Tuesday, August 29, 2006

¡Viva la monstera!

When I first saw the beast-like monstera fruit at my local grocery, I couldn't resist. In addition to resembling a reptilian ear of corn, the monstera was said to taste like a mix of banana and pineapple. Could something that looked so mean taste that sweet?

In a word, yes. The Central American fruit has a nice flavor, albeit one much more banana than pineapple. That's no surprise, given its genus name "monstera deliciosa." I'm not making this up.

Eating a monstera isn't all that straight-forward, though. It ripens a little bit at a time. When the...(gulp)...scales fall off, you know that part of the fruit is ready. There is one slight problem. The fruit's many wedge-shaped pieces are each coated by a black powdery substance that has an odd texture. Rinsing gets rid of most of it, fortunately.

I've been enjoying my trip into monsterdom, although I'd still consider myself an amateur. Anyway, I can vouch for eating monstera wedges plain or mixed with yogurt.

Unfortunately, this fun fruit has been going quickly. Too quickly.

¡Muera la monstera!

Monday, August 21, 2006

Summing Attraction?

I'd like everyone in the Forkosphere to know that I bought this book at a church yard sale on Saturday.

I've had a Dim Sum column on my radar for some time. I've been meditating about it for months. With this book in hand, it's now a question of 'when,' not 'if'.

The Dim Sum column will not be contained. Consider yourself warned.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Maple Dilemma

I thought I’d share a little story from the past week
that, in hindsight, reveals part of why I write a food column.

The Spoonstress and I spent a lovely weekend at a wedding in Vermont. The scenery was beautiful, the rivers and nights were freezing (reminded me of our wedding) and the event was filled with interesting people. At the superb Eaton's Sugar House I ate a breakfast like this that required three plates and, in a separate trip, a slice of maple pecan pie to rival that of Fork & Spoon fame.

As part of the wedding, we got goodie bags with two tiny bottles of maple syrup (1.35 oz). But thanks to Friday's foiled terrorism plot, no liquids were allowed as carry on luggage on our return flight. I had a decision to make.

Now I really wanted those bottles of Vermont tourist booty, but I never check bags. Can’t remember the last time I did. Maybe coming back from a year in New Zealand. And I also hate to waste anything edible. The Spoonstress suggested giving them to the airline's ticket counter agent, but she wasn’t all that nice.

So I grit my teeth and did what every self-respecting Forkster would do--risked a sticky bag and a waste of possibly ten minutes at the baggage claim to get that syrup home. I know...The Few, The Proud, The Food Writers.

12 hours later, I was vindicated. I awoke to a note from the Spoonstress. Our milk had turned. I made a bowl of emergency oatmeal and doused it in maple goodness.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Frozen Frenzy


My popsicle column, Frozen Frenzy, ran in Wednesday's paper.

For those who don't get home delivery (i.e. everyone), you can read it here.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Frozen Frenzy

Note: This column appeared in The Chapel Hill News and is reproduced here for blog readers because the newspaper does not maintain its links.

On a recent trip to Washington, D.C., the Spoonstress and I made a seasonally appropriate detour to our favorite snow cone vendor. On a 98-degree day, we plunked down $6 for two cones of sugary-ice. They almost cooled us down.

In writing about the summer, it’s hard not to sound like an air-conditioning salesman. Such words as “sweltering” and “oppressive” hop onto the page. But my definition of summer heat is when you’re sitting in the shade, having a snow cone and you’re still sweating.

Sometimes you’re just gonna be hot. It is summertime, after all. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try to stay cool. And there isn’t a more energy-efficient way to do that than having a Popsicle.

Normally, that craving will put you at the mercy of your grocer’s freezer case. While you can do OK at some stores — Food Lion’s banana pops pack a punch of flavor —most of the offerings aren’t too exciting. (Note to local grocers — whither the Toasted Almond bar?)

To break free from the red, orange and purple doldrums, you have to head to Durham’s Loco Pops. There, a multi-flavored, arctic-like oasis awaits. As store owner and treat maker Summer Bicknell puts it, a pop “is, for me, a 10-minute trip to somewhere colder.”

While talking pops with Bicknell, I managed to sample some of her handiwork, including an amazing pineapple basil variety. I had planned to end my chat with Bicknell by pleading with her to open a Chapel Hill location. To my surprise, I didn’t have to beg.

“We’re looking at that — maybe next year,” Bicknell said. “We need to expand because our location is too small and Chapel Hill is high on the list.”

There you have it, Fork & Spoon’s first foray into breaking news. Now don’t get too excited, there was a “maybe” in her first sentence. But it’s encouraging nonetheless.

In the meantime, you’ll have to either hoof it to Durham or make your own. To that end, Bicknell gave me one recipe from her arsenal: Rosemary Lemon pops.

After being pleasantly surprised by Bicknell’s pineapple basil pop, I was OK with the idea of using rosemary. Then I saw how much it called for — 3/4 cup — and was a bit anxious things would get too savory. The cup of sugar soothed my nerves.

Now I should admit that I employed some creative rosemary harvesting. I would elaborate, but my lawyer advised against it. Let’s just say that if you looked for it, there would be plenty around to be liberated. Between the free rosemary and the other three ingredients — lemons, water and sugar — these pops are probably cheaper than the gallon of gas it’d take to get to Loco Pops.

Bear in mind that making these pops is a two-day process, because you need to refrigerate the rosemary syrup overnight and the treats need time to freeze. But before you put the paper down, it is an easy two-day recipe, if that helps. There’s really no need to chop up the rosemary, as it’s all getting strained out anyway. And dissolving sugar in water is about as painless as it gets.

You’ll need some sort of mold, although an ice cube tray could be pressed into service in desperation. The Spoonstress and I have two varieties, the far better being the inexpensive Kerr Drug models with a bottom cup and built-in straw that allows you to suck out the melted juice. I’m not sure whether the straw molds signal the pinnacle or the decline of our civilization, but I can see them baffling future archaeologists.

But let’s get back to those molds’ contents. When I made the rosemary-sugar mixture, I was sure there’d be too much of the herb. Then I tasted the finished product and had a hard time remembering another ingredient besides lemon. Never again will I underestimated the power of citrus.

A word of warning: That first lick can be a bit jarring. You may not want to operate heavy machinery when that happens.

“It sure wakes up your mouth,” the Spoonstress noted.

After a few tastes, though, your tongue gets acclimated to the tartness and the greener notes make themselves heard.

Of course, I suspect that strength of citrus had something to do with the fact that I hand-squeezed real lemons. After having done so, I heard back from Bicknell that while she usually uses fresh fruit, she employs reconcentrated lemon juice for this one. Given that, I’ll understand if you don’t feel like juicing 10 lemons. But I’ll be a little disappointed.

As for experimenting with flavors, which I highly encourage, Bicknell has two bits of advice. To make a simple solution to which you’d add fruit juice, heat equal parts sugar and water. There’s no such thing as too much creativity, unless it involves seafood.

On a sweeter note, Bicknell advises, “Whenever you freeze something, it loses some flavor. If a batch tastes perfect, add some more sugar.”

It is summer, after all.


Rosemary Lemon pops

1 cup sugar
1 1/2 cup water
3/4 cup fresh rosemary
1-1/3 cup lemon juice )using reconcentrated lemon juice will emphasize the rosemary)
Place chopped rosemary into a lidded, nonreactive container large enough to hold 4 cups of liquid. Add sugar to water over high heat. Stir until sugar dissolves. Bring to a boil and pour over rosemary. Cover and let cool to room temperature. Refrigerate overnight and then strain out rosemary. Add lemon juice. Pour into molds and freeze for eight hours. Makes about 8 pops.

Labels: , ,

You Got Cilantro on my Tortilla!

Normally, I'm not the kind of guy who makes anything that's "encrusted." But a recent stroke of serendipity rendered that last sentence outdated.

I was satisfying my weekly burrito fix and had some extras on the side of the plate to spice up each bite. There were banana peppers, a puddle of hot sauce and some chopped cilantro.

Now, for the serendipity: The phone rang and in my haste to get it, I knocked the hot burrito atop some cilantro. When I returned to my plate, I realized that the herbs underneath had become steam-smushed (technical term) into the tortilla. I had created cilantro-encrusted tortillas!

Not surprisingly, they were delicious. I've yet to have something that wasn't enhanced by fresh cilantro. The tuna fish sandwich--that vile concoction--is even elevated to palatable when mingled with apple slices and cilantro.

My discovery owed much to chance, like candymaker H.B. Reese's invention of the magic mixture of peanut butter and chocolate. Or at least how those Tastes Great! Less Filling!-like Reese's ads from the 80's depicted it ("You got chocolate in my peanut butter!" "You got peanut butter on my chocolate!"). Here's a fun variation on the theme.

I'm not sure if anyone will ever shoot an ad for Bloom's Cilantro Tortillas, but I do know I'm rolling my next burrito in the dazzling green herb. And for the record, it was definitely the tortilla that got in the cilantro.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Quick Update

The popsicle column--Frozen Frenzy--should run this Wednesday. I'll post it here when it does.

In the meantime, let me know if you hear of a place near Chapel Hill where a guy can get a Toasted Almond bar.

Friday, August 04, 2006

The Verdict

In a word, the rosemary lemon popsicles are good. I might even venture to say that they're damn good or dang good, depending on your location.

While preparing 1 and 1/3 cups of rosemary, I was worried that the herb would dominate the lemon. But upon first lick, I had to think for a second to remember what the other ingredient was. Oh yeah...rosemary. Shame on me for underestimating the citrus power of lemons.

If you like (real) lemonade, you'll enjoy these pops. They taste like lemonade with an unrecognizable, yet pleasant note. The shape of our popsicle mold is apt, these babies are stars.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Citrus-y Savior

Ten lemons later...my rosemary lemon mixture is now in its cocoon, morphing into popsicles. Fortunately, these yellow beauties quelled my fear that the icy pops would taste like a savory dinner. At least for now.

I'd heard rumblings about it from frustrated juicer owners, but I had never realized how little liquid comes out of a piece of fruit. After a 98-degree bike ride to the grocery store for more lemons, I now understand.

Just like any experimental or "out-there" recipe, the hardest part with this one is wondering whether all the time and money will go for naught. We shall see....tomorrow, when the rosemary lemon butterflies emerge from their cocoon.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Lemon and What?

After conducting more frozen treat research this weekend in the D.C. area (a classic, purple popsicle at my amiable mother-in-law's), I'm in the kitchen today. Loco Popstress Summer Bicknell graciously gave me a recipe that occasionally appears in her Durham store.

The recipe is for lemon rosemary pops, as pictured here. Now I know what you're thinking--heck the same thing is going through my mind--it looks like I'm making a Greek lamb roast, not a batch of popsicles.

Fair enough, but I'm reserving judgment until the first lick. What you don't see is the cup of sugar that I hope will turn savory to sweet, potential pot roast to popsicle.