Kitchen Essentials: Mandarin Olive Oil

Oliviers and Co., otherwise known as O&Co., is a specialty shop that features a wide range of olive oil (and a few other treats). I wandered into their shop a couple of years ago and was captivated by their mandarin olive oil. The flavor is spectacular. They use a very light oil, which conveys the floral notes of the orange straight to your olfactories. Then you drool.

I stopped by the other day to pick up a tin and they had some for 50% off. "It's getting old," said the shopkeeper. "So you'll have to use it within a year". Oh. Really? I think I can manage that. So now I have 2 tins for the price of one. Gotta love that.

I use this oil somewhat sparingly. (It is regularly priced at $19.50 for 8.4 fl. oz). It sings on my signature salad or on a crazy but fabulous salad of oranges and olives. (Trust me). It is beautiful in a marinade. And sometimes, when no one is looking, I just drink a spoonful of it straight. Healthy and delicious.

Sweet Onions

I once got into a friendly but fierce debate with a friend. The subject was sweet onions. Being from Texas, he maintained that Texas Sweets were the superior onion. I, faithful to my homeland, argued for the Walla Walla. At the time, we agreed to disagree, but really, we were both correct.

Sweet onions, from wherever they hail, are so called because they are harvested and sold fresh, as opposed to being put into cold-storage and held against the season when the fresh onion harvest is past. Just like with fresh-picked corn or vine ripe tomatoes, the closer to harvest that you enjoy a sweet onion, the sweet and crisper it will be. And so, a fresh Walla Walla that has been shipped elsewhere is never going to compare to the local produce. The closer you are to the farm from whence that onion came, the happier you will be.

There's all sorts of scientific explanations for the yumminess of a sweet onion: higher sugar, lower sulfur compounds (that would be the part that makes your eyes water when you slice an onion). If you are one of those people who avoids onions because they don't sit well with you, a sweet onion may be the solution as it is the higher sulfur content in storage onions that can trouble a tender tummy. Sweet onions also have lower acid levels than storage onions.
Isn't that fascinating?

Technically, sweet onions are beginning to be available all year round, with a different variety from a different region (or even country) coming into its own every few months. But I'm not swayed by that sort of thing. Again, there are a ton of reasons for eating locally, but when it comes to onions, one of the most compelling is just that a local onion tastes better.

I have been known to eat a fresh Walla Walla onion out of hand, just like an apple. If that seems too extreme, there's just nothing like a big, crispy slab of raw sweet onion on a burger, or diced into a salsa, or joining a skewer of meat and peppers on a kabob. Despite the aforementioned year-round phenomenon, sweet onions are a summer treat for me (the Walla Walla season being from June - August).

Later this week I'll be whipping up one of my very favorite onion recipes of all time: a Provencal onion tart. I can't wait!

Salt of the Earth

Faithful reader and general bon vivant, Red asked a question about the post "DSP" which really deserves a proper post of its own. Specifically, he queried as to the uses for red and black salt. (He also wondered why he tends to speak in Elizabethan tones when leaving comments here. That I can't help him with).

In recent years the forces of Foodism have elevated sodium chloride from useful, necessary culinary compound to an art form. Remember when using kosher salt instead of regular old table salt was considered cutting edge? Now it's all about the designer salts... fleur de sel and knowing the origin, appelation and terroir of the salt. "Oh, this? It's a lovely little fleur de sel, from the south side of a little-known beach in Brittany. Plucked only by unsullied virgins and carried from the sea in gilded bowls". I have even heard of salt tastings. Really? Seriously? We can't think of anything better to do with our time then sit around tasting a variety of salt and ranking them, as we would wine? Surely there's a rerun of "Whose the Boss" to catch up on.

All this hooha does beg the question: is there a difference? Better palates then mine have attempted to answer the question and it is the work of minutes to see what they learned. But you know what I think?

Salt is salt.

That's right. Regardless of the harvesting methods, the region, the color or the unsullied virgins involved in the process, salt need only be salty to win my admiration. Yes, there is a subtle whiff of the ocean that can be detected in sea salt that you won't find in run-o-the-mill salt. But once it hits the food you really can't tell. I'd suggest that anyone who says they can tell is a pretentious toff. But that would be judgemental and I'm kind.

There is something to be said for the size of the grains, for sure. You don't want to put big hunks of NaCl into a baked good, for example, as the salt needs to dissolve quickly so that it can react with the other chemicals and not crunch. But otherwise, I can't tell the difference. I've tried. I can discern the difference between a Bordeaux and a Rhone so it's not that I have no palate. But if there are flavor differences between the varieties of available salt in the world, they are completely lost on me.

So, you rightly ask, what's with the variety of salt in your kitchen? Simple. I think they are pretty. I buy my red and black Hawaiian sea salt at Trader Joe's because they look cool sitting in their little latte bowls beside the stove. And sometimes I also have a greeny-grey Celtic salt that I can get in bulk at my co-op. I sprinkle the colorful salt on veggies just before serving. The large grains dissolve slower than kosher or table salt so they give a little discreet visual kick to dishes. I don't use them in cream or yogurt based sauces, because the color runs. Especially with the black one. It can look quite nasty.

But once the salt reduces to it's briny essence, it is merely saline. Nothing spectacular. Nothing to make you stop and say, "Golly, that was some salt you used on those steamed beans, missy!"

So by all means, if you find some groovy looking salt buy it and put it in a sweet little bowl on your kitchen counter. But please, when your friends ooh and ahh, be honest. Tell them you like the look of it and be done with it. Loving good food and being a twit about it are two completely different things.

DSP

One of the things I love about cooking is that it is always new. I've been cooking for a long time. There are dishes I prepare without ever even looking at a recipe. Certain instincts have been developed over the years that go to timing and flavors and all the rest. But this hardly means I can rest on my bay laurels, smugly thinking I am a repository for all the food wisdom of the ages. Hardly.

Take the other day, for example. I learned something new. A minor thing, perhaps, but still. I have some lovely measuring spoons from Nigella Lawson. I like her products. They are beautiful and well-made, which is important to me. They are also sensible. Her mixing bowls, for example, are egg-shaped, so they fit perfectly into the crook of your arm when you're stirring up something and then you can pour the batter or whatever out of them without it slopping all over everything. And when I can have a sensible product that also looks good, I'm a very happy camper.

Right. So I bought the measuring spoons because I fell in love with them. But I was always confused by one of the spoons, a smidge smaller than the tablespoon and marked "dsp". I had no idea what that was supposed to mean and it wasn't noted on the box. So I looked it up and it turns out that "dsp" stands for "dessert spoon". It's a UK measurement. I don't know that I've ever seen it in a recipe before. Certainly, I'd never used a dessert spoon of anything.

You know how chefs on cooking shows will often say something like "add a teaspoon of salt" and then they'll just pour an amount into their palm and toss it into the soup? Once, long ago, I realized that they can do that because they know what a teaspoon of something looks like. I measured out a teaspoon of something, put it in my palm and looked at it. "Ah! That's a teaspoon!" Then I did the same with a tablespoon. In my hand a tablespoon of something is basically a palmful. The point is, knowing this, I don't always have to reach for a measuring spoon because I know what I'm dealing with.

I gave myself a visual the other day. A tablespoon of black salt, a teaspoon of white and there, in the middle, is a dessert spoon's worth of red salt.

Even as I tend to throw ingredients around willy-nilly, without benefit of measuring, there are plenty of times when I am more precise...when trying out a new recipe and certainly when baking. In the first case, I have to know how something is intended to taste before I decide if it needs fiddling with and in the second case, baking relies on scientifically proven chemical reactions. If something reads "add 1 Tablespoon baking powder" this is not a suggestion but a requirement.

I am now enamoured of having a measurement called "dessert spoon". I's a cute little measurement, I think. I suspect that UK cooks don't limit its application to the dessert course but it seems to me that would be logical. A dessert spoon...more sweetness than a teaspoon but less than a tablespoon. When something calls for a sprinkling of sugar, I'll bet the intent is for a dessert spoon amount. At least, that's the way I will be thinking about it.

Mommy Has Favorites

I am very fond of my red kitchen, which is very functional and full of groovy tools. But there are some for which I have particular fondness. Plus, I'm pretty sure it's in the rules somewhere that all food blogs must, from time to time, wax rhapsodic about essential cooking tools.

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The coffee maker.



Duh. Because you have to have coffee. You have to have coffee to start the day, you have to have coffee to cap the perfect meal. (This also assumes having decaf in the house, for the light weights. Sometimes I forget that).

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The corkscrew.



We have to replace this tool about every 2 years. I live by the motto that you should never cook with any wine you wouldn't drink. That's why I've never purchased "cooking sherry" in my entire life and never will. Wine does not merely accompany a meal. Wine is the soul of a good sauce, vital to a delicious daube. The Spouse insists on a glug of red wine in the house pizza sauce.



The beauty of a corkscrew, as we were reminded during the Big Blow of '06, is that it isn't powered by electricity.

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I call this wooden spatula "Dame Judi", because it is an all-purpose, useful thing, like my mom. I found it at a yard sale for 25 ¢. "Dame Judi" can stir, scrape up deglazed bits from a pan, flip pancakes, flatten fried plantains...whatever is asked of her. She bears her age with remarkable grace.

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The microplane. I saw people using these bad boys on cooking shows for years but never had one. A grater is just a grater, after all, right?

Wrong.

Microplane graters come in all sizes. We have a box grater microplane that The Boys gave us for a hostess gift and which I love but this little number gets used all the time. Food glides right over it. I can reduce a hunk of very hard Parmesan fairydust bits without breaking a sweat.

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When we were first married, The Spouse worked for a specialty food company. He drove truck in the morning and did computer stuff in the afternoon. One of the benefits of this job was that he got to bring home goods that couldn't be sold. If, for example, a bottle of olive oil broke in the case, all the bottles that got oily couldn't be sold so they just sat in the warehouse, free for the taking. For years we never spent a dime on oil, balsamic vinegar, capers and the like.


Once there was some food show at which his company had a presence and one of the other vendors was using KitchenAid mixers at their booth. When the show was over, The Spouse negotiated an obscenely good price for one of the mixers. One of the first things I ever used it for was marshmallows. (Hmmm...haven't made those in a while....). These things are built to last. I expect my great-grandchildren will still be using this mixer.

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My Nigella Lawson measuring cups. I ♥ them because they look like proper teacups. I'm a sucker for good design and like having tools that are both functional and beautiful. I like that they look like teacups because long, long ago, that's what women used when a recipe called for a cup of something. I feel very retro when I use these.

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For years I used cheap whisks from the grocery store. Then we discovered Dick's Restaurant Supply. I have 2 of these big balloon whisks. They have heft. That's important when you're whisking egg whites and don't want your arm to fall off from exhaustion.

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This is, after our house, the single most important investment we've ever made.


I big, fat puffy ♥ my Viking. It has 2 ovens (one with a convection option), 6 burners and a griddle. It is beautiful. I love that it has little legs so it looks like a piece of furniture. I love that it is so big. I love that it is gas. (I'd never cooked with gas heat before we got this...I burned a lot of sauces before I got the hang of it).


We've turned out some pretty amazing meals on much smaller, much crappier stoves, all the while dreaming of what it would be like to have the capabilities of a big Viking range. And I'll be honest, we balked at the expense. But then we told ourselves that it would more than pay for itself.


When we remodeled our kitchen (designing around this purchase) this view was confirmed by the unanimous reaction from our friends, who all said, "I can't think of two people who will get more use out of it".

So we spent The Child's first year of college tuition. She can get a scholarship, right?

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My hands. And I don't mean that in the obvious sense because of course I have to use my hands to cook. Rather, I consider my hands to be tools. From separating eggs to kneading bread dough to mixing meatloaf, sometimes using your hands makes the most sense. It's efficient, they are easy to clean and you can't drop them on your toes.

Smug Tips for Superfantastic Entertaining: Part 1

I've got both ovens going and half the burners. The sweatshirt is off and preparations are moving right along. But as I've been chopping and sautéing and taste testing ('cause you have to do that) I've been thinking about how preparing parties like this really aren't that big a deal. They used to be, but not anymore. Because I've learned a thing or two in 28 years of entertaining. I feel compelled to share my wisdom with you.

First of all, don't make fussy food for a dinner party. If you want to try a recipe that require a whole lot of fiddling, save it for a leisurely weekend. Once guests arrive you should be able to spend the majority of your time with them, not in the kitchen seiving and mixing.

I learned that lesson in the early years with The Spouse. I think it was our first Christmas. At that point, young housewife that I was, I was planning menues largely with an eye toward impressing the crap out of my guests. NOT a pure motive, by the way. Anyway, the dinner had been grand and people were still talking about it weeks later.

A friend, days hence, was talking about something really funny that had been said or done at the party and I had no recollection of the event. Because I had been in the kitchen, working on my impressive whatever, and had missed the heart of the party.

I have never, ever done that again.

Menues are planned with lots of yummy sounding food that I know people will want to eat and then do as much as possible ahead so that the evening is spent enjoying my guests. A minute or two here and there to finish a dish or pop something in the oven is all that is required. This also has the advantage of leaving me far less harried which means I'm not shrieking at the family in frustration moments before the guests are to arrive. Trust me, that is much more enjoyable for all of us.

Second of all, I don't care what your kitchen looks like; I don't care if it 2400sf with all the latest appliances, a hot plate in a room the size of a phone booth or something in between. The key to stress-free entertaining is to clean up as you go. I'm serious. There is nothing that makes you never want to entertain again than a kitchen that looks like a dirty bomb went off.

Empty the dishwasher, start a soapy sink and empty the garbage pail. Load, wash and wipe as you go. Run the dishwasher when it's full and empty it as soon as it's done so you are ready to go again.

I haven't mastered this completely and there is always something going on in the kitchen when guests arrive. It rarely looks like it's about to model for "House and Garden", with all the counters clear and all the pots washed. But minimizing the chaos as you go is the only way you're going to feel like doing this again sometime. Plus, it makes it really easy to restore order after the evening is over. (This is important to me because while I don't mind waking up to dessert plates still on the table, being greeted first thing by a roasting pan full of greasy water... Eeww).

Third, if you feel like blogging in the middle of preparing for a party, preheat the oven for your crostini to 350° when it's really supposed to be 425°. You'll have at least 15 minutes of blog time.