A Pancake Like No Other

In case you haven't already used that extra kimchi left over from a post or two ago, it's probably time to get on that before your fridge starts to take on even stronger odors. I offer pancakes, which taste pretty great despite coming from a batter that looks slightly radioactive.

Our neighbors kindly brought us an exemplary specimen a few weeks back, not knowing that we'd made approximately ten of them in the prior few weeks (this probably would have been a little hard to admit). They didn't chop up the kimchi or onion nearly as much, which made for perhaps a more desirable texture.

The process is simple and they cook quite quickly — the only tricky part is the flip. Give it a try either out of love for this stuff or simply as a way to pass it off on unsuspecting guests.

Kimchi Pancake

Makes Two Large Pancakes
10 Minutes Prep, 10 Minutes to Cook

The Goods

• 2 Cups Coarsely chopped kimchi
• 8 Tbsp. Kimchi juice
• 1/4 Onion, thinly sliced
• 1 Cup Flour
• Scant 1/2 Cup water
• 1 Tsp. Sugar
• 1 Tsp. Salt
• 1 Tbs. Oil for the pan

The Procedure

1. Add everything but the oil together in a bowl and mix until combined.
2. Heat a half tablespoon of oil in a large nonstick pan over medium high heat.
3. Add half the above mixture (or less if making smaller pancakes) and spread around until it is reasonably thin, a bit shy of a half inch thick. Cook for a few minutes until the bottom is crispy and beginning to brown.
4. Flip using your preferred method, then cook until the other side is also beginning to brown. Remove, and add a bit more oil before making the next one.
5. Either cut up before serving or simply tear at it with chopsticks, either way works.

NB: Go for the aerial flip.

Engagement Soup

Another one from Meg, consistent with the general theme of her posts. I contest that this one is slightly out of the ordinary, though.

This soup was inspired by an amazing day-trip to Toronto with a wonderful friend from college who now resides on that side of the border. We set out in search of thrift stores, art galleries and, ultimately, the acclaimed best nachos in the city. This led us, happily, to Utopia. I've referenced my nacho obsession in previous posts, something that began in college having lived a little too close to Sunset Cantina in Allston, the student "ghetto" for BU upperclassmen.

But, this post is not about nachos but rather the soup that preceded our nacho "entree": spicy black bean and corn soup. We were impressed, and Denali challenged me to figure out its constituent parts. This soup is even vegan friendly (if that suits your fancy) and will make your day better, even without a hearty side of nachos.

When in the testing phase, Graham and I also noticed that we normally double the spices recommended in most recipes, meaning we either like things with lots of flavor or have slowly eroded our tastebuds over time. Either way, take this as a note of caution when spicing your soup. Start with half of what we recommend and add as you like.

Also, as many faithful readers (hopefully) already know, Graham and I recently decided to make nostalgia for our college years a permanent feature of our lives. Yes, a wedding is in the works, however far off the actual date may be. We've taken to attaching the "engagement" prefix to everything lately — "let's have some engagement granola for breakfast" and " what sort of engagement salad dressing should we make?" — so humor us with a helping of this fabulous engagement soup. I think I can already hear Denali heckling several time zones away.

Spicy Black Bean and Corn Soup

Inspired by Utopia Cafe

Everything and Then Some

• 2 stalks celery, cut into small pieces
• 1 cup frozen corn
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 2.5 tsp. ground cumin
• 2.5 tsp. ancho chili powder
• 1 tsp. smoked paprika
• pinch of cayenne pepper
• 14 oz. can coconut milk
• 1.5 cups of stock or water
• 3 cups drained and soften black beans (which should translate to 2 15 oz. cans or 1 cup dried black beans soaked all day)
• Salt and pepper to taste

The General Ordeal

1. Saute onions and celery in olive oil (or butter for the non-vegans) until soft. Add frozen corn, garlic, and spices. We would recommend starting with half the spices we note here, then adding as you taste. Let cook together over medium heat for about five minutes stirring regularly.
2. Add black beans, coconut milk and stock or water. Bring to a boil then reduce heat to simmer for about 20 minutes. I normally let simmer without the lid to let the soup thicken, but feel free to top the pot if you want to contain more of the moisture.
3. Puree the soup, if you would like. Either ladle into a food processor or use a stick blender. Adjust spices and sprinkle with cilantro before serving.

NB: Enjoy with heaping plate of nachos.

Not Your Mother's Cabbage

I'll just pretend that posts have flowed at some regular interval. Having made relatively poor use of the various exciting grocery stores in the area, this dinner was inspired by seemingly unrelated food products — a pan-Asian extravaganza of chance. It is probably a bit of an exaggeration to say that noodles and kimchi don't inspire a host of ideas — I would be content to plop one on top of the other and call it dinner, but that doesn't seem worthy of a post.

This came out well, and is actually really quick to throw together — the udon are fresh and cook with remarkable alacrity. The faint of heart can try to hold back the kimchi juices, but there is enough stock involved that the potential for unbearable spiciness is fairly low. Probably we could have added some tofu, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.

Kimchi Udon Soup

Everything

• 4 Cups Chicken Broth
• 2 Cups Water
• 1.5 Cups Kimchi, Coarsely Choped
• 6 Shitake Mushrooms, Sliced
• 1 Clump Oyster Mushrooms, Sliced
• 1 Medium Zucchini, in Large Slices
• 3 Packages Udon (24 Oz.)
• A Few Scallions Chopped Small
• Maybe Some Tofu, cubed
• 1 Tbs. Soy Sauce
• 1 Tsp. (Asian) Sesame Oil
• Oil for Sauteing
• Salt and Pepper to Taste

Everything in Detail

1. Salt the zucchini slices (we're talking full cross-sections here) and leave to sweat on a sheet pan for a while. If you are feeling fancy, remove the seeds since they turn to mush when left to sit. Once they have released a fair bit of water squeeze what you can out of them and slice them into long strips the approximate size of the udon noodles. Heat a few tablespoons of oil in a pan and saute for just a minute or two, removing to make room for the mushrooms.
2. Saute the mushrooms in a few tablespoons of oil for several minutes until tender, then ignore until later.
3. Bring the water and stock to a boil in a large pot with a pinch or two of salt. Throw the kimchi in now so the flavor permeates the udon (or so one hopes).
4. Toss the udon into the boiling water and cook for just a few minutes until tender.
5. Add the scallions, soy sauce, and sesame oil — adjust seasoning.
6. Throw in the mushroom and tofu if using.

NB: Kimchi can get a little stiff after several days, so this is a good way to take the edge off...

Freakin' Cold Ice Cream

Prolific safety gear, careful planning, mise en place — not so much. Though one might think making liquid nitrogen ice cream requires some sort of scientific apparatus, a steady pour and persistence is all it takes. I wouldn't want to do this by hand, but in a pinch a wooden spoon and ski glove could probably get you through the evening with all appendages attached.

The most laborious task here is holding the dewar up for the few minutes it takes to get the mixture down to temperature. Whatever ingredients you want to use should be combined with the dairy until homogenous. Something that's taken for granted in the lab, this stuff is still pretty cold. Stick a hand in a cup quickly and you'll be fine — just don't grab whatever object you've inevitably subjected to the cryogen. I would avoid plastic and glass bowls, both of which don't love thermal shock. A stainless steel vessel is probably best.

Really this turned out exceptionally well: creamier than I would have imagined. Additionally the process is not terribly sensitive to starting conditions, as my measurements were less than thorough. I would highly recommend experimentation. As for a source of the stuff, surely you know a few physicists or chemists...

Dark Chocolate and Espresso Ice Cream

The Cake

• 3.5 Cups whole milk
• 1 Cup heavy cream
• 1 Cup sugar (raw)
• Around 0.4 Lbs. dark chocolate
• Two double-shots espresso (or strong coffee)
• Pinch of salt
• A few liters liquid nitrogen.

The Whole Shebang

1. Melt the chocolate in the dairy on the stove, also adding the sugar and allowing it to fully dissolve. Throw in a pinch of salt for good luck.
2. Add the shots of espresso or coffee off heat.
3. (If using a stand mixer) Add the mixture to the bowl and set up the paddle attachment. Get things going on low speed before letting loose a slow stream of liquid nitrogen into the bowl. Check periodically to see if anything has frozen to the sides, if so it can generally be scraped off with one utensil or another to join the rest of the bowl's contents.
4. (If braving by hand) Put on a glove, seriously. Grab a whisk for the preliminary stages and generally follow along with the other instructions until the mixtures gets hard enough to warrant switching over to a spoon.
5. (If using a hand-mixer) Probably wear a glove here too, really you are on your own here.
6. Keep adding the liquid slowly until the mixture starts to firm up, here I would crank up the speed a bit to make sure everything gets uniformly cooled. Continue further until everything gets stiff — you'll know by taste when the texture is right.
   

NB: Adding the liquid too quickly can cause local regions to freeze and gunk up the mixer, scrape the sides of the bowl and pause for a while until you reach thermal equilibrium.

Vegetable in Name Only

The similarities between this post and last do not cease at mere geometry of the subject matter. Logic forces me to admit that most quick-breads are hardly deserving of the connotation of nutrition evoked in their names. Zucchini bread is, let us face the facts, cake. Referring to it as such may decrease consumption — an unfortunate affair since this "bread" has come to serve as a zucchini disposal technique as of late. What else to do with the freakishly large specimens sturdy enough to use as columns for a portico? One gigantic zucchini usually affords me two loaves and change — this recipe is generally forgiving in proportions, so a bit of extra plant matter won't perturb the balance.

As usual I've opted to substitute butter where most recipes call for oil. In my mind it's better to consume fat that tastes wonderful than to simply dump in a bunch of tasteless canola oil. It's best to fill loaf pans less than halfway to facilitate proper cooking — a double batch of the recipe below manages well in three pans, while a single batch should probably be done in two. It keeps for what seems like forever, though one is hard pressed to let such a thing age beyond a few days.

Zucchini Cake

The Cake

• 3 Cups Flour
• 1.5 Cups Sugar (raw)
• 0.5 Cups Butter
• 1 Tsp. Baking Soda
• 1 Tsp. Baking Powder
• 1 Tsp. Salt
• 3 Tsp. Cinnamon
• 2 Cups Grated Zucchini
• 3 Large Eggs
• 3 Tsp. Vanilla

Fabrication

1. Preheat to 325F.
2. Melt the butter and bring the eggs up to room temperature. Mix the butter and sugar together vigorously before adding the eggs. Add the remaining wet ingredients, including the zucchini. Mix together all of the dry ingredients in a separate bowl, and then combine the two until uniform.
3. Butter enough loaf pans such that the batter will not go much over half the volume of any individual pan. Pour in the mixture and shake the pans to settle everything.
4. Bake for somewhere around 45 minutes, until something plunged into the thickest part of the loaf comes out clean. Rotate the pans in the oven once or twice, since in my experience burning is a distinct possibility. Let cool before slicing.

NB: More batches make more friends.

Happy Birthday Meg!

Welcome to Meg's virtual cake! Kenya is well beyond the shipping range for perishable goods, so this will have to suffice. Cakes are apparently not my thing, as I can tell from more data points than just this one. Bagels and bread seem more familiar territory, none of these weird ingredients like sugar and fat. Nonetheless I stuck a candle in what amounts to a coffee-cake and declared my attempt celebratory but lacking in finesse. It's better than sticking a candle in a bagel.

So here is to a quarter century, celebrated wandering around rural Kenya (sounds fun to me!).

Another momentous occasion here is that I don't think I've ever actually purchased hard alcohol, no kidding! For some reason it felt like I should be required to produce some identification beyond a drivers license — the equivalent of a commercial license or something. Alas, it was anticlimactic to say the least. I'll have to figure out something to do with this rum — I'm thinking back to Anna's adventurous Bananas Foster Cocktail and wondering whether I could really have more than one of those despite their allure.

The inspiration here is, of course, the bellowing cake-monger at the farmers market. He espouses his butter-rum cake as a cure-all, bound to increase your energy level as well as your GPA. My cake will raise my carbon consumption a hair, but I don't foresee any secondary benefits. The recipe is an amalgam of a few random samples distributed across the internet — buttermilk and baking soda won out as the leaveners.

Butter-Rum Cake

The Cake

• 3 Cups Flour
• 2 Cups Sugar
• 1 Cup Butter
• 1 Cup Buttermilk
• 4 Large Eggs
• 1/2 Tsp. Baking Soda
• 1 Tsp. Baking Powder (not really necessary)
• 1 Tsp. Salt
• 2 Tsp. Vanilla

The "Sauce"

• 1/4 Cup Soft Butter
• 1/4 Cup Water
• 1 Cup Turbinado Sugar
• 4 Tbs. Rum

Fabrication

1. Preheat to 325F.
2. Bring the butter and eggs up to room temperature. Cream the butter and sugar together, preferably with some sort of mixer. Add the eggs (on slow speed at first lest they fly out of the bowl) one at a time. Combine wet and dry ingredients separately and add, alternating between the two until everything is incorporated.
3. Butter a pan, hopefully a bundt pan, and lightly dust with flour as shown in the picture above. Whack the pan a few times to make sure there is an even coating and dump out any loose flour.
4. Bake for about an hour in a large pan or about 25 minutes for several smaller cakes.
5. Bring to a boil all the sauce ingredients aside from the rum and then remove from heat. Now stir in the rum.
6. Poke an absurd number of holes in the top and dump the sauce on slowly so it saturates the cake.
7. Coax out of the pan and enjoy. Perhaps sing happy birthday.

NB: Happy birthday Megan!

Some Representative Crepes

My parents have a crepe pan somewhere, of which I'm quite envious. Even though it looks to have been used as a buckler at some point in history, the thing produced perfect crepes. I've now, with this comparatively fancy non-stick pan, produced more than a few specimens resembling cardboard more than any sort of a pancake. What could be the problem? Apparently butter is as crucial a factor for the texture and appearance as it is for the taste. Don't skimp on the butter in the non-stick, coat liberally.

We never seemed to have this problem in the purple house in undergrad, but in that house we also went through 12 sticks of butter at thanksgiving, case closed. I remember the construction of a crepe cake there — based purely on a passing mention gleaned from some show on the food network. Something like 30 crepes with a pastry cream slathered on top of each. Eating this thing was a chore, and construction was a substantial part of the evening. Crepes have become a less frequent endeavor since.

These latest ones tasted best the first time I made them, after which I failed to write anything down. I think I've worked approximately back to that level now. The crepes will be excellent as long as the batter is thin and there is enough batter in the pan. The filling can be composed of anything one cares to prepare, and here I've opted for some mushrooms, caramelized onions, and spinach. The crepes take by far longer than any other element of the meal unless you have a second pan running. This really isn't an option with the amount of stove real estate I have to work with, so really you may as well just get all the crepes done ahead of time so you don't get distracted by other tasks while churning them out.

Mushroom and Spinach Crepes

For perhaps 20 crepes

The Crepe Batter

• 2 Eggs
• 3/4 Cup Milk
• 1/2 Cup Water
• 1 Cup Flour
• 3 Tbs. Melted Butter with reserves
• 1/2 Tsp Salt

The Filling

• 1 Lb. or more Mushrooms
• A few handfuls of "adult" spinach
• 2 Large onions, sliced thin
• Sour Cream
• Thyme or other spices
• Maybe wine for deglazing
• Perhaps some parmesan for the filling as well

The Crepes

1. Blend the ingredients in a blender or in a bowl with an immersion blender until smooth. Refrigerate for a few hours if possible. The texture should be kind of like that of heavy cream, but a bit more on the thin side.
2. Heat a non-stick pan (or otherwise) until water skips around the surface daintily.
3. Butter the pan so the entire bottom has a nice sheen. Remove from the heat and ladle in some of the batter — quickly gyrate the pan around until all of the batter has set and is relatively even across the bottom. The general method can be seen here
4. Cook until the bottom is starting to get nicely browned, then flip with your fingers or a spatula. Continue cooking until the bottom is slightly brown (it will be more spotty than anything.)
5. Adjust the amount of batter to suit your pan size, and repeat!

The Rest

1. With a liberal amount of butter, saute the mushrooms making sure not to overfill the pan. When done cook the onions slowly until caramelized to some degree (25 minutes maybe.) This would be the opportune time to rinse the spinach, though instead of drying it off just throw it into the pan wet with maybe a dash or two of wine to scrape some bits of the bottom of the pan. Clap on a lid and let the spinach wilt.
2. Add any spices if desired, and return the mushrooms to the pan until they are heated through. Adjust salt and pepper levels.
3. Slap a heaping spoonful or two of the mixture in the center of a crepe and add a dollop of cream to smooth things out — the ratio in the picture above is probably a bit excessive on the part of the cream. Add some grated parmesan and roll up the crepes for completion.

NB: I had to use baby spinach here for lack of another choice, but really it doesn't hold a candle to the taste one gets from the mature stuff. The first crepe always fails, so you may as well just eat it as soon as it reaches tolerable temperatures.