What’s Cooking at this Site?

Plants and animals are a generous bunch.

We ask a lot from them. And no matter how we treat them, we receive much in return.

Except for the time that food spends on the shelf or the farm stand table, it is always in motion: growing, swimming, foraging; under the blade; on its way to your kitchen; getting chopped, braised, broiled, boiled, baked or tossed.

Nevertheless, those plants and animals have been holding back on us. Not because they are selfish. No, as many of us are discovering, it’s the same problem at the root of many of our relationships – lovers, spouses, siblings, parents, friends: Basically, because we haven’t taken the time to appreciate them – fully and honestly.

I’m not asking you to bare your soul to a parsnip. (Although cooking a good meal for any of the above-mentioned ‘relationship groups’ will go a long way to patching up old wounds.) I’m asking you to bring your appetite – to share your hunger for discovery with me – here at CambridgeCooks.

This is an exciting time to be cooking. A new generation of kitchen visionaries is emerging: they are neither celebrity chefs nor the “personalities” competing for TV time on the Food Network. They don’t run restaurants with three-month wait lists. Many of them don’t even blog (gasp!) or twitter.

They are visionaries and teachers. They simplify our approach to food and their emphasis is on technique, not recipes. Although recipes often make it easier for us to follow their thinking.

They are growers and innovators. They spend long hours in the field, in the lab, talking, listening, pondering, with nary a camera or computer in sight.

If you listen, they will change the way you think about food. Shop for food. Prepare food. Use food. Toss out food. And if you are relatively new to the kitchen, or your ineptitude is on par with mine, they will give you the courage to cook with a capital C; to use a recipe as a guidebook, not a GPS. To fully appreciate what is in your fridge, or awaiting you on the cutting board.

Pull up a chair, grab your plate, and dig in.

– Lee Goodwin

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In the Kitchen with Sarah C.

And thus my dinner plate in an unfamiliar city
with its rivers and lighted bridges
was graced not only with chilled wine
and lemon slices but with compassion and sorrow

even after the waiter removed my plate
with the head of the fish still staring
and the barrel vault of its delicate bones
terribly exposed, save for a shroud of parsley.

              [excerpt from The Fish, a poem by Billy Collins]

Cooking up rose petals and creating Dyn-o-mite photos

No one ever accused Sarah Scoble Commerford of failing to vary her cooking. Except for her son, Tim, but that was more than two years and 190-plus countries ago.

Since then, the globe-trotting blog that documents Sarah’s dishes – and her response to her son – has delighted a worldwide audience.

When I caught up with her, just two countries shy of the finish line, she was busy constructing a “still” on her stovetop for Yemeni shortbread cookies.

Not content to rely on bottled rose water, Sarah lay a flat a brick at the bottom of her well-scrubbed lobster pot, and placed a small metal bowl atop the brick. Next, she tossed in a couple handfuls of rose petals picked from her garden. The petals lay on the bottom of the pot. Then she poured in just enough water to cover the petals.

Atop the lobster pot, she placed the cover – inverted. Into the cover she piled two or three ice cube trays of ice, then lit the flame on high to boil the water. Once the “petal water” heated, the steam condensed on the underside of the pot cover and dripped into the metal bowl below.

Sarah Commerford mixes in additional flour to her shortbread cookie dough. These cookies smell and taste heavenly.

The resulting rose water was less sweet, less intense, than the bottled version, but still flavorful.

As for the cookies, they were to die for. Cookie Heaven in any culture. They even smelled heavenly.

The previous night, Sarah researched Yemen’s customs, culture and food for the blog post. After she locates a recipe, she typically converts from kilos and grams, and looks for other changes to make; in this case, replacing the Indian clarified butter known as ghee with somewhat healthier canola oil.

For an Angolan dish, Arroz Integral com Manteiga de Amendoim e Bananas and Chicken, she eschewed the red palm oil it called for. “That sh*t is really bad,” she wrote in her posting. “Plus it would be really hard to find around this white bread town.”

As she shaped her cookies, 17-year-old Tim wandered in and brushed his teeth at the kitchen sink. It was his challenge to expand her dinner repertoire that inspired the project originally.

That afternoon, Sarah brought a batch of cookies to her backyard with tripod and camera, re-arranging the plate more than a dozen times. “It’s like Christmas when I plug the photo card into the computer and see how the images turned out.”

If Sarah’s cooking skills were on par with her photography when she embarked on this project, she likely would have quit after Antigua.

The high-quality shots on Sarah Commerford’s blog reflect the time and care she devotes to prepping the food and photographing it.

But she improved by leaps and bounds, and her husband, Liam, rewarded her with a sophisticated D-SLR camera and high-quality tripod. She doesn’t own Photoshop and doesn’t have the time to manipulate her images. “I like the image to look like it does on my plate.”

Nevertheless, the high-quality shots reflect the time and care she devotes to them; rich in color and awash in natural light. They greatly enhance her blog posts, both illustrating her recipe steps and lending an artistic charm.

Attending a photography class helped, but she still glazes over when discussion turns to f-stops. She prefers to devote her attention to props, enhancing her photos with the dishes, fabrics and other items she loves to collect. “I purged the collection [years ago], but it all came back when I started this project.”

Sarah’s Favorites

Ghraybeh (Shortbread Cookies) from Yemen

Recipe Summary

Yemeni Shortbread Cookies (photo: Sarah Commerford)

all-purpose flour
semolina flour
clarified butter (ghee) or canola oil
rose water
cardamom
pistachios
Plus a few staple ingredients

Mix together the butter, sugar, and rose water. Sift together the dry ingredients, stir into the butter mixture and chill dough. Then shape the dough into cookies, arrange on baking sheets, and bake. Complete recipe here.

Rosemary Shortbread Cookies

Sarah Commerford calls these her favorite cookies of all time. They’re from Joanne Chang’s baking book, Flour, which she heartily endorses. The cookies are not too sweet, and have just the right amount of fresh rosemary, “which lends them a sublimely delicate, savory flavor and fragrance – a more elegant cookie does not exist. I’m that sure.”

Rosemary shortbread cookies (photo: Sarah Commerford)

Sarah, a salt freak, substituted sea salt for kosher salt. The larger grain salt provides “little random crunchy bursts of saltiness,” which your tongue will appreciate as much as hers, hopefully.

The cookies use just 8 ingredients: light brown sugar, cornstarch, and fresh rosemary. Also sea salt (optional), Plus a few staple ingredients. Complete recipe here.

If you want to find out why Sarah loves her Salter scale for baking, go here.

Next Post: Bring on the next adventure – Getting to know Sarah Commerford

Read Previous Post Here.

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World Food Trek

[Here, a young Vietnamese cook, hired by a famous writer, speaks to himself:] “Quinces are ripe when they are the yellow of canary wings in midflight….But even then quinces remain a fruit, hard and obstinate – useless, GertrudeStein, until they are simmered, coddled for hours above a low, steady flame. Add honey and water and watch their dry, bone-colored flesh soak up the heat, coating itself in an opulent orange, not of the sunrises that you never see but of the insides of tree-ripened papayas, a color you can taste. To answer your question, GertrudeStein, love is not a bowl of quinces yellowing in a blue and white china bowl, seen but untouched.”
                                                                                    — The Book of Salt, by Monique Truong 

The journey began with Afghanistan two years ago;  Every nation on the planet gets its day in Sarah Commerford’s kitchen

Sarah Scoble Commerford leads a pretty ordinary life, as much as any of our lives can be called “ordinary.”

Four years ago, Sarah’s life was ordinary the way Julie Powell’s life was ordinary before she undertook the challenge of cooking her way through Julia Child’s culinary bible.

Sarah had a similar “ah-hah” moment – what if she could cook her way around the world without ever leaving her tidy, charming Holliston home? Today, 191 countries later,* she nears the end of her epic kitchen journey.

As much as I admire Julie Powell’s fearless undertaking, her writing left me completely underwhelmed. Powell’s life and childhood simply did not warrant the space she devoted to them. I stopped reading – bored and frustrated – long before the halfway mark. (Except for her hilarious recounting of the supper with Amanda.)

There’s her exceptional blog that charts her progress as she ricocheted her way from Azerbaijan to Armenia to Africa (this was an A-to-Z adventure). But there’s no pending book deal. Nora Ephron hasn’t optioned her story. And one can only assume that Amanda Hesser was too busy with Food52 to invite herself to dinner.

Sarah keeps the focus on the food. She instinctively knows when, and how much, to insert herself. Her lack of formal training, or access to the incredible ethnic and import shops found in the Cambridge/Watertown area, makes her achievement that much more extraordinary. Especially in the face of squirrel, alligator, ostrich, and wild boar – none of which she ever prepared before her blog.

In honor of Sarah Commerford’s perseverance, I’m devoting the next few postings to her.  She would insist that she’s no big deal. But believe me, she is and she deserves your attention.

*  The z’s still remain.

Sarah’s Favorites

“Doubles, Barra with Channa and Cucumber Chutney” from Trinidad and Tobago

Layer the chutney on the chickpeas, then top with hot sauce: West Indian awesomeness.
(Photo by Sarah Scoble Commerford)

This is a sort of sandwich with homemade bread, chickpeas, cucumber-lime-habanero-cilantro chutney, and tamarind hot sauce. Sarah ranks it among the top five dishes of her project and calls it “incredible….Partly because it’s unique, delicious and captures the smells and flavors of this beautiful West Indian country.”

I’ve outlined a few ingredients and preparation steps to whet your appetite.

The barra dough is shaped into 36 small balls and fried in canola oil. The recipe calls for all-purpose flour, saffron powder, and ground geera (cumin, preferably roasted).

The channa calls for chick peas or garbanzo beans, ground coriander, chive and turmeric powder (among other ingredients), which are mixed and boiled.

The Cucumber Chutney includes cilantro, chives, scotch-bonnet (habanero) pepper, and fresh lime juice.

The Tamarind Hot Sauce includes hot peppers, vinegar, fruit juice and tamarind pods, which must be peeled and deseeded. These are tricky and sticky to work with, but delicious, Sarah says.

After all that, you layer the chutney on the chickpeas, then top with hot sauce: West Indian awesomeness.

Find the complete recipe Here, with photos illustrating the various steps.

Next post in the series: In the kitchen with Sarah C.

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A ‘Dream’ Kitchen Brings Forth a Dreamy Appetizer

[Because of] the Vietcong’s unsporting habit of cutting the roads, only a pathetic trickle of first-class produce reached the capital, Saigon. Somehow, though, there was always plenty of pho, the restorative anise-scented beef or chicken noodle soup, delivered to your door for breakfast by frail-looking vendors, and that was ample compensation.

                                                                             — R.W. Apple Jr., The Dining Room Wars

A pea mashup on lime bruschetta flavors an Inman Square kick-off celebration

A few of those crowded into Rival’s new kitchen studio last night in Inman Square. The marketing agency will use the space for shooting client videos and hopes to sponsor community events, as well.

Many cooks fantasize about building their “dream kitchen.” (I’m not one of them – I love mine.)

Lynne Viera, a self-described kitchen gadget addict and marketer for a wide array of food enterprises, built herself one heck of a kitchen in the middle of Inman Square in Cambridge. One imagines her energetic marketing staff wandering down from their swank offices several floors above to rustle up something fresh, colorful and tasty for lunch (or dinner, when deadlines demand late hours).

Jody Adams improvises by extracting lime pulp and juice with a spoon handle.

But Lynne has bigger plans for the space, which she kicked off last night by inviting over several food friends to provide cooking demos. Among them were Jody Adams of Rialto, who brightened up an already well-lit room with her sparkling personality and a delicious appetizer. So delicious, I’d urge you to try it yourself as soon as you can rustle up the required ingredients. (Details and recipe link below.)

Lynne’s Rival marketing agency will employ the in-house kitchen studio to produce content for clients (and perhaps sponsor community events).

Lynne Viera, of Rival, in her new kitchen studio with Michael Scelfo of Russell House Tavern, Harvard Square.

I expect to write more about Lynne’s experience in helping companies to market their food products, as well as her impressive instructional video site, how2heroes, which contains hundreds of recipes from many, many chefs.

If you want to see what goes into building a dream kitchen, Rival’s amusing 2-minute “video” (actually, a timelapse film they created using 3,000 photos shot from start to finish) is entertaining and worth a look.

Also worth a look – and a taste – is Jody Adams’ Sweet Pea Bruschetta with Lime Toast, which she cooked up with husband Ken Rivard for their richly photographed Garum Factory blog.*

The bruschetta, which they describe as “anti-poobah food” (y’know, nothin’ fancy), is brushed with lime juice and olive oil, a dollop of creme fraiche or mascarpone, and then topped with a mash made from peas, chervil and mint, and leeks.

Sweet Pea Bruschetta with Lime Toast
(Photo: Ken Rivard,
Garam Factory.net)

Food Notes: You can substitute frozen peas for fresh pods. [Before you poo-poo or poobah them, consider that Christopher Kimball (Cook's Illustrated) actually prefers frozen to supermarket shell peas. They can be sweeter and better tasting if you ignore the cooking instructions printed on the package.]**

If you can’t find fresh chervil, don’t substitute dried herbs. Instead, try parsley or fresh basil.

Trader Joe’s and Russo’s have the best price on Vermont Butter & Cheese Creamery creme fraiche.

Rialto’s Jody Adams adds peas to leeks and herbs before mashing the mixture.

*Garum, since you asked, was a very popular, but expensive and pungent Roman fish sauce – not unlike the popular Vietnamese fish sauce of today. Don’t feel bad; nobody in the crowd last night knew its meaning, either.

** If you want to prepare frozen peas as a separate side dish, try sautéing them (still frozen) in a large nonstick skillet along with some aromatics and a little sugar. If you add butter to the pan, you might want to pour off the water first as the peas thaw.

 

 

 

 

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A Painter’s Palette in the Kitchen: Do We Eat with Our Eyes?

We all know one of those extreme eaters, the friend who travels to exotic places and performs the gastronomic equivalent of running with the bulls. These people live for the goat’s eye, the snake’s heart, the putrefying cheese, the crispy insect. I’d like to be one of them, but it’s not gonna happen.
                                                                     – Tom Perrotta, The Squeamish American         

La Tartine Gourmande’s Béatrice Peltre revisits her childhood in the French countryside for memories and inspiration.

If you’re not yet familiar with Béatrice Peltre, you ought to be.

As one of the Boston area’s most successful food bloggers, Béa has built a showcase to her healthful and creative recipes, her food styling, her stories of growing up in the French countryside surrounded by a family in love with food and cooking, and her darling 3-year-old Lulu – half the age of the site itself, her first steps and first taste of les madeleines duly recorded and blogged.

It is the food styling and presentation that has led to the stunning photography that helps attract tens of thousands of fans to the site, La Tartine Gourmande. And now, Béa has published a book by the same name.

So why was I torn about whether to attend her appearance at Harvard Book Store Monday evening?

Peltre: An aesthetic approach to food

Well, I was skeptical, if not downright suspicious, of someone who appeared to make it all look so easy. Someone who reminded me a bit of Martha Stewart, who writes lovingly of her gardens and rustic homes as she pulls off her barn jacket for another wreath-making session, when you know full well her typical day is spent bossing around a huge staff, reading profit/loss statements, and griping about some deal about to go down the tubes.

Reviewers have gushed about Béa’s lovely home, her lovely food, her lovely accent, her lovely looks, lovely childhood…. you get the idea. It’s that haze of orchard-to-pie existence where nothing ever turns moldy in the fridge that leaves me A) wondering what’s wrong with my life, or B) wondering if it’s true indeed that practically any problem can be put right with a sprinkle of aged balsamic vinegar and a few grinds of fresh tellicherry pepper.

Add to that my impatience with “food personalities” who package and brand themselves; who care more for entertaining than educating. Sorry, but that’s my prejudice, and chefs/cooks like that make me cranky.

In Béa’s case, I was afraid she cared more about presenting a storybook than a cookbook. And the video trailer for the book, with its “gentle, plucky” soundtrack and images of her artfully arranging apple slices before sun-streaked windows and bouncing along meadows with husband Phil and Lulu in tow, did little to dispel my fears.

Styling the inspired life of Tartine Gourmande. (Photography by Béatrice Peltre)

I am happy to report that Béa did not live up to her advance billing. Her presentation at Harvard Book Store barely registered on the cranky meter. (And her video is actually a kick to watch.]

Aesthetics rule for her, and she is unapologetic about the role they play in her dishes and recipes. After all, she says, “You eat with your eyes first.”

“I need a set of colors and a set of ingredients I want to work with,” she says of her recipe development process. “I work around a pallet of colors and flavors. I think about shapes, like a painting. And I try to be original.”

Her early photos were terrible, she acknowledges. And she made the mistake of many food bloggers: trying to turn every meal and experience into a post, cramming as much as possible into her site.

But she taught herself photography and food styling, upgraded her camera equipment, and worked hard at the blog. “I was very passionate about it.”

She still is, but she blogs more selectively nowadays. She expanded to styling and photographing professionally for various publications and businesses. And she landed a book contract, which required many hours of experimentation and recipe refinement.

While the dishes harken back to her home in France, where her grandparents farmed and everyone in her family owns a vegetable garden, the recipes “revisit,” or adapt, the food with which she grew up.

Many of the recipes contain coconut milk and other Asian ingredients like lemongrass, which she discovered in Thai cooking while residing in New Zealand. But except for cranberries – her most exciting local food discovery – she has adopted little from this side of the Atlantic.

A bout of gluten intolerance may have impacted her cooking more than anything since leaving her native France. It forced her to experiment with a wide variety of grains in her baking – so much so that nearly all her book recipes are gluten free. Millet and quinoa come closest to wheat flour, she says, but beware of cup-for-cup substitutions. “It’s going to be bad,” she warns.

It’s also going to be crumbly, unless you add corn starch or certain kinds of rice flour. Either read her book for guidance or conduct your own experiments.

As for her aesthetic approach to blog, book and video, she acknowledges that looks can be deceiving. “Yes, it looks very easy, but it’s not. Sometimes a single image takes five minutes, sometimes two or three hours. I put a lot of time into it and I have to be very organized.”

There’s much to consider in addition to the food: light, fabrics, props, plates. “It may look incidental,” she says of the final result, “but it’s not.”

Tartines, the namesake of her blog and book, are akin to an open-faced sandwich with various toppings. The French traditionally eat tartines for breakfast at home, with butter and jam, although any sweet spread will do. In general, her nation much prefers lunch to breakfast, which generally gets short shrift there. “Growing up, nobody skips lunch, and everyone talks about food,” she recalls.

The thin slices of bread in a tartine can support any sort of topping, leading Béa to experiment with many variations. Marinated fennel with radishes; broiled eggplant and baked tomatoes; and Spanish piquillo pepper and avocado – the last two combos atop ricotta cheese.

“I am a real ‘tartine’ girl,” Béa writes, recalling the tartines her mother prepared for her growing up. “There is a whole world attached to mes tartines. I cannot explain it.”

A typical day of meals for her still sounds like something out of Saveur: Fresh apple juice, fresh muesli with fruits and nuts in the morning, with green tea and toast – “I love to spread avocado and feta on top.” At lunch, a vegetable tart with salad and soup, a chocolate cake, and a fruit tart or clafoutis. A risotto with seafood and baked apricots with coconut milk and lime juice for dinner.

Clearly, hers is a kitchen where fruit tarts, not Pop-Tarts, hold sway. (Has someone told her about the Joylicious™ world of flavor and fun she’s missing out on?) An audience question about scrapple – that Pennsylvania Dutch dish of pork scraps, cornmeal and flour – left her confounded. And she acknowledges that England was the first place she encountered eggs and granola for breakfast.

She’s already at work on the concept for her next book. Feeding her blog and business, as well as her husband and daughter, will keep her hands full, as well. One comes away wondering why our life cannot more often resemble the life of La Tartine Gourmande; a life (to paraphrase Béa) of semi-sweet memories and stories wrapped around recipes.

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What We’ll be Serving Up

In the days that followed, the farmers dutifully (and skeptically) planted Napoli carrots and spread the almond dust over the rows….Ferran Adrià may have espresso foam and olive oil capsules, I thought, but he doesn’t have carrots pre-infused with almonds.

                                                                                               — Dan Barber, The Great Carrot Caper

Here’s a quick look at what we’re writing about at the CambridgeCooks kitchen table.

On the front burner:

We profile food blogger and photographer extraordinaire Béatrice Peltre, as well as report on her appearance at Harvard Book Store.

On the back burner:

We’ll profile two local favorite stores: Fresh Pond Market, and Arax Market, as soon as we can convince the owners of both groceries to stand still long enough for a photo.

We’re also working on pieces about two cookbook authors who made appearances recently: the ever-herbivorous Didi Emmons, and fish chef/seafood sustainability advocate Barton Seaver.

Stay tuned and check back often.

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FoodLit: The Plot Simmers and Thickens

What we talk about when we talk about food:

Dishing on Modern Life at WBUR Authors Night Out.
Who: Authors Allegra Goodman, Margot Livesey and Adam Gopnik, in coversation with Robin Young.
What: Food & Philosophy, a fundraising event for WBUR radio.
Where: First Church, Cambridge, earlier this week.  

 

At the outset, it looked liked a Food Network challenge: Create an event from a mystery basket of ingredients. In this case, authors from three different food groups with seemingly little in common.

But introduce a catalyst to bind them together – Robin Young, host of radio program Here and Now on WBUR, the event sponsor – and you end up with a pretty tasty evening: three perspectives, writers who think deeply about food, and a lot to chew on.

Adam Gopnik
Writer, The New Yorker. Author, The Table Comes First: Family, France, and the Meaning of Food.
Among his favorite food fiction: Robert B. Parker’s detective, Spenser, who loved to cook up elaborate meals. (See side note.)

If you’ve ever heard New Yorker writer Adam Gopnik tell stories on The Moth Radio Hour, then you know his self-assured and self-effacing storytelling style hold an audience rapt. One moment, he’s contrasting U.S. and French cooks and the different statements they make by using local ingredients. [Predictably left leaning in the U.S., a window into the "entire (NPR) tote bag of their existence." Less predictable in France; it could denote a right-leaning statement of French nationalism.] In the next moment, he’s explaining the changing attitude among younger French cooks toward slow food. Or comparing home cooks to cocktail lounge piano players. (Hint: They both get the same requests every night.)

Erudite and amusing, he’s off a few minutes later on the subject of the place of cooking in literature: specifically, how authors use cooking as an activity to set a scene in which their characters can think…. and go on thinking. Years ago, they used driving for the backdrop.

“But in real life, cooking is a substitute for thinking,” Gopnik wryly observed. “You’ve been thinking all day and you want to cook to take a break from thinking.”

If Gopnik relishes cooking as an informal roadmap to literary heroes and heroines, a window into cultural norms and social history, then Allegra Goodman turns to food as appetite: a metaphor for seduction and obsession.

Allegra Goodman
The Cookbook Collector
Among her favorite food fiction: The Wind in the Willows. ‘Especially the boating picnic that Rat and Mole put together.’

The author of the highly-praised novel, The Cookbook Collector, said in an interview: “I am fascinated by cookbooks as guidebooks. We read about what to eat and by extension how to live. One of the central questions for the sisters in my novel:  Can you find a recipe for conduct?  Or do you have to make up your own rules?”

The Cambridge resident acknowledges taking pleasure in perusing complicated recipes with cascading lists of ingredients that she has little hope of actually cooking.

Goodman says the book is about hunger: for money, for material things, for food, for fame, for knowledge, for companionship, for love.

Margot Livesey, another Cambridge author, also writes about hunger, but of a different sort.

The hunger of her heroine, Gemma Hardy – based on Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre – reflects her aching desire for kindness and family to nourish her soul, and a table at which she feels welcome. Time spent in the isolated Scottish countryside, and as a servant/student at a boarding school, do little to quell that hunger before she takes flight.

Margot Livesey
The Flight of Gemma Hardy
Among her favorite food fiction: Ian McEwan’s novel, Saturday. ‘The whole novel builds toward Henry Perowne making fish stew.’ (See end note)

There’s plenty of food in Livesey’s novel, but these meals are best forgotten; lacking flavor or variation, they neither celebrate nor sustain one’s spirit.

Livesey grew up in a boys’ private school in the Scottish Highlands where her father taught, and her mother was the school nurse. She attended boarding school at a young age and felt like an outsider.

Her entire childhood was “a war on food,” she recalls. Constantly reminded of the starving children in India, “I would have gladly sent them the food on my plate if I could have afforded the postage.”

 

 Spenser: A Devotion to Shelled Beans

Adam Gopnik spoke of the way Spenser (the creation of Boston novelist Robert B. Parker) shelled beans. In this passage, Gopnik writes: “The beans alone establish Spenser’s credibility as a cook. ‘I shelled the beans from their long, red-and-cream pods and dropped them in boiling water and turned down the heat and let them simmer,’ he tells us. A devotion to shell beans, I have noticed, divides even amateur cooks from non-cooks more absolutely than any other food, and they are, into the bargain, a perfect model of writing.”

 

Ian McEwan’s Fish Stew

Henry Perowne’s Fish Stew from Ian McEwan’s novel, Saturday. McEwan had so many requests from readers for the recipe, that he finally published it on his Web site.

You can find the recipe HERE.

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