Buckwheat Crepes

The sun is finally beginning to shine again, as the winter months are more behind us than ahead. Late this morning I walked over to a friends place and we made crepes. As usual, we couldn't decide on just one filling so we made three. Each of them turned out delicious enough to warrant sharing.

The thought of buckwheat crepes was on my mind when I woke up- one of those random food cravings that pops into my head when I'm dragging myself out of bed and getting ready to go to the gym. It seemed like a good idea, since the batter needs to sit for at least 30 minutes before it's ready. Every time I make crepes I wonder why I don't make them more often- it's a fun process and it takes only a little effort to get a great result.

This version is from The Gourmet Cookbook, which has over the years become one of my 'go-to' books for whenever I'm looking for a recipe that I've never made. It seems to have everything in it, and they are all tested and work well.

Buckwheat Crepe Batter
(enough for about eight 10" crepes)

2 T unsalted butter
3/4 cup + 1 T buckwheat flour
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 t salt
1 1/2 cups whole milk
3 large eggs

Start by making a brown butter: cook it in a small saucepan over moderately low heat until golden brown. This gives a nice nutty depth of flavor to the crepes. Remove the pan from the heat and allow it to cool slightly.

Sift together the flours and salt in a bowl. Separately, whisk together the milk, eggs and brown butter. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and whisk until smooth. Cover and refrigerate it for at least 30 minutes.

My friend has a fantastic cast iron pan from lodge cookware that is the perfect size and weight for crepes (and useful for other things as well). Let the pan get hot enough to make butter sizzle, and run the end of a stick of butter across the top of. Tilting it up slightly, pour about 1/4c of the batter onto one side and quickly roll the pan around so that the entire surface is coated with a thin layer. After a minute or two, flip it over. They taste best when there is a little bit of browning but they're still soft enough to drape and fold. With the oven on warm (250F) we stacked them on top of one another on a plate as they were finished- this keeps them warm. If you're not going to be using them right away, cover them up with a slightly damp towel.

For our first course, we sauteed some spinach with butter, a dash of nutmeg, salt and pepper and piled it in the middle of the crepe, folding the four sides in. We left a little bit of the spinach showing in the middle and topped it with a fried over easy egg. The runny yolk made a great sauce and the overall flavor was at the same time light and filling.

We then moved on to the classic nutella + banana, followed by crepes stuffed with sauteed apples with cinnamon, with a light dusting of powdered sugar and a squeeze of lemon juice on top.

When the fridge is empty, a simple squeeze of lemon juice and a dusting of sugar is a delicious alternative.

The poached and the soft boiled:

I've been awash by the pursuit of making soft boiled eggs. I like delicately piercing them with a small wire to release the air in them before boiling, and was pleased that my carefully timed 6 minutes this morning resulted in just the right amount of runniness in the yolk. Oh, egg yolk. Please pass the salt and pepper. A bowl of yoghurt with red current preserves on the side, a pot of yunnan at hand.

And tonight's lentil serenade was as much about the rendered pancetta, toasted spices, brown chicken stock, lentils du puy and caramelized onions as it was a vehicle for a poached egg, yolk barely contained by a thin skin surrounded by soft whites. My mistake of too much vinegar in the poaching water turned out to be a blessing in disguise- the overall effect of the finished plate would have not been complete without that hint of bright acidity. Next time I'll poach them with a bit of sherry vinegar.

Pamplona, day 1

Flying north of Madrid you could see the grid-like patterns of olive groves dotting the countryside. Flying into Pamplona, it suddenly became hilly- the outermost hills partially excavated for gravel (I'm presuming) in beautiful steeped rows.

This town is very old. It's also very typically Spanish- narrow cobblestone streets with high colorful buildings on either sides. I forgot how beautiful the glass enclosed porches are on the second floors, with their plants and character.

As nervous as i was about not knowing anyone, i've already met some very interesting, friendly people from not only Spain but from the US, Cuba and Canada (and Dubai). It's mostly wine reps, though a couple of them are looking to branch out into 'gourmet' foods because they're hurting for business. Being here solely for food, i've been fielding a lot of questions about salt, olive oil, peppers, ham- whathave you. In exchange, they've been telling me what to drink. Not a bad trade off.

The Navarra Gourmet group has put together quite the itenary for this trip, intended to show off the best of what Pamplona and Navarra has to offer. Tonight was a group dinner at the restaurant of chef Alex Mugica (or Mujica, depending on what text you're reading) in the La Perla Hotel. There are about 60 people in our group from all over the world, so the restaurant was closed and fitted to hold us for the evening. Tables were arranged by language spoken.

We were served two local wines- the red was a blend of cabernet sauvignon and merlot called Inurrieta 400 Crianza. It was fruity, a little sweet. The white was a chardonnay from Juan de Albert. Lots of apple and vanilla in the nose, and a buttery oak flavor.

First course was 'ensalada de esparragos naturales con sal maldon, aceite virgen y mayonesa de bonito'. White asparagus over mixed greens, with a syringe (disposable, individual serving) of olive oil, and a tuna foam on the side. It was delectable- i could have eaten two but it was the perfect amount to satiate me for a first course and whet my palate for what was coming.



In martini glasses they served a couple baked rolls of a mix of chorixo (txistorra in the local basque dialect) and queso. The wrap was made of bread, which was frozen, sliced thin on a meat slicer, wrapped around a spoonfull of the filling and then baked. A Cuban gentleman at my table couldn't get enough of them- his enjoyment was visible in all of the hand gestures for 'the best' and he managed to get the recipe from the chef (no doubt- i'll be on his menu at home soon).

Then, in my opinion, the best part of the meal: huevo estrellado, patatas y perrechicos. Poached eggs with the most brilliant deep orange yolk i've seen since I was last in Italy, on top of thinly sliced potatoes and 'perrechios,' the local mushrooms that are just coming up. They're small, white and very flavorful.



The main course was a choice of two options- lomito de merluza al horno con terrina de borrajas y jamon (hake with garlic, borrage and ham) or chuleta de ternera con patata nueva- veal with new potatoes and a roasted red pepper sauce. I opted for the veal. Again the serving size was satiatingly appropriate- just enough to savor the flavor but not too much to overwhelm you. The roasted red pepper sauce was creamy, not too spicy but full of that roasted-over-coals flavor that I love about good Spanish piquillos.

The desserts- i'm sorry, i didn't take copious notes here. Overall they were very sweet, and whereas the portions for everything else seemed right on, these were so rich that the abundance of three different ones on a plate was a bit overwhelming. It was a lactic romp of leche frita (fried milk cube, dusted with cinnamon), cremoso de queso (cheese creem), sopita de citricos y galleta rota de nuez, cerezas de Milagro (the cherries from Milagro were delicious) salteadas con helado de azafran y crujiente de remolacha. You'll have to translate all of that. The beets (remolacha) were shaved thin and oven dried, used as garnish.

More anon.

Loh Shi Fun

The challenge: shiitake mushrooms.
The answer: Loh Shi Fun

I wouldn't claim to know anything about loh shi fun other than that I typed in 'shiitake pork shaoxing wine recipe' into google and found this recipe. It seemed to fit what I was craving, and gave me an excuse to try new things from the Asian grocery store that I had never cooked with. I was skeptical until it was about 75% complete, but by the time I plopped a poached egg on top of fresh pea shoots on top of a steaming bowl of pork (two types!) and noodles, I was very excited.

From what I've read, it's Chinese in origin but has been made famous by a street stall in Kuala Lampur, Malaysia. It's sometimes called 'rat tail noodles' because of the shape of the noodles, though I ended up only finding frozen Korean rice cakes (which worked fine, however unusual).

The original recipe, from Food & Wine Magazine, is here.

I added sriracha (rooster chili sauce), and had to find a substitute for the kecap manis, which the lovely propritor of the local market recomended (it tasted like a mixture of molasses and soy sauce- I'm still excited to find the real deal that is infused with star anise). Not having worked with Chinese sausage before, I may have bought the wrong one- what I purchased was uncooked, and I think the recipe calls pre-cooked. After a bit of poaching it worked out just fine, though- quite fatty and sweet but very flavorful.

The pea shoots, which we opted to not to add while cooking but use as a blanket between the hot stew and the poached egg, gave a pleasant lightness to the dish. Overall it was a fun experiment- one I look forward to replicating and exploring more.

Salty island breezes, bone warming broth and my favorite of foods.

I haven’t been posting much because I haven’t been cooking much. I’ve been plagued by a hovering black cloud the past two months that seems to rain on everything I’ve cooked, depriving any joy in the process or consumption. I’ve been consisting on grapefruit, yoghurt with preserves and cereal in the mornings. Rice and salads in the evenings. Lot’s of meals eaten elsewhere. Breakups and challenging times do that to me. I’ll eventually snap out of it and regain my grace in the kitchen, but it’s no excuse to not write about what I’ve been learning. So here goes:

In Mauritius it’s a common treat to pick a pineapple from a tree and dip it in sea water, sometimes sprinkling a little spicy chili pepper on top. The first person to tell me about this was from the island. He was reminiscing about acquiring said pineapple and riding his bike down to the coast with a group of friends to pair it with the salty sea water. It was what they did on a lazy afternoon, with the sun shining and the ocean breeze blowing. It sounded like heaven to me, and I’m excited that he’s started a company that produces preserves and other spices and honeys from his native land. We should be getting them into the Deli in a few months, and my first bite of the pineapple preserves with chilies and salt will be taken with my eyes closed, imagining the smell of the ocean air and warm sun.

I was in my old haunting grounds of Chicago this past week, and my trip wouldn’t have been complete without a steaming bowl of Vietnamese Phở. Dora (ever passionate and knowledgeable about ethnic cuisines) and I piled the freshly torn Thai basil, ngò gai and jalapenos, sweetened it slightly with the hoisin sauce and spiced it with the Sriracha. It has a similar effect on me to how I feel when I’m immersed in a hot tub- it warms my entire body, all my yards of skin and organs from head to toe. It also makes me very sleepy, which was a welcome feeling since sleeping has been eluding me of late. I can never finish an entire bowl, though, and learned a great way of extending the joy from Dora: strain the noodles from the leftovers and warm it for breakfast the following morning. It’s my own version of ‘hair of the dog.’

I have a timeless friend named Brad who has a gracious place at the bar of a lot of the great unsung restaurants throughout the windy city. I always envision him doing a waltz between chatting with the waitress who’s inevitably a good friend, completing the latest crossword in the paper and watching baseball if there is a tele around. Saturday morning he introduced me to 'The Bristol' in Bucktown (2000 block of N. Damen). I ended up having brunch there two days in a row, and would have gone back if I could have. Straightforward and delicious, the small brunch menu features a lot of dishes involving eggs, all perfectly poached with gloriously runny yolks. The eggs benedict with stone ground mustard hollandaise sauce was great, as were the chilaquiles with New Mexican green chilies and lime, and the bourbon manhattans and bloody marys. There was duck on the brunch menu as well, which sounded equally promising. Next time.

Polenta Jacket

It's bone-chilling, paw-freezing, no-messin' around cold outside. Combined with my usual winter blues, it's hard to want to get out of bed in the morning. Especially when your apartment is drafty and you have no control over the heat.

That being said, the thought of polenta with a lacy fried egg and applewood smoked bacon did the trick this morning. Damn good. Nap inducing, which wasn't entirely helpful, but it thickened my blubber and prepared me for the world outside my door.



I don't have a proper recipe for polenta. I use the coarse ground variety that we carry at Zingerman's and cook it with chicken stock. The ratio I prefer is usually 3 parts stock to 1 part polenta- less stock for a thicker body, more if I want it to be loose. Whisk the polenta into hot stock over medium heat and whisk it for 15 minutes or so on low heat. Easy, straight forward. This morning I added a few tablespoons of demi glace (which is making a rare appearance in my fridge), and it added to the richness.

I fried up a thick strip of bacon with a few leaves of sage, and then added some butter and fried an egg sunny side up over med-high heat. I particularly love the lacy edges that come from cooking an egg in a hot cast iron pan, especially when juxtaposed with a runny yolk. Salt. Pepper. Parmesan. In temperatures like these, blubber building meals like this are a survival technique.

Snowed in w/ coffee and a chorizo tortilla

We've had a fairly major snow storm, and work just called to tell me that I don't need to be in until 2pm. I hadn't planned on having so much time today, but I'm not complaining. Last week's broadcast of This American Life, "20 acts in 60 minutes," is keeping me in good spirits, and I'm midway through putting together lemon scones, but stopped to take a breakfast break. I reheated some of the recipe below, and brewed a press pot of Intelligentsia's 'El Gallo Breakfast Blend,' which is a blend of Latin American beans. It's getting better as it cools, which is my favorite thing about drinking coffee- the way the flavor evolves as the temperature cools.

Yesterday my friend Marshall and I cooked from Michael Roux's 'Eggs'- a beautiful book dedicated to all things eggs. We chose this book because Marshall has a brood of chickens (affectionately known as 'his girls') who produce some exceptionally delicious eggs. We chose a recipe for a Spanish tortilla with chorizo.

(adapted from Michael Roux)

1/3 cup olive oil
1 russet potato, peeled & cubed
1 medium red onion, roughly chopped
salt & pepper
about a 1/2 pound of hot chorizo
1/2 garlic clove, crushed
2 T flat Italian parsley, chopped
6 eggs

In an 8-inch non-stick skillet, heat the oil. Add the diced potatoes and cook over medium heat for about 10 minutes. Add the onions, salt lightly, and cook for another 10 minutes.

In the meantime, chop the chorizo into thin slices (about 2mm). Add them to the skillet with the garlic and parsley. Mix them up well, without crushing the potatoes, and cook for another 2 minutes or so. Tip everything onto a plate and allow it to cool slightly. Wipe clean the skillet with a paper towel.

Lightly beat the eggs in a large bowl and season with salt and pepper. Heat the remaining olive oil in the skillet. Delicately stir the slightly cooled potato mixture into the eggs, and then pour all of it into the pan. Start cooking over medium heat, stirring gently every few minutes with the side of a fork, as if making an omelet.

As soon as the eggs are half cooked, stop stirring, and cook over very low heat for 2 to 3 minutes, until the underside of the tortilla is almost cooked. Slide it onto a lightly oiled platter, then invert it back into the pan and cook for another 2 minutes, until both sides are cooked the same and the middle of the tortilla is still soft.

Slide the tortilla onto a plate and serve it whole or cut into wedges. it is equally good served hot, warm, or at room temperature, but not chilled.

air gap dimple

Good eggs are amazing.

Harnois farm, from nearby Webster Township, produces some really great ones. The yolks are rich and solid, with a brilliant golden hue. You can tell the freshness an egg by trying to separate the yolk from the white- if it separates cleanly without bursting you've got a relatively fresh egg on your hands. Aubrey, who’s family has been on the forefront of trying to make it legal to raise chickens in Ypsilanti city township, also told me that the amount of the air-gap dimple at the bottom of a hardboiled egg is also evidence of freshness- the bigger the gap, the older the egg.

It's exceptionally cold in Ann Arbor of late, so I've been roasting vegetables in efforts to warm my apartment. This morning I roasted fingerling potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, and shallots with rosemary and dried pepper flakes. The piece de resistance was an over easy fried egg on top. The yolk served as a rich sauce (better than any hollandaise I've ever had), which is the simplest, most elemental way of tying it all together.