Writing With My Mouth Full

Macha Green Tea Pound Cake

I’ve never heard of blue eggs until I saw them from Holton Farms’ Web site the last time I ordered my CSA produce. Curious, I ordered a dozen even though they cost $7. After some research, I found out that the blue eggs come naturally from these Chilean chickens called Araucana that look like they have handlebar moustaches coming out of the sides of their faces. They’re super cute, but the eggs look even more beautiful and delicate.

I used two of them to replicate this green tea pound cake recipe from About.com. I edited it after trying it two times. Because there is no liquid involved, I thought it was wrong to say that you have to “pour the batter” in a pan–it was more like transferring each glop with my spatula than pouring. I also cut the sugar in half because I wanted the green tea flavor to stand out. Forty minutes made it too dense so I stuck with half an hour the next time and thought it came out just right.

When I brought the end product to work, everyone liked and ate it, but I made sure they knew it was a pound cake and not a sponge cake so that they’re not taken aback by the density of the bread. If you’d serve this warm and straight out of the oven, dust with a little bit of confectionary sugar to pretty it up.

Ingredients:
1 stick of butter
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup flour, sifted
1/3 cup sugar
1 tbsp matcha, or green tea powder
1/2 tsp baking powder
a small knob of butter for greasing the loaf pan

1. Preheat oven to 350º. Meanwhile, in a large glass bowl, melt the butter in the microwave for 1 minute. Cream with a spatula and slowly mix in the beaten eggs. Combine well.
2. Gradually add the flour with one hand while the other is making sure everything gets incorporated. Do the same with the sugar, the green tea powder and the baking powder. Transfer to a buttered loaf pan and gently pat even with your spatula.
3. Bake in the oven for 30 minutes. Remove from oven–the remaining heat should cook it in place–and let stand until it’s cool enough to serve.

Day 1 in Portugal: Overnight in Sintra: Casa Miradouro

Good thing Daddy knows how to drive stick!, the Dr. beamed proudly as we took another sharp turn on Sintra’s curvy roads. It took us at least an hour to find Casa Miradouro from Lisbon. We drove through the narrow stone streets of Sintra with its numerous forts, monasteries and castles and we kept getting lost because of the tight turns we always had to take. We squeezed past tour buses as they were finishing up for the day, halted to quick stops to read the rua signs and re-oriented ourselves several times to find our room for the night.

The Dr. is not big on asking strangers for driving directions–no surprise, he is a guy after all–so I had to go to the tourist office alone to ask Onde Rua Sotto Mayor? The guy at the desk just assumed I spoke Portuguese and proceeded to tell me how to get to where we needed to be in his sh-sh-sh language. All I understood was the word for left, izquierda, because it was similar to Spanish so we went back on the road and turned left on the road across from the office. We will later learn that most of the locals choose to speak French rather than Spanish which is a curious thing to us because Spain is right next door. Almost everyone we met would switch to Parlez-vous FranÃ§ais? whenever we started talking to them in English or Spanish. Thankfully, the Dr.’s French lessons in high school paid off again. (The first was in Cuba, and then in Tunisia.)

Getting lost was worth it when we finally found Casa Miradouro because it was a haven from the bustle of the town center. Charlotte, the proprietress of Casa Miradouro welcomed us to her home as it started to rain. It had been cloudy when we touched down Lisbon with some sunshine peaking through the clouds and I was a bit chilly from my lack of sleep on the plane and felt a cold coming in, but suddenly felt relaxed as soon as we entered the house. The first floor had several salons for entertaining, each one set up with a different style of furniture. Design books were on the modern coffee tables. Cathedral ceilings with ornate details and ceiling to floor curtains gave the rooms an airy feel.

In our room, double doors opened towards the garden with a Juliet balcony that overlooked the town. Our queen-sized bed was covered in plain white sheets and two separate twin down comforters. (How come I never thought of that? No more blanket-stealing during cold nights in bed!) Blue and white tiles in the style of azulejos, an ubiquitous Portuguese touch, lined the bathroom walls. Hot water was aplenty!

After cleaning up, we felt settled enough to take an afternoon walk in the town and check out our surroundings. We walked up and down small hills, through narrow alleys and past bakeries and souvenir shops. We stopped by Lojo do Vinho for a couple of glasses of wine before we walked to the unfortunately named GSpot for dinner. Charlotte had recommended two different types of restaurants and we opted for the more experimental one since we knew we would have the rest of the week to eat local fare.

After a bottle of wine, foie gras, clams with squid-inked orzo and a mediocre sirloin steak, we set out into the drizzly night and walked back to Casa Miradouro. It felt like we had Sintra to ourselves; this fantasy land of castles looming above us. I could only think of Prague where I felt the same way at night but this was less gritty and more peaceful.

Charlotte was up; we assumed she was waiting for us to get in because she turned off all the hallway lights as soon as we bid her good night. We had a nightcap of Port at the bar in one of the rooms and talked for a bit before heading to our bedroom. A few hours later, I woke up with a crushing headache. Sintra’s lights from our balcony made me pause in the dark when I got up to go to the bathroom. Headache be damned, I was falling in love with Sintra’s nighttime lights and couldn’t wait for the next morning when we would begin to see the rest of the country.

The next morning, we enjoyed a very civilized breakfast in the basement. The Dr. and I have never been the best bed and breakfast guests because we’ve never really had good free breakfasts wherever we’ve stayed. The coffee is always weak, the bread cold and the butter like they serve it on airplanes. To our surprise, Charlotte prepared a spread of salmon, prosciutto, salami and ham with an assortment of pastries and fresh fruits. French-pressed coffee and freshly-squeezed orange juice completed our morning. We checked out, reloaded our stuff in the hatchback and drove to São Pedro to visit the Sunday flea market before we started our long drive up north.

There was an assortment of colors at the Feira Grande de São Pedro. A cart selling only leitao, roasted pig, was in the middle of the square amidst a barrage of clothing, housewares, fig and olive plants, live finchess and other types of food. I watched a group of older ladies pull a tray of freshly-baked bread from a stone oven and bought two pieces only to discover sausage slices stuffed inside. We just ate, but happily ate again. Besides, lunch was still two hours away.

Dovetail

103 West 77th Street between Amsterdam and Columbus Avenues
212/362-3800
about $167 for two, with drinks, with tip
♥ ♥ ♥

Oh, this is your place? asked John Fraser, Dovetail’s chef. Erin and I ran into him as we were leaving the restaurant and we started telling him about our vegetarian-vegan restaurant project for this site. Erin has been bringing me to her places for the past month and now it’s my turn to bring her to one of mine.

Dovetail has expanded their space. Gone is the sliver of a bar by the entrance; there’s actually a small room that looks out 77th Street now. I’ve eaten at Dovetail several times, but I guess it’s been a while since my last visit. The private room next to the kitchen is still downstairs though, and one day, I would like an intimate dinner there with some of my closest friends. Besides the space, not much has changed. The staff is still churning some impressive plates and concocting some fancy cocktails (what happened to the Asian hipster with the funky hair?); their pastry chef, Vera Tong, is still wowing diners with her amazing desserts.

Dovetail started serving vegetable-focused menus on Monday nights and I thought it would be perfect to take Erin to one of my favorite restaurants to show her how talented kitchens could–and should–whip up vegetable, and even vegan, dishes. At $42 for four courses including dessert, it’s a deal you really can’t beat. The selections were so ridiculously difficult to choose from that I had to order an extra course. I simply couldn’t make up my mind between the sea urchin and the chanterelle mushrooms.

There are fewer vegan choices, but Erin didn’t have a problem eating the peach salad with the avocados. I read that they came brushed with chili oil, but I was wondering if aged balsamic vinegar was involved as well. Her tofu had a hint of lemongrass in the chai curry: it was bright and didn’t weigh down the tempura breading. She needed my help by the time she got to the barbecue parsnip rib with potatoes, pineapple and peanuts and I was glad to pick on her plate.

I started with the lightly-breaded and fried squash blossom stuffed with cauliflower. A frisée salad had a salty kick with small bits of smoked trout which was in turn held back by the horseradish and peppermint white sauce. The “chanterelles on a shingle” came next, a play on a traditional wartime dish called Shit on a Shingle (or SOS) made of heavy cream. The Brussels sprouts were pebble-sized and tender and gave good texture to the soft figs. The military would have loved this version better.

What came next blew my mind away: congee flavored with shiso leaves and topped with braised cucumbers and uni. It was so delicate and yet the flavors came out so strong. If John Fraser himself came up with this dish, then I want to have a drink with John Fraser. This dish, this dish is what makes a cook a chef. I ended with the button mushroom gnocchi in Bordelaise sauce. It was a little heavy after that heavenly porridge, but the radish cut through the French sauce. The butternut squash reminded me that autumn is here and if I eat any more Dovetail-caliber food in the next few months, I hope it stays.

Kajitsu

414 East 9th Street between First Avenue and Avenue A
212/228.4873
about $150 for two, with drinks, without tip
♥ ♥ ♥

Kajitsu serves shojin, an ancient Japanese cuisine in which meals are prepared by following the Buddhist principle of not taking life. Leave it to Japanese culinary techniques to take a concept like vegetarianism and make it exceptional. I’ve never heard of Kajitsu before–but then again I’m rarely in the East Village–so I was glad when Erin introduced me to its serene ambiance and to vegetarian food prepared with finesse.

We sat at the bar right in front of the chef when we visited. Bar seating is a favorite of mine because you can see what’s going on behind the scenes and you have a chance to talk to the chef in between courses. There’s not much cooking going on at the Kajitsu bar though. I think they’ve perfected the assembling of ingredients prepared earlier which, if I would guess, takes the stress away from making sure each course is paced and served on time. The dishes that needed cooking came from the side door, but we rarely heard a peep so common from open kitchens. It was Zen all the way in Kajitsu.

What came out were beautifully crafted vegetable dishes that not only looked good but also tasted good. I was honestly preparing myself for another meal after our dinner because each course read more like poetry than a dish. After all, you don’t get to see “tofu chrysanthemum” on menus too often.

We imbibed in the sake martini served like shaved ice. Harmless at first, but clearly damaging after our heads reminded us that there was alcohol in those summer drinks. Our first course blew me away on presentation: taro dumplings shaped like small spheres matched with a very thinly-sliced black daikon to mimic the shape of the moon outside and then topped with chives, ginger and a hint of soy.

The tofu was sliced like a flower and floated in a light broth with two tempura-battered lobster mushrooms. I have no idea where the depth of the dish came from but I knew it wasn’t just the sake that was making me dizzy in satisfaction.

For our main courses, I opted for the hot udon soup while Erin went for the cold soba noodles, both of which were made in-house and showcased what I truly enjoy about most Japanese cuisines: clean, subtle and deceptively simple.

The most beautiful plate of cooked summer vegetables I’ve ever laid my eyes on came next. I’ll let this photo speak for itself with one note: it tasted as good as it looked.

The last course rounded up our entire experience: rice topped with yamaimo, the slimy Japanese mountain yam that I’ve always enjoyed at Sobaya, another noodle joint down the neighborhood. A trio of house-made pickles and toasted rice crispies added texture to its sliminess.

Kajitsu was what I was looking for in vegetarian food. If more vegetarian restaurants could learn from shojin cuisine, I would be very happy to stay away from meat.

Foraging with Wildman Steve

After reading about Bon Appétit, a sustainable-minded food catering company based in–of course–California, and its efforts to get even more local by switching the roles of some of their managers and chefs to “foragers”, I immediately thought, Well, they should call Wildman Steve.

I don’t remember how I first heard about Wildman Steve, but I’ve since kept him in the back of my head for when my schedule allowed me to join one of his foraging tours in Central Park. One super humid summer day, me and about fifteen others met in the upper west side of the park to forage for berries and cherries, epazotes and sasafras, and probably the last garlic bulb of spring and the first burdock of fall. The bonus was learning how to spot poison ivy; how amazing it was to see so many all over the park where clueless pedestrians and their pets run around!

Unfortunately, the rest of the summer didn’t allow for much cooking in the kitchen so I wasn’t able to use the produce I took home except for the berries that went into a pint of homemade ice cream, but I did gnaw on all of the stuff the Wildman showed us along the way. I completely trusted that he knew what he was doing and picking. I’m glad to report that there were no weird stomach pains after.

Here’s a list of plants we came across in and around 103rd Street and Central Park West:

1. European Cut-leaf Blackberries – I was so surprised to see a fruit tree in the park! Now that I know where they are, I’ll just pick these in season.

2. Native Black Cherries – I took home a lot of these using the plastic take-out containers we were advised to bring. A subtle ice cream was made at home afterward.

3. Epazote – You can dry and save these for use in a Mexican dish

4. Lamb’s Quarters – You can use them in quiche or cook them like you would spinach

5. Poor Man’s Pepper – They tasted like mustard seeds and Wildman said they would be great in miso soup

6. Wood Sorrel – You’ve seen these growing like weeds and you thought that you could find a four-leaf clover among them. You won’t.

7. Mayapple – Wildman crossed a fence and picked these small plums that taste like passionfruits

8. Common Plantain – These are also everywhere in the park. I’ve always thought they were just some kind of weed, but you can mash the leaves and rub them all over yourself to keep the mosquitoes off. The small seeds had a hint of peanut taste.

9. Garlic Mustard – The plant that keeps on giving: you can use the leaves for a garlic pesto, the buds and the sprouts like chives, the roots like horseradish, the seeds like mustard seeds!

10. Jetberries – I see these all the time, too, and now I know that if a berry bush has some sharp and ragged-edged leaves, they are poisonous!

11. Asiatic Dayflower – They look like tiny string beans

12. Field Garlic – I was very happy to see garlic even though we only found one whole bulb because it’s way past spring. They’re definitely stronger than your grocery store garlic bulbs.

13. Poison Ivy – We spotted a few plants around the park which took me by surprise because dog owners may be walking their pets along the paths not knowing they’re sniffing them! Now I know how to tell them apart: they have three leaves per stalk, but the smaller two connect directly to the twig.

14. Sasafras – Commonly known as the plant that makes root beer, Wildman Steve showed us the leaves in three different shapes.

15. Fawn Mushroom – Fortunately, we found one mushroom by some tree. Unfortunately, a squirrel got to it before we did. Fawn mushrooms grow on wood, have blush-pink gills and have a space in between their gills and stem. If you want to see more mushrooms, sign up for the tour after a whole lot of rain.

16. Jewelweed – Wildman Steve sprinkled some water onto their leaves and the droplets repelled and looked like jewels, hence the name. They are known to help your poison ivy rash, so grab some of these after you step on the ivy plants during the tour.

17. Sweet Pepper Bush – You can rub and juice the hell out of them to make your own soap

18. Lemon Verbana relative – We couldn’t identify the plant that grew along the running water near the Lasker Pool. It had a somewhat citrus smell, but it wasn’t mint because it wasn’t minty enough, nor was it lemon verbana because it didn’t have pointy leaves. Can you help?

19. Burdock – I first had burdock at The Tasting Room. I miss that place. They were cooking farm-to-table style years before every blogger started using that term.

Although you won’t be on your hands or knees during the foraging trip, I highly recommend bringing a knife. I have a sample of the Ikon Folding Gentleman’s knife from the generous people at Wüsthof and I love it. It’s small enough to pack, yet very hefty and reliable when you’re cutting and slicing tougher items like burdock. Folding it back in takes a little getting used to–something my gentleman had to teach me to avoid accidentally cutting myself–but as soon as I got the hang of it, it was easy to reveal the 5-inch knife and fold back into the smooth Blackwood ebony handle.