Beth | One Hundred Eggs

The Birthday Cake

In case anyone was wondering – and you were all wondering, right? – this is the birthday cake I made for my boyfriend this year.

It’s a tradition that I ask him every year what kind of cake he wants, and in return he gives me not a flavor, but a fairly broad category that I can have fun with. These have included “fruit”, “cookie”, and “something that most people wouldn’t even want to try based solely on the description”. Good times.

This year, the challenge was “super spice cake”. So I made a super-gingery ginger cake with spiced poached pears, and lemon ice cream for a clean counterpoint.

Recipes for the ginger cake and poached pears are both from David Lebovitz‘s Ready For Dessert, one of the smartest cookbook investments I’ve ever made. Every. Single. Recipe. is flawless, and turns out exactly as described.

The ginger cake (recipe can be found here) has so much ginger in it, you’ll think it’s a typo. But have faith, because you’ll be rewarded with an incredibly moist cake that’s bursting at the seams with fresh, clean, super ginger flavor. Did I mention moist? This cake, cut and covered loosely with plastic wrap at room temperature, did not dry out even a little bit. Not even the cut edges. Not even after a week or more. Absolument incroyable.

The pears, lightly spiced, were a delightful addition, and in any other setting would be stars in their own right. But here they were clearly in a supporting role. A similar recipe to the one I used can be found here, on Mr. Lebovitz’s blog.

But the lemon ice cream… oh!, the lemon ice cream. The recipe (which you can find here) is from Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams at Home, by Jeni Britton Bauer. And people, if you have an ice cream maker, and you don’t have this book, you’re cheating yourself. It’s not just a gorgeous book to look at, the recipes are inventive and result in textbook-perfect texture for your homemade ice creams, sorbets, and ices. Listen to this woman, she knows exactly what she’s doing with ice cream. I might not ever use anyone else’s ice cream recipes.

This lemon ice cream strikes the elusive ideal balance between tart, sweet, and creamy. Even better, the headnote of the recipe said she developed it to pair with an intense and dark ginger cake. I was practically forced to make it. The result couldn’t have been better. I’m intending to use up part of the remaining ice cream in ginger cookie ice cream sandwiches, it went together so well.

Again, recipes:
Ginger Cake
Poached Pears
Lemon Ice Cream

Thanksgiving; Or, Better Late than Never

We had Thanksgiving dinner! You know, um, two weeks ago. (Give or take a day.) I bet you did, too.

I took some pictures, and thought you might like to see them.

For hors d’oeuvres, we had a date and kumquat chutney…

…served with a round of soft Camembert, the World’s Best Spiced Pretzel-Nut mixture, and the World’s Best Spiced Peanuts. Black pepper water crackers are always a must.

There was also a cocktail hour, featuring a rye and amaro concoction that required a few attempts at mixing and sampling to perfect, simple as the recipe seems. I think it was four tries before we hit the real magic. Perseverance always pays off.

The entrée was a couple of wild pheasants, barded with bacon and braised whole with aromatics, juniper, and bay. They were hunted by a friend of a friend (thank you, Sergei!), and were pretty fabulous, if I do say so myself. On the same platter are roasted wedges of acorn squash. To the right of the pheasant is a sweet corn spoonbread, which might’ve risen higher if I had a proper soufflé dish, but I don’t need to keep one around for how often I make soufflés (this might be the second or third time in this apartment).

This is cornbread, chestnut, and andouille dressing. I think dressing is my favorite part of the typical All-American Thanksgiving Dinner. Basically just bread and vegetables, maybe a little meat for flavor, what else do you need?

I don’t know about you, but I think this dish is hilarious. It’s my nod to that perennial favorite, jellied cranberry sauce in a can. Thanksgiving dinner was never complete without it when I was little, and it turns out it was always my boyfriend’s favorite part, too. It was stupidly simple; I just made a fancy cranberry sauce (half recipe of that beast) and molded it in a can. But the solids that I was supposed to trash – instead I strained and jazzed them up with a little port and some orange zest – have been my favorite leftover. Sandwiches, curries, cheese on crackers, they all go splendidly.

For bread, I made these mustard rolls, because Thanksgiving requires a softer-crust roll. Ciabatta or a baguette just doesn’t seem right.

Dessert was a Paris-Brest, from a Cook’s Illustrated recipe. I usually trust CI with my life, but I feel they really dropped the ball with this one (or maybe I did). It looked pretty enough, but there were issues. The choux paste was fine, but it didn’t behave like my usual recipe. The hazelnut crème chiboust filling was a little too stiff with gelatin, and didn’t melt on the tongue like you’d expect it to. It was just okay, and I was sorry to have wasted the poor hazelnuts on it. Yes, I’m very picky about the desserts I make.

On this plate, you can see the raw kale and brussels sprout salad I included for a little verdant crunch among the other rich dishes. This salad is so, so, so good. It’s earned a place in my short go-to list. Full-flavored, crunchy, and ridiculously nutritious. I could eat it every day.

For you oenophiles, the wine was a charming little number from the South of France, a blend of… some… kind… of grapes. It had a woodcock on the label, and the old European gentleman I purchased it from assured me without hesitation that this was the wine for pheasant. (I mean, come one, there was a game bird right on the bottle! Who was I to argue?) Turns out he was so very right; it was a perfect match.

Hope you all had a fabulous Thanksgiving!

Five Minute Photo Shoot: One Night Off

After a reasonably intense couple of weeks, I deserved a night off.

sushi_02 — broccoli goma-ae, seaweed salad

This is also known as reason #39584 that I love living in a city: sushi delivery. This place is so great. Love how they didn’t toss the broccoli with the sauce. I hate when broccoli is sodden with thick sauce caught in the florets; it makes me want to rinse it off.

The leftovers were pretty great for late breakfast, too.

Five Minute Photo Shoot: Almost time…

First, a little something healthy before the big feast.

This is beet greens sautéed with Tuscan kale and plenty of garlic, over brown rice. Parmesan on top, of course.

And a few previews of my Thanksgiving menu, still in progress:

More later. Until then, Happy Thanksgiving!

Five Minute Photo Shoot: Brussels Sprouts and Soba

For dinner last night: roasted Brussels sprouts, tossed with black and white sesame seeds, fish sauce, soy sauce, and sriracha. Served over soba noodles tossed with toasted sesame oil, topped with Maytag blue cheese and green onions. Cornbread on the side, because cornbread and Brussels sprouts are good friends.

Sesame oil and soba noodles has got to be one of the best flavor combinations of all time. The smell is just intoxicating. I could eat it every day.

The sprouts were roasted according to a method in a recent Cook’s Illustrated: toss with oil, salt, pepper, and 1 T water. Roast in a sheet pan cut-side down and covered with foil at 500° F for 10 minutes, uncover and roast another 10 minutes or so. They steam gently, and the texture and browning are perfect. It’s my new go-to for Brussels sprouts.

Five Minute Photo Shoot: Beets, Oranges, and Black Olives

Dinner, from the book I cannot stop using: Plenty, by Yotam Ottolenghi. I must be sounding like a broken record, but that cookbook has majorly influenced the way I cook, both at home and for clients.

This is his Beet, Orange, and Black Olive Salad (and I didn’t send you, but you can find the recipe here). The flavors in this one are not shy, but much more toned-down than you’d think by looking at the ingredient list. Overall, it’s extremely well balanced, a little unusual, and absolutely fabulous.

I modified the recipe by roasting (not boiling) the 4 smallish beets for 45 minutes at 425° F, and serving it over a mixture of quinoa and red rice (1/2 cup and 1/3 cup respectively, by dry measure, cooked separately but concurrently).

The (ahem) red salad green was something I picked up at the farmers’ market, and which nomenclature I promptly forgot. It looked like a cross between frisée and some spindly arugula, and had a lovely bitterness.

For the olives, I used the wrinkly oil-cured type because that’s what I had. Those are super-pungent and normally bully past every other flavor, but here, they were actually subdued. I might chop them a little smaller next time (I basically just halved them here), but not by much. The saltiness jumping out every so often, not in every bite, was excellent.

Oh yes, and it’s scallions instead of red onion. I forgot the red onion at the store.

Radish Kimchi Rice

Did everyone get their fill of Halloween candy?

Oh, good.

And now for something a little virtuous on All Saints’ Day, to help bring you down from the sugar high: radishes sautéed with brown butter and a spot of anchovy, tossed with kimchi, radish tops, and brown rice. Top it all off with a luscious fried egg, because hey hey, even saints need a little luxury.

Radish Kimchi Rice

Yield: 2 to 3 servings; also known as 2 dinners and 1 lunch (lucky you)

Chopping the radishes into irregular chunks makes for a more visually interesting dish, gives variance in texture, and makes the work go faster. Feel free to be more precise if you're having the Queen over for dinner.

This recipe calls for cooked brown rice, something I usually have in the fridge. My favorite method for cooking brown rice is from Alton Brown, and results in perfect brown rice. Every. Single. Time. You're welcome.

Ingredients

1 tablespoon butter
1 bunch radishes with green tops, washed well
2 anchovy fillets
1/3 cup kimchi (chopped if necessary)
1 1/2 cups cooked brown rice (preferably day-old and cold)
Juice of 1/2 lemon, or to taste
Soy sauce, to taste
Salt and black pepper, to taste
Butter or oil to fry eggs in (optional)
1 egg per person (optional)

Instructions

1. In a large sauté pan, heat the butter over medium-low heat until it browns and smells nutty. Meanwhile, trim the greens from the radishes and set aside. Roughly chop the radishes into irregular pieces, removing the root "tails" in the process.

2. When the butter has browned, turn the heat to medium-high and add the anchovy, mashing with a spatula or wooden spoon to break up the fillets. Throw in the radishes. Toss to coat with the butter, and season with a pinch of salt. Let cook until softened and just beginning to brown.

3. Add the kimchi, and let cook briefly, about 1 minute. Toss in the rice, and cook until it's as done as you prefer it (anywhere from just warm to crunchy and brown). Add the radish tops (no need to chop or dry them off), and toss or stir until wilted. Taste, and add lemon juice, a dash of soy sauce, salt, and pepper. Taste again and correct seasoning as you like. Remove to plates or a bowl, and keep warm.

4. Add a bit of butter or oil to the pan, and set over medium-high heat. Crack eggs into the pan and fry to desired doneness (runny yolks are highly recommended). Top the radishes and rice with the eggs, and serve at once. Beer, though not required, is really, really nice with this one.

https://onehundredeggs.com/radish-kimchi-rice/

My Favorite Banana Bread

A banana bread muffin, split, toasted under a broiler, with fancy butter and a cup of tea. This is a breakfast for a gray, rainy day, one that never manages to crawl above the mid-40’s in temperature. Three months from now, these temperatures will feel positively quaint.

Ugh.

My Favorite Banana Bread

Yield: one 9 x 5 inch loaf

Adapted from Bon Appétit Magazine

This is my all-time favorite banana bread. It's not too sweet, it's not too rich, it's full of banana flavor and a little nuttiness from the whole wheat flour and flaxseed. It toasts gorgeously; and though it doesn't need it, a little pat of butter is a luxurious accompaniment. Some days require luxury.

If you'd like to make this into muffins, increase the oven temperature to 350º F and bake for about 30 minutes. I always seem to get 15 or 16 standard size muffins out of each batch.

Ingredients

127 grams (1 cup) unbleached all-purpose flour, plus additional for dusting the pan
85 grams (2/3 cup) whole wheat flour
25 grams (1/4 cup) ground flaxseed
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
2 large eggs
148 grams (3/4 cup) sugar
1 cup smashed very ripe bananas (2 to 3)
1/3 cup buttermilk
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 325° F. Lightly butter a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan, and sprinkle with flour. Shake the pan around to coat evenly with flour, then turn the pan upside down over the sink and knock on the bottom to remove any excess.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flours, flaxseed, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and spices; set aside.

3. Using an electric mixer, whip the eggs and sugar together until fluffy and light, about 5 minutes. In a liquid measuring cup, smash the bananas until smooth (a fork works well here). Make sure there's at least 1 cup; if it measures more than that, don't worry one bit. Add buttermilk, oil, and vanilla, and stir until combined.

4. Add the banana mixture to the eggs and sugar. Mix until just blended. Remove the bowl from the mixer and add the dry ingredients. Stir together just until the flour is moistened and no large pockets remain; do not overmix. Transfer batter to the prepared pan, and lightly smooth the top.

5. Bake at 325° F until golden brown on top and a tester inserted into the center comes out clean, about 1 hour. Let cool briefly in the pan before removing to a rack to cool. Excellent served warm, or sliced and toasted.

https://onehundredeggs.com/my-favorite-banana-bread/

Fall Cleaning

It’s well into October.

The days are still sunny and edging on warm, but the nights are quickly cooling and coming on sooner. Leaves are just starting to make brilliant yellow carpets to crunch under feet not yet in Winter boots. Loose buttons on coats begin eyeballing me ruefully, threatening to finally jump ship this season if I don’t take action.

And everywhere I look, it’s pumpkin spice this, maple that. It’s apple spice crumbles (apple everything, really), brown butter, and, of course, a rogue peanut butter cookie. Yes, some soups are appearing one by one, and the braises thus far are mostly in reference to Oktoberfest (which Americans should really be celebrating in a different way than with German beer), but everything is sugar and spice and everything nice.

And I’m not on board with that.

Typically, it’s Spring Cleaning. Clean out the cobwebs of Winter, let the warm air in! But me, I prefer Autumn for my Massive House-Cleaning.

I’d much rather cuddle into clean blankets when it’s cold. I want to sweep away the dust that blew in through open Summer windows before closing them for six long months. Like trees shedding leaves indiscriminately, I ruthlessly cull unused things from my home: clothes, makeup, cooking utensils, books, shoes, dying plants.

Fall seems to me a time of nesting, of preparing for the season of hibernation. And people, I want my nest to be spotless.

Getting rid of stuff is one of my favorite things. The feeling of donating boxes (boxes!) of items that took up precious space in my 500 square feet of home… there’s nothing like it. Where did all that junk live? What was I doing with it? Where did it even come from? Who cares! It’s gone!, glorious empty space left in its wake. The fewer items I have, the more valuable and important the remaining ones are, pared down to the most useful and most loved.

In the Fall, I want what I cook and eat to feel as uncluttered as the rest of my home. Simple. Easy. Minimal. Less stuff, more joy.

So the idea of feasting on heavy and rich braises, or of baking endless trays of cookies, pies, tarts, and cakes just seems wrong after I’ve spent hours or days scrubbing and polishing and vacuuming and eliminating junk. It’s unbalanced.

My favorite food for such times (can we please not call it a detox? I prefer “hitting the reset button”.) is the leek. For sheer simplicity, it doesn’t get any better than a dish of brown rice and leeks sautéed in a little olive oil. Small portions, and let’s sit at the proper dinner table instead of hunching over the coffee table. Eat slowly.

I like to eat this for as many meals as I can stand (yes, even breakfast), for as many days as I can stand, or until I feel like it’s done its job. Usually, just a couple of days does the trick. I feel calmer, food tastes better, it’s easier to listen to my body. Everything feels lighter. The reset button has been pushed, and I feel great.

Winter? Bring it on.

Simplest Leeks

Yield: 2 to 3 small servings

This dish is surprisingly filling and satisfying, though it's hardly a recipe. These instructions are more about how to prepare a leek, which might seem intimidating if you've never used one. They grow in very sandy dirt, which tends to get trapped between the layers of leaves, and can be gritty if you don't rinse it all away. But do not let yourself be intimidated by a vegetable. It's easy, watch.

Ingredients

2 to 3 leeks, 1 1/2 to 2 pounds
Olive oil, as needed
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Cooked whole grain of choice (brown rice, quinoa, buckwheat, farro, etc.)

Instructions

1. Rinse the leeks of any major dirt.

2. Cut off the tough dark green tops. Wash them well, and save in your stock bag in the freezer, if you're into that. Cut off the root ends and discard.

3. Cut the leeks crossways into two or three big chunks.

4. Cut each piece in half lengthwise.

5. Rinse the leeks under cold running water. The pale white parts may not have any dirt to wash away, but the greener bits will certainly have dirt that might need to be rubbed away with your fingers.

6. Roughly chop the leeks crossways into 1/2 inch pieces.

7. Heat a splash of olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add the leeks, and toss to coat with the oil. Sprinkle with a pinch or two of salt and black pepper. Cook for a minute or two, or until they soften and begin to brown in spots.

8. Reduce the heat to medium-low, and cook until they have softened to taste. I prefer mine slightly al dente, and so only cook them for another minute or so. You can take them all the way to caramelized, if you like, but you'll end up with not very many to eat in that case.

9. Correct the seasoning if necessary, and serve over warm whole grains. A squeeze of lemon and a little parsley would not be out of place, though certainly not needed.

https://onehundredeggs.com/fall-cleaning/

Sichuan Pepper Tofu and Broccoli on Soba

I have a problem when it comes to following recipes. Unless it’s a baked good, I appear to be almost entirely incapable of following those carefully-written instructions.

Sometimes, it works quite well. I tweak an ingredient (or four), and all is well in the end.

But sometimes, my ego gets the best of me, and I decide that I know far better than some chef who wrote some cookbook that I’ve only been cooking out of all summer with rave results and who I should trust implicitly. I read a recipe, and I say, “Well, that can’t be right. I’ll just make some adjustments.”

And then, I end up with a huge pan full of gorgeous tofu and broccoli and soba that is smothered with a sauce that has the consistency of gritty, sandy dirt. Actually, I think the dirt might’ve had a better texture.

Oh, and the house filled up with smoke, let’s not forget the house full of smoke. So much smoke.

It took me all flippin’ night to cook it, too. That’s the worst part, so much work for next to no payoff.

The intention was, of course, to post a recipe, but I don’t recommend anyone actually follow the recipe I ended up with. I’m saving you much heartache. It was not spicy enough, far too laborious, and lacked some sort of oomph. Not to mention the rather, um, abrasive texture.

One major adjustment was made to mimic a dish I devoured recently, one that was redolent with the brilliant numbing tingle of Sichuan pepper. I wanted to showcase the Sichuan peppercorns I ecstatically bought in response, and have been unsure of how to use ever since.

But apparently, the seeds must be painstakingly culled from the husks, as they have a (drum roll please) very gritty texture. If anyone has helpful tips on how to use the things, I’m all ears. Please.

Yes, I ate it, mostly out of spite. No one else really did.

So, lessons learned: Do not fry loads of tofu in a small apartment. If you think it’ll be too much food, you’re probably right. Research unfamiliar ingredients. Trust the author.

If you have to utter the phrase, “Guys, this might actually be inedible,” just give up and order takeout.