feeding // fashionistas

August 25, 2005

Meal Report: Dinner, 8/24/05

George C. wrote this in the early afternoon:

After a long week of fiendish busy-tude and no time to do my normal pretty elaborate grocery shopping (3 markets, at current), I was left drained, jaundiced, spiritually bankrupt, devoid of the thai and west-coast-hippie-gourmet-fusion food that keeps me going through the week. In the past few days, I had made dishes from all manner of lackluster pairings..

When I got home from work, I became determined to do something special, damnit- for myself and for my lovely girlfriend, who was off in her own tizzy of extreme overextension and wouldn’t be home ’til later. Not having time to hit an actual thai market, I bemoaned the fact that I would be without all of the stuff I rely on to make great curry- king oyster mushrooms, great beansprouts, thai limes, fresh kaffir lime leaves, thai basil, long beans.. I worried I wouldn’t be able to make things happen, blow minds, tantalize palates, you know, the usual. (j/k)

I stopped in at the corner store and surveyed the prospects: Decent-looking basil (though not thai.. *sob*), sad but servicable cilantro, white mushrooms (not my first choice by a long walk, but usable), green beans, baby brocolli, shallots, and garlic. I knew I had some of those quick-frozen Trader Joes shrimp at home, which are pretty darn decent, so I had my protein covered. I stroked my chin, thought deeply of Bangkok, and proceeded back upstairs.

I prepped all of my veggies, started soaking some jasmine rice, and plopped the shrimp into a lime juice-tumeric-fish sauce marinade to soak. The rice was put on to cook in a non-stick saucepan (one of the only good uses for it, to my mind- jasmine rice sticks like crazy). Once it seemed halfway done, the show began.

The last of my precious homemade red curry paste (fie! blast!) went into a pool of half peanut, half sesame oil in the wok*,, along with a shallot, thinly sliced, and a crushed garlic clove. Medium heat was rigorously maintained. Stirring, I made certain not to brown anything excessively. Once the shallots began to turn transparent, I added 5 sliced white mushrooms and lightly tossed them to coat, then added 1/4 cup coconut milk.** Heat was increased to high (not terribly hot on my beater stove- if you’ve got something nice, try medium-high).

The green beans and brocolli went next, bubbling away. After a minute or so, I added the chopped basil and cilantro, a few blasts of fish sauce, a squirt of Bragg’s (adds a nice depth, and is riotously inauthentic), and the juice of a particularly productive lime. I let the liquid reduce a bit, dialed the heat back to medium and added the shrimp and their marinade (about a tablespoon was left). Because the shrimp were pre-cooked (I can hear your eyes rolling), I simply waited until they felt warm and then cut the heat.

This, served with that ever-dreamy rice, was quite wonderful, not at all lacking. The moral of the story is, if you’ve got your not-so-perishable goods together (coco milk, fish sauce, curry paste, spices), and you have access to even a modicum of vegetables/protein, you can make good curry. No fear, or elaborate shopping neccesary.

I forgot to mention dessert.. I really haven’t made many of them, but I got very inspired after reading Chocolate & Zucchini for a while (great stuff, by the way, Clotilde!), and after cooking for my girl most days of the week for a while, I needed a new way to surprise her. I bought the ripest pear I could and a small basket of raspberries on my shopping trip. I was going to make something great.

The pear, peeled, cored and sliced, I laid out in a single layer on a pyrex dish. I sprinkled it all with a liberal dusting of turbinado sugar and a small pinch of sea salt. Then it hit me, how the hell am I going to give this texture? WHO WAS GOING TO ACCOUNT FOR THE MOUTH-FEEL?!?! *feel, eel, eel, eel* (echoes, for those uninitiated to my nuttiness). Out came the Microplane.

I shaved some crusty sourdough bread over the pears, coating them with an impossibly thin layer of near-microscopic bread crumbs. Yay for multipurpose tools! I probably used about a 1″ x 1″ x .5″ nub of the bread, in all- you don’t want too much. This went into a 450 degree oven.

In the meantime, I went about making my first-ever raspberry coulis, (coulis meaning pureed sauce made from fruit or vegetables). I washed a large handful of the raspberries, and dumped them in a small nonstick skillet (fruit anything is another good use for nonstick, as outlined in Tools 101a), along with a tablespoon or two of water and two large pinches of sugar.

Being that I have no food processor or even a blender at current, and I didn’t feel like turning my mortar and pestle purple, I simply mashed the berries in the pan with the back of a ladle. While this didn’t exactly “puree” them, it did a good enough job. In about 5 minutes of slow simmering, stirring, and adding of a bit more sugar here and there, I had this lovely, thick, deep burgandy sauce. Oh la la!

A reminder:
There is much elementary culinary knowledge I don’t have, because most of what I “know” has been gleaned from empirical study, the internet, and a few episodes of Good Eats. Example: Until last night, I didn’t know that many fruits contain enough pectin (a geletin-like substance) to thicken a sauce all by themselves. When the sauce went from mooshed berry bits floating maudlin and wan in a soup of sugar water to luscious, mouth watering bliss in a matter of seconds, well, I nearly hopped for joy.

It turns out I cooked it a bit too long, so as it cooled, my sauce turned to jam. I added a bit of lime juice and, for kicks, a splash of Limonata soda (which I’d been using while trying to invent a new cocktail, the Vodkanata, ha ha), and that loosened things up nicely.

Once the pear slices began to brown, I drizzled a little coconut milk over them and returned them to the oven. A few minutes later, all looked rather great, so I carefully spatula’d the pears into little mounds on two small plates, then surrounded them with the coulis, trying largely in vain to create a really artsy presentation. I put one in the fridge for the girl, and popped mine in the freezer to cool it double-quick, which turned out to be critical.

Once I’d finished cleanup, I took my bounty out of the freezer (total time freezing, 10 minutes). The coulis droplets had turned into little buttons of semi-frozen voluptuous goodness. They exploded with tart, flowery flavor in the mouth, sending me reeling. The pears, covered in sparkling melted sugar and tiny golden-brown crumbs, swathed in creamy coconut milk, with an exquisite texture half soft and yeilding, half frosty and sorbet-like, floored me.

The neighbors are lucky they didn’t find me on the roof yelling, “I AM A GOLDEN GOD!” just before attempting to utilize my new antigravity powers. I don’t have a pool in the middle of my street, or roof access, for that matter, so no dice.

I put the other half of the food into containers for the girl to find, wrote her up a little menu, and laid it on the living room floor. I got an enthusiastic call later on in the night. Life is good.

Anyway, this has proven to me once again that one can make any dish they want if they’ve just got some ingredients to play with, and the confidence to say, “I’ve never baked fruit or made coulis before, but I figure it’s a walk in the park”, and just bust s*** out. Try the pear thing, man, it is just way too good.

Cheers, and may your $2 knives stay as sharp and sassy as mine on into eternity,
-george C

* - The sesame oil, which I love for flavor, is protected from the high heat by mixing with peanut oil
** - Current fave, Global Bounty brand