This is it! I've been working on this new website on and off for ages, and I am so excited to present it, finally! After 6 years (!) of inconsistent posts, I have finally decided to dedicate a regular chunk of my time to this project, on a website with a cleaner, more cohesive design and enough space for photos. Eventually, this blog will no longer be updated, with all of its posts available on the new site.
For all future posts, please visit the new home of It's on Fire!!! at www.turnthefiredown.com.
To celebrate the launch of this project, I would like to leave you all with what is basically a ganache, or maybe, if you feel fancy and/or pretentious, pots de creme*.
Alarmingly Rich Chocolate Dessert
Makes around 4 cups, or enough for all your friends to camp at your place for a week
Ingredients
2 1/2 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup whole milk
9 oz. 72% or other dark chocolate, chopped**
1 vanilla bean (or 1 tsp vanilla extract)
Directions
1. If you are using the vanilla bean, scrape the seeds into a medium saucepan now. Add the pod, cream and milk. If not, just add the cream and milk. Heat until nearly steaming. You will see little bubbles, but the dairy should not boil, or even simmer.
2. Take the pan off the fire. If you added the vanilla bean pod, now is a good time to remove it. Add all of the chocolate, stirring gently. If you are using the vanilla extract, now is a good time to add it. Gently stir with a rubber spatula until all the chocolate is melted.
3. Once the mixture is smooth, pour it into various containers, like ramekins, bowls, or in my case, a nice glass container with tightly closing lid. Allow to cool thoroughly, around 6 hours, then keep covered (lid, plastic wrap, foil, etc.) in the fridge for up to 2 weeks. They are excellent topped with some unsweetened whipped cream, or as the filling of a pie. Enjoy!
* For the full pretension, please pronounce with a strong French, preferably Parisian, accent! This only applies if you are personally not Parisian, or French, and particularly so if you are a monolingual, English-speaking hipster from the United States. Bonus points if you obsess over properly made espresso.
** Full disclosure, this is exactly half of a 500g bar from Trader Joe's. I'm personally obsessed with their chocolate because it's excellent quality for a decent price. I'm not affiliated with them, nor am I important enough to be. I just really like their chocolate :)
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
Tuesday, September 12, 2017
Falling for Sicily - Highlights from Before Wedding
As soon as I landed in Palermo, I knew I was gone.
I managed to fall hard and fast for Sicily during the 30-minute bus ride from Palermo International Airport to Palermo Centrale Station, which might be a personal record. The mountains by the ocean, the familiar buzz (my graduate school adviser was Italian, and the lab was basically little Italy), the contradictions and consistently inconsistent insanity pushed all my buttons for obsessive, frustrating infatuation and ignited my incessant urge to explore.
Palermo is a bit of a gritty city, not quite as stately as Rome nor modern and brisk as Barcelona. Palermo lacks pretension, and as overused as the word authentic is, it fits here. I am originally from Hong Kong, which is as dirty as it is glorious, and something about Palermo reflected this binary divide and unexpected juxtaposition. Amidst the colors, scents, and sounds, I felt at home there.
On my second day in Palermo, I met up with my friend A., who was also attending the wedding. Originally from Pisa, he currently lives in Sicily. He is quite a close friend to D., fluent in English and luckily a very tranquil person who tolerated my terrible Italian, crippling social anxiety, and inability to make small talk even in English, and frequently translated for me. He is excellent company, and we had a blast making our way through Palermo, Trabia, Termini Imerese and Agrigento.
That day, we had for lunch something that A. said was very typical of the region, a pasta dish called busiate alla norma. Busiate is the particular pasta shape, which is a round, twisted sort of item that suggests it might be handmade. Alla norma just refers to the fact that it is, apparently, "normal" for the region. It consisted of tomatoes, eggplant, ricotta salata and a few basil leaves. The mild pasta was, of course, cooked perfectly al dente, complemented but not overwhelmed by the flavorful sauce.
I was a bit overwhelmed, having previously obsessed over the making of fresh pasta, and now I was actually in Italy, eating pasta made in Italy. I geeked out massively over this, probably alarming A. It was a delicate balancing act, getting food in my mouth with a modicum of decorum, holding a semi-coherent conversation with A. (on my end; he was perfectly eloquent), properly appreciating the flavors and textures, trying hard to contain the excitement building inside my head, and doing my best not to splatter everywhere in my practically trademarked clumsiness.
Later that night, we had the honor of having dinner with D. It was the night before he was to be married, and he took us to La Lanterna in Termini Imerese, his hometown. I have to say, while everything was so, so good, the mussels blew my mind. Soft, flavorful and basically everything that I like about clams, minus the sand, I think I missed a lot of the conversation in vain attempt to fully process the experience.
Another plate held something that D. called "seafood salad," but was really more of a collection of tasty sea critters garnished with a few cheery lettuce leaves. Off to the side, a wooden board presented five different bruschetta. In addition, there was pizza with prosciutto, spaghetti with more seafood, and one more item that escapes my recollection. I attempted to take photos, but my phone battery was drained, conversation was flying thick and fast in English and Italian, and the three of us split nearly an entire bottle of some light and delicious wine that complemented every dish.
Then a fast and terrifying ride up a steep, winding mountain road, complete with crazy Sicilian making eye contract with me, grabbing my wrist, and tapping my knee, all while driving a manual car...! Well, this is, after all, the person who once loudly smacked the seat as I backed the car around in a tight spot, just to mess with me. Thinking back, I wonder if A. was in on the game as he relaxed in the back with a hint of a smile while D. showed off his piloting skills.
Once we had finally reached our destination, there was gelato! There's not a lot that I can say about gelato in Italy that hasn't been said before. It is almost a given that the flavors are clean and intense, the ice cream itself smooth and fresh and perfect. The real treat was the joy of finally seeing D. again after two years, so comfortable in his hometown, about to be married, and spending time with A., whom I had met before, but never really got to know properly. More than the wine or the flavors, the thing that really made my head spin was the rush of pure happiness that only comes from the kind of friendship that transcends years and continents.
I managed to fall hard and fast for Sicily during the 30-minute bus ride from Palermo International Airport to Palermo Centrale Station, which might be a personal record. The mountains by the ocean, the familiar buzz (my graduate school adviser was Italian, and the lab was basically little Italy), the contradictions and consistently inconsistent insanity pushed all my buttons for obsessive, frustrating infatuation and ignited my incessant urge to explore.
Palermo is a bit of a gritty city, not quite as stately as Rome nor modern and brisk as Barcelona. Palermo lacks pretension, and as overused as the word authentic is, it fits here. I am originally from Hong Kong, which is as dirty as it is glorious, and something about Palermo reflected this binary divide and unexpected juxtaposition. Amidst the colors, scents, and sounds, I felt at home there.
On my second day in Palermo, I met up with my friend A., who was also attending the wedding. Originally from Pisa, he currently lives in Sicily. He is quite a close friend to D., fluent in English and luckily a very tranquil person who tolerated my terrible Italian, crippling social anxiety, and inability to make small talk even in English, and frequently translated for me. He is excellent company, and we had a blast making our way through Palermo, Trabia, Termini Imerese and Agrigento.
That day, we had for lunch something that A. said was very typical of the region, a pasta dish called busiate alla norma. Busiate is the particular pasta shape, which is a round, twisted sort of item that suggests it might be handmade. Alla norma just refers to the fact that it is, apparently, "normal" for the region. It consisted of tomatoes, eggplant, ricotta salata and a few basil leaves. The mild pasta was, of course, cooked perfectly al dente, complemented but not overwhelmed by the flavorful sauce.
I was a bit overwhelmed, having previously obsessed over the making of fresh pasta, and now I was actually in Italy, eating pasta made in Italy. I geeked out massively over this, probably alarming A. It was a delicate balancing act, getting food in my mouth with a modicum of decorum, holding a semi-coherent conversation with A. (on my end; he was perfectly eloquent), properly appreciating the flavors and textures, trying hard to contain the excitement building inside my head, and doing my best not to splatter everywhere in my practically trademarked clumsiness.
Later that night, we had the honor of having dinner with D. It was the night before he was to be married, and he took us to La Lanterna in Termini Imerese, his hometown. I have to say, while everything was so, so good, the mussels blew my mind. Soft, flavorful and basically everything that I like about clams, minus the sand, I think I missed a lot of the conversation in vain attempt to fully process the experience.
Another plate held something that D. called "seafood salad," but was really more of a collection of tasty sea critters garnished with a few cheery lettuce leaves. Off to the side, a wooden board presented five different bruschetta. In addition, there was pizza with prosciutto, spaghetti with more seafood, and one more item that escapes my recollection. I attempted to take photos, but my phone battery was drained, conversation was flying thick and fast in English and Italian, and the three of us split nearly an entire bottle of some light and delicious wine that complemented every dish.
Then a fast and terrifying ride up a steep, winding mountain road, complete with crazy Sicilian making eye contract with me, grabbing my wrist, and tapping my knee, all while driving a manual car...! Well, this is, after all, the person who once loudly smacked the seat as I backed the car around in a tight spot, just to mess with me. Thinking back, I wonder if A. was in on the game as he relaxed in the back with a hint of a smile while D. showed off his piloting skills.
Once we had finally reached our destination, there was gelato! There's not a lot that I can say about gelato in Italy that hasn't been said before. It is almost a given that the flavors are clean and intense, the ice cream itself smooth and fresh and perfect. The real treat was the joy of finally seeing D. again after two years, so comfortable in his hometown, about to be married, and spending time with A., whom I had met before, but never really got to know properly. More than the wine or the flavors, the thing that really made my head spin was the rush of pure happiness that only comes from the kind of friendship that transcends years and continents.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
Promises Fulfilled - Rosemary Lime Panna Cotta
Two years ago, I made a promise.
Two months ago, I booked my ticket.
Two weeks ago, I fulfilled that promise.
On August 10, 2017, in beautiful Trabia, Sicily, one of my closest friends, D., was married.
After a glorious, stately, at times hilarious, very Catholic ceremony, legal papers were signed, rice was thrown, Prosecco was toasted and the newlyweds were sent off in a car amidst much fanfare and drone videography, leaving all the wedding goers to make their way to a nearby bar for much-needed cool drinks.
I have to admit, none of the pictures and very little of the official wedding video show that it was a scorching hot day and everyone was sweating right through their clothes! Air conditioning doesn't seem to be terribly common in Sicily (Europe?), and the church was aired out by electric and handheld fans at best. Some prescient soul had strategically placed handheld fans on the pews, which were clutched by happy couple, wedding party, and guests alike with a rather religious fervor. The day was lovely, however, and everyone was happy to see them wed.
Once we made it to the bar, well wishes, toasts and carefree jokes were slung. My favorite regarded the bachelor's party, when D. had been whisked off to London for the night. The bride was asked whether she allowed it. Her response? Well, she is Sicilian, so of course she said no, but he is Sicilian, so of course he went!
At the wedding reception, the incredible (and alarmingly ample) food was concluded with a stunning selection of small desserts, each around the size of a petit four. One was fragola panna cotta, or strawberry cooked cream, a tiny pink oval that quivered in the gentle breeze. My friend A. and I discussed this for a while, concluding that it was almost entirely cream and strawberry juice, with either gelatin or egg whites just barely holding it together.
I haven't managed to find really good strawberries this summer, since my time has been consumed by work, karate, and the thousand little tasks that supposedly claim that I am a functioning adult. However, limes are in season during the summer, and the tiny rosemary sprout on my balcony hasn't died yet. I made this flavor combination in a form of a soda first, squeezing the juice of a lime over some ice cubes, tossing in some rosemary syrup and topping up with sparkling water. It doesn't quite qualify as a recipe, but I definitely recommend making a second batch of rosemary syrup just for this! If you're out of limes, lemon juice works brilliantly, too.
On a side note, this recipe requires a refrigerator and some time between components, around 3-4 hours. If pressed for time, I suggest just the panna cotta and leaving the jelly layer for another opportunity.
Rosemary Lime Panna Cotta
Adapted from David Lebovitz, because that man is a god of dessert
Makes around 2 3/4 cups of panna cotta and 3/4 cups jelly, or 3 1/2 cups of dessert total
Rosemary Syrup
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
~2 inches of rosemary sprigs, chopped or torn apart, keeping the stems
1. In a small saucepan, heat the water, sugar and rosemary until the sugar has all dissolved. Allow to cool and steal some for drinks.
Note that this same saucepan can be used to make the panna cotta.
Panna Cotta
2 tsp powdered unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup rosemary syrup
1 1/2 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy whipping cream
Tiny pinch salt
2 tbsp finely grated lime zest, from around 3 limes. Save the lime juice for the jelly.
1. In a small bowl or cup, place the 1/4 cup rosemary syrup and sprinkle the gelatin over it. This allows the gelatin to soak up the water and "bloom" so it thickens without lumps. The gelatin will look lumpy anyway, so just sprinkle it as evenly as you can and let it sit to work its magic for a while.
2. In a small saucepan, heat the milk and cream until it starts to steam slightly. Take it off the fire and add the lime zest. Add the rosemary syrup and gelatin and gently stir until the gelatin is completely dissolved and there are no grains detectable.
3. Find four glasses, cups, ramekins or other small serving containers and divide the panna cotta mixture between them. Refrigerate until somewhat firm, around 3 hours or so.
Jelly
1/4 cup water
1/2 tsp powdered unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup rosemary syrup
1/4 cup lime juice, from around 3 limes
1. Once the panna cotta appears to be relatively firm (I test by tilting it slightly; if the top is gelled enough for a second layer, it won't spill), place the 1/4 water in a small bowl or cup and sprinkle the gelatin over it.
2. In a small saucepan, or honestly, a microwave if you have one, heat the rosemary syrup and lime juice until hot, between 15-90 seconds depending on the fortitude of your microwave. Boiling the liquid tends to destroy the gelling power of gelatin, and you only need the liquid warm enough to dissolve the gelatin completely.
3. Stir the gelatin and water into the lime juice and rosemary syrup until there are no grains detectable and the mixture is cool enough to touch.
4. Pull the firm panna cotta from the refrigerator. Over the back of a spoon (to prevent divots and holes), lightly pour the jelly mixture over the panna cotta.
5. Return to the refrigerator and chill for another 3 hours to fully firm up the jelly. Enjoy!
Two months ago, I booked my ticket.
Two weeks ago, I fulfilled that promise.
On August 10, 2017, in beautiful Trabia, Sicily, one of my closest friends, D., was married.
After a glorious, stately, at times hilarious, very Catholic ceremony, legal papers were signed, rice was thrown, Prosecco was toasted and the newlyweds were sent off in a car amidst much fanfare and drone videography, leaving all the wedding goers to make their way to a nearby bar for much-needed cool drinks.
I have to admit, none of the pictures and very little of the official wedding video show that it was a scorching hot day and everyone was sweating right through their clothes! Air conditioning doesn't seem to be terribly common in Sicily (Europe?), and the church was aired out by electric and handheld fans at best. Some prescient soul had strategically placed handheld fans on the pews, which were clutched by happy couple, wedding party, and guests alike with a rather religious fervor. The day was lovely, however, and everyone was happy to see them wed.
Once we made it to the bar, well wishes, toasts and carefree jokes were slung. My favorite regarded the bachelor's party, when D. had been whisked off to London for the night. The bride was asked whether she allowed it. Her response? Well, she is Sicilian, so of course she said no, but he is Sicilian, so of course he went!
At the wedding reception, the incredible (and alarmingly ample) food was concluded with a stunning selection of small desserts, each around the size of a petit four. One was fragola panna cotta, or strawberry cooked cream, a tiny pink oval that quivered in the gentle breeze. My friend A. and I discussed this for a while, concluding that it was almost entirely cream and strawberry juice, with either gelatin or egg whites just barely holding it together.
I haven't managed to find really good strawberries this summer, since my time has been consumed by work, karate, and the thousand little tasks that supposedly claim that I am a functioning adult. However, limes are in season during the summer, and the tiny rosemary sprout on my balcony hasn't died yet. I made this flavor combination in a form of a soda first, squeezing the juice of a lime over some ice cubes, tossing in some rosemary syrup and topping up with sparkling water. It doesn't quite qualify as a recipe, but I definitely recommend making a second batch of rosemary syrup just for this! If you're out of limes, lemon juice works brilliantly, too.
On a side note, this recipe requires a refrigerator and some time between components, around 3-4 hours. If pressed for time, I suggest just the panna cotta and leaving the jelly layer for another opportunity.
Rosemary Lime Panna Cotta
Adapted from David Lebovitz, because that man is a god of dessert
Makes around 2 3/4 cups of panna cotta and 3/4 cups jelly, or 3 1/2 cups of dessert total
Rosemary Syrup
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
~2 inches of rosemary sprigs, chopped or torn apart, keeping the stems
1. In a small saucepan, heat the water, sugar and rosemary until the sugar has all dissolved. Allow to cool and steal some for drinks.
Note that this same saucepan can be used to make the panna cotta.
Panna Cotta
2 tsp powdered unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup rosemary syrup
1 1/2 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy whipping cream
Tiny pinch salt
2 tbsp finely grated lime zest, from around 3 limes. Save the lime juice for the jelly.
1. In a small bowl or cup, place the 1/4 cup rosemary syrup and sprinkle the gelatin over it. This allows the gelatin to soak up the water and "bloom" so it thickens without lumps. The gelatin will look lumpy anyway, so just sprinkle it as evenly as you can and let it sit to work its magic for a while.
2. In a small saucepan, heat the milk and cream until it starts to steam slightly. Take it off the fire and add the lime zest. Add the rosemary syrup and gelatin and gently stir until the gelatin is completely dissolved and there are no grains detectable.
3. Find four glasses, cups, ramekins or other small serving containers and divide the panna cotta mixture between them. Refrigerate until somewhat firm, around 3 hours or so.
Jelly
1/4 cup water
1/2 tsp powdered unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup rosemary syrup
1/4 cup lime juice, from around 3 limes
1. Once the panna cotta appears to be relatively firm (I test by tilting it slightly; if the top is gelled enough for a second layer, it won't spill), place the 1/4 water in a small bowl or cup and sprinkle the gelatin over it.
2. In a small saucepan, or honestly, a microwave if you have one, heat the rosemary syrup and lime juice until hot, between 15-90 seconds depending on the fortitude of your microwave. Boiling the liquid tends to destroy the gelling power of gelatin, and you only need the liquid warm enough to dissolve the gelatin completely.
3. Stir the gelatin and water into the lime juice and rosemary syrup until there are no grains detectable and the mixture is cool enough to touch.
4. Pull the firm panna cotta from the refrigerator. Over the back of a spoon (to prevent divots and holes), lightly pour the jelly mixture over the panna cotta.
5. Return to the refrigerator and chill for another 3 hours to fully firm up the jelly. Enjoy!
Sunday, August 20, 2017
Barcelona - Museu de la Xocolata
I'm home, and I'm safe, but I cannot say the same for over a hundred others.
On August 17, 2017, I came home from Barcelona, Spain.
When I touched down in LAX, my phone buzzed with concern from friends, asking if I was okay. It turns out that while I was in the air, not 24 hours after I and hundreds of other tourists had wandered Las Ramblas with nothing more on the mind than where to have dinner, terrorists had struck.
The night before, on Wednesday night, August 16, a house exploded in Alcanar. On Thursday, August 17, a van swerved down the pedestrian area of Las Ramblas with the aim of killing and hurting innocent strangers and hours later, a second vehicular attack took place in Cambrils.
All I can say is that Barcelona is amazing. It is strong, with people already defying terror by returning to Las Ramblas. Barcelona mourns, but is also rallying around peace, tolerance and revival. World leaders and residents are supporting each other. After a moment of silence on Friday, August 18, declarations of "No tinc por/No tenim por" and "No tengo miedo/No tenemos miedo" were heard loud and clear, chanting "I am not afraid/We are not afraid" in Catalan (the language of the region of Catalonia, of which Barcelona is the capital*) and Spanish, respectively.
As a tourist, there isn't much that I can do. By chance, I left the beautiful city just an hour before the attacks, graced by luck. All I have to contribute is standing in solidarity with those who love Barcelona, whether lifelong residents or visitors for mere days, and those who condemn terrorism, as all decent beings should.
One of the few things that I can do is support the voices that say that we are not afraid. Whether resident or traveler, I am not afraid to live. The terrorists aim to strike fear, preventing education, travel and the opening of minds and hearts to those who are different. To me, to travel is to explore someplace new, to speak a new language, to make new friends, learn about other cultures and bit by bit, expunge the very ignorance that leads to the fear of the unknown. It is this fear of the unknown that controls and oppresses. Terrorists kill and hurt to impose their close-minded intolerance on others. They are the antithesis of the thoughtful traveler, who leaves their comfort zone to meet those who are different.
With this goal in mind, I would like to turn from tragedy and focus instead on a reason to visit Barcelona. On Wednesday morning, I had the opportunity to take a Chocolate Workshop at the Museum of Chocolate, or Museu de la Xocolata, in Catalan. For someone who thrives on unusual flavor combinations, particularly in the realm of sweets, this was the perfect workshop. For 20 euro, a small group and I were led by a skilled pastry chef in the fine arts of mixing a ganache, molding a chocolate bar, forming our own chocolate lollipops, putting together chocolate rocks, and finally, filling bombons (or truffles, I think, in American English) with the ganache.
We worked for two hours under the tutelage of our kind instructor, with pastry bags of dark, milk and white chocolate at our disposal. The ingredients, laid out neatly in clear glass bowls save for two limes with a grater for zest, tempted. They included flaky salt, poppy seeds, candied bits of dried strawberry, fresh raspberry, slivered almonds, peanut halves, cinnamon, vanilla sugar, and even whole toasted corn kernels. In the end, my favorite combination was probably poppy seeds, lime zest and candied strawberry in a dark chocolate base, with a touch of salt. We were allowed to pour one bar and as many lollipops and rocks as we wanted, so I took home quite a haul, having gone a bit overboard messing with the various flavor combinations. We made lollipops by piping chocolate bases on top of skewers, then adding chocolate or ingredient decorations. We could swirl the chocolate before it cooled to make designs, or just pile on the toppings! Rocks were even simpler; we just mixed a small bowl full of toppings, then added melted chocolate to bind it all together. The ganache was then removed from the refrigerator, and each of us was given six chocolate shells to fill.
In the end, once all of the chocolate was refrigerated and cooled, we got to pack each item gently in a paper bag. Our instructor then took us on a brief tour of the chocolate sculptures featured in an annual contest. Notable were the oldest sculpture, a 31-year-old art piece named Pietat (Piety), and a copy of the Sagrada Familia with one of the towers missing! It turned out that a pope had been presented with the beautiful chocolate sculpture, and promptly ate one of the towers. Well, I guess no one denies the pope his chocolate...?
Afterward, I spent some time in the cafe, ordering a butter croissant and a cold chocolate. I intended to order a cup of hot chocolate, but with the temperature edging past 30C (85F) and humidity hovering around 74%, that idea suddenly didn't seem so.... hot. The croissant was exactly as I hoped, crisp edges, tender center, plenty of layers, and the flavor of pure butter. The cold chocolate, though, was the star of breakfast. Churned constantly like a slushy in the States, it was rich, milky and smooth, with incredibly refreshing little chips of ice throughout. I savored the slightly bittersweet glass.
With only a total of four days in Barcelona on my trip, I consider myself very, very lucky to have been able to attend this workshop, offered about once a month according to the website calendar, on my one full day in Barna. The rest of the day and my entire trip (story to be continued) was memorable for many reasons, but the Chocolating Workshop at Museu de la Xocolata was definitely a highlight. I loved every minute, and am so thankful that I was able to attend. Barcelona is beautiful and strong, and as a community, we will persevere. No tinc por.
* The political situation regarding Catalonia and Madrid is delicate, and I am by no means qualified in the least to express an opinion on this.
On August 17, 2017, I came home from Barcelona, Spain.
When I touched down in LAX, my phone buzzed with concern from friends, asking if I was okay. It turns out that while I was in the air, not 24 hours after I and hundreds of other tourists had wandered Las Ramblas with nothing more on the mind than where to have dinner, terrorists had struck.
The night before, on Wednesday night, August 16, a house exploded in Alcanar. On Thursday, August 17, a van swerved down the pedestrian area of Las Ramblas with the aim of killing and hurting innocent strangers and hours later, a second vehicular attack took place in Cambrils.
All I can say is that Barcelona is amazing. It is strong, with people already defying terror by returning to Las Ramblas. Barcelona mourns, but is also rallying around peace, tolerance and revival. World leaders and residents are supporting each other. After a moment of silence on Friday, August 18, declarations of "No tinc por/No tenim por" and "No tengo miedo/No tenemos miedo" were heard loud and clear, chanting "I am not afraid/We are not afraid" in Catalan (the language of the region of Catalonia, of which Barcelona is the capital*) and Spanish, respectively.
As a tourist, there isn't much that I can do. By chance, I left the beautiful city just an hour before the attacks, graced by luck. All I have to contribute is standing in solidarity with those who love Barcelona, whether lifelong residents or visitors for mere days, and those who condemn terrorism, as all decent beings should.
One of the few things that I can do is support the voices that say that we are not afraid. Whether resident or traveler, I am not afraid to live. The terrorists aim to strike fear, preventing education, travel and the opening of minds and hearts to those who are different. To me, to travel is to explore someplace new, to speak a new language, to make new friends, learn about other cultures and bit by bit, expunge the very ignorance that leads to the fear of the unknown. It is this fear of the unknown that controls and oppresses. Terrorists kill and hurt to impose their close-minded intolerance on others. They are the antithesis of the thoughtful traveler, who leaves their comfort zone to meet those who are different.
With this goal in mind, I would like to turn from tragedy and focus instead on a reason to visit Barcelona. On Wednesday morning, I had the opportunity to take a Chocolate Workshop at the Museum of Chocolate, or Museu de la Xocolata, in Catalan. For someone who thrives on unusual flavor combinations, particularly in the realm of sweets, this was the perfect workshop. For 20 euro, a small group and I were led by a skilled pastry chef in the fine arts of mixing a ganache, molding a chocolate bar, forming our own chocolate lollipops, putting together chocolate rocks, and finally, filling bombons (or truffles, I think, in American English) with the ganache.
We worked for two hours under the tutelage of our kind instructor, with pastry bags of dark, milk and white chocolate at our disposal. The ingredients, laid out neatly in clear glass bowls save for two limes with a grater for zest, tempted. They included flaky salt, poppy seeds, candied bits of dried strawberry, fresh raspberry, slivered almonds, peanut halves, cinnamon, vanilla sugar, and even whole toasted corn kernels. In the end, my favorite combination was probably poppy seeds, lime zest and candied strawberry in a dark chocolate base, with a touch of salt. We were allowed to pour one bar and as many lollipops and rocks as we wanted, so I took home quite a haul, having gone a bit overboard messing with the various flavor combinations. We made lollipops by piping chocolate bases on top of skewers, then adding chocolate or ingredient decorations. We could swirl the chocolate before it cooled to make designs, or just pile on the toppings! Rocks were even simpler; we just mixed a small bowl full of toppings, then added melted chocolate to bind it all together. The ganache was then removed from the refrigerator, and each of us was given six chocolate shells to fill.
In the end, once all of the chocolate was refrigerated and cooled, we got to pack each item gently in a paper bag. Our instructor then took us on a brief tour of the chocolate sculptures featured in an annual contest. Notable were the oldest sculpture, a 31-year-old art piece named Pietat (Piety), and a copy of the Sagrada Familia with one of the towers missing! It turned out that a pope had been presented with the beautiful chocolate sculpture, and promptly ate one of the towers. Well, I guess no one denies the pope his chocolate...?
Afterward, I spent some time in the cafe, ordering a butter croissant and a cold chocolate. I intended to order a cup of hot chocolate, but with the temperature edging past 30C (85F) and humidity hovering around 74%, that idea suddenly didn't seem so.... hot. The croissant was exactly as I hoped, crisp edges, tender center, plenty of layers, and the flavor of pure butter. The cold chocolate, though, was the star of breakfast. Churned constantly like a slushy in the States, it was rich, milky and smooth, with incredibly refreshing little chips of ice throughout. I savored the slightly bittersweet glass.
With only a total of four days in Barcelona on my trip, I consider myself very, very lucky to have been able to attend this workshop, offered about once a month according to the website calendar, on my one full day in Barna. The rest of the day and my entire trip (story to be continued) was memorable for many reasons, but the Chocolating Workshop at Museu de la Xocolata was definitely a highlight. I loved every minute, and am so thankful that I was able to attend. Barcelona is beautiful and strong, and as a community, we will persevere. No tinc por.
* The political situation regarding Catalonia and Madrid is delicate, and I am by no means qualified in the least to express an opinion on this.
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Wish Fulfillment - Sour Cream and Coffee Chocolate Bundt Cake
I cannot word this in a way which doesn’t sound like an
irritating humble-brag, so please forgive my next sentence: My boyfriend bought
me the cake pan of my dreams for my birthday. For the past five or more years,
I have adored a certain cake pan the same way one might adore a fancy car, or
any other fancy covetable belonging. Heavy, shiny, technically functional and
of course, expensive for what it is, now that I think about it, it actually
might compare to that 6th Gen. Camaro that said boyfriend desires.
Of course, then, the maiden cake of this pan must be
similarly worthy. Surveying the household opinion, the shouted conclusion was
chocolate cake. Ah, but which one…? A quick search yielded approximately
695,000 results (thanks, Google!), none of which seemed to be exactly right. In
the end, there was a spreadsheet of similar recipes, all scaled to 1 cup of
butter, and an alarming number of identical recipes. The closest, actually,
happened to be the King Arthur Flour recipe for Chocolate Fudge Bundt Cake, were
it not for the fact that I totally disregarded the instructions altogether. But
enough about the dang pan and process, Jesus, girl, how was the cake?!
Well, then, I wouldn’t be writing this if the cake did not
blow my mind, now would I? With a dual-layer texture that changes my
preconceived notions on bundt cake, it’s been sliced and slivered away piece by
piece. The crust tastes almost toasted, the best chewy brownie corners fading
to velvet crumb three-quarters of an inch in. The flavor is dark and seductive, just
sweet enough with hidden slivers of chocolate and bolstered with a full cup of
freshly brewed coffee. This cake is best served 24 hours from the oven, having
allowed its “crust” and “crumb” to settle together and flavors to smooth out.
Sour Cream Chocolate Bundt Cake
Ingredients
¾ cup cocoa powder, plus extra for dusting the pan
1 cup hot coffee
1 cup butter, plus the paper butter wrappers (or extra) for buttering the pan
1 cup dark brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
2 eggs
1 tbsp vanilla extract
½ cup sour cream
¾ tsp salt
¾ tsp baking powder
¼ tsp baking soda
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup chocolate, finely chopped (~2-3 oz.)
Directions
- Put the cocoa powder in a 2-cup liquid measuring cup or larger, and add the hot coffee, stirring all the while with a fork or a whisk. The result will be quite thick, as though you’ve made a very nice hot chocolate. Allow to cool while you complete the next steps.
- Cream together the butter and both sugars. I prefer a stand mixer, but this is definitely possible with a hand mixer or a spoon, patience, and elbow grease.
- Add the eggs, one at a time, making sure to scrape the bowl between beating each one in. The batter will get much more creamy and smooth, starting to resemble excellent buttercream frosting.
- Add the vanilla and sour cream, and beat them in as well.
- Add the salt, baking powder and baking soda to the batter, mixing thoroughly.
- By now, the cocoa powder and coffee should be cool enough that the butter doesn’t immediately collapse when you add it. Carefully, because it may splatter, mix the chocolate into the batter.
- With a spatula, fold the flour into the batter, making sure to scrape the bowl. Flour and butter like to hide in the bottom of the bowl, particularly since there is a lot of batter in this one! Set the batter aside.
- Finely chop the chocolate and fold it into the batter. I liked dark chocolate for this one, but if you prefer your cake sweeter, perhaps milk is more to your taste.
- Thoroughly butter your bundt pan or 2 loaf pans, making sure that butter gets into every sharp corner. Take a handful of cocoa powder and sprinkle the inside, dusting it as you would flour. This preserves the nice brown color of the cake, and I like to think it adds an extra touch of pure chocolate flavor. If there is some left after coating the pan, pick up the pan and lightly tap it so the extra cocoa powder falls into the cake batter.
- Preheat the oven to 350F.
- The batter is thick; pour/spoon the batter into the bundt pan. You may need to turn the pan and spread it evenly, since the batter doesn’t flow well. Tap the pan onto the counter, a sturdy table or your knee to even out the batter.
- Pop it into the oven and bake for between 50-65 minutes (mine took 60 minutes for a wooden toothpick to come out clean).
- When the cake tests done, cool it on a rack for about 30 minutes. Then, turn it onto the rack and gently unmold the cake. Allow to rest for 24 hours, if possible.
- Slice and enjoy!
Friday, February 10, 2017
Getting Better – Tomato Cabbage Soup and Rice with Green Tea
And so I qualify as an old fart. With the move back to
Riverside, I’ve been taking the train to work everyday, prying myself out of
bed between 5am (early train), 6am (later train) and once, 6:30am (&*#%@\^$
I missed the train…!). This means, however, that once out of bed, I can no
longer convince myself that falling back asleep is an option. This is helpful
for normal days when I need to survive until 6:37pm (train is back in
Riverside), not so great for sick days such as today.
Thing is, Bossman and Bosslady have been coughing around the
office for 2 weeks. 2 weeks ago, I was sick with a sore throat and general misery, but the symptoms were
different. I can only guess how it spread.
In any case, the
past couple of weeks have been a comedy of errors, complete with packing
miscalculations, missed trains and illness and injury. Things learned this past
fortnight:
- Do not try to pack and move everything you own within a single day.
- 12-ft trucks are inadequate for the contents of a 1-bedroom apartment.
- A single friend to help you move, no matter how dedicated (you’re awesome, and I probably owe you more Brazilian cheese bread), is probably similarly inadequate.
- Perhaps moving the day after a particularly intense, full day of karate seminar, Instructor Training and your moving buddy’s black belt exam is not the best idea.
- Shifting your sleep schedule several hours earlier is difficult.
- Moving until 2am and waking up at 5am to get to work via a completely new transportation system will lead to errors in judgment.
- Santa Ana is incredibly bike-unfriendly.
- Sometimes, bike lanes are a ludicrous length, or lack thereof. Record goes to the one on Grand Avenue that is about 100 feet long.
- Riding on the sidewalk, with frequent stops for pedestrians/cars pulling out of driveways/extraordinarily narrow sections due to power poles, etc. is surprisingly well-accepted. The alternative is to ride in the road, while cars blow by at 10mph above the speed limit, closer than 3 feet (illegal). See above point.
- The bus will only be on time when you least expect it.
- Biking in the rain and arriving to work more or less soaked is actually a lot faster than taking the bus in the wrong direction for nearly the entire length of the line. Thank you, Google Maps and GPS.
- Karate training will come in handy when you need to sprint all the way from work to the bus stop in a mad dash with your backpack on, because the next bus will miss the late train going home.
- Karate training will be awful when you realize that you are indeed competing this weekend, and indeed, your favorite kata (form) will be off-limits because you have torn the bottom of your right foot from wear and tear. This is a food blog; no further details provided.
- Karate training will continue as regularly scheduled. When you go to bed, your abs will want to know why you are still using them.
- Karate training will result in getting home at 10pm, much improved from 11pm. The slow cooker will be your best friend. My boyfriend is the best slow cooker button-pusher in all of North America.
And with that, I present a soup that is simple, light,
nourishing and very, very cheap, with a bonus of a simple, light, nourishing,
cheap snack or breakfast. Do you see a theme here?
Tomato Cabbage Soup
Ingredients
Small puddle of cooking oil
1 yellow onion
1 head green cabbage
2 14.5-oz. cans chopped tomatoes
1 bay leaf
Salt
Black pepper
Water…!
Directions
1. Peel the onion and cut into quarters. I like to cut it in half from root to stem, then turn 90° and cut again from root to stem. This lets me slice the onion into quarter-rings, which are basically small strips.
2. Wash and slice the cabbage. I repeat the onion slicing procedure with the cabbage, since they are both layered vegetables.
3. In a pot big enough to hold all the soup (no slow cooker) or a medium pan (slow cooker!), pour a puddle of oil about the size of your hand. I haven’t found that it makes much of a difference whether your hand is closed, open or you cover the entire bottom of the pan in oil (otherwise known in the food television world as "just a little bit").
4. Add the onion and turn on the fire; the onions will tell you when the oil is hot. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are somewhat wilted and translucent.
5. Add the cabbage and cook further, until the cabbage is wilted and there are brown marks on both onions and cabbage. Add a bit of salt here, around a teaspoon or so.
6. If using a slow cooker, now is a good time to transfer all the vegetables to the slow cooker.
7. Add a bay leaf, the cans of tomatoes, and as much water as you like to the soup. I tend to use this water to rinse out the tomato cans, and end up adding between 2 to 3 cans of water to the soup. Season with another teaspoon of salt or two.
8. Cook for at least 30 minutes and up to 10 hours. This recipe is flexible!
9. When the cabbage is soft, salt to taste and add black pepper to taste. Enjoy!
1. Peel the onion and cut into quarters. I like to cut it in half from root to stem, then turn 90° and cut again from root to stem. This lets me slice the onion into quarter-rings, which are basically small strips.
2. Wash and slice the cabbage. I repeat the onion slicing procedure with the cabbage, since they are both layered vegetables.
3. In a pot big enough to hold all the soup (no slow cooker) or a medium pan (slow cooker!), pour a puddle of oil about the size of your hand. I haven’t found that it makes much of a difference whether your hand is closed, open or you cover the entire bottom of the pan in oil (otherwise known in the food television world as "just a little bit").
4. Add the onion and turn on the fire; the onions will tell you when the oil is hot. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onions are somewhat wilted and translucent.
5. Add the cabbage and cook further, until the cabbage is wilted and there are brown marks on both onions and cabbage. Add a bit of salt here, around a teaspoon or so.
6. If using a slow cooker, now is a good time to transfer all the vegetables to the slow cooker.
7. Add a bay leaf, the cans of tomatoes, and as much water as you like to the soup. I tend to use this water to rinse out the tomato cans, and end up adding between 2 to 3 cans of water to the soup. Season with another teaspoon of salt or two.
8. Cook for at least 30 minutes and up to 10 hours. This recipe is flexible!
9. When the cabbage is soft, salt to taste and add black pepper to taste. Enjoy!
This soup reheats spectacularly and keeps very well. My
boyfriend says that it goes particularly well with bread, although I like it
best plain.
Rice with Green Tea
Ingredients
Cooked rice, preferably leftover
Hot water
Green tea bag
Directions
1. Cook the rice, or retrieve last night’s leftover rice that has stuck to the pan.
1. Cook the rice, or retrieve last night’s leftover rice that has stuck to the pan.
2. Boil water, add green tea bag.
3. Add tea to rice. Enjoy!
If you must have measurements…. I think I had ¾ cup cooked
rice to 1 cup hot water, but honestly, the proportions matter very little. Some
people enjoy a lot of tea, some people basically sprinkle their rice with tea. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
One more note: you may have guessed; this is an excellent way to clean the pan if the rice stuck to the bottom, simply by pouring the tea on top of the stuck rice. In a few minutes, it will be delicious and the pan will have no rice stuck to it.
One more note: you may have guessed; this is an excellent way to clean the pan if the rice stuck to the bottom, simply by pouring the tea on top of the stuck rice. In a few minutes, it will be delicious and the pan will have no rice stuck to it.
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