Parched Halibut

I'm not the first ever to state the obvious - English is a weird language. How come the verb "to parch" and "parchment" have nothing in common? They really should. And parchment paper makes no sense, either, since parchment is actually made of skin, not of wood fibers.

Okay, enough of that. No one will ever be able to make sense of English, we just have to embrace its oddities.

I'm embracing the heck out of parchment paper these days, such a useful tool in the kitchen! You can bake on it or stew in it, raise a collar for a tall soufflé or line the bottom of a cake pan to keep things from sticking. My favorite way to use it this week is to make fish packets for dinner.

Halibut is a lovely fish, firm and white and mild - but it can be a little, shall we say, flat? All those flat fishes are like that - sole, sanddabs, halibut, all nice and mild, but a bit boring - but they are also wonderfully good for you, still sustainably fished, and easy to tweak in new ways.

This time, I had a couple of nice fillets of halibut, about 1.5 inches thick, and some of the prettiest, freshest asparagus I've seen. To a generous sheet of parchment paper, I added five or six spears of asparagus, half of a chopped leek (white and yellowish parts only), a slice of lime from Jeanne's tree, fresh chopped oregano from the garden, sliced leftover cooked potatoes (two walnut size ones per packet) and a dab of butter, wrapped it up securely by folding the top over several times and gathering the ends and giving them a good firm pinch. One packet for me, one for My Beloved. They fit easily side-by-side on a rimmed baking sheet (in case the goozle escaped) and I slid them into a preheated 350 degree oven.

When you cook fish this way, it makes its own sauce from the mingled juices of the fish and veggies. You could add a sprinkle of white wine, but it really isn't necessary. Fifteen minutes (less if your fish is thinner) and the asparagus is perfect - still brightly green but tender - and all the ingredients have had a happy slumber party in which they all got to know each other very well.

To serve, you can simply slide the packets onto a plate and let each open his own, releasing the fragrant steam as the world's best appetizer, or you can flip them over fold-side down and slash a bold X into the paper with a sharp knife or a razor and peel it back to reveal the asparagus topping the fish. Either way, it's a dramatically beautiful plateful and you will get oohs and aahs from the Beloveds.

Jumping Off The Rollercoaster

My Beloved and I have been on a two-month rollercoaster ride. He has been ill, down on power and dizzy, with an elusive diagnosis for two months now. Most days, he's too exhausted to leave the house and, often, even his bed. Occasionally, he has felt well enough to work a day - followed by several "crash" days when he is out of airspeed and energy.

We still don't know what's causing his symptoms and the docs appear to be equally baffled. He will have more tests next Monday and we honestly don't know whether to hope the MRI will reveal the problem or not - if it does, it's likely to be serious. If it doesn't, we are back to square one.

So, one day this week when he awoke feeling quite a bit better, we made the most of the day by having lunch at Murray Circle. Murray Circle is a restaurant with a dramatic view of the Golden Gate Bridge from their outside porch where they welcome folks with dogs, so we took Cora along for the fun. She was welcomed with her own bowl of water and we were offered drinks, too.

My Beloved chose this lightly fizzy cucumber-and-basil flavored soda. We sat on the porch on the soft sofas under the warming heat lamps, admiring the view across the parade ground (this used to be an Army base) to the bridge, bright red-orange in the distance, perfectly picturesque with a wisp of fog blowing through the suspension cables.

We had a marvelous meal that I will talk about in subsequent posts but, for that moment, it was enough just to be out and enjoying a relaxing and lighthearted experience with him after so many weeks on the worry rollercoaster.

Breakfast For Lunch

I'm not a big breakfast eater - at least, not a breakfast time. I love eggs and toast, bacon and hash browns, but not when I first wake up, thank you very much.

When we returned from the wedding in 'Zona, I found to my dismay that we had never finished our corned beef from St. Patrick's Day. It was lurking in the back of the fridge. Eeek! I hate to waste food! A cautious sniff test didn't reveal any scary odors, however, so I took a little taste and, sure enough, the salty curing had preserved it just fine.

So, we had breakfast for lunch that day. I chopped the corned beef in a small dice, half of an onion, a large shallot, and some leftover roasted potatoes, and added nothing but salt and pepper with a soupçon of butter and canola oil to slick the bottom of the pan. I softened the onion and shallot first, then piled in the rest to warm and mingle.

I was sorry not to have a little parsley on hand - a generous sprinkling of fresh parsley would have made it perfect but, as it was, it made a delicious lunch with an egg on top. My Beloved likes his eggs over easy, to let the yolk run down into his hash; mine was cooked a bit more than that.

My recommendation is to eat breakfast for lunch more often - breakfast foods are often too rich for me early in the mornings, but are just perfect by lunchtime, when my stomach has had time to wake up, yawn and stretch a little, and get going.

Lucky Me

You've heard, no doubt, of the Luck of the Irish. I'm only half Irish but I got more than my share. I've always been the luckiest person I know, knock wood. I'm also a little superstitious so I don't toast people with water and when I learn that something promotes good luck, I try to partake. I wasn't raised in the South or by a Southerner - my mother was about as Yankee as it's possible to be - but I learned from my friends with Southern roots that blackeyed peas at New Year brings good luck.

So, at the New Year, when My Beloved took me to the city for a viewing of the hilarious and inventive stage adaptation of Hitchcock's "39 Steps," and to the Urban Tavern afterward, I ordered steelhead trout with blackeyed pea cassoulet to bolster my good luck for 2010.

It was a better combination than it sounds.

The fish had a highly salted, crisped skin that peeled back to reveal perfectly cooked, light pink flesh laid over a bed of braised Belgian endive. The cassoulet was made and served in one of the so-adorable, single serving Staub pots that are all the fashion right now. The blackeyed peas were beautifully tender and presented with bits of duck confit and a half rasher of very lean bacon as well as some meltingly soft carrots, onions and garlic. The trout was excellent but the cassoulet was a wonderfully fresh take on an old classic and was the highlight of the meal.

The play and the evening, shared with daughter Katie and her squeeze André, was delightful, the food was delicious and I was left to marvel once again at my good fortune, knock wood. Lucky me!

For The Love of Pepper

My Beloved adores pepper. While others may love salt and grow lyrical in their descriptions of Maldon, Fleur de Sel, etc., he gets really enthusiastic about pepper. He puts it on everything from cantaloupe to big, rare steaks - and when I say "puts it on," I really mean "loads it on!"

His Boston daughter introduced him to a battery-driven pepper mill that not only grinds the pepper but also lights the plate with a flashlight cleverly worked into the bottom of the mill so he can be sure he has 'way too much on his food; he keeps wearing out the batteries. This is a serious pepper hound.

So, when I saw this little palm-sized, spring loaded pepper mill in the SF MOMA museum store last weekend when we were there to see the Georgia O'Keefe/Ansel Adams show, I just had to buy it and hide it in my purse, awaiting the first restaurant meal where there was only a (miserable) pepper shaker on the table. I didn't have long to wait - why is it that restaurants, even fine dining restaurants, only offer shakers, rarely grinders? Anyway, when I saw My Beloved unscrewing the cap of the shaker, it was time to reveal my surprise!

You should have seen the look on his face! Am I a good wife, or what?

Meals On Wheels

On the way home from doing errands, I stopped at the local gas station to fill up just before lunchtime. I stuck the nozzle in my car and stood there idly contemplating my lunch options. I thought about staying down in the village for lunch since My Beloved was on the road that day but I neglected to bring anything to read. I remembered that we have some cold cuts in the fridge but I've been cold cutted to death this holiday season so I wasn't in the mood.

There is a food truck parked frequently just outside my gas station. I have eaten from a "roach coach" before but only in Hawaii where they are a feature of beach life. I wondered if this one would be any good. As I was mindlessly tending my gas pump, I started reading the hand-lettered signs on it and was intrigued. "El Agricultor" - The Farmer. That seemed promising. Based in Berkeley, so probably not too risky. The truck seemed clean and well tended - what the heck!

I made my choice - Plato de Carnitas - and approached the window. Big, wide smile inside. Like the Cheshire cat, the rest of the face was invisible in the dark interior. I ordered and the big smile repeated the words in English to make sure I understood. I asked for black beans but, sorry, only pinto beans available. Okay, no problem. To go? Yes, please.

Cora, who joyously rides anywhere in a car, approved immediately of the scents wafting out of the bag. When I got it home, I opened the styro clamshell to reveal a hefty portion of roasted pork, pinto refritos, Spanish rice, tortilla chips, hot rolled corn tortillas in foil and a small salad, all neatly packed into the sectioned plate.

It was good. It was not spectacular but it was solidly good. A workingman's lunch. I'm no longer working, so it was enough for two days, at least. The pork was moist and flavored with grilled onions. I love Spanish rice - consistently appealing. The refritos were okay but perhaps a tad on the gluey side. Never mind, it was a couple of lunches for $7. A bargain, what with that big smile.

Sprouts!

This may not seem as super exciting to you as it is to me, but I wanted to share that the heart seeds I received for my birthday from My Beloved's daughters and their families..... drum roll.... are sprouting!  

Ever since I covered them up and watered them gently, there has been no action in the pots. I checked them almost daily, practically willing them to come up, but to no avail. I was afraid they were duds, and was already practicing what I would say to soften the disappointment to My Beloved's family. 

Then, we had a downpour, a real gully washer that lasted only about half an hour but that filled our rain gauge with about half an inch of water - and, magically, the next day there were tiny green sprouts in all the pots!  I guess they were just waiting for the rain to get their tiny butts in gear.

I can't wait to see what kinds of flowers I get, once they are up and blooming; it's clear already that there is more than one sort. Stand by for a full report once they reveal their identities.

Bodacious Brown Lump

Here's another of those foods that people either love or despise - liverwurst.

While we were at the Kensington farmer's market, we purchased from The Fifth Quarter several items, including a six-inch long fat roll of liverwurst. We opened the vacuum seal this weekend and made sandwiches.

Like the paté, another offering from Scott Brennan, this too had more texture than the usual liverwurst one buys at the deli counter, and it convinced us that this is how liverwurst should be. It tasted mild, homey and authentic, with just enough texture to make it interesting but not enough to definitively reveal what it was made from - a happy balance, in my view. I love liverwurst but I don't need (or want) to know what's in there.

I'd love to see an artful picture of liverwurst, but I doubt that is possible. It's bodacious, but it's really just a brown lump.

Fork Sushi

Peter's recent blog post about making a wrap with collards inspired our latest meat-free meal. I'm calling them Fork Sushi. That's because no one, not even the most accomplished chop stick wielder, could possibly eat these without a fork. The Swiss chard wrapping I used wasn't big enough to fully enclose the filling and, besides, it's so tender it tears. But, oh, the flavors! This was a big improv success, endorsed both by me and by My Beloved.

The preparation was more involved than most meals I throw together but it was worth the effort. First, I put some brown Massa rice (the best!) on to cook, as per the package directions - it takes about 50 minutes, plus time to cool, so I started that in the morning and let it sit once it was tender. In the afternoon, I dressed it with a splash of rice vinegar, a pinch of sugar and a brief shake of salt heated together just to dissolve the crystals and drizzled over the rice while tossing it to distribute the vinegar mixture evenly.

Then, I sliced, olive oiled and grilled the veggie stuffings on my Jennair grill (if you don't have one, I think a grill pan would be fine or, if you already have the barbecue fired up, that would be even better). Set them aside to cool.

Next, I washed some of my Swiss chard leaves, removed the tough part of the central rib with a sharp knife and sautéed them in a little butter and pressed garlic, just until they softened but were still nicely green. Set them aside to cool.

To assemble the sushi rolls, I spread out a leaf at a time, distributed a small finger of rice along the rib, placed the grilled veggies parallel to the rice, rolled them up carefully (the rice is sticky and the leaves tear easily), then cut them into one-inch pieces to show off the pretty colors within and, sliding the knife blade carefully under them, placed them deftly on the serving plate.

Then, I made a dipping sauce from soy sauce thinned with a splash of water, horseradish mustard (since I had no wasabi on hand), and a tiny grating of fresh ginger.

As I mentioned, the Fork Sushi are very fragile, so slide your fork underneath and lower them into your dipping sauce before popping them into your mouth. Sounds like a lot of hassle but it really wasn't and I'm sure it will be even easier the second time I make them. We will definitely have this again - it was clean and fresh and layered with tasty treats inside, plus a pleasure for the eyes as well as the palate.

Fork Sushi, with a nod to Peter

1/2 cup brown rice, preferably Massa
1 cup water
3Tbs rice vinegar
1 tsp sugar
1/4 tsp salt

4 asparagus spears, ends snapped
1/2 small yam, peeled and sliced lengthwise into 1/4" wide strips
1/2 red bell pepper, sliced lengthwise into 1/4" wide strips
1 small zucchini, sliced lengthwise into 1/4" wide strips
2 slices red onion, about 1/4" thick
4 green onions, green part only, blanched
A drizzle of olive oil

6 or so leaves of Swiss chard (mine are only about 8" long - if you use bigger ones, they may wrap more securely around)
1 clove of garlic, minced or pressed
2 tsp butter

Dipping sauce

1 Tbs soy sauce
1 tsp water
1/2 tsp horseradish mustard, or wasabi to taste
1 knob of fresh ginger about the size of your smallest finger joint, peeled and grated, or to taste

Method

Cook the rice as per package directions and set aside to cool - it should be sticky, not fluffy rice. I used one cup of water to 1/2 cup rice. Mix the rice vinegar, sugar and salt in a small pan and heat, stirring just until the crystals dissolve; don't boil. Drizzle over the rice while tossing to distribute evenly.

Slice the veggies into thin strips of about the same thickness. Toss in a little olive oil just 'til softly shiny. Grill until black stripes appear and the veggies are still crisp but tender. Set aside to cool.

Melt the butter in a wide pan and add the garlic. Cook for a few minutes to soften the garlic, then add the Swiss chard with the washing water still clinging to the leaves. Sauté/steam the Swiss chard very briefly to wilt, tossing the leaves in the garlic butter to coat. Set aside to cool.

When all the ingredients are ready, spread out a leaf of chard at a time, put a finger of rice down the rib and put some of each of the other veggies parallel to the rice, making sure that they are evenly placed so each round will have all the colors and flavors. Carefully roll up the leaves to cover the fillings (I don't have one of those bamboo sushi mats but that might make this process easier). Cut the resulting "logs" crosswise with a sharp knife to reveal the colorful veggies, and place each round carefully (they will want to unroll) on a serving plate. Mix the dipping sauce and sit down with a fork to enjoy.

The Reveal

I was waiting for the final, final finishing touches to the kitchen before showing you what all the fuss and feathers has been about for the past six plus months, but when Nancy (of the interesting art blog called "Namaste Nancy") asked to see it, I decided it was time! 

So, TAH-DAH!  

The counters are an engineered quartz stone in almost-black with tiny flecks of the same golden tan as the cabinets, plus some gentle little sparkles. No grout!  Easy to clean and easy on the eyes. There is now under-cabinet lighting as well as overheads and a light in the hood over the stove. Our somewhat obsessive electrician did us proud.

The floor is wood stained gray, a pre-finished product so we didn't have to suffer through days of stink as it dried. We ran that same flooring throughout the main floor of the house and we love the look, plus the ease of cleaning. When Cora's dog hair tumbleweeds appear, I just get out the big, flat mop with the washable cover and skim around picking it up. And about once a week, a quick sponge mopping does the rest.

The stove (my pride and joy) is a Viking gas stove. It has four, count 'em, FOUR burners. That may not seem like a big deal to you but to me, who has lived for nearly 20 years with only two recalcitrant electric burners, it defines "hog heaven" for me.The oven goes from zero to 400F in seven minutes flat (my old oven took about 25 minutes to heat properly) and I love the slate gray color. There will be a smoked glass backsplash behind the stove - it's here, it's just not installed quite yet.

My fridge is also a wonder to me - "French" doors open and close easily, revealing everything inside at a glance. I have my first-ever ice maker, which I love - no more balky ice trays! - and the freezer is larger by half than the old one. I loved our old fridge, so I was glad it went to one of the workers who made the kitchen so beautiful.

The cabinets are made of alder, a somewhat unusual wood, but we loved the warm color. You can't see the ceiling in these photos, but our ceilings are of natural pine with dark-stained beams, so we needed just the right wood in the cabinets to complement the ceiling. It worked like a charm. We also added a big skylight over the working kitchen, which floods the area with natural light so we don't need to turn on the lights until it's fully dark outside.

Between the new kitchen and the dining area is a fairly large area we are calling the "transition" for lack of a better term. It has storage drawers on either side of the room for my fancy china and glassware on one side and my lesser-used cooking stuff on the other. Separating the working kitchen and this storage/serving area is a slab of granite in reciprocal colors to the quartz - you can see a little bit of that in the second picture. The second and third pictures show you why all my female friends have storage envy. The drawers all roll out smoothly and close gently on soft-close hinges, and they have swallowed up an amazing amount of stuff. We love the mitered corners on all the drawers and cabinets - they play beautifully in the sunlight, highlighting the beautiful, smooth wood. We will use that long top for buffet serving when we have a dinner party.

In the third photo, you can see the other side of the transition and, beyond, the microwave oven and warming drawer, (which face the stove) plus tray storage on either side and more storage cabinets above, with Cora's bowls on the floor.  We love the display cabinets at the top of the "hutch" for showing off some pretty things without having to dust them. We also use the appliance "garages" every day - the far one houses Cora's chow and treats, and the near one hides the coffee pot.

The green door in this picture is right next to the fridge - it goes out into the garage. We used "blackboard" paint on that door so we can make notes to ourselves or shopping lists, or write "Welcome!" when we have friends coming over.

So, there you have it!  My friend Sunny, who is an interior decorator, complimented us on our choices and remarked that the house looks twice as big now as it did before with the smaller, cut up spaces. I think she's right - it all has a wonderfully open feel while still hiding the seamy underbelly of joyous cooking. We couldn't be more pleased.

Was it worth six months of construction noise, dust, and constant worry, not to mention significant expense (we had paid off the mortgage, but now we have one again)? Well, it's rather like the way my friends describe childbirth - no fun when you're going through it, but well worth the effort for the finished product.