New Site

If you've been following this blog, you have been neglected. In an experiment to branch out and, at the same time, find focus, I bought a domain name and created a new site, Eating in Your Underwear. Please follow my current culinary adventures there!

Rice Krispie Treats

Contrary to the ads on television, I don't recall making Rice Krispie Treats with my mom. I don't remember puffed rice cereal ever being the glue that brought us together in the kitchen. And I sure as hell know that my mom, as dear as she is, was not wasting time molding Rice Krispie Treats in the shape of eggs at Easter. But for some reason, I love these things.

Typically reserved for s'mores around the campfire (and let's face it--how often does that happen?), packaged marshmallows are just, well, nasty. When melted, however, they serve as the concrete for a dessert that can be dressed up in all sorts of ways.

Prepare Rice Krispie Treats according to the directions on the cereal box. Look for opportunities to flavor the mixture before it goes into a mold. Peanut butter or caramel sauce are good options. Or, as I did with these Treats, create a velvety ganache topping to contrast the crunch of the cereal.

In a bowl, microwave semi-sweet chocolate chips with a bit of milk on low heat. Be sure to use just enough milk to lubricate the chocolate; anything more and the ganache will be too runny and won't set. Stir in vanilla extract, butter and a decent amount of sea salt--we don't want its presence to be overwhelming, but we want to know it's in there. Spread the ganache evenly on top of the molded Treats and place in the refrigerate to set.

This simple addition lends a richer flavor and silky texture to the standard Rice Krispie Treat, and makes it a bit more special. Whether or not you make this exact recipe, the point is to try experimenting with the mundane to create something shiny and new. But really, you should start by trying this recipe. For real.

FCI Post: Soup Day

Last month I wrote a non-fiction short story inspired by one of the craziest culinary experiences to date: soup day. If you're interested in a behind-the-scenes perspective on culinary school, click here to read my first contribution to the FCI's blog, The Hot Plate.

Naked Dinner

Perhaps what I am about to divulge is crazy and, well, just plain wrong. But it's something I have to get off my chest. I often eat dinner naked. Okay, not totally naked, but damn close to it. And what's even more curious? I'm never eating anything "sexy" when I do this.

My dinners of choice (or more frequently, of necessity) are frozen Indian meals from Trader Joe's, leftovers from school (think braised short ribs, fried sweetbreads, orange duck...) or miscellaneous, hidden pantry items.

Tonight I slipped into my apartment, slopped my bags on the floor, stripped off my rain-ridden clothes and ate this:

It is quite the anomaly that a registered dietitian who attends culinary school would consume Cheetos (hey--at least they're baked) and Tastykakes for dinner. My only hope is that exposing this dirty secret will force me to think twice the next time I blindly ravage my kitchen for a quick meal. I guess we all need a little help, sometimes.

Tomato Fondue

Nearly two months into the Classic Culinary Arts program at the FCI and I've become quite familiar with tomato fondue. No, it isn't a throwback to bell bottoms and mutton chops, but rather a rich, concentrated tomato sauce that is used as an addition to sauces or alone, as a condiment. Being somewhat of a tomato product junkie (it is not rare that I use an entire jar of sauce on my pasta or munch on tomatoes straight from the can), I imagined tomato fondue to make a fantastic pasta sauce. With a few alterations on the original FCI recipe, I was able to do just that.

Step one: peel the tomatoes (I used fresh plum tomatoes). Remove the stem end with the tip of a paring knife and make an X at the bottom of the tomato. Drop into boiling water and remove just as the skin starts to separate from the flesh. Plunge into an ice water bath to halt the cooking process. Once cool enough to handle, use your paring knife to peel the skin off of the tomatoes.

Step two: deseed. Half the tomatoes horizontally and gently squeeze to remove the seeds. You don't have to go crazy, here. Get most of them out without driving yourself nuts.

Step three: roughly chop the tomatoes. Doesn't have to be pretty, just uniform.

Step four: sweat minced shallots in olive oil in a large, shallow pan. Toss in a few crushed garlic cloves and gently cook until it becomes fragrant.

Step five: add the tomatoes to the pan. Season gently with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Add a large stem of fresh basil and partially cover the pan. Cook the tomato fondue over medium heat, stirring occasionally. It's done once most of the liquid has evaporated.

Step six: remove the garlic cloves and basil. Finish the sauce by adding a bit of butter. Adjust the seasoning to taste and serve atop pasta. Garnish with fresh basil and you're golden.