Author: Stephanie March

The problem with blazing through life with eyes strictly forward, is that often I forget to reconnect to people with whom I’ve shared good days. Life takes work, and sometimes there doesn’t seem to be enough time or energy to reboil old friendships. And then there’s the fear that the connection leads only to a past-life that doesn’t really jibe with the person in my new apron.

And yet.

This weekend we had a dinner party with some friends, one of whom was an old chum from high school that I had run into at Target. She was the one person I knew back then who was as cynical about our suburban surroundings as I was. Odd that we should both find ourselves in the same area again.

We started out the night with a fresh sake-cucumber cocktail, seemingly innocent and light, a quencher with a kick for a hot day. We snacked on tuna tataki while we chatted, the room splitting itself into male and female groups. Dinner was pan-seared halibut, bamboo rice, and market vegetables. I’d picked up purple beans at the market, thinking they would add a fun splash of color to the plate. They turned green when we cooked them. Huh.

Peeking out from under the halibut on each plate, was one sauteed squash blossom. The halibut was lovely anyway, but when a bite carried a soft, slightly sweet piece of the blossom, it was a new dish entirely. That there was only one blossom on your plate made it that much richer, grasping the flavor of each tiny bite more important.

As always, there was much wine and more laughter. The evening ended with a smart port and espresso crepes with ice cream (brought by the new guests.) My favorite thing about the evening was that there was no need to play out the shared memories of the past. The conversations flowed like the wine and the people we are became more important than the people we were.

Sake Cucumber Punch
1 large seedless cucumber
1/4 c sugar
2 c water
2 T freshly peeled and grated ginger
2 lemons
2 bottles (750 ml) of dry sake

Cut cucumber in half, crosswise. Peel and chop one half, puree in blender. Slice other half into thin rounds, set aside. Add sugar, water, ginger to blender. Squeeze the juice from both lemons into blender, puree until smooth. Pour mix through sieve into pitcher, add one and a half bottles of sake. Stir and add sliced cucumbers. Cover and chill for at least an hour.

four and twenty blackbirds …

Pie.

Apple pie, lemon pie, pumpkin pie, shoofly pie, humble pie, pot pie, mincemeat pie, sugar pie. Pies have been around since the ancient Egyptians. In older times, the crust was not eaten. Referred to as the “coffyn”, the crust was merely a means of holding the warm filling together. The meat pies in England often made use of a protruding leg as a handle. How very smart.

Warm or cold, sweet or savory, political projectile or genital symbol, everybody loves pie.

This Sunday, the Minneapolis chapter of the Slow Food organization is celebrating pie at an “It’s All About Pie” event at The Neighborhood House in St. Paul (179 Robie Street East).

Four expert pie makers will share their life of pie:
Anne Dimock, author of Humble Pie: Musing on What Lies Beneath the Crust.
John Michael Lerma, author of Garden Party.
Rose McGee, brilliant playwright, story teller, maker of incredible sweet potato pie and owner of Deep Roots Gourmet Desserts.
Valorie Arrowsmith, a pie maker from Braham, MN where they know a thing or two about pie.

Stories, samples, demonstrations, and life lessons can be experience from 1-4pm. Contact chefron73@hotmail.com or call 612-362-9210 for more info.

Last night I ate at Mission American Kitchen with a bunch of friends/business people. We were an odd lot. One end of the table was heavy with work conversation and Blackberry buzzing, the other end, my end, was thick with laughter, The Macallan, and housemade potato chips.

Our server handled it perfectly.

He worked his way around the table pouring wine and answering questions, throwing in a saucy comment on one side and deftly describing a salad on the other. He was fun and figured us out pretty quickly. When one of our bunch got a phone call and left the table, they whisked his untouched plate away to keep warm in the kitchen. When he didn’t return for quite awhile, they said they’d get him a new one when he came back. That seems so obvious, but it happens so rarely.

For all the crappy service that I have to cringe and put up with, it was such a relief to be taken care of with such aplomb.

This weekend has been the winter of summer. Whether it’s 60 below or 100 above, it’s all about coping. Because the majority of people in my house are under the age of 16, coping comes only with my help: I’m bored, it’s too hot to go out, there’s nothing on tv, I’m too sticky to read, he’s touching me, she’s breathing on me. Ultimately, the bottom line is that I need a break from my family. I’m not ashamed to say it, I still love them, but I need to get away from them.

Obviously, if I’m going to escape, I’d prefer that there be good food involved. And since someone (read: the husband) has to stay home and help people cope, it means that I am off on my own, blissfully alone.

I have no problem eating alone. Some people are self-conscious about the deficiency of a companion; I care not. If the servers feel pity or other eaters glance my way, I really don’t notice. With the lack of chatter and the absense of questions comes a soft void where I can focus on my food. And bonus: no sharing or compromise. I get to pick strictly West Coast oysters and slurp them all, without a single thought as to the etiquette of reaching for the last one.

Tonight, I think I’ve found the prefect cure. On Sunday and Monday nights during the summer, Solera’s rooftop deck becomes a beautiful escape with screenings of movies and drink specials. I can’t imagine a better night than one that begins with my personal selection of favorite tapas and ends with a cold beer and viewing of In Cold Blood under the stars. Perfectly, wonderfully at a table for one.

I heart Michael Ruhlman.

He’s written some really nice books, including The Making of a Chef, The Soul of a Chef and most recently The Reach of a Chef.

He’s also a guest blogger on megnut, food writer Meg Hourihan’s food site.

I’ve just spent the last hour reading his posting: It’s a Wonderful Life and all the resulting comments (including a brutally funny one from Mr. Bourdain). Definitely food for thought on a Thursday afternoon …

I have a good buddy who we’ll call “Roy”. He’s a total foodiphile and routinely calls me from the market on weekend mornings to give the good report on what he’s finding. Before he owned his own business, he was a pro server at some of the best fine dining establishments in town. Roy is going through a rough divorce.

His soon-to-be ex, who we’ll call “The Grinch”, has removed nearly everything from his house, down to the last can of Who-Hash. This is a man who cooks, and cooks well. But no man can cook when he’s left with only a turkey baster and a foosball table.

I’m thinking of throwing him a Divorce Shower/Sake Binge once the thing finally goes through. If I had to restock from scratch, these would be my firsts and favorites:

Bowls, of the stainless steel variety. Clean up in a flash and they’ll never break.

Tongs, even if you have managed to culture asbestos fingers. Get the most basic, too much frippery only hampers the tool.

Forget the regular oven mit, they don’t call this one The Dragon for nothin’, baby. With the 100% Kevlar protection up to 1000 degrees, feel free to reach in the oven and just manhandle that turkey!

Rubber Spatulas need to be heat proof, yes. But more importantly, they shouldn’t break off into your batter.

Half-Sheet Pan, sometimes known as Jelly Roll Pan. Use it as a tray to set up prep items, throw down some parchment paper to bake cookies, roast a chicken, whatever.

Speaking of which, check out this deal on parchment paper. Set for life!

Pans, you have to go All-Clad. Except for one favorite.

Maybe one more gift to help embrace bachelorhood (that is, if The Grinch didn’t make off with the frigidaire).

Help me out: What are the kitchen things you couldn’t live without?

This is the first real weekend of summer.

No holidays to plan for, kids are tied up with “other plans” that don’t include family or summer sporting events, friends have had enough of me over the Fourth and it’s going to be hot.

FRIDAY
I’m simply craving sushi, maybe to help cleanse my body of all the hot dogs I ate this week. Dinner at Yumi’s in Excelsior, a great summer town. Maybe we’ll catch a movie at the Dock then go to Biella for late night dessert at a patio table.

SATURDAY
Hit the Mill City Farmers Market with the three year old. Then we’re going New School with lunch at Level Five in the new Guthrie, followed by Old School with Oreo’s on top of the Foshay Tower. Hit the beach, read my book, take a nap. If I remember to stop at Coastal, we might just have mussels with crusty bread for dinner.

SUNDAY
Maybe we’ll check out dim sum at Jun Bo in Richfield, maybe we’ll make chocolate chip pancakes, who knows. There will definitely be World Cup action, whether I’m drinking French beer or Italian beer, I haven’t decided yet. There’s one thing of which I am sure: since it’s been at least a full week since I’ve had a decent cheeseburger, LT for dinner.

I am a King Prawn, okay?

I will not eat them Mr. Pimp
I will not eat those pinky shrimp.

I will not eat them set ablaze.
I will not eat them in souffles.

I will not eat them with a dip.
I will not eat them on a chip.

I will not eat them in a sauce.
I will not eat them with your boss.

I will not eat them as a puff.
I will not eat that icky stuff.

I will not eat those wretched shrimp,
I will not eat them Chimpy Chimp.

Oh, fine. I’ll try some. You never know
which place your mind will let you go.
I like them! I like them!
I do, I do!
Now I can be just like one of you.

It’s taken me 10 years to like shrimp. I still can’t eat them like everyone else, drowning them in deathly red cocktail sauce and slurping them up. And I can’t abide those tiny tiny pink curls hiding in a salad or a box of fried rice. But I have learned to love them blackened or classically broiled in scampi fashion. I enjoy them in paella and find them pleasing in ceviche.

I am growing, I am evolving.

I bring this up for two reasons. Firstly, Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. has just announced the winner of their “Shrimp Happens” recipe contest. Kathy Saatzer of Maple Grove has created a Margarita Shrimp Salad that will appear on their menu starting July 1st. Each time the salad is ordered in July, Bubba Gump will donate $1 to Second Harvest Heartland. A worthy reason to brave the Mall of America.

Secondly, I helped judge the Diamond Crystal Kosher Salt recipe contest a few months ago, and am pleased to see that the Salt Roasted Shrimp dish from Shoshana Baars-Stanton won the appetizer category. It was truly lovely, not icky in the least.

Salt Roasted Shrimp
1 T olive oil
1 T chopped cilantro
1 large clove garlic, thinly sliced
6 medium/large shrimp, deveined, shells on
1.5 to 2 cups Diamond Crystal Kosher Salt
1/2 cup Chardonnay wine
1/8 tsp. crushed saffron threads
4 whole black peppercorns
1/4 tsp. honey
3 T unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1/4 tsp. Diamond Crystal Kosher Salt

1. Heat oven to 400. In medium bowl, blend olive oil, cilantro, and garlic. Add shrimp, toss to coat. Cover and refrigerate.

2. Spread salt in even layer on baking sheet at least 1/2 inch thick. Place sheet in oven for 30 minutes to heat salt.

3. Remove sheet from oven and place shrimp on the hot salt in a single layer. Return to oven, baking for 2 minutes. Turn shrimp over and bake for additional 2 minutes. Remove from oven. Brush all salt from shrimp (a pastry brush works well) and remove shells. Set shrimp aside.

4. Combine chardonnay, saffron and peppercorns in medium sauce pan. Over medium heat, allow mixture to boil and reduce to 2 tablespoons. Discard peppercorns and stir in honey. Remove from heat, whisk in butter one cube at a time until blended. Arrange shrimp on plate and drizzle sauce over shrimp. Serves 2.

the spork carries no shame

No disrespect to the fabulous AZ, but he isn’t the original Chowhound.

For those of us with a driving desire to scour the cities of the world in search of the best grimy taco stand, Jim Leff is our Top Dog. He’s the food writer who created Chowhound, a community website for the food-obsessed.

Posting from all over the world on message boards, chowhounds exchange opinions on topics ranging from the best gelato in Phoenix to the debate on butter chicken vs. chicken tikka.

This international cirle of eaters has NEVER steered me wrong. They sent me to Cal Pep in Barcelona (a nearly holy lunch), Les Delaat in Bangkok and Juanita’s Taco Shop north of San Diego. If I want to know where to get the best cuban sandwich in Miami I skip the concierge and the glossy food mags. For the most reliable info I go to Chowhound first and a bodega clerk second.

After partnering up with CNET, the formerly shabby Chowhound site has just relaunched with new software and a clean look. But don’t let the scrubbing fool you, it still has the soul of a renegade.

From their manifesto: Chowhounds blaze trails. They comb through neighborhoods for culinary treasure. They despise hype. And while they appreciate ambience and service, they can’t be fooled by flash….If you, too, fret endlessly about making every bite count; if you’d grow weak from hunger rather than willingly eat something less than delicious, this place is for you!

If you crave gustatory gestalt, you’re a chowhound, and you’ve found a home.

I sometimes miss my chance to support the local-food-movement, mainly because many Saturday mornings come at the expense of Friday night revelry and not even the promise of a breakfast brat could lure me to the market.

With the opening of Golden Fig & River Chocolate Company Fine Foods on Grand Ave. in St. Paul, I can feel good about hitting the snooze on the weekends and supporting the community on Tuesdays. The shop is the brainchild of two giants in the local food producers movement: Laurie Crowell of Golden Fig and Dierdre Davis of River Chocolate.

The idea is to feature fine foods and gifts made by small producers from the Midwest. Beyond their own lines, you’ll find goodies like Daddy Sam’s BBQ Sauce, Laura’s Candy hand-crafted marshmallows (hello double dark chocolate!)and Native Harvest maple butter.

But even better than the goods are the stories behind them, and Laurie and Dierdre know them all. They’ve worked hard to find the items they’re selling and have really learned about the people behind them: there’s the spice lady in a small Minnesota town who has traveled the world in search of spices or the people behind Native Harvest who are sharing Native American traditions to fund the White Earth Recovery Project.

Inspired by the sell-out of their Rustica Bakery orders, they’re waiting on a delivery for a deli cooler. The pair promises to stock it with the best local cheeses and meats, as well as a special sandwich of the day.

Of course you can still visit Laurie and Dierdre at their market booths on the weekends, but take the time to stop in the store during the week and make them tell you a story.

Golden Fig & River Chocolate Company Fine Foods
790 Grand Ave.
St. Paul, MN 55105
651.602.0144