not a fan of cherries, you could make another one of our favorites: Layered Peppermint Crunch Bark. This stuff is hauntingly similar to the stuff you can buy at Williams Sonoma, without the hefty price tag. A full recipe of this stuff would cost you about $50 at WS. The ingredients to make your own will cost about $12. Yeah, trust me. It's worth the effort.

I also have a pretty fantastic recipe for fudge bourbon balls. You take barely-cooked brownies as its base. They're completely fudgey and wonderful. Come to think of it, we haven't made them yet this year. But, just the thought of them is making me a little bit drooly.

So, it's back into the kitchen with me...

In the meantime, I just want to take the opportunity to wish each and every one of you a Very Merry Christmas! I hope that your celebrations are filled with incredible joy, the company of your favorite people, and plenty of delicious food. And if we don't talk before the new year, may your 2010 be blessed with all that was good in 2009, and then some!

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Autumn Ice Cream: Browned Butterscotch Pumpkin

2009-12-10T16:48:00.002-06:00

Yeah, yeah, alright. So everyone else is blogging about Christmas cookies... so what? I'm here to prove that ice cream can be just as festive!

We've doing quite a bit of experimenting with ice cream flavors lately (hey, if David Lebovitz can spend his time doing it, so can we). And I'm here to reveal a recipe that makes it well worth your while to drag that ice cream machine out of storage again.

We've created the perfect seasonal pumpkin ice cream... many thanks to the wonder that is browned butter. You'll need just a few ordinary ingredients (pictured)...

... plus a few spices, about 5 eggs, and a little bit of patience.

First, you'll brown five tablespoons of butter in a medium saucepan. You'll add brown sugar, a bit of salt, and about a cup of heavy cream to the mix. You'll swoon.

Once you've regained some semblance of your composure, you'll whip together five egg yolks. You'll stir the browned butter mixture into the egg yolks (slowly, and whipping them continuously with a whisk so as not to cook them), and then return the whole mixture to the stove to make a delicious browned butter custard. Your entire kitchen will smell absolutely fantastic, and the next 5-10 minutes will fly past at breakneck speed.

At that point, the custard should be coating the back of a spatula or wooden spoon. You can pour it through a fine mesh strainer into a bowl containing yet another cup of cold heavy cream.

It will look so pretty, you'll want to take a picture. So, you do. And then, you'll whisk it all together -- adding a cup of pumpkin puree and a bit of vanilla.

At this point, you'll place the ice cream base over an ice bath and stir it until it's completely cool. Then, you'll pop it into the fridge until it's fully chilled (about 3-4 hours, or overnight).

If you're like me, you'll take the opportunity to whip together a delicious pecan pie with pecan shortbread crust...

When the ice cream base is cold, you can whip it up in your ice cream maker. Be sure to add a tablespoon or so of Scotch to the icecream during the last few moments of churning. The flavor is divine.

Once the ice cream has churned, you can pop it back into the freezer for a while while your pie cools.

And then, when the pie is still ever-so-slightly warm, and the ice cream is perfectly frozen, you can serve them all up together on a nice little dessert plate.

You spoon up a nice little scoop of the melting ice cream. Mmm. Buttery and rich. Cool and creamy. Spicy and dreamy. It's like the best pumpkin pie you've ever had in a cup. Or a bowl. Or next to that perfect slice of warm pie.

Your fork gravitates toward the pecan pie. The shortbread flakes under the weight of your fork, and then falls into a fantastic abyss of brown sugar custard. You raise the fork to your lips and take a bite. It's toasty and buttery and nutty and perfect.

You take a forkful of the icecream and the pie together. The convergence of flavors is like the best of Thanksgiving and Christmas all at once. OOOh... Yum!

You don't even care about the extra layer of body fat that you've acquired in the last five minutes or so. After all, you'll need it for the long winter ahead. And you can blame it on the holidays. *smirk*

Recipe: Peef & Lo's Perfect Browned Butterscotch Pumpkin Ice Cream

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Make Ahead Bliss: Corn Bread Pudding with Cranberries, Sausage, and Leeks

2009-12-06T11:04:00.000-06:00

Mention bread pudding, and most people think of dessert. But, savory bread pudding is actually some seriously good stuff -- and it not only makes for a great side dish, but it can also serve as a main entree when served with a nice pile of veggies or a side salad.

A frugal way to use up that loaf of stale bread sitting on the counter, savory bread pudding is a great way to create a comforting main dish from things you just have "lying around." Flavor combinations are just about endless, and if you play your cards right you can create a time-saving main course for just about any cool autumn evening. You can even assemble the bread pudding the day before you intend to bake it... a great idea for those busy nights before Christmas when every moment counts.

We've done savory puddings before, but this Thanksgiving we came up with a flavor combination that really seemed to bring out the best in local ingredients. Fresh cranberries, bulk Italian sausage, and leeks come together with melted fontina cheese and fresh herbs to create a dish that's as great as a side dish or main-dish entree as it is as a breakfast food (and yes, I was even gobbling the leftovers from this dish cold right from the fridge). This variation uses corn bread as its base; but, the recipe would work with just about any type of bread (just adjust the moisture content accordingly).

First, you need to gather up your bread. We added fresh chopped cranberries to our favorite corn bread recipe and used it as the base for our pudding. But, you can feel free to substitute your favorite cranberry walnut bread. Or simply use your favorite regular corn bread recipe and throw in a handful of dried cranberries (or even currants) when you mix together the pudding.

Cube the bread, and toast it in a low oven for about a 1/2 hour to dry it out and prime it for absorbing all the delicious flavored custard.

Depending on how dry your corn bread is, you might be able to skip the step of toasting it in the oven.
While the bread is toasting, you can saute up about 1/2 lb of Italian sausage and 2 cups of leeks. And don't be tempted to scrimp on the leeks. Two cups might seem like a bunch, but good fresh leeks will cook down considerably once they let off their liquid in the saute pan. Plus, you'll want plenty of that mild, sweet, leek-flavor; it really complements the corn bread and offsets the tartness of the cranberries in this recipe.

Stir together your cubed corn bread, sausage, leeks, and a nice handful of chopped fresh parsley and thyme. If you're using regular corned bread for your recipe, this would be a good time to throw in that handful of dried cranberries if you didn't add them to your corn bread recipe.

Shred up a bit of fontina cheese, and beat together 5-6 eggs with about 3 cups of milk and/or cream. Add the cheese and egg mixture to the bread and allow it to soak for 20-30 minutes, or until the bread seems to have taken up most of the liquid. Then, pour it into a buttered 2 quart baking dish.

Bake the bread pudding for 50-60 minutes -- or until set and browned.

Now just look at that and tell me that you don't just want to snarf it right up.
Be careful, though, and allow it to sit for 10-15 minutes before digging in... it's hot, and you might just burn your too-eager tongue.

Recipe: Corn Bread Pudding with Cranberries, Sausage, and Leeks

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Surprising Side Dish: Brussels Sprouts with Apples & Juniper

2009-12-03T07:10:00.003-06:00

For years, I took in the flavor of juniper berries primarily through my consumption of gin and tonics. But, lately, the balance is shifting. And I've begun to look for new ways to use the flavor of juniper in my cooking.

At first I was afraid that anything I made with juniper would end up tasting of pine needles. But, I've learned that that simply isn't so. While the juniper berry is a bit resinous in its flavor, it actually bears a pleasant tart-sweet flavor which pairs brilliantly with a number of other ingredients, including apples, bacon, duck, venison, and pork.

It's affinity for apples explains why this side dish, which we ate with our Thanksgiving dinner, was so fabulous.

First, you'll need a pound of fresh brussels sprouts -- cleaned and trimmed -- and one tart apple.

You'll also need a couple of teaspoons of juniper berries. They're available through Penzey's Spices online, if you don't have a local source.

Core the apple and chop it into bite-sized pieces. Prepare the brussels sprouts by cutting a small "X" in the bottom end of each (this helps the brussels sprouts to cook evenly). And crush the juniper berries with a mortar and pestle, or by smashing with the side of a knife.

Place about 2/3 cup of apple juice in the bottom of a large skillet and bring the juice to a boil. Add the brussels sprouts, apples, and juniper. Season with salt & pepper.

Simmer gently, uncovered, for about 5 minutes or until the brussels sprouts are tender.

This is decidedly one of the most unusual side dishes we've ever tried; but, it's positively delicious. The apple flavor tames the cabbagey tendency of the brussels sprouts and the juniper berries lend a sweet, almost floral quality to the dish.

Definitely one to try the next time you're looking for a new way with brussels sprouts!

Recipe: Brussels Sprouts with Apple and Juniper

Random Factoid:

Rodale's Illustrated Encyclopedia of Herbs gives some insight into the herb's long-standing reputation as a protective element: "The plant's pungent aroma has long recommended it for driving away evil spirits and disease. Legend has it that juniper planted beside the front door will keep out witches; the only way for a witch to get past the plant was by correctly counting its needles."

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Giving Thanks: Our Tiny Feast

2009-11-30T13:01:00.005-06:00

It's always nice to have a bit of time away during a holiday weekend... time off from work, from life, from the computer. But, now we're back -- and it seems fitting that we reflect a bit on our feasting, however humble it might have been.

We were married the day after (American) Thanksgiving in 1998. As a result, the holiday has become a relatively intimate affair. No huge family gatherings. No record-breaking turkeys. No controversy over whole cranberry sauce versus cranberry jelly. No battle between the white and dark meat folks. And no copious leftovers.

Instead, Thanksgiving day ends up being just the two of us chatting and sipping a bit of wine as we cook up a little feast. Often, we do slightly more adventurous dishes -- rabbit ragu, turkey mole, roast duck.

This year, we decided to create a variation on the usual Thanksgiving theme. First, it was our goal to be as local as possible -- so we started off by visiting the Milwaukee Winter Market for our ingredients. We procured a delicious little pheasant from the GBM Elk Farm, a pound of fresh brussels sprouts from Jen Ehr Family Farm, and some delicious Wisconsin cranberries, fresh Italian sausage, and from Outpost Natural Foods. I grabbed a few leeks out of our backyard garden, took the stone ground corn meal from Great River Organic Milling out of the fridge.

We put together a delicious savory bread pudding with homemade corn bread, cranberries, Italian sausage, fontina, and leeks. By far one of the best recipes I've come up with in a long time -- this bread pudding/dressing was even better as a leftover and simply perfect reheated and eaten for breakfast over the holiday weekend!

We brined our pheasant, and then roasted it with a few strips of Beeler's bacon on top, resulting in a very tender, flavorful bird. My one complaint about the dish is that the brine effectively masked a good percentage of the pheasant's natural flavor, so I'm not sure I'd use it again on a pheasant. But, I'm definitely interested in using the recipe on my next turkey.

Recipe: Wisconsin Brine

And we braised our brussels sprouts with apples in a bit of apple juice seasoned with crushed juniper berries. This turned out to be one of the most interesting dishes of the day. We were definitely surprised by the flavor the juniper berries brought to the dish (more sweet and peppery than piney) -- and we'll be sharing the recipe with you soon, since it's definitely a dish to experience.

Definitely an awesome local feast!

Sometimes I miss all the excitement associated with a big family holiday. But, I'm also grateful for the simple opportunity to reconnect with Peef and reflect on the wonderful life we've built together.

I hope each and every one of you had a fantastic Thanksgiving (for those of you in the states who were celebrating) and/or weekend! Rest assured, one of the things we've been thankful for over the past year is your friendship, readership, and great advice. Blogging has changed the way we live, cook, and eat. And it's all because of you!

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Worth the Journey: Italian Sausage Risotto with Brown Rice

2009-11-20T14:43:00.004-06:00

It's all true, those rumors that you've heard. I really am one of those people who will try anything once -- I figure that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. So, why not?

I'm particularly adventurous when it comes to food.
Differently colored vegetables? I'm in.
Strange seafood I've never heard of? ALL over it.
Funny smelling cheese? Oh, yeah. Gotta get me some of that.

Needless to say, when the opportunity arises to make something healthier, I generally find myself unable to resist. This time around, it started with a bit of ordinary brown short-grain rice.

Outpost Natural Foods had it on sale in one of their bulk bins, and I found myself thinking (always a very dangerous proposition). If you can make risotto with white arborio rice, which is short-grain, why couldn't you make risotto with brown short-grain rice? So, I decided to give a try.

I pulled out a bag filled with the Principe Borghese tomatoes that we'd dehydrated last summer, and pondered the possibilities. It seemed as if I could make the most of their intense tomato flavor by rehydrating them in the stock I was using for the risotto. So, that's exactly what I did.

While the stock was warming, I got all of the other ingredients together -- market fresh locally grown rainbow Swiss chard (along with their gorgeous stems), locally made Italian sausages, and some diced sweet onion.

I sauteed the onion with the chard stems in a bit of olive oil until they began to show signs of tenderness. I added the sausage, which I'd removed from its casing, and gave it a bit of time to brown just a bit around the edges. My sausage was relatively lean, so it didn't leave off too much fat. What it did render, I left in the pan for flavor. I added the rice and gave it a whirl in the pan to coat the grains with the oil; and, after they toasted a bit I added a splash of dry white wine to give everything a bit of additional flavor. When the wine was fully absorbed into the grains of rice, I started adding the stock cup-by-cup.

Those of you who have made risotto before know that this process doesn't take long at all, and it's by no means arduous. You simply stir the rice faithfully until the grains absorb the liquid, and then add additional liquid. The entire process might take 20 minutes -- and, to be honest, I've really grown to love it. For me, risotto is real cooking. It takes practice to tell when the rice has absorbed enough liquid that you can add the next dose. It takes rhythm to stir the grains, turning them onto themselves so that they absorb the liquid evenly and efficiently. It's repetitive. Relaxing. A meditation of sorts.

Well, I'm here to tell you that it takes quite a bit longer when you use brown rice.

Before you write me off as a completely ignorant dork, I need to tell you that I definitely expected to have to add a bit of time to the process. After all, brown rice simply takes longer to cook than white rice. But, I didn't expect it to take... an hour and fifteen minutes.

uh-huh. So much for all that talk about meditation. I stirred. I added stock. I waited. I watched. And I felt a little bit like I was watching the pot that was never GOING to boil, simply because it was being watched. I even walked away for a while and just let the risotto simmer away for a while. Just as I was about to give up hope and declare my project a failure, the rice actually submitted to my charms and began to achieve the nice creamy consistency that you expect in a good risotto. I will admit to feeling a bit victorious.

I stirred in the rehydrated tomatoes, along with a liberal handful of freshly chopped basil. I also added about a cup of grated pecorino romano cheese.

Even after the long wait, it was difficult to be disappointed with the risotto. Even the mere smell of it as I scooped it into serving bowls was simply intoxicating. The fresh peppery smell of the basil slipped out of the pan first -- followed by the distinct briney odor of the romano cheese. Even the deliciously sweet smell of the fennel from the Italian sausage was evident in the steam that wafted up from the bowl.

In taking my first bite, I noticed that the rice still put forth a bit of resistance against my teeth -- just the sort of resistance you want with an al dente risotto. Even better yet, the brown rice imparted that slightly nutty flavor that only a whole grain can give. I was really loving what I tasted. It was more than just healthy -- it was exactly right.

And I smiled. Sometimes dinner isn't about the journey. It's about the destination.

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Daring Cooks November: Sushi

2009-11-14T01:00:00.006-06:00

We. Love. Sushi. And we've eaten (probably literally) tons of it in our two short lives. But, we'd never made it before. So, we were pretty excited about this month's challenge.

The challenge had four parts:
Part 1: Making proper sushi rice – you will wash, rinse, drain, soak, cook, dress, and cool short grain rice until each grain is sticky enough to hold toppings or bind ingredients. Then you will use the cooked rice to form three types of sushi:
Part 2: Dragon sushi roll – an avocado covered inside-out rice roll with a tasty surprise filling
Part 3: Decorative sushi – a nori-coated rice roll which reveals a decorative pattern when cut
Part 4: Nigiri sushi – hand-shaped rice rolls with toppings

Of course, before we could start the challenge, we needed to gather our supplies. Turns out we needed to pick up quite a few things.

Rice vinegar (for some reason, I thought I didn't have any on hand. Turns out I ended up buying an extra... typical!)
Sushi rice (no, you can't be all creative and use Arborio... I don't care HOW Italian you are)
Seaweed: Kombu (kelp) and toasted nori sheets (turns out I had some Kombu from the last time I made miso soup... but I really did need the nori)
A sushi rolling mat (you don't absolutely need one, but it makes you feel very cool and official -- and we did find it made the process of rolling much easier)
Sushi meats: We found unagi (barbequed eel) in the frozen section at our local Asian grocer; we also found sashimi grade tuna and salmon at Grasch Foods in Brookfield
Sushi veg: cucumbers, red carrots, beauty heart radishes, shiitake mushrooms, sweet potato, avocado
Miscellaneous items: black sesame seeds, lumpfish roe, wasabi powder (46% true wasabi), and sushi ginger

A few words of advice. If you're going to make your own sushi rice in the traditional manner, be sure you allow yourself enough time. You'll need time to rinse, drain, soak, cook, and cool your rice.

Despite much eye-rolling, Peef was Exceedingly Gentle with the rice -- rinsing and draining them carefully so as not to split the grains. And he exhibited a Saint's Patience when it came time to dress the rice with the prepared sushi vinegar mixture and fan the rice until it had cooled.

One look at the rice told us that all the work was well worth the effort -- the grains were perfectly cooked -- sticky-yet-separated -- and they had a gorgeous sheen. The rice also had great flavor. The flavor of the vinegar was present, but not pronounced... we were ready to roll!

Off to the fun part!! First, we tackled the dragon/caterpillar roll.
In retrospect, we maybe should have started with something a bit more straightforward... But, despite some initial challenges with the sticky rice, and a few exclamations while arranging the roll on the plate, I think he turned out to be pretty cute.

The roll itself wasn't much to look at (even with the red lumpfish roe on top), but once we embellished the dragon with the avocado scales and gave him gorgeous fuschia-colored armor, things came together nicely. A couple of red carrot slivers and a bit of fancy scallion-flame work, and we were pretty pleased with ourselves.

Next, we put together our decorative sushi. We decided to go with the traditional (and relatively straightforward) spiral roll. We filled our roll with sweet potato, seasoned & cooked shiitake mushrooms, beauty heart radishes, and cucumbers. So pretty!!

And finally, we put together a few lovely nigiri sushi -- salmon, tuna, and mixed vegetable.

I was particularly pleased with the look of the mixed vegetable sushi, which really featured the gorgeous veining in the radishes, and the lovely color of the red carrots.

After we'd finished the prerequisite rolls for the challenge, we did a couple more rolls just for fun. First, a shiitake mushroom sweet potato uramaki, or "inside out roll" (we called ours the "autumn roll").

And then, spicy tuna maki. We made our spicy tuna with chopped tuna, mayo, and rooster sauce and embellished the roll with a bit of scallion.

And the best part?
Why -- eating the sushi, of course!

Interested in trying it out for yourself?
Sushi - instructions for sushi rice and rolls

The November 2009 Daring Cooks challenge was brought to you by Audax of Audax Artifex and Rose of The Bite Me Kitchen. They chose sushi as the challenge.

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Ward's House of Prime: How would you like YOUR steakhouse?

2009-11-17T22:31:00.009-06:00

Sometimes food blogging has its perks. One of the benefits is being given the opportunity to check out some of the new restaurants on the block. And that makes for some pretty delicious field trips.

This weekend, we had the pleasure of attending the soft opening for a new Milwaukee steakhouse. And, despite the fact that we're not your typical meat and potatoes folks, we were pretty curious about Ward's House of Prime.

The question at the tip of our tongues all evening was: "Does Milwaukee really need another steakhouse?" After all, Ward's is located on the corner of Mason and Jackson Streets in Downtown Milwaukee (in the spot formerly inhabited by Yanni's) -- just blocks away from the Zagat-rated Carnevore Steakhouse Moderne, Mason Street Grill, and not far from the Milwaukee location of Mo's... A Place for Steaks.

But, Ward's is making some pretty hefty claims -- high-end entrees at reasonable prices, an "upscale yet relaxed atmosphere," and an extensive 500-bottle wine list that promises to be one of the best deals in the city. So, we were eager to give them a chance.

We arrived early, figuring we'd beat the crowds; but, we found quite a number of curious onlookers had already arrived to check out the scene. Attentive wait staff were just beginning to offer bite-sized portions of menu staples. The bar was open and the house wine was flowing.

The Menu
Ward's menu includes standard steakhouse favorites, including prime rib, filet mignon, New York strip, and rib-eye, as well as a nice selection of seafood and chicken dishes. We were most disappointed with the menu's lack of regard for the vegetarians among us. Certainly, the emphasis here is steak. However, there is an increasing demand for vegetarian entrees in Milwaukee -- particularly at upscale restaurants which seek to "wine and dine" Milwaukee tourists and corporate travelers. The one vegetarian entree on the current menu is fair, but none-too-inventive -- butternut squash ravioli in boursin cream. Other veggie options could include stone-fired flatbread pizza or salad, and a fair selection of vegetable add-ons (including seasonal brussels sprouts, asparagus, the prerequisite creamed spinach, and green beans almondine); but, it's always a shame when the vegetarians in the crowd have to settle for the side dishes. Deal breaker? Probably not. But, we'll be interested to see if Ward's can expand their menu to be a bit more inclusive.

In today's economic times, starting a business can be risky; but, Ward's appears to be saddling up for the challenge. One of the distinguishing aspects of Ward's menu is its "all inclusive" nature; entrees are served with a choice of soup or salad, and potato. While many downtown steakhouses feature pricey entrees with a la carte side dishes, Ward's provides the whole shebang at a price that won't break your pocket book.

Ward's also plans to offer a bar-only menu that will feature more casual food.
"I don't want this to be known as just a 'special occasion' restaurant," says owner, Brian Ward, "I want this to be an everyday sortofa place. Casual, but upscale."

How the menu looks is all well and good, you say, but how does it TASTE?
Well, we did have the opportunity to give a number of the major offerings a try -- and we found that Ward's food lived up to the hype.

We sampled:

Smoked beef carpaccio -- tender, smoked beef on crisp crostini with just a hint of briney goodness from the black olive tapenade.
Chicken brochettes -- grilled chicken, pineapple, green pepper, and onion with a sweet hoisin glaze.
Succulent shrimp cocktail -- nothing too exciting about this basic appetizer; but the shrimp was fresh and tender, and the cocktail sauce more along the lines of a petitely diced salsa than a sweet puree.
Vegetable flatbread -- al dente zucchini, summer squash, tomatoes and a caramelized glaze topped this crisp pizza appetizer.
Caprese salad smartly featured bright cherry tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and sweet basil with a pleasant olive-oil vinaigrette.
Mushroom risotto -- delicious al dente rice with earthy mushroom flavor.
Prime rib -- succulent, well-seasoned beef. Tender and perfectly cooked. Definitely worthy of the Ward's name.
Bacon-wrapped water chestnuts -- the classic appetizer. Flavorful smoky bacon wrapped around crisp water chestnuts. Peef was in heaven.
The Prime rib chili was probably the most disappointing dish we sampled -- a bit too sweet for our taste, with few seasonings to note. Unique concept -- but definitely not the best use for an otherwise delicious prime rib.

The Guys Behind the Steak

Brian Ward, Owner, began his restaurant career as a busboy at Open Hearth Restaurant in Milwaukee. After training in MATC’s culinary program, he served as Head Chef at Smith Brothers Fish Shanty in Port Washington, General Manager of Highland House in Mequon, and most recently, General Manager of Mo’s – A Place for Steaks.

Bill Baumann, Executive Chef, is a self-taught chef who began his career at Milwaukee’s landmark German-American restaurant, Karl Ratzsch’s. After leaving Ratzsch’s, Bill honed his craft as Sous Chef for Ristorante Bartolotta. In 2000, he became the Executive Chef of Mo’s – A Place for Steaks, where his culinary skills helped the steakhouse become a Milwaukee favorite. It was a few years into his tenure at Mo’s that Baumann began working with then-General Manager Brian Ward.

The Verdict

Ward's House of Prime officially opened its doors to the public yesterday (Monday, November 16th).

While it isn't the most original restaurant to come out of downtown Milwaukee, it appears that Brian has a good gauge of his prospective audience. Milwaukee is a fairly traditional town, which means that uber-trendy establishments usually get the boot after a year or two (at best). Ward's brings a modern twist to the traditional steakhouse with affordable "full plate" entrees, an impressive (but not daunting) wine list, and a downtown neighborhood feel.

Our kinda place? Probably not. But, it's exactly the sort of spot we'd probably take our parents the next time they're in town.

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Lentil Soup and Rat Bones

2008-11-14T15:17:00.003-06:00

It's the beginning of soup season at our house.

How do we know? Well, there are a number of contributing factors. The air has a pleasant chill to it. The heat's on. And the farmer's market is filled with Brassicas, root vegetables, and winter squash. And that means we're moving beyond the namby-pamby brothy soups that can sometimes sneak their way into our late summer repertoire.

This weekend, we thought it might be nice to use up some of this lovely red kale -- along with some carrots, a couple of onions, and a few cloves of garlic. So, let's start there. I also happened to have purchased some of my favorite little legumes -- the adorable red lentils -- primarily because I was having a craving for red lentil soup. These pretty little guys are much misunderstood. They don't hold their color when cooked. And, rather than holding their shape, they tend to cook up into a mass of lentil-ISH-ness, which some people don't like. But, Peef and I both love a nice red lentil soup/stew/pulse, so we set out to cook them up.
"Ew," Peef winced as he was rinsing the lentils.

Since he sounded pretty grossed out, I spun around from my work sauteeing the onions and carrots, and gave him my full attention.

"It's a rat bone!" he shouted, holding something up between his fingers.

Ever the skeptic, I pulled his fingers closer to my face and took a long, hard look at the piece of debris he was holding in his hand. Sure enough, it was a strangely shaped, slightly hollow looking piece of ... something that looked like bone. Ew. I began to get a little grossed out.
Well, I should have known better, because the funky little smirk that began to appear on Peef's face belied the fact that he was completely throwing me a line.

"Of COURSE it's not a rat bone," he said, as if it wasn't entirely possible that an unsuspecting rat climbed into my bag of lentils and decided to die there.
"It's a stick.""A stick, yeah," I said, "Of course. A stick."
Feeling a little bit silly, I decided to take a picture. You can decide for yourself whether or not it looks like something that belongs in a bag of lentils or not.
In the meantime, let's take a look at the final product.
This is stick-to-your-ribs red lentil soup. A little bit chunky. Nice and thick (though not quite thick enough to stand a spoon up in). Perfumed by the scents of cumin, coriander, garlic, and turmeric. This is the sort of soup that is perfect when served alongside some na'an or other flatbread for dunking. Don't forget a little bit of lemon juice to brighten up all the flavors.
So, heck, make some of your own :)
Red Lentil Soup with Kale
The leftovers made a great side over rice with a bit of throw-together saag paneer.

©BURP! Where Food Happens

The Story of Burp! The Imaginary Restaurant

2007-06-08T10:55:00.005-05:00

So, how does the notion of an imaginary restaurant get started?
Well... the idea has been percolating for a long, long, time.

For as long as we can recall, Peef has wanted his own coffee shop. Throughout high school, he collected ashtrays and coffee cups as preparation for his grande plan — a wild, bohemian place filled with black coffee and beautiful women. A place of beat poets and jam sessions. A dirty little corner affair that stayed open late in the evening and catered to an artsy fartsy college crowd. But alas, the days of the coffee house grew tired. And the Seattle coffee craze became a trend of the past. And Paul gave up his cappuccino dreams ...

BUT THEN, in the spring of 2003, a restaurant went up for sale in Peef and Lo's neighborhood. Peef's eyes lit up in dayglow, and he began to chatter endlessly about the possibilities. They would quit their jobs. And start a restaurant. It would be fabulous.

As he put it to Lo — “It would be SO cool. We could have a restaurant SLASH coffee and jazz bar. During the week we would just serve appetizers and drinks and coffee. And we’d feature little live quartets and ensembles for entertainment. And on weekends, we would have a full-blown gourmet menu.”

He even started analyzing our daily meals — to see which of the entrees might be WORTHY to appear on the regular menu. The turkey-apple meatloaf that Lo discovered one night made it onto the menu. As did the fried calimari with aioli from New Year’s Eve. Lo’s “Mexican” tiramisu (served in oversized coffee cups) also made a big impression.

THEN came the discussion of NAMING the place. Peef and Lo went through any number of names before deciding on something very simple… “How about BURP! ?” The name evoked a sense of dietary satisfaction. It was a bit rough — but definitely not too derogatory. And it definitely didn’t make the place sound stuffy.

We could establish BURP! as a place for GOOD food, GOOD times, and free thinking. It was an excellent plan. And best of all — we could use the visage of a BABY for our namesake. It would be cute. Hip. And very cute.

So -- to make a long story short, the idea of BURP! really came up as kind of a joke — a random musing on a dull night. But somehow, the dream has stuck. And it won’t go away. So, I guess we’re somewhat obligated to cultivate it.

The way we have it figured, staying home and thinking about menu items will keep us from any number of other self-deprecating activities. It’s kind of like our anti-drug, so to speak. So, I think there could be a real future in this pastime.

I mean, come on — an imaginary restaurant. There are weirder things…. Right?

Ultimately, we're just two hopeless food geeks who harbor a genuine love for delicious (sustainable) edibles. We're not fancy, or fussy. But, we do love to create new and wonderful things in the kitchen. We keep the dream of BURP! alive through daily experimentation, and we share our successes (and failures) with you.

Email us at peefandlo(at)sbcglobal(dot)net

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Indian Summer Eggplant Lasagnette with Cherry Tomato Sauce

2009-11-09T20:16:00.001-06:00

Autumn this year sucked. It was cold, dreary. Prematurely grey.
But, I was being a good sport. I turned the heat on in the house. I wore my winter jacket outside (sometimes with a scarf). And I had myself all geared up for cold weather comfort food.

And then, something strange happened. The frosty 36ºF days suddenly became balmy 69ºF days. The sun came out. Woodland creatures crept out of their premature hibernation and began to frolick once again. And a day lily in my garden burst into spontaneous autumn bloom (seriously, folks -- I wish I had taken a picture).

For some reason, it seemed wrong to blog about risotto when I could pull out the stops and hearken back to one of those luscious late summer dishes that makes your head swim with lusciousness. And so, I changed my mind.

Instead of hauling out the photos of that risotto, I took a mental journey back to those warm September days when the garden was ripe with cherry tomatoes. I thought back to the delicious end-of-summer lasagnette that's become a tradition at our house. Layers of delicious fried eggplant, roasted cherry tomato sauce, tangy goat cheese, salty parmesan, and plenty of Italian parsley.

Yeah, this was the sort of food I was in the mood for.
Just look at those gorgeous fruits. Succulent. Sweet. Bursting with pure tomato flavor.

On this particular occasion, I took about 4-6 cups of the tomatoes and placed them on a roasting pan in a 425ºF oven with a few nice long sprigs of fresh rosemary.

They sweltered, and burst. Their sugars caramelized and their juices mingled with the flavors of the rosemary branches.

I sauteed about 2 cups of red bell pepper and about the same amount of onion in olive oil. I added 2 cups of uber flavorful homemade chicken stock, a bay leaf, and all those luscious tomatoes. And I let the sauce simmer away for about 30-35 minutes.

Meanwhile, I turned my attention to the eggplant I'd picked up at the farmer's market. And took a sip of the glass of wine Peef poured me while I was making the sauce.

I sliced it thinly, salted it liberally, and then left it to drain for about a 1/2 hour or so; then, I rinsed them briefly and dried them thoroughly. Now, I know that there are skeptics among you -- skeptics who scoff at salting eggplant. Who claim that eggplants don't NEED to be salted. And maybe that's true. But, I'm not into doing extra work if there's no pay off.

In this case, I didn't salt the eggplants because I feared they were bitter; rather, I wanted to draw out some of the moisture from the fruits. This accomplishes three things: 1) It firms the flesh of the eggplant, which renders them texturally more pleasing for the lasagnette; 2) It adds a bit of flavor to the dense eggplant flesh; and 3) A salted (and dried) eggplant will absorb less oil when fried.

I seasoned some flour with salt, pepper, and garlic, and dredged the eggplant. When every slice was nicely powedered, I shallow fried every last piece of it in olive oil.

A few pieces got snarfed up straight out of the hot pan. But, most of them made it to the paper towels to drain. After all, both Peef and I knew what was coming.

While the eggplant was frying, the sauce was busily transforming itself into something positively fabulous. Peef took our stick blender and gave the sauce a whir to smooth things out a bit. He let it simmer for a little while longer, until everything had reduced and thickened. And then, he pulled everything off of the heat. He added a few tablespoons of chopped fresh oregano, Italian parsley, and fresh basil. Finally, he stirred in a pat of butter to give everything a bit of extra richness.

Then, the assembly of the lasagnette began. First a layer of sauce on the bottom of the pan.

Then, layers of eggplant, crumbled fresh goat cheese, chopped parsley, and parmesan cheese. And repeat. Keep layering until you've used up every last bit of eggplant. Then, top with bread crumbs and additional parmesan cheese. Bake at 375ºF for about 30 minutes, or until the lasagnette is browned and bubbles slightly along the edges.

Serve up the lasagnette in generous slices with a bit of extra cheese. Maybe a nice salad alongside.

A pan feeds 6-8 easily. Leftovers are amazing. And it freezes beautifully. In fact, we just ate the last of this batch a couple of weeks ago in the midst of a cold snap. And it was perfect.

Thick Roasted Cherry Tomato Sauce

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Cold Comfort: Root Veggie Stew with Beef

2009-11-01T16:58:00.000-06:00

This weekend, we both were able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Sure, there were leaves to rake... and a house to clean... but after all was said and done, we finally found ourselves back in the kitchen. And craving a bit of good old fashioned comfort food.

I have fond memories of coming home from elementary school and being greeted by a warm bowl of succulent stew -- tender beef and chunks of potato and carrots surrounded by a delicious brown sauce flavored with onion and bay leaves. Mom always ate her stew like soup -- in a bowl, with a spoon. Dad always piled his stew on top of the bread like a big, open-faced sandwich -- slicing through each bite and eating it with a fork. And me? Well, I remember eating all the vegetables first so that I could savor the few pieces of stew meat in the bottom of the bowl, and use my bread to sop up the delicious sauce.

Some things never change.
The weather has been sunny, but chilly, here in Wisconsin. When we ventured out to the farmer's market on Saturday morning we were surprised by the bone-chilling wind that greeted us when we got out of the car. Wow! Those farmers are sure dedicated folks! And we were glad. Our stash included loads of great stuff -- fresh mustard greens, red kale, end-of-season broccoli, winter squash, Ida Red apples, and rutabaga. The big question became "What would we make with our loot?" Well -- stew, of course!

The stew I make these days still resembles the one I grew up with... but I've taken a few liberties with the ingredients. Taking my cue from all the great chefs who remind us that a fantastic dish is contingent upon fantastic ingredients, we start off with a pound of our favorite grass-fed beef. This beef not only tastes better than your average supermarket meat, but it's seriously nourishing. Among its benefits, grass-fed beef is a great source of vitamin E, omega-3 fatty acids (7 times more than grain fed beef), vitamin C, and beta-carotene. Grass-based farming is also great for the environment (excellent article here at Mother Earth News, if you're interested). Healthy as it is, we're still judicious with our use of red meat. We use the beef primarily as a flavoring for the stew (rather than as the main event), so we can get away with using only about one pound of meat for 6-8 solid servings.

Another update to our beef stew involves... and you've probably guessed it... BEER! Yes, indeed. One of our favorite "stew brews" just happens to be one that's made right here in the Dairy State. Tyranena "The Devil Made Me Do It" Coffee Imperial Oatmeal Porter. Dark and sweet with plenty of coffee flavor, this beer really bumps up the flavor quotient in our stew. And it's mighty nice for drinking on the side too...

And then there are the veggies -- a couple of nice rutabaga, a few delicious carrots, and a handful of Yukon gold potatoes.

We chop the veggies into nice, rustic chunks. This stew cooks for quite a while in the oven, so we don't want everything turning to mush (anyone have BAD memories of overcooked carrots in their mom's beef stew??... yeah, that's exactly what we want to avoid).

Toss the cubed beef with a quarter cup of flour seasoned with salt & pepper.

And now, the cooking begins.

Brown the stew meat in large, oven-safe pan (a Dutch oven, if you have one).

When everything is nicely browned, remove the meat and saute a couple of sliced onions in the same pan. When the onions are just about tender, add 8 cloves of chopped garlic and saute briefly.

You'll notice all sorts of delicious browned bits developing as the onions cook. Feel free to giggle with delight -- all those crusty bits are going to impart some seriously amazing flavor to our stew.

Add a tablespoon of dried thyme to the onions, and stir well. Deglaze the pan with 4 tablespoons of red wine vinegar and a cup or so of the beer. Scrape up those crispy bits as the mixture comes to a boil. They should come off the bottom of the pan surprisingly easily as the vinegar and beer do their thang.

Add the remaining cup of beer, along with 3 cups of good quality beef broth, 2 tablespoons of Dijon style mustard, 2 bay leaves, and 2 tablespoons of brown sugar. Bring the liquid to a boil. Then add your reserved beef, chopped vegetables and three sprigs of fresh rosemary (if you've got 'em). When everything is boiling again, you can cover your pot and transfer the stew to a preheated 350º oven.

Check your stew after about an hour and a half. If the vegetables are tender, you're good to go. If things need a bit more time, you can let it go for another half hour or so.

If the stew seems too thin for your liking, you can remove some of the vegetables and use your choice of methods to thicken the sauce (I like pureeing a few of the vegetables, or adding a roux and simmering it for a bit). Otherwise, just spoon into bowls and serve.

Now, seriously... where's my chunk of crusty bread? It's time for dinner!

Recipe: Root Veggie Stew with Beef

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Poetic Disappointment: Raspberry Chocolate Ice Cream

2009-10-27T16:54:00.004-05:00

Really? How could ice cream be bad?
I'm still asking myself this very question. After all, it seemed to have everything going for it -- chocolate, cream, awesome raspberries. But, somehow, it just fell... well, flat. I'm still perplexed.

The sad story began on a Saturday in August. The raspberries were as close to perfection as they come -- big, ripe, juicy and local. We'd just procured them from the market, and had nibbled a few out of hand just to be sure. Sheer perfection so far as we could tell.
And we had a nice, fresh container of whipping cream, just begging to be made into something wonderful.
A bit of sugar, some cocoa powder -- the anticipation began to mount.

We cooked up all the good stuff on the stove until the sugar was fully dissolved, and then we took everything off of the heat and added those luscious raspberries to the mix. The pan sat on the stove, covered, for a while -- giving the raspberries just a smidge of time to soften.

And then everything went into the blender...

... where it was whipped into an oblivion.

It was gorgeous stuff -- light, fluffy, silky. It looked like a dream. We scraped it into a bowl, chilled it, and then gave it over to the ice cream machine.

It looked pretty perfect when it came out.
But the flavor?
Flat. Strange. Not-quite-right.

We tasted. And retasted. And scooped. And licked.
It didn't really get better.

But, we really HATE wasting food. So we made the best of things. It took us a number of weeks -- but we ate every last bit of the ice cream. The second round was "enhanced" with a bit of chocolate syrup (which made it passable). The third (and final) round accompanied a batch of seriously fudgy brownies (so good, we almost didn't notice the ice cream).

As you might have noticed, we were so disappointed, we didn't even take photos of the final product... but we did write a little bit of bad poetry.

Ode to Chocolate Raspberry Disappointment
Oh you -- brown creamy treat,
For which we had high hopes.
We sacrificed ripened fruit in your image.
We whipped you in our blender,
Praying for whirled peace.
In exchange, you gave us Brain Freeze.
And an appetite for disaster.

Cold and sweet, but not satisfying.
Like a winter day in August.
We masked you in chocolate syrup.
And still you would not satisfy.

Oh you -- brown creamy creamy treat,
You are not worthy of our pleasure.
Your looks deceive and taunt us.
Chocolate Expectation flaunts
What it can never hope to deliver.
Your whipped creamy goodness
Is but a facade.

And so, we sing of your deceit.
And warn our neighbors.
We spare even the landfill your presence --
And eat what we cannot savor.

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Daring Cooks October: Vietnamese Pho Ga

2009-10-14T04:57:00.017-05:00

It was our first assignment from the Daring Cooks, and we were pretty stoked. I'd always wanted to make Pho, but had never managed to get around to it. Not only that, there was a great little Vietnamese grocery story down the block from us that we'd been meaning to check out. So, it was the perfect "assignment" for us. Heck -- we even screwed it up (go ahead, laugh... ). How's that for starting things off with a bang??!!

Originally, our intent was to make beef pho -- but, when we found the perfect pasture-raised chicken at the market, we changed our tune. Neither of us had ever experienced the chicken rendition of this dish -- so it would be something completely new to us.

We sped off to Viet Ho (on 49th and North) and took our time perusing the aisles. We found a (huge) bag of mung bean sprouts, a bottle of high quality nam pla (fish sauce), and a package of rice noodles... among other things. We're planning a return trip one of these weeks to delve a bit more deeply into all the great Asian ingredients.

When we got home, the first thing we did was to char the onions and ginger root. The onions blackened up gorgeously -- and we were excited about the rich flavor they would impart to the broth. In retrospect, the ginger could have used a few more minutes of heat to really intensify its flavor, and the next time I try this I'll chop the root roughly to give it a bit more surface area for browning, but it wasn't a mistake I'd lose much sleep over.
While the onions were under the broiler, we chopped up our chicken (exposing plenty of delicious, nutritious, bone marrow) and put our chicken on to par-boil. This step is meant to allow many of the impurities to be flushed out of the chicken and ensure a broth with infinitely more clarity. It made sense, but we were eager to see how effective it would really be. The chicken boiled, and the foam rose. When it had boiled for 5 minutes on high, we drained the pot, rinsed the chicken, and started all over again with a clean pot and a fresh batch of water.
This time around, we added the power-packed flavor components -- the charred onion & ginger, 2 T coriander seeds, a couple of star anise, 4 cloves, and a healthy little bunch of cilantro stems. Based on what I read on the Daring Cooks' forum, I expected to have to toast the spices (a great idea, really)... but no such directions seemed to exist in the recipe. So, I threw everything in "as is". Big Mistake. As you'll find out, our soup turned out just fine -- but the depth of flavor was definitely missing.

Of course, this mistake simply served to confirm something I've always known, deep down. ALWAYS trust your instincts. Never follow directions exactly. Even when you're completing your first Daring Cooks Challenge :)
We brought everything back to a boil and began skimming the foam that rose to the top of the pot. The recipe suggests skimming every 20 minutes for the best clarity. Despite the recipe's instructions, I really only had to skim the broth once (albeit very thoroughly) in the beginning, but we kept watch for the full 1 1/2 hours just in case.
We had to admit it. The clarity of the broth was impressive -- so, I'm definitely tucking the par-boiled chicken trick into my pocket for future use. It came out perfectly -- gorgeous and golden, with only the slightest traces of debris in the final product (something that could have been easily remedied had I used cheesecloth to strain the broth a final time).

The process wasn't at all harrowing - although I did become a bit annoyed with the coriander and star anise. Originally, it floated freely in the broth -- but what that meant is that I was constantly fighting not to skim it out along with the foam. Fortunately, we happened upon a fairly easy solution -- a spice tea bag, tied with a bit of kitchen twine. Perfect.
Enhanced by bits of shaved red onion, sliced jalapeno pepper, cilantro, and bean sprouts, the soup really was quite lovely. We used a relatively light hand with the Siracha and hoisin sauce -- just to let the flavors of the broth shine through. The final product was definitely prettier than the simple golden chicken noodle soup of my youth. Everything tasted so... fresh. And the textural elements of the add-ins brought something truly special to this soup.That said, the flavor of the broth (the real measure of Pho, according to all I've read) simply wasn't quite up to the level I expected. Despite the fact that the spiciness of the star anise and coriander were fairly evident, the flavor was almost *too* delicate. I missed the flavor of the clove and cilantro almost entirely, and (even after adding additional fish sauce and a touch of sugar) I still wanted a little bit of something more. Adding a touch of salt helped -- but the next time I make this, I'll definitely be toasting those spices (heh -- I can't believe the recipe didn't mention anything about that step!). Heck, I might even add MORE of them. And yeah, I'll be adding an extra charred onion to the mix. I'm even thinking that the chicken could use a bit of roasting -- just to give it a little bit more oomph.
That said, we enjoyed ourselves a great deal. The soup was a nice departure from all the heavier foods we've been eating now that the weather has started to cool down. Enhanced with a more liberal dose of Siracha, I'm betting this soup would be an awesome antidote for a winter cold. Or a pleasant addition to a light spring spread. Would also be fun to make for guests. I'm already contemplating the myriad options for fresh veggie add-ins... thin, crisp French green beans, julienned radishes, shredded carrots... the possibilities are endless.

Pho Ga: Vietnamese Chicken Noodle Soup

The October 2009 Daring Cooks’ challenge was brought to us by Jaden of the blog Steamy Kitchen. The recipes are from her new cookbook, The Steamy Kitchen Cookbook.

Also submitted as part of Real Food Wednesdays -- where great people post about real nourishing grub.

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Frantic Food: Oven Roasted Rattatoille with Herbs de Provence

2009-10-20T17:09:00.011-05:00

I positively ADORE autumn.
Normally, October is the time of year when I take stock of my life, get organized, and settle into the idea that winter is approaching. I make soup, take time to watch the leaves fall, and reminisce about autumns past. I don't even mind the fact that I have to put on a sweater -- the crisp air is somehow part of the experience. We take leisurely strolls through the woods, pick apples at the orchard, and spend our weekends clipping spent blooms and cleaning up the gardens.

NOT this year. October has been a BLUR.
So far, we've been out of town almost every weekend so far this month; when we're home, our weeknights have been flooded with late meetings and work events. On top of everything, my dear baby brother is getting married on Saturday -- so we have been enrapt in all the necessary pre-nuptual activities.

Needless to say, our cooking has suffered. And our blogging?... well, you've seen the blogging.
We were lucky that the Daring Cooks challenge was announced a month ahead of time so that we could make time to get that done at the end of September. Most other nights, we're throwing things together in a whirlwind. Eating leftovers from the freezer. Sticking to the standards. And trying to prevent our already curvaceous figures from becoming downright corpulent.

Thank goodness for the farmer's market!
It's been a few weeks already -- but one of the best dishes we've managed to scrounge up was a gorgeous roasted rattatouille. Delicious. Nutritious. And perfect not-so-frantic food for a fairly frantic weeknight. Fairy tale eggplant, ripe zucchini, cherry tomatoes... Delectable.
We chopped everything and coated it in a liberal wash of olive oil. In the spirit of ease, I also tossed in a small handful of my very favorite all-purpose seasoning, Herbs de Provence.

When it was all mixed, I tossed it into a fairly toasty oven (425º if my memory doesn't fail me) and let everything roast up until it was perfectly tender. In the meantime, I sauteed an onion until it was nice and caramelized (truth was, I forgot to throw it in with the other ingredients).
When everything was cooked, I stirred it all together and scooped it into bowls. A chunk of crusty bread, and we were all set.

Have I shared with you that roasted veggies are just about my favorite thing in the world? Seems there's nothing better than a load of colorful produce that's been cooked until it's all caramelized and sweet. An ordinary zucchini takes on serious personality when it's kept the company of an ultra-sweet cherry tomato in the blaze of a hot oven. And you'd never accuse roasted eggplant of being slimey -- oh, no! It wouldn't win any beauty contests, but its flesh is positively silky and so very sweet... eggplant haters wouldn't recognize it if they didn't know better.

But, I digress. I've got to think of something quick to make for dinner.

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Winter Farmer's Market -- in Milwaukee!

2009-10-22T11:23:00.006-05:00

Eating locally in Wisconsin can be a challenge -- particularly during the winter months. But, a new development will make it easier for a great many of us. Milwaukee has decided to sponsor a winter farmers' market!

I caught wind of the market a few weeks ago; but, at that point the listing of vendors had not yet been released. This morning, I was excited to find an announcement in my inbox indicating that the market will feature locally grown produce, meats, and other food products from a whole host of vendors that we absolutely LOVE.

Some of the familiar favorites include:

Bolzano Artisan Meats Wisconsin’s first (and only) purveyor of dry-cured meats (located right here in Milwaukee)
JenEhr Family Farm Our favorite organic farm, located in Sun Prairie, WI.
Jeff-Leen Farm Awesome fresh eggs and pastured beef from Random Lake, WI.
Oly’s Oats Wisconsin-milled oats and grains.
Pinehold Gardens Another lovely organic farm, located in Oak Creek, WI. These guys not only grow great veg, but they sponsor the annual pig roast we attend every year.

A couple of other vendors we're excited about include:

Golden Bear Monarchs Elk Farm How great will it be to be able to get locally raised elk... and pheasants??!! (Beloit, WI)
Rolling Meadows Sorghum Mill Local producers of sorghum, maple syrup and honey (Elkhart Lake, WI)

The market will be held on Saturday mornings from 8am-12pm from November 7, 2009 thru April 24, 2010 at the Tommy G. Thompson Youth Building at the Wisconsin State Fair Park.

Favorite Things: Beet Borscht

2009-10-05T09:15:00.004-05:00

I keep telling you how awesome beets are. And you don't believe me yet, do you?

You have all sorts of excuses:

You hate peeling them.
Ew.
They make your hands all dirty/red/purple.
Gross.
They taste like dirt.

Beet haters even have their own community online... which, if you ask me, just promotes myopia among the haters... But, GO! Go check it out if you must. And report back with your findings.

In the meantime, maybe some of you will stick around and enjoy a bit of borscht -- which (if you believe it) I'd actually categorize as one of my favorite things.
I promise you, it's not just because the beets are so positively gorgeous (these came from the Jen Ehr Family Farm in Sun Prairie, WI). Borscht can actually taste good.

I have fond memories of borscht. My aunt made it every spring, and once I was living on my own she taught me to use the stock left over from simmering beef brisket to make my borscht -- and I'm quite convinced this makes some of the best borscht around. We use the "stock" left from making Burp! corned beef -- which is enriched with a bit of stout beer, tomato paste, and a variety of herbs & spices. If you don't have anything of that sort on hand, you can use a good quality (preferably homemade) beef, pork, or chicken stock. Add a dab of tomato paste and a bit of beer and you're in business.

And don't be intimidated. Borscht is just the sort of rustic fare that BEGS to be ad-libbed. Taste and smell often -- and the dish comes together more-or-less on its own.

We chop our beets and set them aside. I saute up an onion and a few cloves of garlic in a stock pot -- and then add the stock, which I heat until it's close to a boil before adding the beets.
A bay leaf, some dried thyme, and a bit of dill... and we let everything come to a boil and simmer for 30-40 minutes, or until the beets are tender. Sometimes I add potatoes and chunks of carrot to the mix. A bit of cabbage isn't bad. And turnips or celery root (any root veggies, really) actually work well here too -- though keep in mind that whatever you add will turn a VIOLENT shade of purpley-red and be virtually indistinguishable from the beets.
Once the vegetables are tender, you'll see that the broth has taken on a new character; it colors beautifully and thickens up a bit. If you like a bit of "body" to your borscht, you can puree some of the vegetables and add them back to the soup. Or you can simply eat the dish "as is". Borscht is definitely one of those dishes that is better the following day -- so I often make mine ahead and reheat it for dinner the next day.
We like to garnish our borscht with more fresh dill -- and usually a dollop of sour cream. You could do the same. Then grab a hunk of crusty bread, maybe a salad, and you're all set.

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Chocolate Covered Cherries

2007-12-13T09:06:00.003-06:00

We've been making chocolate covered cherries for at least nine years now. We give them as gifts around the holidays -- and everyone (it seems) loves them. We've hammered out our own special recipe, and tweaked it each year in the hopes that it would end up "just right".

Well, I'm pleased to say that, FINALLY, I think there is a method to our madness. So, we're ready to share our techniques with the world.

As you all know, there are no mysteries here in the BURP! kitchen. After all, good food is meant to be shared!

CHOCOLATE COVERED CHERRIES

We like to put ours in waxed paper lined cookie tins and give them as holiday gifts!

Just Peachy: Fresh Peach Ice Cream

2009-10-01T16:37:00.004-05:00

I'll eat just about anything. But, when it comes to fresh fruit, I definitely have my favorites. Usually it's berries -- raspberries, blueberries, blackberries... I could pretty much go for those anywhere at any given time. I'm a pretty big sucker for watermelon. And I adore a nice ripe pineapple.

Another one at the top of my list is the peach. I just love a good peach -- the gorgeous color, reminiscent of autumn sunsets, the miraculously fuzzy skin, the tender flesh. And that deliciously floral aroma -- oh, gosh, I could just faint with pleasure.

OK, so maybe I'm going a little bit overboard. But, the truth is, a good peach is a valuable commodity. And a good fresh peach icecream... well, that's just downright swoon-worthy. And it's so seriously simple that it doesn't even require a recipe.

Peach season comes a little late to us here in Wisconsin (and yes, we do grow peaches here, strange as that might seem). Door County peaches first started showing hints of ripeness in late August, and we picked up these dandies at the farmer's market in mid-September.
It was a fantastic, sunny Saturday morning and we decided to put together the ice cream base before heading off to do our weekend errands. We blanched and peeled the peaches -- four large ones that seemed to have particular potential.
And then we pitted them -- which took little effort at all, since they were so wonderfully ripe.
I really couldn't get over how gorgeous they were. Their perfume infiltrated the entire kitchen, and I was taken back -- back to the days when my mother would buy cases of peaches from one of the local markets, and bring them home for canning. She sat near the stove -- blanching and peeling and chopping for hours. She sterilized her glass jars, and cooked the peaches in their sugar syrup. Some she canned simply, in halves; we'd eat those for breakfast on Saturday mornings with our pancakes, or in the pies she baked especially for my father.

And others -- the extra-particularly-stellar ones, I'm quite sure -- she'd make into peach jam. Sugary sweet, their perfume redolent with cinnamon and nutmeg... that jam was my favorite. I ate it with relish on toast and English muffins, and prayed it would make an appearance in my lunch box on a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. Mmm.
Eventually I got back to the matter at hand -- which was the making of ice cream. I chopped the peaches, and cooked them with a splash of water and about 3/4 cup of sugar just until they were tender.
And then we whirred them up in the blender with a cup of cream, a dash of vanilla, and about 1/2 cup sour cream -- until the mixture was perfectly homogenized and, well, just peachy.
The mixture went back into the fridge for a few hours to chill, and we went about our errands. When we got back home, we fired up the ice cream maker and poured the peach cream inside. It whorled and whorled -- and the amount of air the machine was able to pump into the cream was simply incredible. The resulting ice cream was just fantastic -- light and airy and wonderful.

I got inspired to add a bit of maple cashew granola to the mix, so we layered it in between scoops of the peach ice cream.
It made gorgeous cones. The whipped peach ice cream was fresh and creamy. And the granola gave a toothy bite to things that made it feel, well... nourishing.
I could have eaten this ice cream for breakfast ... or lunch or dinner, really. But, who's keeping track??

This post is part of the Peaches & Cream Five Star Makeover Round-up.

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Roasted Chicken with Provencale Pistou

2009-09-27T18:23:00.002-05:00

I don't know about you, but the smell of fresh lavender always makes me a little bit pensive.
*sigh* What I wouldn't give (at almost any given moment) to be wandering about in the lavender cloaked hills of Provence... exploring enchanting villages, lush vineyards, and vibrant Provencale markets. Tasting wine and eating tantalizing food...

Considering my actual physical proximity to the hills of France, I usually have to settle for something a bit less fabulous -- a meandering jaunt, perhaps, out the back door and into our little urban green space where I have a few delightful mounds of hardy lavender growing. On rare occasions (when I'm really lucky), I have a bit of time to lounge in the grass with the crown of my head right up against the garden where the smell of the lavender flowers is really intoxicating.

Better yet, I can snip a few sprigs of lavender and bring them in the house for later.
On this particular occasion, I was having a hankering for roasted chicken. I'd been toying with the idea of "psycho-ing" the bird (see recipe for Psycho Chicken) and seasoning it with some pesto and lemon. But, I saw the lavendar, and I got to thinking. How about a Provencale Pesto?
I grabbed little whisps of herbs -- rosemary, thyme, summer savory, tarragon, marjoram, oregano, and parsley. And I added it to my sprigs of lavendar. Then, I came into the house, pulled all the tender leaves from the woody stems, and threw everything into the food processor with a few cloves of garlic.
A few whirs and a whorl of olive oil later... and I had some seriously fabulous stuff. The herbal aroma was completely intoxicating.
I saw the pretty little pastured chicken sitting there in the roasting pan, and I thought to myself "Gosh, that poor thing doesn't want to be poked and prodded with a knife."So, we opted for another great flavor-imparting technique. We stuffed the pistou underneath the chicken's skin -- and well into the cavity.
We left just enough of the pistou so that we could rub a final round of it into the skin. Finally, we placed a quartered lemon into the cavity.
And then, we tossed it into the oven. Well -- I use the term "tossed" fairly loosely here. I may have placed it in the oven somewhat quickly, but I didn't do so in a completely willy-nilly fashion. But, you can treat your chicken as you will. Rest assured, it will come out of the oven looking beautiful and brown and succulent.You'll cut it open and you'll gasp -- as we did -- to smell all the herbalicious deliciousness. The tender breast will be redolent with the fragrance of the pistou. Just garlicky enough to be wonderful, but not so much that you wake up the next day wishing you hadn't eaten it. And so wonderfully balanced by the flavors of the other herbs that you just wish you could eat and eat and eat some more...

You don't, of course. But, you definitely think about making this again.

Roasted Chicken with Provencale Pistou

©BURP! Where Food Happens

Brilliant Beet Risotto

2007-07-12T12:37:00.002-05:00

Before I share the recipe for one of the more lovely risottos I've ever made, I have to admit that I was inspired by a six-year old.

It's true. The August 2007 Food & Wine magazine featured a number of prodigious child chefs. One of them, little Alex Donowitz, bowled me over. Not only with his crazy hair (so cute). But also with his thoughts about beets.

Alexander Donowitz, who's been a vegetarian for all of his six years, combined two of his favorite ingredients—beets ("because red is my favorite color")and cheddar cheese—to create this super-creamy, vibrant risotto. "I think I'm the only kid in my class who eats beets," he says. (FOOD &
WINE)

I loved the idea of putting the raw beets in the food processor so that they could cook right along with the risotto, and I was very intrigued by the cheddar/beet combination. But I'm hopeless at actually following a recipe. So, of course, something had to change. I had to "up" the beet quotient (cuz that's what I do). Risotto MUST have garlic at our house. And we added a bit of horseradish to act as a foil for the sweetness of the beets, and we subbed a locally produced horseradish cheddar to give it a bit of additional kick. It turned out to be a truly fantastic combination -- one that is sure to become a classic at BURP!

Brilliant Beet Risotto

©BURP! Where Food Happens

A Sinful Dish: Baked Cucumbers with Creamed Mushrooms

2009-09-22T08:44:00.004-05:00

It's confession time.
I'm late to the game on something I promised you. And I hope you'll forgive me.

We got quite a number of requests for the baked cucumber recipe after we completed our Julie/Julia Challenge in August. Unfortunately, I hadn't taken many photos of the dish the first time we made it, so I didn't really have anything worthy of a blog post. Since the dish was so delicious, and we had fresh cucumbers in the garden, I figured we'd simply give it another try.
Well, guess what? I forgot all about my promise.
Fortunately, as of last week, we still had cucumbers in the garden. I also happened to have a pint of fresh cream on hand. I was roasting a chicken for dinner, and I figured the baked cucumbers would be the perfect side dish. Since there were only the two of us, I cut the recipe back by a bit and used only two cucumbers (I'm recording my halved recipe here; the recipe can be doubled). On the up side, that means the full dish is worth quite a few less calories. On the downside, it still ends up to be pretty sinful. And, if you're anything like me, you'll compound the problem with sins of omission and revision.

Sin #1: Technically, the recipe calls for English cucumbers, but I believe firmly in using what's on hand, so we settled for your typical garden variety cucs. I also took some other liberties with the recipe (which I'll divulge). Sacrilige? Maybe -- but it's the nature of my cooking beast. I can't seem to follow a recipe to save my life.

First -- you'll need two cucumbers. The original recipe called for six. That'a alotta cucumbers.

Julia Child's recipe requires peeled cucumbers.
Sin #2: If disobeying the recipe early on makes my sin even greater, I'll take the stripes for it. The truth is, I very seldom peel anything. But, I wasn't a complete heretic: I met her halfway on this one. I do think that peeled cucumbers tend to drain more efficiently -- and they also make for a more tender bite overall. But, I think the bit of peel left on the cucumbers adds a pleasant bit of color. And I really don't think it impacts the finished product in a negative way.
I did manage to follow some of the instructions. I de-seeded the cucumbers with a spoon, and then proceeded to cut them up into 3/8 inch thick matchsticks.
Of course, shortly thereafter sin #3 ensued. The recipe calls for green onions. I didn't have any on hand, so I substituted 1/4 cup thinly sliced red onions (and added them a step earlier). I realize the flavor isn't quite the same (and 1/4 cup is quite a bit more onion flavor than the original recipe calls for); but, I promise you it wasn't a disaster. And again -- a splash of color never hurts.
I salted the cucumbers and onions with just over 1/2 tsp of salt, sprinkled them with 1 tablespoon of white wine vinegar and 1/16 tsp sugar, and left them to drain for about an hour or so in a colander. When the time was up, I painstakingly dried them on paper towels.

Sin #4: Yeah, I was bad to the environment. Paper towels do a great job, but I should have used one of my white flour sack towels. Ah, well, you live and learn.
Sin #5: Sheer laziness.
Rather than melting my butter the old fashioned way, I decided to cheat a bit. I put two pats of butter (about 1 1/2 T) into my glass baking dish and placed it into the oven as it preheated to 375ºF.
By the time the oven was preheated... voila! I had my melted butter. I'd like to think that Julia would be proud of my resourcefulness. But, one never really knows.
I tossed the dried cucumbers in the butter and then added about a tablespoon of freshly chopped basil to the mix. Julia calls for 1/2 tsp of basil (or dill) for her entire recipe. Since I wouldn't consider overseasoning anything with basil to be a sin, I'm not counting this among my transgressions.

I placed the baking dish in the preheated oven, and let it go for about an hour, tossing the cucumbers a couple of times during the baking process -- just like the recipe said. See! I'm really a very good girl at heart!
Meanwhile, I gently sauteed about 6 oz of mushrooms in a dry skillet. I did it for a skoche longer than Julia said I should, but I'm not sure that really mattered a whole lot. After all, caramelization is flavor, right?

When the mushrooms were sufficiently cooked (by my standards) I added a mixture of 1/2 cup whipping cream and 1/2 tsp cornstarch (which I mixed first with 1/2 tsp of water). I let it come to a bubble, and then simmered it for about 5 minutes, until it was perfectly thickened.
When the cucumbers came out of the oven, I folded the creamed mushrooms into the cucumbers. And that was that!
I can't say this is the most attractive dish I've ever made. But, it's definitely got things going for it in the flavor department. Both the cucumbers and mushrooms are quite concentrated in their flavor -- and they really complement one another. The cucumbers have, somehow, remained crisp while the onions have wilted and begun to break down. Everything is accented nicely by the suggestion of white wine vinegar, which also serves to cut the richness of the cream. And, of course, there's the basil... which really makes almost anything better.

We were surprised by the dish the first time. And equally pleased with it on the second (and significanly revised) go-round. It made a great side dish for chicken -- and I could also see it performing nicely alongside a roast or some wine braised tempeh.

Enjoy!

©BURP! Where Food Happens