Attica!!!

We just finished watching Orange is the New Black the other day. Once you get past being angry at Piper's privilege and what you think is going to be some ridiculous racial stereotypes about women in prison, the show is really very good. And it highlights some of the most messed up things about prison life in a way that no other popular show has for a mass audience.

I was psyched to see them deal with solitary confinement (or extreme isolation) in one episode. One of the punishments used in solitary is to feed prisoners "the loaf" (or "nutraloaf" as it's sometimes called) -- a horrible slice of tasteless flour and scraps that barely provides any nutrition whatsoever. (This is Piper confronting "the loaf" for the first time).

My blogs are usually about tasty foods, but I thought this might be a good occasion to depart from the norm and talk about this distinctively unsavory dish.

Tomorrow (September 9th) is the 42nd anniversary of the Attica prison riots, and I thought it might be a good occasion to re-post a blog entry from a colleague in the New York State Legislature: Dianna Goodwin, who engages in some participatory advocacy by providing us with a recipe for the loaf, and making some herself. Thanks, Dianna. She also provides a helpful summary of what the Attica rebellion was all about. Read it (and weep) here.

It's time to end extreme isolation -- in New York State and everywhere else. My colleagues at the American Civil Liberties Union and the New York Civil Liberties Union worked to limit the use of solitary confinement for immigrants, and were successful in their endeavors this week. (Read about that here). But there's more work to do. You can read NYCLU's report about the use of extreme isolation in New York State here.  Food punishment like serving prisoners "the loaf" is a barbaric and harmful practice--and this is just one type of punishment prisoners endure. It must end. Join the campaign to end the practice of extreme isolation today.

Block Party Cubano Tacos

I've lived in the same place for almost 15 years in Brooklyn. Almost every year, our block has a party, but in years' past, I've been too busy to go. Recently, I've attempted to get involved in our newly-formed block association. I attend meetings when I can, but infrequently because of work. This year when the date of the block party was announced, I put it on my calendar and committed to go. Today was the block party, and I have never had more invitations to do different things: my softball team's party, a friend in from out of town, a colleague's birthday party--but I was committed to this block party. And I'm glad I made that decision.

Our block is really unique. There are people who've lived there all their lives, their apartments or houses were passed down through generations. There are entrepreneurs, families, same-sex couples, hipsters. There are people in new apartment buildings (three of them on the block), and some in crumbling brownstones. There's a hot new pie shop on the corner at one end of the block, and a reliable Chinese take-out on the other side that has a ginger and scallion soup that I swear cures the common cold. We have musicians who drum and play guitar on the roof every Saturday night, a motorcycle dude who annoys the hell out of me when he revvs his engine really loud, and the owner and founder of a local brewery. And even though I pass most of them by every day, I don't know very many of them at all.

I decided that I wanted to share my pickles and D's hot sauce this year, and made pernil as the platform. D happened to be away at a concert this weekend, but he cooked up a new batch of sauce and helped me roast the pernil last night. I made some pickles a few weeks ago, and had some pickled onions keeping in the fridge. So I made cubano-tacos: little corn tortilla halves, shredded jack cheese, shredded roast pork, pickle slice, pickled onions, and hot sauce. Folks were grilling with their families in front of their homes, so I went around and introduced myself and asked everyone if they wanted a little taco with some hot sauce.

People were so kind with their compliments and I got to talk to so many of them. My voting rights work, the state of the block's construction, the robust nature of the block association, and what "fracking" means were all little conversations I was able to have all day (D and I have a "no fracking" sign in our third-story window).

If I when I ever launch my pickle business, I'll start my marketing on my own block first.

The Bee's Knees

Bees are essential for human life. Without bees, we would die. And without honey, we would be extremely unhappy. The honey pie is possibly the quintessential key to ultimate happiness.

D and I went to our first block association meeting a few weeks ago at the corner pie shop, Four and Twenty Blackbirds. (Everyone should have a corner pie shop.) The proprietors very generously provided free pie to the group, but when we got there and looked up at the menu we saw something we couldn't pass up: salted honey pie. We weren't going to take a chance that they'd serve us the honey pie, so D went up prepared to buy a slice to share--they gave it to us on the house. It was one of those foodie moments that actually changes your life. And whenever we have that kind of experience, we leave the restaurant thinking; we've got to make this at home. Four & Twenty made this easy by graciously making their recipe for this divine pie publicly available.

For some reason, D and I started paying a lot of attention to bees. Bees became a theme in our wedding--we had little marzipan bees on our wedding cake, there were bees worked into our wedding invitation, and a friend of D's created a terrific design for wedding-themed frisbees that D gave to his ultimate frisbee friends (pictured here). We even got bee tattoos.

Unfortunately, the honey bee population is in crisis and very few people seem to be paying attention. Check out this documentary, Colony, about the collapse of the honey bee population. Recently, New Yorkers won the right to keep raise bees in the city. I've thought about doing it, but haven't fully assessed whether I have the wherewithall to make that kind of commitment. There's a course offered here at the Beekeeper's Association that I'm thinking about taking.

So what do we do in the meantime? We are careful about the kind of honey we buy and we try to support local honey producers so that they remain profitable and keep doing what they're doing. There's been a raging scandal in the food community about honey that most people don't even know about: the honey that you buy at the supermarket is probably not honey at all. You can read about the scandal here, and take action by seeking out local honey producers. Because you can raise bees just about anywhere, you can even find locally-produced honey in Brooklyn!


You have to make a recipe dozens of times before you get it perfectly right, so D and I have started the process. The recipe we used calls for one ingredient that you may never have heard of, I know I hadn't: vanilla bean paste. It's a bit pricey, but you don't need a lot of it. I found it at my new favorite place, the Albany Food Co-op. Two weeks ago, on our way out to our friends' country house, we decided in the car that we wanted to try to make the honey pie for the first time, but I had left the recently-purchased vanilla bean paste at home. We were prepared to substitute extract, but were delighted to find that our friend stocked vanilla bean paste in his cupboard. (I wonder what he uses it for?) Another key ingredient is salt flakes. Maldon is the best kind of flaked salt; don't try to substitute another kind, it won't work. The last key ingredient is, of course, good honey. We went to the Hamlin Buffalo farm and picked up some locally-produced honey (and some buffalo short ribs!) and made this pie.

Salted Honey Pie

(Makes one 9-inch custard pie)

Preheat oven to 350F. Have prepared one pre-baked pie shell of your choice, the recipe for the Four & Twenty Blackbird pie crust is below.

For filling

1/2 c butter melted
3/4 c white sugar
2 Tbsp white cornmeal
1/4 tsp salt
3/4 c honey
3 eggs
1/2 c cream
2 tsp white vinegar
1 tsp vanilla paste
1 or 2 Tbsp flake sea salt for finishing (Maldon is a good choice)
–
All of the mixing can be done by hand. Melt butter and combine with the sugar, salt and cornmeal to make a thick paste. Add the honey, vanilla and vinegar and mix together. Fold in the eggs, add the cream and blend. Pour the filling into a pre-baked pie shell and bake at 350 F for 45 to 60 minutes. The filling will puff up like a marshmallow and the center will be just slightly wobbly. Once cooled (at least one hour), finish with a sprinkling of flake sea salt. Slice and serve with freshly whipped cream.

Four & Twenty Blackbirds Pie Crust

This recipe makes one double crusted, 9-inch pie (you only need one crust for the honey pie--if you make both, you can freeze the other one).

2 1/2 cups all-purpose unbleached flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 pound (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
8-10 tablespoons ice water with cider vinegar, or more as needed (combine 1 cup cold water, 1/8 cup cider vinegar and ice)

Whisk the dry ingredients together and blend with a hand-held pastry blender (or a knife and fork or two forks) the chopped, cold butter, being careful not to overwork during this step. The butter should be in pea-sized chunks, not too big, but not completely incorporated. Slowly add the ice water and vinegar mixture and bring the dough completely together by hand, again being careful not to overwork. Aim to create a marbleized effect, so that the butter is still visible. Divide into 2 discs, wrap in plastic and chill 1 hour or more before use. To pre-bake a crust for a custard pie: Roll one disc of crust out to fit a 9-inch pan, about 1/4 inch thick. Place in a buttered pie pan, and crimp the edges as desired. Allow to rest and cool in freezer or fridge for at least 20 minutes. Line the rolled-out crust with tinfoil or unwaxed parchment paper, add pie weights or about a cup of dry beans if you don’t have pie weights. Distribute them evenly. Bake in a 375 F oven for 20 minutes. Allow to cool slightly before filling with custard.

End of the Line

When he was a kid, D's dad used to bring home 20 porgies at a time after fishing off the party boats in Canarsie. It was a good way for his dad to hang out with his buddies away from the wives and bring home food for his family. Who knows if you can even bring home 20 porgies at a time anymore? We've been eating less and less fish these days because of sustainability and toxicity concerns. We've also been searching for good information about what to eat and what not to eat, like this terrific NPR story that we heard by chance a few months ago about a book called Four Fishes. Tonight, we watched the movie The End of the Line, a documentary about overfishing featuring scientists predicting the extinction of many of the tastiest species. Porgies aren't one of those endangered fish, yet, but all of the experts advise eating less fish and trying to find sources that are committed to sustainable fishing methods.

Local is usually better. With that in mind, D and I trekked to Chelsea Market to get some fish at The Lobster Place after a day at the Highline Park, a park built on an old elevated former freight line (definitely worth a visit). At $4.50 a pound, the porgy--known for its tasty & firm white meat, locally fished, and not on the "Do Not Eat" list--was the fish to pick. We had 2 porgies filleted, and D prepared them for dinner. We garnished the fish with this black salt that we picked up at Williams Sonoma.

Seared Porgy with Corn & Olive Relish

1.5 lb fresh porgy, filleted
salt, pepper, olive oil
6 olives, chopped
one ear of corn, removed from the cob
small red pepper, diced
2 scallions, chopped
2 limes
1/4 stick of butter
splash of white wine

Saute in a cast iron pan the olives, corn, red pepper, and scallions in 1/4 stick of butter. Season with salt and pepper; finish with a splash of white wine and the juice of 2 limes. Season the porgy with salt and pepper and sear, skin side first, then flip to sear the other side. Pop it in the oven to finish. Serve on a bed of relish with some greens on the side (we used broccoli rabe). Enjoy!

Hurricane Bars

Last week, everyone from my dad to CNN was warning of the storm of the century. Hurricane Irene was making a bee-line for New York City, and we should all prepare to hunker down with sandbags, flashlights, and bathtubs filled with water for at least a few days, if not more. Most of us felt like the warnings were completely overblown, but echoes of Hurricane Katrina were playing around in my head, so I did everything they told me to do. My go-bag was packed, my cooler was filled with ice, and I was on the verge of taping up the windows. But after some harrowing wind and rain on Saturday night, the worst of the storm was over and when I got up at 6 am Sunday to catch the predicted water surge that would leave all of lower Manhattan under 6-12 feet of water, nothing happened. People in upstate New York suffered tremendously from flooding, but here, I can't even say we had a casualty. In fact, the storm prep motivated us to clean the porch and the fridge. So by Sunday mid-morning, I was feeling quite a bit of post-partum depression. I was all psyched up to sit inside, away from the windows, listening to the howling wind and playing scrabble by lamplight. Now, the sun was shining, birds were singing, and I had no tragedy to focus my energies on. So I decided to make dessert to bring to the home of some friends for dinner that night. I used a recipe from Gourmet magazine from 1999, and while I followed the perfectly good recipe, I would make several modifications to make the bars less sweet and more coconutty the next time around. I used an Epicurious recipe for the shortbread base, but used a light wheat flour instead of white flour. I'll call these chocolate macaroon bars Hurricane Bars probably forever.

Chocolate Macaroon Bars

4 large egg whites
1 cup sugar (I would use 1/2 cup sugar, or the same amount of sugar with a non-sweetened coconut)
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup light wheat flour
a 7-ounce bag sweetened flaked coconut (about 2 2/3 cups) (I would use 3 - 3 1/2 cups coconut, and perhaps half or all unsweetened coconut)
1 1/2 cups semisweet chocolate chips

Shortbread Base

1 1/2 sticks (3/4 cup) unsalted butter
2 cups light wheat flour
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Cut butter into 1/2-inch pieces. In a food processor process all ingredients until mixture begins to form small lumps. Sprinkle mixture into a 13 x 9 x 2-inch baking pan and with a metal spatula press evenly onto bottom. Bake shortbread in middle of oven until golden, about 20 minutes. While shortbread is baking, prepare topping.

In a bowl whisk together whites, sugar, and vanilla until combined well and stir in flour and coconut. Sprinkle chocolate chips evenly over hot shortbread. Let chips melt and spread evenly over shortbread. Drop small spoonfuls of coconut mixture onto chocolate and with a fork spread evenly. Bake in middle of oven until top is golden, about 30 minutes. Cool completely in pan and cut into 24 bars. We served ours with vanilla gelato.

A Bronx Find

The organization I work for hosted a series of lunches for defense attorneys in four different cities across New York State to discuss the implementation of a drug law reform measure that passed in 2009. I wanted the luncheons to be something special, but defense attorneys in Buffalo and Rochester weren't very imaginative; we had sandwiches from a (nice) deli in Buffalo, but the Rochester lawyers opted for simple pepperoni pizza. When the luncheon for the Bronx lawyers came up, I posted a request on my Facebook page for some suggestions for a good restaurant nearby. Almost immediately, a friend responded by putting me in touch with a lawyer who happened to work for the organization I was visiting (but in a different department). He said: hands down, Coqui Mexicano. I visited the website and could tell from the menu that this place was a winner.

After agonizing over the menu, and deciding that I'd have to pitch in some bucks for extra food so I could bring home dinner, I called Diego and explained the plan. I was a little worried when he said that their catering menu was different, but not posted on the web, but ultimately, I just told him what I wanted in general and the amount of money that I wanted to spend.

It just so happened that D and I were traveling in the same direction the day of the luncheon, and so we decided to drive up to the Bronx and have a quick lunch together before the luncheon. (I knew that because I was speaking and asking a bunch of questions and taking notes during the luncheon that I wouldn't be able to eat during the meeting.) When we arrived, Diego seemed a bit frazzled, and worried aloud that the avocados weren't really ripe enough yet. The place was not very busy, just a few folks talking leisurely over some food in the brightly-colored dining room. Diego suggested the beef stew, which D ordered--but I knew I wanted a Cubano. I'm not a big Cubano fan, but for some reason, I wanted to try his. I'm so glad I did. Thinly sliced ham, pernil, pickle, and mayo, and a very tasty cheese on a soft roll. He conversed with us while we ate, asking if everything was alright ("some people make crusty Cubanos, I like mine like this. You like it?" I did.)

After giving the avocados a few more squeezes, he excused himself and set off at a quick trot down the street and around the corner--presumably in search of more ripe avocados for the guacamole we'd ordered for the luncheon. Watching him run down the street, I noticed an amazingly ornate, but run-down, building across the street--it was the old Bronx County Courthouse. Now covered in unartistic graffiti and grime, it appeared to be a sad symbol of a neighborhood in decline. But D told me that the owner recently sold it to a charter school, so (notwithstanding concerns about charter schools!) maybe someday soon, the beautiful architecture will shine on the block again. You can see the building in the background of the picture above, but some dude actually took photos of the inside and outside of the building and posted them on his blog, Satan's Laundromat.

Before D and I left to head over to the luncheon, I ordered a piece of Budin de Maiz, a sweet cornbread pudding with raisins, cinnamon, & grated coconut for a snack later that day. It was delicious. As the menu said, it's great for breakfast with coffee, or a dessert. I'll have it anytime, thank you.

When Diego delivered the spread for the luncheon a half an hour later, the lawyers greeted him like an old friend. I didn't know until later that about a year ago, when Coqui was struggling in the neighborhood, the legal services office organized a fundraiser to keep them in business. The bonds are tight between the organization and the restaurant. This article explains the story of Coqui Mexicano and why it's so special in the neighborhood.

I ordered a taco platter with pernil, warm corn tortillas, ricanized couscous salad, guacamole, escabeche de gandules, and five Cubanos. Diego apologized because he didn't bring as much as I ordered because he didn't want to use the under-ripe avocados, which was VERY COOL. He brought the chayote salad as a substitute--I have to admit, I didn't order it because I didn't know what it would be like, but it was outstanding. The lawyers enjoyed the food, the meeting was a success, and I brought some leftovers home so that D and I could taste the whole range of food from the place. I owe Diego a big, warm thank you for his thoughtful preparation of the food. I only wish I had more occasion to go to the Bronx--this would be my go-to place.

Photos courtesy of Welcome2Melrose blog, and The Daily News.

Urban Foraging for Pomegranate Molasses

Pomegranates are so good. I found a recipe for honey-pomegranate chicken from Cooking Light magazine, but I couldn't figure out where to get the pomegranate molasses. I checked at Fairway and Trader Joe's, but no luck. I googled it along with NYC, and came up with Kalustyan's, at 28th and Lexington. THIS was the place I'd been thinking of when I was looking for tamarind concentrate, but the name just wouldn't come to me. When I walked in, I realized I had been there before--a time that seems so far from now. It was the day of the huge anti-war demonstration after September 11, and I had just been dumped. The guy that I was trying to get with at the time came with me to the demonstration in midtown (it was the first demonstration that he'd ever been to!) and he told me that he only wanted to be friends. It was my first foray into romance after a serious heartbreak, and I think I was overly optimistic. I liked him and that was a big risk. The thing hadn't even gotten off the ground, but I was kind of crushed.

I remember wandering about after we said goodbye at the subway, and I somehow "wandered" into Kalustyan's. I wasn't as into cooking as I am now, so I didn't appreciate what I was walking into. I remember buying some spices for dal, lentils, rice, and halvah--and then subsisting on it for a week while I licked my wounds. It was a strange sensation walking into Kalustyan's again last weekend as I recalled that time. It didn't take long to shake off the bittersweet memory, and before long I was just wide-eyed and gaping at the wonders on the shelves. It was astounding. It made me think about how much I will miss when we finally leave New York. But for now, I thought, I better stock up!



It wasn't hard to find the pomegranate molasses, and about a dozen other ingredients along the way. I also made note of the fact that they sell cookware and posters of spices and grains, and teas....new place to find presents. Check it out for yourself: http://www.kalustyans.com I told some people that I work with about the recipe, and one of my coworkers reminded me of the Afghan dish called fesenjan, which I've seen on the menu at Khyber Pass in the East Village. Now I want to make plans to go there again. In the meantime, I made this for us for dinner.

Honey-Pomegranate Chicken

3/4 cup honey
1/3 cup finely chopped shallots
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (about 3 small lemons)
1 tablespoon grated lemon rind
3 tablespoons pomegranate molasses
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon Sriracha hot sauce
6 garlic cloves, minced
2 chicken breasts, bone in with skin
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 tablespoon water
olive oil

Combine first 9 ingredients in a large bowl. Pour over the two chicken breasts and marinate overnight. When you are ready to begin cooking, preheat your oven to 425°. Remove the chicken breasts from the bowl, reserving the marinade. Combine cornstarch and water in a small bowl. Place the reserved marinade in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Stir in cornstarch mixture, and cook for 3 minutes or until thickened, stirring frequently. Remove from heat. Place the chicken in a pan coated with olive oil. Bake at 400° for 45 minutes or until chicken is done, basting with reserved marinade every 10 minutes or so. I served the chicken with jasmine rice and spinach, with a garnish of toasted walnuts. If I make this recipe again, I would add more Sriracha sauce and garnish with pomegranate seeds with the walnuts.

how i got started making pickles, and why making pickles matters

My boyfriend and I were at grand army plaza in Brooklyn one Saturday in September and I spotted a barrel of little cucumbers and I had a flash of memory of watching my mother making dill pickle spears in our kitchen in Mechanicsburg, PA. He’s a trained chef, and so I always turn to him for culinary answers. I said, “Do you think I could make pickles?” He said “sure!” I asked him what I needed and he said I probably had everything in my kitchen. I have a really well-stocked kitchen because I cook and entertain a lot, so when I went home, I consulted my Joy of Cooking and the internet, and by 7 when he came over, I had a batch of sweet and sour pickle slices, and a batch of dill pickles—all in old jars I had gotten from my mother, filled with her homemade jam or spaghetti sauce. They were beautiful (see picture). And, in a few days, I found, they were delicious. I was hooked. The next week, D. showed up with a Brooklyn magazine, Edible Brooklyn, with an article about two guys who started their own pickle businesses in Brooklyn—in their own small kitchens very much like mine. There was a recipe for dill pickles generously provided by one of the guys, and for my next few batches, I used it.

I used to be such a workaholic--I never spent any time on things that I enjoyed apart from work. There was a time that my only hobbies were work-related. So it's been really precious everytime I find something that is so far from work related that I love to do. I also love the fact that it was a childhood memory that got me pickling, and I love the fact that I’ve been finding great fresh local vegetables in my own neighborhood in Brooklyn to make them.