A Jersey Girl in Portland

Wheat berries

If we ate like vegans for two meals of every day, the world might heal from the ravages of over grazing and the agra-businesses that poison the land and overproduce crappy food.

It's a philosophy I got from one of my idols. Mark Bittman. His book, The Food Matters Cookbook is a bible for responsible, omnivorous eaters. He says that two vegan meals a day and one with meat will do wonders for the health of the earth.
But he says it better than I.

So, I was thinking about Bittman as well as New!! and Exciting!! ways to get even more healthy food into the Manfriend and me. 

We're not hurting for quality food. He brings a bag of organic produce home from the market every week. But we eat a lot of meat. Bacon in the wilted greens and poached egg breakfasts. Flat iron steaks for dinner, shrimp and andouille-spiked jambalaya for a late night snack. We're all meat, all the time.

Not good for the planet, So...

I picked up a couple pounds of wheat berries at the Portland Farmers Market. Super cheap, $3 for two pounds of tasty, wheaty protein, that's neither animal based or tofu.

(But Nancy, what are wheat berries?) Wheat berries are whole, unprocessed wheat kernels. These came from Stalford Seed Farm.

I soaked them overnight and simmered them for 30 minutes. In retrospect, I'd simmer them 45 minutes and check them. Once cooled, they got harder than I expected.

But the flavor is delicious. Nutty, chewy, and savory.

I made a salad of roasted celeriac, diced shallot, chopped (blanched) rapini, and tomatoes. I also added some salt, a squeeze of lime, and a bunch of XVOO. Yum, yum, yum.

This is my new go-to non-meat protein for summer salads. Try 'em. They're delish.

Wheat berry, celery root, rapini and tomato salad

And they taste terrific with a Manhattan!

 

 

(Today I Will) Master Biscuits

I do many things well, and a few things quite well.

Like cook. I'm a good cook. I can make almost anything.

Anything but pancakes and biscuits. My pancakes usually fall flat and my biscuits fail to rise. But, I want to make good biscuits! So today I will make biscuits until I get it right.

As any savory cook will tell you, baking ain't cooking.

It's more precise.

The Winning Biscuits 

If something goes wrong in a saute pan, and it isn't burned, it's salvageable.

Broken sauces can be fixed. Salty soups can be diluted or cured with potatoes. But if you screw up bread, it stays screwed.  No way around it.

 

I also hate that I can't make biscuits because of my colossal ego. OK maybe not colossal -- but substantial ego. How can I possibly NOT excel at biscuits when I can cook damn near anything?

Enough navel gazing. Back to biscuits.

(literary aside: I wanted to title this post To Master Biscuits but I was afraid of copywrite infringement --or attracting the wrong kind of attention from any fetisist/kinkster named Master Biscuits. Anyhoo, I think I'm safe.)

So I made biscuits using a recipe from a kooky, old, Southern recipe cookbook/pamphlet. 

Success!

No more will the kids at the bake shop kick flour in my face because I can't make a tall, fluffy biscuit. I am no longer a pastry outcast, buying baguettes because I can't make biscuits.

Today I beat biscuits. It was Battle: Biscuits. And I won!

Oh. Here's how

Fine, Old, Southern Biscuits

2 cups sifted flour

2 tspns baking powder

1 tsp salt

1/3 cup butter (recipe calls for lard) at room temp or slightly lower

2/4 cup milk

additional milk to brush on top of the biscuits.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Mix flour, baking powder and salt. Cut in the butter or lard until the mix resembles cornmeal. Make an indentation in the center of the flour/butter mix. Add the milk all at once.

Stir with a fork until "the dough follows the fork". What that means is to mix it until the dough forms a large, sticky, clump.

Dump the dough onto a floured board and flour the top of the dough. Begin kneading. Now, here is where I've always had a problem. The amount of kneading determines the texture of the biscuit. Too much, and the biscuit is tough. Too little and the biscuit won't rise.

I kneaded it until it was just becoming smooth and beginning to 'fight' with me. That means gluten development had begun. I kneaded it a few more times and let it rest for a few minutes.

Roll the dough to 1/2 inch thickness and cut with a biscuit cutter. Don't use a glass and DON'T TWIST THE BISCUIT CUTTER. Just a straight up-and-down cut. Transfer the biscuits to an ungreased cookie sheet or sheet tray. Brush with milk and bake.

That's it.

Biscuits.

Ciao and happy biscuits to you!

I (heart) the Cosmic Love Tribe.

New Food Tattoo, Tomatoes

Manfriend Spike Palmer finished my Tomato leg band/garter yesterday.

I can't say enough good things about Spike's work. The color, the artwork, his professionalism. He is an amazing tattooer.

The colors are magnificent. As with the Spring Veggies he did a few months ago, he used different greens for each element -- worm, tomato, green seeds, green leaves.

It the hands of a lesser artist, the colors would be singular, without the shading or contrasting colors that give the piece depth.

This was a two-session piece. He did the outlines and shading about a month ago. Color was applied yesterday (3/30/12). All told, the garter took about 4 or 5 hours -- which is super fast. 

Have a look...

Spike at work, from my POV

Green zebra and Roma tomatoes

Orange toms and a cut tomato -- notice the green seeds.

Yellow pear toms and a tomato horn worm.

L to R, Romas, young green toms and an Heirloom

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       Lucky me, with access to such a fantastic tattooer.

What should I get next???

--Yours in Tomato Tattoo Glory,

Nancy

How I got that gig/ How I got my palate

Every person has turning points in their lives. Made a decision, find out later that it was a Big Decision.

For example, family lore says that my grandfather (on my mother's side) was going to take a job with a new manufacturing company in Wilmington, Delaware.  The money was good but they were paying part of it in paper -- stock certificates. He didn't know what a 'stock certificate' was and furthermore, he knew that plastic (whatever that was) would Never Replace Wood, so he didn't take that job. With DuPont.

Yea. Like that.

This is my path to cooking.  A love of cooking begins with a love of food -- something I was not born to.

It's 1985 or so. I was a young woman, just out of college, out in the world, dating and such. I met a man (at a bar). His name was Jamie Rafftesaeth. We went out a few times and I must say, I was crazy about him. One night we were at some restaurant in the G-d-forsaken-Hell-hole-that-is-Allentown Pennsylvania and I ordered shrimp scampi for the umpteenth time.

"Why do you always get that?" he asked. I replied that I get shrimp scampi because I know I'll like it.

He asked it I really liked shrimp scampi. Well, it was OK but safe, I explained.

To which he replied, "Order something different. If you don't like it we'll get you something else." Really? Something else?? I had no freaking IDEA that you could 'get something else.'

This was the turning point. I got a different entree, (probably something raw or rare -- hey, I was untested, not unimaginative). It was a short hop to oysters on the half shell, carpaccio, snails, squid, steak tartar, fois, sushi** etc etc etc.

So Jamie gifted me with a palate. And we ate well. Our greatest joy was to "go places and eat things." Memorable meals at Jean Louis at the Watergate (in DC), and in Paris, London, Lisbon, Barcelona, New York, San Francisco, Philadelphia, Boston, Cape May (props to Cape May, a beach town in NJ with a dizzying number of wonderful restaurants). We traveled a lot and we ate well.

Jamie and I, Mt. Rainier, about 2005.

 Flash-forward 12 years or so. After moving to Dallas from Washington DC, I embarked on a freelance journalism career.  I began by writing about food. "I like food," I thought, "I like to cook, and I can write." Why not food writing?  My first big story was in the Food section of the Dallas Morning News. It was about "Smoked Turkey Legs -- just like at the State Fair." My editor was Dotty Griffith.

I freelanced for many years -- about ten I believe. I wrote about every topic imaginable (but football), but at my core, I was always a food writer.

I also reviewed restaurants, which was as close to dying as I want to get. I was the lead food critic for the Fort Worth Weekly (an alternative tabloid). I had food poisoning more times than I can count. I was denied additional entrees at a Vietnamese joint because they said, "I'd had enough to eat." I had to stare at the cojones of a Fort Worth restaurateur who came to the table and put his foot up on a chair to chat amicably with me and my friend Melinda Rice. He had on loose fitting shorts and was going commando.  For years, anytime I thought of his restaurant, all I could think about was being at eye level with his gonads. I have a million stories about reviewing restaurants. It was a blast. 

As much as I loved writing, after a few years of doing it I felt stale. I wanted to be a better food writer so I thought I'd go back to school. I wanted to learn about food. If there had been a masters degree program in food history, I'd have gone the academic route. (I may still go back to school. Hey, I'm only 49!)

There wasn't a food history program so I decided to go to cooking school. I attended El Centro College, a community college with a well-respected Culinary Arts program.

I loved culinary. The reading, the cooking, Fun (fundamentals of) Baking, the spreadsheets, the ridiculous floppy hats and dumb neckerchiefs we had to wear. I loved everything about it.

But, in order to graduate, I had to have three semesters of practical experience (called 'practicum'). That's almost a year of real-life, restaurant experience.

Heavy sigh. Who the hell was going to hire me? I was 42-years-old and I had no kitchen experience. But I wanted to complete the program so I had no choice. I had to get a cooking job.

I moaned to Jamie. Where will I work? I thought about Norma's, a diner in our 'hood (Oak Cliff for you Dallasites). Maybe they'd hire me. I'd offer to work for minimum wage, I just wanted to finish the program and get on with my writing career.

Then Jamie tossed off another of his Important Sentences. "Why don't you apply at the best restaurants in town? What's the worst that can happen... they say no??" I thought about it. No wasn't the end of the world.

So I applied at three of the fanciest restaurants in town. I got two interviews, two offers and accepted a job at Nana, in the Anatole (was Wyndham, now Hilton) Hotel.

I was a part-time pastry assistant. I loved cooking in a restaurant, especially once I got out of pastry and moved to the 'hot line.'  I got the Nana gig and never looked back.

(Read more about Nana in a previous post: "Farewell Nana".

I worked in two of the best kitchens in Dallas; Nana and Stephan Pyles. The Pyles years are a whole 'nother chapter. But, Stephan studied with Julia Child so there are some techniques I learned from him that came straight from Julia. Cool, huh?

Jamie and I have since divorced, and I moved to Portland four years ago. Cooking here has been a dream come true. I've immersed myself in food culture -- to the exclusion of all else*** -- and have loved/do love every minute of it.

I don't know what my future holds. Will I stay in the kitchen? Will I teach?? Right now, I'm happy as a clam (in the mud) as a line cook (OK, a lead line cook for what it's worth) at The Deschutes Brewpub in Portland. I always thought I'd spend ten-years in the kitchen and then do something else.  Honestly? I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. 

I do know that...

Cooking = love.

Thanks for reading this.

xoxo

Nancy

Thanks to Hobie Bender owner/janitor of Bipartisan Cafe for telling me to write this story.

And thanks to Jamie Rafftesaeth for being there to utter Important Sentences.

** A message to my man-friend  Spike Palmer (amazingly gifted tattooer) It's time for you to finish your Sushi blog post.

*** I've come to realize that I do so much cooking, eating and food writing that I don't have anything to say in the company of non-food-types. I've become myopic, monotone, succinctly focused, to the exclusion of all else.

So, on my next day off, I'm going to the movies. Pop culture, beginning with  "Hunger Games," here I come.

Crispy Pork Belly

Crispy pork belly, with a warm, soft center, gently scented with five spice and ginger. 

That's what I made today.

This preparation was not easy to crack, but I managed. Although I looked at dozens of recipes, this is damn near exclusively my own concoction.

In a nutshell, I cut belly into cubes. Boiled it, rubbed it with spices and salt, and pressed it overnight. The next day I fried it in peanut oil and ate it down with a dab of Beaver brand Chinese hot mustard.

Crispy five-spice belly

1 pound pork belly

Mirepoix (a carrot, a stalk of celery and 1/2 onion, rough chopped)

1 heaping tspn five spice powder

1 heaping tspn ground ginger 

2 tspns salt (divided use)

1 cup peanut oil

Cut the belly into cubes. Bring mirepoix and 6 cups water to a boil. Simmer the bellies for 15 minutes. Remove bellies from water and cool slightly. Score the flesh side of each cube, and poke holes in the skin with a fork.

Regarding scoring, I docked (poked with a toothpick) the skin and scored the flesh of the first batc h of crispy belly I made.  I simmered it whole.

The end product was tough and uncooked in the center. But, these photographs show what docking and scoring look like.

Round two of crispy bellies were cut into cubes and simmered. Then scored and  docked.  

After scoring and docking, I rubbed the flesh with the spices and salt (equal parts five spice, ginger and salt). The skin was rubbed with salt only. The cubes went into the cooler to be pressed/marinated overnight. Pressing gives a shape that is easier to manipulate and it pulls some of the excess fat.

Cubed bellies ready to simmer.

 

 

  Heat the peanut oil. I cut some of the cubes into rectangles, and fry until crispy. The kitchen smelled of five spice and cooking pork. Really delicious.

 

So, $30 worth of pork, two recipes I'll absolutely make again, and two pounds in the freezer.  

I have had my fill of pork belly. Call me  porked out.

But, I do (heart) belly.

Pork Belly

Fun with Pork! Or, should I say Belly Dancing?

I got an 8-1/2 pound pork belly through the pork purveyor we use at work. Carlton Farms.

Me with Belly

 

Why a belly? Because it's delicious! Because I wanted to play with it. It came skin on, which is cool because most of the things I want to do have a crispy skin component. 

I'm trying as many Belly recipes as I can. In the past five days, I've made about six preparations.  Belly rubbed with five spice powder and braised in Coke. I also made a belly with a crispy skin. 

Yesterday morning I fried thin slices like they were bacon, and I have a batch simmering in soy, garlic, honey, ginger, star anise.

.....Three days and 6 pounds of pork belly later....

 Of all the preparations, I like soy and star anise belly the best. As a matter of fact, when I tried it, I immediately texted the Manfriend Spike with the following: "LOFL I nailed the belly!!" Which, if taken out of context, sounds somewhat dirty and, well, nasty. Anyhoo,

Here's the recipe, adapted from the BBC Food site:

Soy and Star Anise belly

1 lb pork belly rind on

Boil:

1 large carrot, rough chop

2 celery sticks, rough chop

1 onion, rough chop

3 cups of water, weak chicken stock or boil water from a previous batch of bellies.

Braising liquid:

 2 oz dark soy sauce
1.5 oz Chinese rice wine
splash rice vinegar
1 tbsp honey
1 inch piece root ginger, peeled and finely sliced
3 star anise
3 cloves garlic, finely sliced
1 dried red chilli, whole

Garnish:
12 spring onions, sliced on the diagonal

Cut the belly into 1x2 inch strips. Bring carrot, celery onion and water or stock to a boil. Add belles. Simmer for 15 minutes.

Combine all braise ingredients in a shallow baking dish. When belly strips are boiled, place in the braising liquid. The liquid should cover the bellies, if it doesn't, add the boiling liquid. Cover tightly.  Braise at 350 degrees for two hours or until meltingly soft. Check every half hour and if necessary, add some of the belly boiling liquid (or water) so the pieces are never dry.  Remove bellies. Simmer the braising liquid, reducing by half or until a rich, sweet flavor is achieved. Strain liquid and serve drizzled over the belly slices. I love it over jasmine rice. Garnish with green onions.

The resulting belly was sweet and savory, both elemets accentuating the pure fattiness of the belly. This is a dish I'd make again and again.

Faux Ramen; Soba, belly, egg, shrimp.

 

I also re-cooked it in a saute pan and served it for breakfast (with seared Brussels sprouts and poached eggs). Completely yummy with a crispy crust. 

Oh, and I put some in a batch of faux ramen soup made with pork broth, chicken stock and buckwheat soba noodles. I garnished it with shrimp, green onions, a poached egg, and slices of belly.

The Coke belly was boring. I rubbed the pork with five-spice powder, cut it and braised it in straight Coke.

Crispy skin belly was worthy of it's own post so I'll save it for another day.

I (heart) bellies.

Follow-up, Peeled Corn Stew with Chinese Sausage

I wanted to put up a photo of a dish using corn-teeth:

 

It was quite yummy.

I'll absolutely use the corn in soups that need a little starch.

 

Vietnamese Peeled Corn

While Manfriend Spike has been off decorating the bodies of NoCal, I've been busy experimenting and cooking stuff. Some experiments I'll write about, some (Daniel) I won't.

I got this crazy dried/peeled corn from Fubon, an Asian market

at 82nd and Division SE. If you're from Portland, the above address is meaningless as you know exactly what & where Fubon is. If you don't live in Portland, the above address is meaningless. Sorry.

So, I'm sitting on a chaise in the apartment on a Saturday night, in boxers and a sweatshirt, playing with this crazy Vietnamese peeled corn I got at the Asian market. 

It looks like little baby teeth. I kid you not. It reminds me of small front teeth. The kind you'd put under your pillow to collect a silver dollar from the Tooth Fairy. Yup baby teeth but without the bloody, fleshy bits that cling to a newly pulled tooth.

Cooking corn that looks like little teeth.

I treated it two ways. First, like beans and second like rice.

The best application may lie in the middle. I think I'll use it more like a risotto.

Batch 1 soaked for 11 hours, was covered in water (plus 1/2 inch) and simmered for 30 minutes. The result was a thin soup. I added Chinese sausage slices and it tasted delicious. Before I serve it to anyone, I'll add a poached egg and/or green onion.

Batch two I cooked like aromatic rice. I heated peanut oil and cooked the bits until they became fragrant. I added water first at a 2:1 ratio, water to corn. I added more water and eventually bumped the percentage of water up to 4:1. After simmering for an hour, it was still toothsome. I added Grana Padano and ate it like risotto. It was lovely but not amazing. My next days off I'll make a soup and add it.

 The corn bits are odd. They resemble dried hominy. But, unlike hominy, it doesn't have a very strong 'corn' flavor. It's a little bland which means I'll use it not like beans, rice, or risotto. I'll liken it to barley.

Corn-ish barley. OK then.

G'night. Happy Daylight Savings Time!

 

Farewell Nana Restaurant

Bad news out of Dallas. A marvelous fine-dining restaurant is retooling. Nana Restaurant in the (Hilton) Anatole will no longer be the bastion of cutting-edge/bleeding- edge cuisine but a steak house. Shit. In Dallas, steak joints are as plentiful as rain in Portland. What a shame. What a waste.

This is my homage. It is MINE, my experience, my bias, my words.

Nana was special. Not only because the food was always the best available (real diver scallops, Scottish woodcocks, white truffles) but because it was my first restaurant. It was the marquis restaurant for a gigantic hotel complex. Dignitaries, presidents, oil magnates, you name it, they ate there. The regulars were a who's who of Dallas monied elite.

Greg Bussey, me, Gregorio "Gollo" Luna

How I ended up with a classy joint like Nana as my first restaurant gig is a story for another post.

I needed three semesters of practical experience to graduate from the El Centro culinary arts program. I was hired by David McMillan, Exec Chef at Nana as a pastry assistant. I guess he figured I'd do less harm in pastry than on the line. I turned 42 on my first day of work and I was scared shitless. A job at Nana? A jewel box on the 27th floor of a fancy hotel?? What the hell was I doing. I was a restaurant critic, a writer, not a cook. At least not yet...

 McMillan's cuisine was absolutely French.  He was a good guy and a good chef. I remember a whole-lobe fois gras appetizer (about $130 if memory serves). He would make Baked Alaska at the drop of a hat. He also had a food cost percentage that topped 80% one month. He shrugged and said, "It was a bad month."

 He was also stoopid enough to leave a nearly-full bottle of Bookers for the three pastry chicks; me, Lori and Angela, to drink. Chef came to the station at the end of service and the bottle was empty. We said it spilled. Oops.

Nana was never supposed to make money. It was a jewel with Fabrege eggs and mother of pearl spoons to serve caviar. Giani Versace china, multiple years of Dom. It was the mistress, coddled and cosseted. Not the workhorse.

McMillan moved on three months after I started. A week later I moved to the hot line. Desserts just weren't (and still aren't) my thing.

Enter Executive Chef Anthony Bombaci. He was the most talented chef I've ever know. His food literally sang. He was also the biggest asshole I've ever known. What a jerk. But, man-o-man could he cook.

My favorite Bombaci story is his telling me to, "stop shaking my saute pan like it was my dick." "But Chef," I answered, "I don't have a dick. Can I continue to shake without one?" He'd also throw out your mies en place if he found a pinch of Italian parsley that wasn't properly (hair-like) chiffonaded. "If you can't cut parsley," he'd say, "what else is fucked up?"

Sous chef Katie Natale** and Chef Tony Bombaci

Although I went to culinary school, Nana is where I learned to cook. Bombaci's cuisine was rooted in Spain with a huge dose of Adria (El Buli) added. He made amazing food. Celery root puree with kumomoto oysters and green apple sorbet. Confit suckling pig with a caramel glaze, sour apricot sauce (?) and three perfect tubes of pineapple anchoring the plate. He had a tasting menu with three desserts.

 I can't begin to explain the complicated, yet earthy dishes he poured out day after day. At Nana I mastered pasta, gnocchi, sofrito, trixsant, and learned to break down any fish. I made foams, gels, granites, terrines, sausages (using a pastry bag and open tip), and spun a lot of ice cream.

I also learned how NOT to cry at work. Here's the trick: Bite your lip, really hard, and get angry. Controlled, focused angry. Nana was the kind of place that if you clocked in with anything less than 120%, you'd fail. Miserably.

At Nana I also learned to cook while drunk. Very drunk. On New Years Eve, the Veuve Clicquot (champagne) flowed like water. I remember having at least two quart-sized containers on my station (no glass on the line -- we were drunks, not stupid) all night long. Oh my, the food we put out. Perfection.

It was a hotel so every cook had to work every holiday. New Years Eve dinner, New Years Day brunch, Christmas eve, Christmas day etc... I'm still amazed that cooks take time off over holidays. Cooks today, and cooks in Portland, have a right to expect work/life balance. The years I spent at Nana were about excellence, not balance.*

I stayed for two years. When I left, my parting gift was dinner. My husband Jamie and I had the most amazing meal of my life. Forget Jean Louis in the Watergate, or Alice Waters. Bombaci made every course we ate that night. And there were at least 12 courses. It's how he said, "Thanks and hey, no hard feelings."

Thanks Nana (and Anthony Bombaci) for teaching me how to cook and giving me GREAT stories with which to scare young line cooks.

XOXO

Nancy

* These days, I'm a total slacker. I've had Saturday's off for ages so I could volunteer at the Farmers Market. Back in the day, I'd rather chop off a finger than be anywhere but a restaurant kitchen on a Saturday night.

 ** Oh Katie, you're a good woman and I adore you but you taught me how NOT to be a sous chef. When I got my 'jacket' I knew to work harder than any line cook and stay later than any exec. For this, I thank you.

Dumplings that don't taste raw or nasty

Soup is good. When the weather is cold, soup = love. But, even I get bored with the usual starchy foods used to flesh out (bulk up) soup. I use

The Soup

barley, pasta, spaetzle, potatoes, and various other grains like quinoa and bulghur to make soups that stick to the ribs.

For a change, I thought I'd make dumplings. A deep, rich stock, veggies and chunks of chicken punctuated by floating biscuits. What could be more delicious? Well, it turns out, turds would have been yummier than the cornmeal biscuits I made the

Lovely dumpling, biscuit-y in the center

other day. <Sheese> they were awful.

(side note: Usually for childhood favorites, I'll go to my mom for a recipe. But, if I'd asked her  how to make dumplings, I just know she'd send me to the Bisquick box. Mum, no offense but I don't do Bisquick.)

 This is the original post I started with great enthusiasm as I checked out different recipes:

"I made a batch of mystery meat stock this afternoon. I used some lamb shoulder and trim, and  a ton of vegetable trim from pickles I made this afternoon. So the stock contained: onion, celery, carrot, jalapeno, cilantro,

 

cauliflower,"

Dumplings:

1/3 cup cornmeal

 

2 tspns sugar

 

1 tspn baking powder

1/4 tspn salt

1 Tbsp unsalted butter

1/2 cup whole milk

The were ho rrible. Leaden and chewy, uncooked in the middle, and just plain nasty.

I'm going to try again. I have a melange of stocks simmering on the stove. I'll add some veggies and a little leftover chicken. I'm using tongue stock, some chicken stock, and a couple cups of turkey soup I found nestled in the back of the freezer.

Although I just made stock, I'm not throwing good sto ck after bad dumplings so what I'm making will be a weird, impossible-to-replicate soup.

the dump dough

Dumplings #2 (adapted from a recipe by 'Carol' on AllRecipes.com)

1 cup AP flour

2 tspns baking powder

1 tspn sugar

1/2 tspn salt

1 Tbsp butter

 1/2 cup milk

Mix dry ingredients. Cut in butter until crumbly.* Add milk to make a soft dough. Drop by spoons full into into boiling soup. Cover and allow to cook for 15 minutes undisturbed.

The dumps are a little bland. I'll add chopped rosemary next time. I wonder what would happen if you tucked a chunk of cheddar cheese into the center of the dumpling before you drop it into the boil? Hmmmm.

 

the finished product

Chemical Leaveners

 Biscuits, muffins and quick breads rise through the use of chemical leaveners, those that release gases produced by chemical reactions.  Baking soda and baking powder are most familiar.

When baking powder is added to liquid then heated, carbon dioxide is formed which adds bubbles (leavening) to the dough. Baking powder and baking soda have to be fresh, and though it can sit for a short period of time, doughs leavened chemically should be baked shortly after mixing. Holding a dough for a few minutes allows the reaction to begin and bubbles form in the dough while still cold and uncooked.

Baking Soda is sodium bicarbonate (which is also useful as a home-remedy Alka Seltzer. Put a teaspoon of baking soda in 6 ounces of water, stir and drink)

Baking Powder is sodium bicarbonate mixed with cornstarch and sodium aluminum sulfate. It's 'double acting' because it begins to react when it touches liquid and continues reacting when heat is applied.

(Now who's the food nerd, Manfriend Spike?) ((miss your face Primo))

 

Make dumpings. Feel good.

XOXO

Nancy

 

* baking note: this is called the 'biscuit method' -- fat added to dry ingredients before adding liquid.