Finally did something with the first of three side tables I picked up for five dollars, two years ago, at the Royal Oak Antique & Garage Sale.  The tables are really ideal for mosaic, in that the surface panels are removable and easily replaced with plywood.  Consequently, the art is interchangeable, should I ever want to change things around!  I took Ruth Tyszka’s Mosaic Tables class at Creative Arts Studio for orientation.  It’s tricky enough to design a piece without worrying about choosing a suitable adhesive, buying the correct quantities of tile, and my particular concern: grouting without making an unholy mess.  Ruth was a terrific instructor!

I’m thrilled with how this turned out, for my first mosaic!  Once I decided on koi, the piece designed itself.  I was a very nervous about choosing colors for the background and grout.  I needed suitable contrast between the water and the fish, without making the whole piece loud or gaudy.  And with my decor, I wanted to avoid deep blues, much as I usually love them.  The accent stripes of medium blue ended up being a fantastic compromise to maintain the illusion of water.  Grouting turned out to be vastly easier than I’d expected, since the excess can be removed with a dry paper towel rather than a sponge.  I’d still do it outside, but it’s not that much trouble, all things considered.

What subject should I choose for my next two tables?

So, what is ammoglio?  It’s a fresh tomato sauce usually served cold that goes great on beef and would make a wicked bruschetta.  I first had it with short ribs on a grilled cheese at the incredible Cafe Muse in Royal Oak, and I was hooked.  In other words, I was determined to learn to make it for myself… so that I could again let myself order new and interesting things on the ever-changing specials list on future visits, instead of merely feeding my ammoglio addiction.  Unfortunately, it seems that that the recipe hasn’t really hit the Internet yet, making it nearly impossible to research. Chowhound readers suspect that it’s a localized midwestern Sicilian-immigrant thing, and the recipes I did find online just specified olive oil, tomato, garlic, and a vague combination of herbs.  I knew that Muse’s amazing ammoglio had to be more than that.

Much to my delight, chef Greg Reyner appeared on Fox 2 Morning over the Fourth of July weekend and divulged the recipe!  Turns out it is more than that, by two tablespoons of balsamic, but the balsamic makes all the difference.  I constructed a half-recipe in my little 3-cup chopper, which turned out to be the perfect size.  I suspect that the quality of the sauce is highly dependent upon the quality of the tomatoes.  I was lucky to have the remainder of the ugly but tasty Royal Oak Farmers’ Market tomatoes to use up; I didn’t remove the seeds and juice because I didn’t need to.  (These excellent tomatoes are convincing me that my mom was not kidding about the legendary tomatoes of her Arkansas childhood.)  I’m not anxious to make this in the winter, when I would have to choose between texturally-deficient but flavorful canned San Marzanos and fresh-but-watery supermarket Romas.  Makes me wonder where Cafe Muse gets their tomatoes… but I suppose a chef ought to have some secrets.

Now, when we go to try Cafe Muse’s new dinner menu, I’ll be free to order something new and fun that’s not ammoglio!  Which probably means ordering the other Cafe Muse item I’m addicted to: caesar salad with grilled romaine, which is more or less impossible to make given my lack of grill and/or gas stove.  Sigh.  Such tribulations.

CAFE MUSE’S AMMOGLIO SAUCE

• 2 cloves garlic
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/4 cup fresh basil
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 tsp cracked pepper
• 4 tomatoes (diced, no seeds, no juice)
• 2 tbsp balsamic

Coarsely blend the ingredients in two stages.  Start with the garlic, salt, basil, olive oil, and cracked pepper.  When that is thoroughly mixed, add the diced tomato and balsamic vinegar.  Refrigerate overnight to allow the flavors to meld, and serve cool or room-temperature.

I am a little bit in awe of myself right now. Today I aced my final exam for my rivers class (at least, I’m pretty darned sure I did) AND managed to cook not only a respectable dinner, but one of the best things I’ve cooked in MONTHS.

For background, I’ve been obsessed with our local Whole Foods’s Kalua Pork since catching a whiff of it several weeks ago. Theirs is basically a Hawaiian-style pulled pork, with pineapple. I already had dinner-making plans, so getting some hot off the food bar was out of the question that night. But I haven’t seen it since, and tragically there’s no way for me to know when it’ll be back on their rotating menu.

“Obtaining otherwise unattainable food” is a prime motivation for my cooking… it explains my fascination with Moroccan cuisine, my interest in artisan ice creams, the Teresa’s copycat balsamic pasta of a few weeks ago. And so Kalua Pork got added to my backlog of recipes to try. I bought a pork shoulder, with intentions of cooking it for dinner tonight. Only problem? Final exam. From 6 to 7:30 PM, prime dinner-making time.

Determined to still have a better-than-takeout dinner, I threw the pork in the crockpot this morning and set about pondering how to season it. All the recipes I googled for Kalua Pork were just… salt and liquid smoke. Which sounded downright boring. I didn’t trust it to produce anything smelling like the Food-of-the-Gods I remembered.

AND THEN I FOUND THIS TACOS AL PASTOR RECIPE from Closet Cooking. Pineapple? Check. Also, gobs and gobs of spices and flavor. Not Kalua Pork… but the Kalua Pork can wait.

I didn’t have: guajillo chiles, ancho chiles, or chipotle chiles in adobo sauce. BUT I had Penzey’s ancho chile powder, chipotle powder, and adobo seasoning. Good enough.

Having no idea how much dried chile powder corresponded to fresh, and no particular inclination to look it up, I winged everything. It was just me and the spice jars, dancing around the crockpot.

THIS. THIS IS HOW COOKS ARE MADE.

Since it was a little bit fatty and moist coming out of the crockpot, I threw it in a skillet and browned it retroactively. Great idea. And then I tossed it into a quesadilla. AWESOME idea.

If I may boast, I now make better Mexican food at home than I even know where to get around here… I haven’t had flavors like this since I was in Texas.

QUESADILLAS AL PASTOR
(adapted from Closet Cooking)

In the spirit of imprecision:

• a nice pork shoulder (2-3 lb)
• half a white onion, chopped
• a few cloves of garlic, chopped fine
• a cup o’ pineapple, cubed
• a splash of cider vinegar
• a healthy amount of ancho chile powder
• some ground chipotle
• some adobo seasoning
• some dried oregano
• a bit of cumin
• a pinch of salt
• cheese & tortillas

Cut up the pork shoulder into cubes and throw EVERYTHING in the crockpot. Use only enough liquid to get the spices distributed evenly. Stir everything until well-mixed and press it lightly into the bottom of the crockpot. You don’t need to cover it with liquid as long as there is good contact throughout; also, the fat will melt and onions will liquify. Cook on the low setting for 6-8 hours.

Strain out the meat and larger pineapple and onion pieces, and put them in a non-stick skillet on medium-high until edges crisp a little. The meat will tenderly fall apart as you do this. Now you’ve got a skillet of wonderful filling for all things Mexican.

And don’t tell me you don’t know how to make a quesadilla out of that!

So far I’m off to a good start with the cooking. Sunday’s lunch was a simple but stellar affair: the fresh tilapia marinated with dill, garlic scapes, and lemon peel, and sauteed in olive oil; the green beans steamed. I made a giant tray of cherry brown butter bars for my choir’s board meeting, then launched into making the remainder of the dill disappear. Half went into dill dip for the Fourth of July; another quarter into compound butter for future fish. But I still have a ton left! Any ideas? I don’t pickle, and don’t intend to start, but other crazy ideas are welcome.

I’ve been taking a great class this summer term on river assessment and restoration.  In addition to lectures, we’ve been taking various surveys of the North Branch of the Clinton River in Ray Township, Michigan to monitor erosion, classify the stream, and measure changes in its shape and pattern over time.  The only downside is that this field lab is scheduled on Saturdays from eight to two, which means I haven’t gotten to go to the Farmers’ Market since the growing season began.

What with the Great Strawberry Glut of 2010, we haven’t exactly been deprived of strawberries this spring.  However, I discovered a couple years ago that little local non-hybridized strawberries are many times more flavorful than the shiny supermarket giants.  However, I am not a morning person, the local strawberries are not plentiful, and the strawberry-growing season is short.  Inevitably by the time I get down to Royal Oak, the precious pints have long-since sold out.  The next week, I strengthen my resolve and arrive at seven… only to find that there is no strawberry vendor, for the crop is done.  I’ve been kicking myself this year for not being able to try.

I got lucky, though.  Right smack on Van Dyke, on the way back from our Clinton River sites, is Verellen Orchards.  It took me a couple weeks to notice it, but this week when I stopped after lab, there were fresh strawberries (and cherries) in droves!  I’ve got a crisper full now.  Mission accomplished.

In the interest of not missing next year’s strawberries, I’ve located this awesome Royal Oak Farmer’s Market Availability Guide.  Looks like our strawberries are, like fireflies, a fleeting June thing.

Creative Commons photo courtesy of Flickr user Matthias Richwin.

That’s the Zingerman’s mail-order warehouse, and this time of year—opposite the holidays—is their slow season.  Consequently, they’ve started up a series of secret sales for locals, where supplies are limited but discounts abound, usually better than half-price.  The best part for me is that they e-mail out a list of each week’s offerings, so I can decide if it’s worth it to drive the fifty miles, or beg a friend to act as courier.  Of course, it’s always tempting; I’ve hardly seen a week without an intriguing chocolate or cheese (or two, or three) on the list.  Today there’s goat butter and Balinese long pepper bacon to boot.

Read more at the Ann Arbor Chronicle, or e-mail warehousesale@zingermans.com to get on the list!

So reads the copy on the website of the oldest chocolate factory in Sicily.  Their recipe is directly descended from the chocolate of the Aztecs, as it was introduced to Europe in the 1600s.  If I’d known such a chocolate existed before happening upon it at Zingerman’s, I would have had to seek it out.  Instead, I was lucky enough to spy the word “cinnamon” on that bright red label in the midst of dozens of chocolate bars.  Cinnamon makes everything better, so I was already tempted.  When I pointed it out, the salesperson I’d been talking to insisted upon getting me a sample, affirming its excellence but warning that it would be nothing like any chocolate I was used to!  With a disclaimer like that, I was thoroughly intrigued.

She was right—it was completely unique among chocolate bars, and I’ve tried a lot of chocolate.  The texture was powdery with a rich and strong dark chocolate flavor, along with the irresistable crunch of half-dissolved sugar and a cinnamonny finish.  Only three ingredients are listed on the label: sugar, cinnamon, and cocoa mass (which is to say, ground cocoa solids & cocoa butter).  These have been blended and pressed into molds while still semi-solid, at temperatures much lower than chocolate-makers typically use today.  To think that this is what chocolate tasted like until one Mr. Lindt of Switzerland invented the conching process in 1879!  Silky-smooth chocolate as we know it is a mere hundred and thirty years old.

That said, this Antica Dolceria Bonajuto bar is so good that I’m not altogether sure our modern silky-smooth chocolate is an improvement… we finished the last nibbles of the precious cioccolato last week, and I’m still craving it intensely.  I’m not sure when I’ll be in Ann Arbor next, but I’ll be stocking up.

Speaking of things unforgettable, my boyfriend’s favorite thing to order at Teresa’s in Princeton was always a lovely dish called Conchiglie Balsamico—shell pasta in a balsamic cream sauce.  As I’ve never seen it on a menu anywhere else, it demanded reverse-engineering.  And we tried it a few times in a few different ways on the rare occasions we cooked together on vacation, and never quite got it right.

A couple months ago, I decided to try again.  First hit on Google for “conchiglie balsamico” revealed a post on the blog Traveling Without a Map.  To my amazement, I found not only a recipe, but the online home of a Princetonian I had at one time known decently well.  (I will call her M, as her blog does.) It’s a small Internet, after all!

The Conchiglie Balsamico was wonderful the first time.  But last night I made it again, precious Aceto Balsamico Maletti in hand, and it was absolutely spectacular.  The best part was being able to drizzle a few drops of the pure balsamic over the plated pasta for an extra punch of flavor, and have it come out being exactly the right texture.  Such is the power of Really Good Balsamic.

Here’s the recipe, with my minor modifications and notes:

Conchiglie Balsamico (adapted from Traveling Without a Map, inspired by Teresa Caffe)

• ½ onion, minced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 bundle asparagus, ends trimmed
• 2 chicken breasts, marinated and cubed
• ¼ cup balsamic vinegar (the best you’ve got)
• 1 pint cream
• 1 lb pasta (large, shell-shaped)
• parmesan cheese (optional)
• olive oil

I specified marinated chicken because my local Hollywood Market has really excellent and reasonably-priced marinated chicken, with choice of garlic butter or Italian herb.  If you don’t have any on hand, go with M’s suggestion of garlic salt.  M also specifies less asparagus and more cream than I found necessary.

Bring a saucepan of water to a boil.  Blanch the asparagus for about a minute, until just cooked with a bit of crunch.  Scoop the asparagus out and retain the water for pasta.  Silce it into bite-sized pieces, toss it in a big bowl, and cover to retain heat.  Begin cooking the shell pasta according to the package instructions.

Brown the garlic and onion gently in a baby skillet over medium-low heat, until soft and translucent.  Meanwhile, saute the cubed chicken in olive oil in a large pan or skillet.

Add the balsamic vinegar to the garlic and onion, and let it reduce to a spoon-coating, syrup-like consistency.  Transfer everything to a small saucepan and add the cream.  Let the sauce reduce until the sauce reaches your desired thickness.  The first time I made this, I cheated and added a pinch of cornstarch and parmesan cheese to thicken it.  With the Really Good Balsamic, I found that very little reduction is necessary, although the parmesan is always nice!

When everything is ready, add the cooked chicken and pasta to the bowl, pour in the hot cream sauce, and stir thoroughly. Serve with Parmesan cheese and a drizzle of that Really Good Balsamic.  Serves six or more, depending on serving size.  We like the leftovers.

All three of these stages can be done simultaneously.  It’s not ideal to have the asparagus sit in the bowl losing heat, but it’s an acceptable tradeoff to only boil the big pot of water once.  Ultimately, this recipe takes about thirty minutes to prepare once you get the hang of it.

Oh, and thanks, M!  Seriously.  My boyfriend thanks you, too.

Recently I learned that according to Six Sigma methodology, any process in the early stages of development can be improved in efficiency by a whopping 70% on average—which would explain a lot.  Thirty-minute meals? Hah. They take me an hour and forty.  Add that up, and it’s no wonder I don’t spend twenty hours a week on food when I’m busy.

Some of the efficiency improvement is surely a matter of practice, but I’ve been thinking of ways to smooth the process:

• Menu planning.  Unpredictable schedules do get in the way, but it’s good to have an idea of how meals are going to work together and fit in the schedule for the week.  A couple nights a week will inevitably require a freezer raid, or the crockpot, or something I can prepare with my eyes closed.  Shopping excursions are less prone to distraction, and menu planning keeps me committed to regular cooking; otherwise, all my fresh vegetables will go to waste in the crisper.
• Bulk cookery.  A couple years ago, I made a giant baking dish of enchiladas, intending to freeze and eat them individually as a quick dinner.  Unfortunately, the recipe was flawed, and the end product was frankly disgusting.  I’ve been shy of bulk cooking ever since.  Perhaps I should try again, and stick to recipes I’ve made before.  Squeezing citrus and chopping garlic for different marinades might as well be done all at once, since it must be done in advance, and I can freeze the marinated meat.  Soups freeze well, and making bread dough every so often would be a great habit to get into.
• Pantry stocking. I try to have a selection of Trader Joe’s items and “frozen bag dinners” on hand.  But if I stocked things like pre-cut frozen marinated chicken and frozen vegetables, I could make a stir-fry or pasta on short notice.  The challenge here is remembering to use the stocked items, especially the ones that risk freezer burn.
• Waste reduction.  Finally, I need to remember to convert stale baguettes into croutons, transform overripe fruit into quickbreads, and steam wilting baby salad spinach.  I hate throwing stuff out.  If I paid more attention to the current state of the fridge, I’d catch things before they were too far gone.
• Skills improvement.  My friend Elika bought me a proper chef’s knife when she was here last month, and I ought to take a knife skills class someday soon.  The truth is that I tend to use a paring knife for everything because I’m comfortable with it.  But that doesn’t make it fastest, or best.
• Recipe accumulation.  Ah, the fun part!  I’m building my own cookbook.  There’s something to be said for having a ready collection of tried-and-true everyday recipes, and this is a thing that one cannot buy.  (If you’re lucky or come from a more traditional culture, it gets passed down to you through the institutional memory of family.)  When I’m done all the recipes will be to my taste, and within my talents, and there will be hundreds of them.  This weblog is part of that effort—forcing me to capture everything in writing.

So fellow foodbloggers, any strategies I should add?  What are your kitchen hacks?

See that gorgeous stage? I was lucky enough to be standing on it last weekend, singing my heart out to a packed house in the final movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with the Detroit Civic Orchestra!  It was, quite possibly, the most amazing concert I’ve ever sung.  There were over two hundred singers, from six local choral ensembles, on the stage—too many, in fact, to fit on the risers, so they put the overflow in the first two boxes on each side.  Surround sound!

Wish you’d been there?  Well, I can’t take you back in time, but I have the next best thing.  WRCJ 90.9 FM has the entire concert—including the nifty jazz improvisations on the second and third movements—available as streaming audio from their website!  Check it out here—you are looking for the May 2 airing.

Thanks, Flickr/Creative Commons user KellieKP for use of the gorgeous photo.