Philadelphia, sans cheesesteak and soft pretzels

I spent the weekend in Pennsylvania, mostly in Philadelphia, visiting friends from college: Adam, Alex, and Justine.  It was a fantastic trip - there was so much to catch up on, so many memories to revive, so many serious discussions and tawdry jokes and... games of Uno.  There was also plenty of food.  The good thing about having friends who know you care about eating well is that when you go to visit them, they make a point of taking you to some good restaurants  - no cheesesteaks for me!  Though I was just there a few days, I can tell the selection of good dining options is staggering.  A brief sampling of our meals could include:

El Vez
Adam's choice for lunch my first day, this Mexican-American restaurant is known particularly for its guacamole, which came in a heavy stone molcajete, or Mexican mortar that would not photograph clearly.  I also had the mahi mahi tacos (left), crisp and fresh and served with a tart red cabbage slaw that left drips on my plate the exact color of pepto bismol - luckily, though, that was not an evil omen of things to come.  I finished everything off with a glass of sangria blanca, which, we noted, would be a fantastic flavor for mouth wash.

Caribou Cafe

Alex, knowing my affinity for all things French, selected this spot for dinner.  The menu was like a culinary who's-who (or should I say, "where's-where") of France and Benelux: choucroute garnie, Saint-Jacques basquaise, moules frites.  I went for the raie aux câpres, ragoût d’haricots tomaté (right): tender sauteed skate with capers on a bed of pleasantly acidic white beans.  We split a bottle of crisp white Mâcon chardonnay, and I finished the evening with a déca - a decaf espresso, bien sur.

Bridgid's

This hole-in-the-wall bistro/bar is hidden in a residential neighborhood near the art museum.  It boasts an extensive list of imported beers, with a focus on Belgian brews.  I was boring, though, and while I tried the beers everyone else ordered, I had a glass of New Zealand sauvignon blanc to go with my "farm house" mussels (left).  The mussels were cooked with bacon, which infused the whole dish with a rich smokiness.  For dessert, we split a slice of lemon cake, and feeling surprisingly tipsy from my glass of wine and three sips of beer, it was delicious in the way only food eaten while inebriated can be.

There was plenty to eat of which I didn't think to take a picture, too: bittersweet mint chocolate chip ice cream from the Berkey Creamery at Penn State; late night champagne and toll-house cookies; a ham and spinach omelet from the Gold Standard Cafe.  There are also a couple of items that I want to particularly highlight.  I'll start, surprisingly, with Hershey.

As I said, most of the time I was in Philly, but for a day in the middle I took a bus up to Penn State University to see Justine, who is there for the summer doing research.  Most of the year, Justine lives in Saudi Arabia, where she is a PhD candidate at KAUST, the King Abdullah University of Science and Technology.  Since Justine lives on the other side of the world, when she and I are on the same continent, we always make a point of seeing each other, whether that means in Lausanne, Switzerland, or State College, Pennsylvania.  We just spent one night in State College, though: the next day, we rented a car and drove to down Philly together for the rest of the weekend.  On the way, we decided to stop for lunch in Hershey, just for fun.  As we drove through the verdant rolling hills of the Pennsylvania countryside, eventually we knew we must be on the right track because the road was paved with chocolate-brown asphalt: clearly, we had found Chocolate Avenue.  Chocolate Ave leads right into the heart of Hershey, Pennsylvania, home to one of the most famous chocolate factories in the US.

Hershey boasts an amusement park, a chocolate museum, and a chocolate lab where visitors can get some hands-on experience at making their own chocolate bars.  In the Hershey Story (the main visitor's center), there's also a great cafe where we picked up a simple lunch: tomato basil soup and salad for Justine, the soup and a roasted vegetable sandwich for me.  Everything was surprisingly delicious - fresh, flavorful, perfect lunch fare.  They also offer a chocolate tasting with six drinking chocolates from different regions around the world: Mexico, Ecuador, Sao Thome, Madagascar, Tanzania, and Java.  Justine was pretty excited to try our six chocolates:

The chocolates were complex, intriguing, delicious - everything I would not have expected from Hershey, known for its industrialized, commercialized, standardized chocolate.  These, however, were distinct and each enjoyable for its own merits.  They were also quite rich, and Justine and I were glad we had split one tasting tray instead of each getting our own.  If you ever find yourself in the middle of Pennsylvania and in need of lunch and good chocolate, I highly recommend the visit.

The other spot I want to note is the tiny Bohdi cafe, tucked away in Society Hill in Philadelphia, where an extremely efficient barista was running a one-woman shop, whipping up macchiatos, grilling paninis, and making exact change at lightening speed.  Alex and I stopped in at mid-afternoon with a half an hour to kill before our showing of Midnight in Paris (by the way, it was excellent - silly, clever, set amidst all the glories of Paris, immensely enjoyable).  I, fearing I wouldn't be able to fall asleep that night if I imbibed too much caffeine, chose the jasmine tea; Alex wisely and fearlessly opted for a cappuccino and a biscotti.

I don't drink that much coffee - sometimes one strong cup is enough to make me jittery - but seeing that perfect foamed milk rosetta is enough to make me wish I was a barista.  The tea was fine, but the coffee - yum.  Worth being kept up at night for.

It was a lovely weekend, only I wish it could have gone on for about a month longer.  Thanks to Adam for playing the tour guide, Alex for playing the host and chauffeur, and Justine for skipping over the formality of coffee and directly asking me out for ice cream.  Here's to hoping we'll be seeing each other again soon, preferably with more sunsets like this one over the Schuylkill.

Strawberry jams forever

Last weekend, my friend Liz and I went strawberry picking at Rowe's Produce Farm. It was a gorgeous day, without a cloud in sight to mar the brilliant cerulean sky. Driving through the wide paths carved out between the berry patches, the sweet, succulent aroma of the strawberries wafted through the open windows of the car and made my mouth water. Even before we started, we knew we were in for a treat.

I had wanted to get a good start on the day and arrive early to ensure the berry patches weren't picked over, but I needn't have worried. The patch we visited must have been as large as a football field – and it was only one of many. The neat rows of bushes hid a wealth of berries beneath their verdant leaves, each one redder and riper and readier for picking than the last. As children ran about, chattering and exclaiming over and over that they found “a big one!” Liz and I sat down in the straw-lined rows and got to work, carefully harvesting our red gold.

Every now and then, I'd pop a berry into my mouth. Barely fuzzy as only freshly picked strawberries can be, warm from the sun, and impossibly juicy, they were the essence of spring's bounty in one sweet, sticky mouthful.

After about an hour of focused picking and occasional conversation, our oversized cardboard trays were full to overflowing and we were ready to check out. It was hard to walk away – even with a full (and heavy!) tray, there were so many more berries just calling out to be picked. At the check-out station, I was surprised to discover I had picked some fifteen pounds of berries – a steal at only twenty dollars.

Driving home and away from the endless fields of berries, it began to strike me just how many berries I had. I knew I was going to make strawberry shortcake; that used about three quarts and barely made a dent in my haul. There are only so many berries you can eat on yogurt and ice cream before you feel you've got berries coming out your ears - and after gorging myself for a day or so, I had about reached my limit.  My freezer space was limited, so there was only one real choice – jam.

I've been thinking about preserving for a while – in fact, I've had a huge book on canning checked out of the library for a few months now – but I'd never actually tried my hand at it. Reading the directions was a little nerve wracking: there are so many steps, and if you don't do everything just right, and get everything perfectly sterile and at the proper temperature, you're probably going to get botulism and die. Who'd have thought something as sweet and innocent as strawberry jam could be so dangerous?

But I guess I like to live on the edge – I dove right in, hulling and stirring and jarring and boiling.  At the end of the process, all my jars popped closed almost as soon as I removed them from their boiling bath – a very encouraging sign.  The next day, they all still seemed to be closed.  Success!  My reward is now a cupboard full of sunshiney strawberry fields, just waiting to brighten my days in cold winter months to come.  The extra jam has been covering my toast all week, and it's been the perfect way to start my days.

I'd offer you a recipe, but since this was my first time making jam, I'd really recommend finding a more reputable source like the book I used.  Someday soon – maybe after we've gotten through raspberry and apple picking seasons – I hope I'll be able to provide some tips and tricks of my own.  For now, get thee to a strawberry field before the season ends and get to work!  Your mouth will thank you.

A break from berries

June in Ann Arbor doesn't just mean strawberries, not that you'd know it from my recent posts. It also means peonies and restaurant week.

Peonies have been popping up all over my neighborhood, a delight for the senses with their endless fluffy petals and intoxicating floral aroma.  On Friday, though, I took my mild interest in peonies to the next level when I visited the peony garden at the Arb, a 123-acre park filled with thousands of trees.  There are also hundreds of peony beds in its stunning peony garden, which for about one week each year erupts into a deliciously fragrant sea of blossom.

The weather was not ideal: it started raining almost as soon as I arrived, but luckily there were enough pauses between the raindrops to sate even my overenthusiastic interest in these ruffled pink behemoths.

But I know you probably didn't come here for the blossoms - thanks for indulging me (again) as I find myself distracted by a resplendent garden.  Enough with that nonsense; let's get down to business: lunch.

This week was restaurant week in Ann Arbor, when dozens of local restaurants offer prix fixe lunch menus for $12, and dinner menus for $25.  It's a great opportunity to try out a new spot or visit an old favorite.

On Tuesday, I had lunch at Vinology.  I hadn't been there before, and I'll have to go again someday when I don't have to be at work right after my meal and I can actually indulge in a glass or three of something from their extensive wine list.  All was not lost, though - restaurant week was a perfect excuse to meet up with some old friends from high school: Liz, Jen, and Jen's sister, Stefie.

Vinology's restaurant week lunch menu offered a variety of burgers playing on cuisines from around the world: Capri, east Asia, California, Greece, wherever vegetarians live.  After much deliberation, I went for the Peking Duck Burger, which was made with (according to the menu) ground duck breast, cabbage slaw, hoisin glaze, sesame wheat bun, and served with sweet potato fries.

I think the sweet potato fries made my choice for me (I'm a real sucker for a sweet potato), but I'm a big fan of duck, too, so it was a good choice.  The burger was well-seasoned and quite flavorful, though I didn't get much duck flavor from it - more just a generic meat taste.  It was super juicy, though, and paired nicely with the sweet hoisin and acidic cabbage.  That cabbage slaw was fantastic, by the way - crisp and with good earthy cabbage flavor and a tart dressing - delicious on its own or with the burger.  The fries were crisp, soft, sweet, salty, and everything they ought to be.

Stefie also got the duck burger, while Liz chose the caprese and Jen went for the low carb burger-on-a-salad (my name, not Vinology's).  Unfortunately, I didn't end up tasting anyone else's lunch, so we'll just have to imagine how good they were.  (Note to self: always mooch bites of others' lunches; you write a blog, you are therefore totally justified in needing to test everything.)

At the end of the meal, there was a choice of one of two liquid nitrogen milkshakes (I understand the shakes are prepared with liquid nitrogen, though it's not actually an ingredient to be consumed in the final product - sorry for getting your hopes up.)  We all chose the peach and mango, and three of us chose to leave off the whipped cream:

It was cool and creamy and tropical, if not particularly memorable.  What was memorable, though, were all of the stories we reminisced about and the gossip we caught each other up on: who lives and works where, who used to date whom, who is now married to whom...  Sometimes it feels we've come a long way since graduation, and sometimes it feels we never really left.  I'm glad we did leave, though, because in high school there's little chance I would have eaten duck, or even sweet potato, and it would have been my loss.  What can I say, I was young and, clearly, stupid.

So there you have it, a brief break from berries.  But not to worry, I believe in making hay while the sun shines and jam while the strawberries are sitting in my fridge waiting to be used, so we'll be back on my favorite June topic soon enough!

A complete meal

The first day that strawberries show up at the farmer's market is one of my favorite days of the year.  It can only mean one thing: strawberry shortcake.

Growing up, a few times each year we'd buy a few quarts of strawberries and gorge ourselves on strawberry shortcake for lunch.  I'd wash and hull and smash the berries with my dad while my mom stirred up a double batch of Bisquick shortcake biscuits.  As soon as the biscuits were out of the oven, we'd toss them in our bowls, crisp and steaming, and we'd smother them with the mashed berries.  And then, just for good measure, we'd pile on a scoop or two of vanilla ice cream.  The biscuits sop up the sweet pink juices, melting into a warm, decadent treat that sings in the mouth when combined with the cool ice cream.  We'd fill our bowls again and again, until we couldn't eat another bite.  And then we'd sigh contentedly and rest in a semi-comatose stupor for the rest of the afternoon.  It was heaven.

It wasn't until near the end of high school that I even learned other people didn't eat their strawberry shortcake this way - that it was, in fact, a dessert.  I guess the ice cream should have been a tip off.  But really, when you can have this for the whole meal, why would you want anything else?  It's all the best parts of the beginning of summer condensed into one sticky, sweet, irresistible bowl.

The first strawberries finally showed up at the market last weekend.  Immediately I mentally canceled all of my plans for the next few hours - it was time to hull berries and whip up some biscuits.  It's not a lunch for every day, but then, the first day of strawberry season isn't every day, either.

Strawberry Shortcake

The first time I had ratatouille with my host family in Paris in 2008, I asked for the recipe.  My host mom just laughed.  "Mais c'est trop facile!" she told me; it's just too easy.  That's kind of how I feel about strawberry shortcake.  Mix up some biscuits, smash some berries, throw on some good ice cream - nothing to it.  It's hardly worth writing it out.  And yet it's such a delight to eat, I would feel derelict in my duties if I did not discuss how I make it.  I won't use a standard recipe format with ingredient lists because there are so few, and because there aren't any specific ratios that need to be followed.  It's hard to go wrong here.

I grew up eating this with Bisquick biscuits, following their strawberry shortcake biscuit recipe, with one alteration: I leave out the fat.  Even as I have learned to love a good cream biscuit, it just seems like too much for this already-rich meal.  For a smaller portion, though, cream biscuits would be fantastic.  One batch would probably be enough for a meal for two to three people, but they freeze well so I usually overestimate how much to make.  For my family of three, a batch and a half of biscuits is plenty for gorging and leftovers.

You can, of course, make this with store-bought strawberries, too, but they're usually a little harder to smash, since they need to be hardier to successfully travel across the country.  Local strawberries are more likely to be red all the way through, which means they'll be that much more flavorful and juicy.  The most important thing, though, is to pick strawberries you can smell - if you can't smell them when you buy them, you probably won't taste much, either.  To prepare them for being on shortcake, they'll need to be hulled, and the bruises should be cut off.  Depending on how big the berries are and how chunky you want them to be, you may want to cut them into quarters or smaller pieces.  When all the berries are hulled and cut, sprinkle on a few tablespoons of sugar and smash them with a potato masher.  The sugar helps the berries to produce more juice, which is a very good thing indeed, but it could be left out, too, if you prefer.

As for the ice cream, I tend to use Breyer's.  Homemade would be fantastic, too.  Whatever you choose, it should be an ice cream you'd be happy to eat on its own.

Strawberries

Much to be said soon on the topic of strawberries.  But for now, I'll leave it at this: