The necessary BTUs

I'm back. And finally recovered from the tibial plateau fracture: crutches and leg brace are gone and I'm walking around (albeit still in flat shoes) almost like it never happened. When it rains it still hurts, so I'm thinking of using this newly acquired ability to become a meteorologist. Kidding.

The incredible guy and sous chef decided to get busy renovating and got me (naturally!) an incredible kitchen. See incredible guy at work, sous chef carefully supervising. She is a tough foreman (or forecat?)

We got a brand new stove, which goes nicely with the new glass mosaic backsplash. It's beeeeautiful!! We also got a new range hood that allows me to make lots of smoke while cooking without stinking up the whole house. Notice the 9,500 BTU* oval middle burner, which comes with a cast iron griddle/grill, which is lovely.

One problem is that I've had to re-learn how to sear and sautée because pans get really, really hot in a hurry, something that I keep forgetting (I used to have to wait at least a couple of minutes with the old stove) so I've been burning the hell out of everything. But I'm getting there.

*In case you're wondering what BTUs (or British Thermal Units) are: 1 BTU = 1.06 kilojoules. BTUs are used to describe the power of heating and cooling systems. A BTU is defined as amount of heat required to raise the temperature of one 1 pound (0.454 kg) of liquid water by 1°F (0.556 °C) from 60 to 61°F (15.556 to 16.111 °C) at a constant pressure of one atmosphere.

Whatever. Moral of the story: the more BTUs, the better your stove. This stove has lots of BTUs, or at least a lot more than the old stove. Another problem is that Albany has officially become Southern Florida, and it has been hot, hot, hot and humid for the last couple of weeks, which does not encourage me to want to stand in front of all those wonderful (and hot!) BTUs. And, where our stove excels at BTU capacity, our air conditioner, unfortunately, seriously lacks.

I did brave the heat to try a stove-top paella. You may recall from the paella post that an even source of heat is ideal in paella making, so I had been forced to cook my rice in the oven given the lack of BTUs and small burners of the old stove. You can buy heat difusing devices, but they cost a lot of money. So with my brand new toy, and armed with all those added BTUs, I decided to give it a try.

One of the burners has 12,000 BTUs, a hell of a big guy that covers most of the bottom of my paella pan. It worked! I still had to keep an eye for areas of the rice that were cooking faster than others and turn the pan on occasion, but it turned out pretty delicious. And I managed to accomplish the always coveted socarrat, the result of the rice at the bottom of the pan caramelizing and charring in contact with the high heat.

 In any case, the boss gave it a thumbs up.
"Al que no le guste el calor, que no entre a la cocina." (Those who don't like heat shouldn't go in the kitchen) Old Spanish proverb.
Laister arte!

Fast food

So I went back to the doctor and he told me the leg was still broken but mending, and that I could start putting some weight on it. Ms. Roboto no longer, I now wear this bright blue neoprene brace that adds a dashing touch of class to every outfit I wear. Geez...
Putting your foot back on the ground after 4 weeks of not doing it feels bizarre and painful. It's like knitting needles going from the bottom of the foot all the way up your knee. It took a while to get used to it, also because the leg is not really there anymore. I mean, it's there, but it's a twig. The muscle atrophied in a hurry. For the first few days, walking, even with the help of crutches, was quite an ordeal. But always better than hopping on one leg. Anyway. So I'm back on two feet. Or four, if you count the crutches that I still very much depend on.

This means that I can cook again. Well, sort of. I still need to use the mise-en-place'ing table and I chop while sitting down so I can save energy for the standing up in front of the stove part. It also helps when the incredible guy is around to hand me things. But I can kind of make my way around the kitchen on one crutch, with allows me one free hand to carry stuff. Of course, no elaborate meals for a while. Albany also turned into the Bahamas in the last month for some reason, with temperatures in the 90s (or 30C and above) so cooking in front of a hot stove hasn't been very appealing, except for today, now a blissful 58F (14C). This gave me the chance to cook one of my favorite types of fast food: soup.

The incredible guy is at SPAC with the Kings, so I was on my own for dinner. Like my dad, I'm a soup fiend. Soup is definitely my comfort food of choice when I'm not feeling well, and if I don't feel well enough to make it the incredible guy will pick up some wonton soup for me from CCK (299 Central Avenue). They have the real deal there, not those doughy, bland, enormous wontons from the take-out places. If you haven't been to CCK yet, go. Please, just go. It's your chance to have real Chinese food in Albany.

Anyway, as always, I digress. Soup is so easy, especially with a few shortcuts around. Not Sandra Lee type shortcuts, please. By the way, is anyone else freaked out about this woman potentially becoming the first lady of the state? Yikes and a half!!

That was my chicken soup dinner in the photo. As for shortcuts: premade good chicken or vegetable stock, market purchased OK as long as it has no MSG or ingredients you can't pronounce. Progresso or Kitchen Basics are decent options. I also had some cooked chicken (grilled chicken breast), and chopped, frozen celery. I always have carrots and onions around. And frozen peas. And fortunately, since we started our garden early, fresh parsley and thyme. And multigrain elbow pasta. Or any kind of pasta you like in soup.

This takes very little effort: cube about 1 cup of cooked chicken, peel and slice 1 carrot, chop a small yellow or white onion, about 1/3 cup, and 1/3 cup chopped celery. I like to sautee everything in butter. Butter?! Yes. Being from the Iberian Peninsula, cooking with butter is almost sacrilegious, but there is something basically comforting about butter and chicken, and it adds great sweetness to the soup. So, melt 1tb of unsalted butter in a stock pot, and when it starts foaming, add onion, carrot and celery and cook until it starts becoming translucent. Sprinkle salt and pepper (I like LOTS of black pepper in chicken soup), add the cooked chicken, peas, stock to cover it all generously, and bring to a boil. Once it starts to boil, add the pasta (1/2 cup, approx) and about 1/4 cup frozen peas. Also, a couple of sprigs of fresh thyme if you have it, pick the leaves and add to the soup. And 1-2 tb chopped, fresh parsley. Simmer for 10 more minutes. Test for salt, you may need to add more.
Yes, I know, I know, it's just chicken soup. But I'm just trying to make a point that this is a fast, much better option than resorting to the old can of soup, which generally tastes horrible and is pretty unhealthy (check the sodium and preservative content, please). Anything you cook at home will be better than something that came from a food processing plant.

By the way, I was listening to Amelie-les-Crayons while making dinner. I'm still listening to her, actually. I love her music for cooking and writing. It makes me happy.

Like I said earlier, it has been sweltering in Albany lately. The incredible guy and I like our own version of fast food when it's hot. And we like it cold. The fastest food of them all: raw food. Raw fish and salad. Just make sure you get decent, sushi grade fish and all you have to do is slice it. Doesn't get much easier than that. Of course, a good knife to slice the fish without it turning into mush, which a dull knife will do, helps.

I don't like cooked salmon. I tolerate smoked, but I really prefer it raw, so I never bother cooking it. It has a buttery taste when raw, not fishy at all. I like to slice lemon paper thin, and eat a slice of raw salmon with a small slice of lemon and dunk it all in Ponzu soy sauce. You can find Ponzu sauce at pretty much any grocery store these days, where the soy sauce is. It's really good with fish because it has yuzu, a Japanese citrus, in it, so it has a slight tartness.

I have also been making a lot of spicy tuna tartar. I dice an ahi/yellowfin tuna steak - it's very mild in flavor - dice half an avocado, slice 1 green onion and mix it all with 1tb mayo, 1tsp Sriracha (Thai hot sauce, can also be found pretty much anywhere), or more, depending how spicy you like it, 1 tsp ponzu sauce, and a drizzle of sesame oil (it's very strong, so be careful. Start with a drizzle and add more if you like). And a pinch of salt. Stir to combine, sprinkle with sesame seeds and enjoy. The salad in the photo is a Korean style banchan cucumber side dish, see "On Sallets" post and follow link.

Where I'm from, the ultimate fast food is a bocadillo, of course. Bocadillo is Spanish for sandwich, sort of. But we use crusty bread, like baguette or ciabatta. Slice a good chunk of baguette or a crusty roll lengthwise, toast for a couple of minutes and stuff with your favorite anything. My favorite? Chorizo, naturally.

That glass of rose looks delicious, by the way. And I have some chilled. Over and out.

"Buen vino y sopas hervidas, le alargan al viejo la vida"
(Good wine and boiled soup will lengthen an old man's life) Old Spanish proverb.

Laister arte!

On Sallets: Salads and such

Food historians say the Romans ate mixed greens and dressing, and the Babylonians were known to have dressed greens with oil and vinegar two thousand years ago. In his 1699 book, Acetaria: A Discourse on Sallets (salads), John Evelyn apparently attempted with little success to encourage his fellow Britons to eat salad greens. He writes: "we are by Sallet to understand a particular composition of certain Crude and fresh Herbs, such as usually are, or may safely be eaten with some Acetous Juice, Oyl, Salt, &c. to give them a grateful Gust and Vehicle."

Unlike Britons, my family didn't need encouragement to eat salads. I grew up in a household where salad was part of dinner every night. At home, salads were always very simple: lettuce, tomatoes, onion, dressed with salt, good olive oil and vinegar. Maybe a few olives. All ingredients were excellent: fresh lettuce from local farms and amazing tomatoes. Salad tomatoes in Spain are not red and soft; they almost look like they're not completely ripe, but they are. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find tomatoes that look or taste as good here.

The incredible guy and I still eat salads pretty much every night. I almost feel like there's something missing if we don't. I have expanded my horizons, though, and have moved well beyond the standard ensalada that I grew up eating.

Ensalada Mixta:
But I still love simple Spanish ensaladas, especially the very classic "mixta" with potatoes, hard boiled egg, and usually, also canned tuna. I skip the tuna. I don't eat fish from a can; it's against my religion. Ensalada mixta at my house includes: lettuce, tomato, boiled potato, hard boiled eggs, sweet onion (like Vidalia) green olives and roasted red peppers, preferably piquillos. Although not from Spain, Price Chopper now sells piquillo peppers as part of their Central Market brand, so take advantage of them. They're not as good as the original, but perfectly acceptable. The piquillo pepper is a variety of pepper traditionally grown in Northern Spain, especially in Lodosa, Navarra. Its name is derived from the Spanish for "little beak." They're small and have intense flavor. I love them, especially stuffed. We'll talk more about peppers some other time, though.

Anyway, ensalada mixta:
bed of chopped good lettuce, 1 sliced large tomato, 1 sliced, boiled, large potato (put potatoes in cool water - never drop potatoes in boiling water because the outside will get hard; bring to a boil and cook for about 20 minutes or until a knife goes easily through the potato), 1 sliced hard boiled egg, thinly sliced Vidalia or other sweet onion, about a quarter of a large onion, sliced red roasted peppers (about 1/4 cup), green olives (I like the non pitted manzanilla, locally you can find them in the Hispanic food isle at the Price Chopper on Central Ave). You can add canned tuna, and if you do, please use good quality canned tuna. The Coop - surprise! - carries great Spanish canned tuna, Ortiz. Don't use chicken of the sea. Who the hell picked that name, anyway?
It's also traditional to add white asparagus. I don't usually add them because the incredible guy doesn't like white asparagus. So, toss everything with 2 parts of good olive oil, 1 part vinegar (try Sherry vinegar, you can find it pretty much anywhere these days but the Coop has the real deal from Spain.) Red or white vinegar will also work, but don't use balsamic for this. Add salt. I always dress salads to taste
(By the way, you should be listening to these guys while reading. Paul Simonon, I bow to you, sir.)

Turkish Delight:
Another salad that I absolutely love is Çoban Salatası, Turkish shepherd's salad, which I first tried when I went to Istanbul, Turkey in 1996, at the House of Medusa restaurant. Istanbul is an amazing city, truly East meets West. We stayed in the Sultanahmet district, in the heart of historic old Istanbul, very close to Hagia Sophia, the Basilica Cistern (Yerebatan Sarayi, the Sunken Palace) and the Blue Mosque. I fell in love with the place, although unfortunately the people I was traveling with were not very nice. But it didn't spoil my fun.

One of the most shocking memories I have is entering the Istanbul Spice Bazaar, the Mısır Çarşısı, or Egyptian Bazaar. It was named that way because most spices were imported from Egypt. Talk about a shock (a great one!) to your olfactory glands. It's like all the spices in the world just punched you in the face. It was deliciously confusing!

But I digress. The way I make Çoban Salatası: dice one seeded large tomato, in very small cubes. Peel (unless you're using an English cuke) and cube a cucumber, in small pieces to match the tomato. Dice a green pepper (like a cubanelle or Italian green pepper, or half of a green bell), or if you're a heat-freak like me, dice a couple of jalapeños or a poblano. Jalapeño will give you more heat, or a lot of heat if you don't rib and seed it. Add diced red onion, about 1/3 cup, and toss it all together with the juice of one lemon, 1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil (I like to spell it out, not like this moron, can you believe it?) and salt. Sprinkle fresh chopped parsley on it. Very refreshing if you chill it for a little while, but not too long or the flavors will dissipate.

BANCHAN!
Never ending source of delicious salad inspiration, banchan are small dishes of food served along with cooked rice in Korean cuisine. The most famous banchan is kimchi. I like kimchi so much that I have literally made myself sick eating it in copious quantities.
Some favorites that I make all the time are: oh ee mu chim (cucumber salad), ho bak na mul (zucchini salad), kong na mool moo chim (soy bean sprout salad), moo saeng chae (cold daikon radish salad) and si gm chi na mool (spinach salad).Check out this wonderful website, under recipes/vegetables, for recipes of all these incredible, and incredibly easy salads. You will need sesame oil for 99% of these recipes, so go get some.

Good Morning Vietnam:
Thanks to the wonderful people of Vietnam, I learned to make nuoc cham, or Vietnamese dipping sauce, which uses nuoc mam (fish sauce) as its main ingredient. Any salad ingredient tossed with nuoc cham is absolutely delicious. Don't be scared of fish sauce, it doesn't taste fishy at all. I don't like fishy flavors (remember my distaste for canned fish?) It's salty goodness and can be found in Asian grocery stores. It does smell a bit funky, I won't lie to you. If you don't do fish, you could substitute with low sodium soy sauce, but it won't taste the same.

To make 2 cups of nuoc cham you will need: 5 tb sugar, 3 tb warm water, 1/3 cup fish sauce (nuoc mam), 1/2 cup lime juice (about 3 limes), 1 large clove garlic, crushed or grated with a microplane (if you don't have a microplane, I recommend you get one, very handy little tool); 1 or more bird's eye or Thai chilies, seeded, and sliced or minced. Or, for a shortcut, I use 1 tb of sambal (Indonesian chili sauce, the stuff I could drink). Mix everything together in a bowl and whisk together until the sugar has disolved. For best results, let it sit for 20-30 minutes.

Nuoc cham is the dressing for Vietnamese noodle salads, with bun (rice vermicelli) as the main ingredient. Commonly, green lettuce, thinly sliced cucumber, shredded carrot, cooked rice vermicelli, chopped cilantro, thai basil and mint, chopped peanuts, topped with grilled pork. Out of this world, and amazing for a warm weather dinner.  The Daily Loaf has a great entry and recipe for bun salad.

Liquid salad: It's getting hot out there. Must be time for gazpacho! Gazpacho, a cold, pureed vegetable soup, it's your ultimate liquid salad. It's a great option for a hot night. I make gallons of it in the summer. You have to use very, very ripe tomatoes, the softer the better. Do NOT use canned tomatoes.

Authentic gazpacho is simple. It's also the main course in one of my favorite movies. I have seen several salsa-like aberrations in the area, including (sorry, but true) the Coop's version. No tabasco, no cilantro, like I said, nothing that makes it resemble something you're supposed to dip a tortilla chip in. It's not supposed to be chunky, either.

The way mama makes gazpacho is by chopping all the vegetables, blending them with a hand held mixer and then passing everything through a food mill to ensure a smooth consistency. I understand food mills are not very common here. That's the model I have, in the picture. Different Drummer's Kitchen has them, but you could always just throw everything in a blender or food processor. If you do, I would recommend peeling the tomatoes first. To peel tomatoes, boil a large pot of water, make a cross-shaped cut on the bottom and top of each tomato, and dunk in the water for a minute, or until the peel starts pulling away, then dump them in ice water to cool.

Gazpacho recipe: 2 pounds very ripe tomatoes (beefsteak or similar), 1 cubanelle or Italian green pepper - you can find these at the grocery store, by the hot peppers - or half of a bell pepper, half a red bell pepper, 1 cucumber (peeled and seeded, especially if you don't have a food mill), half a sweet or Vidalia onion, or less, depending how much you like onion, 1 cup cubed stale baguette or Italian bread, 1-2 cloves of garlic, to taste, 1/3 cup olive oil, 3 tb sherry or red wine vinegar, or more to taste, 1tsp salt, or to taste... I also like to add 1/2 tsp of smoked paprika. Not traditional, but it gives it amazing flavor. Blend it all together with a hand held blender and then sieve it through a food mill (ideally), or blend it in a food processor until smooth. If it's too thick you can add cold water. Chill for 1 hour. Serve with diced tomato, cucumber, pepper, onion and cubed day old French or Italian bread. If you use fresh bread it will fall apart. Eat it.

"La ensalada requiere: un pródigo para el aceite, un avaro para el vinagre, un prudente para la sal y un tonto para menearla."
(Salad requires: a generous man for the oil, a miser for vinegar, a prudent man for the salt and a stupid man to toss it) Old Spanish proverb.
Laister arte!

The paella debate

Main Entry: pa·el·la
Pronunciation: \pä-ˈe-lə, -ˈā-; -ˈāl-yə, -ˈā-yə\

Etymology: Catalan, literally, pot, pan, from Middle French paelle, from Latin patella small pan — more at patella

Date: circa 1892

 : a saffron-flavored dish containing rice, meat, seafood, and vegetables

Or is it?

A brief history of paella

Some historians believe that rice came to Europe around 330 BC when Alexander the Great made it all the way to India and brought it back, although there are other possible explanations and routes that I'm not going to discuss here because I would start sounding like Sheldon from the Big Bang Theory.

There is historical evidence that rice was being cultivated in Valencia as early as 1238, when Jaume I the Conqueror entered Valencia and orders that rice crops around the perimeter of the city be destroyed. He mandated that rice cultivation be limited to the area of La Albufera. But it's not until the XVI century when Francisco de Paula Marti first talks about arroz valenciano (Valencian rice) and speaks of the ability of Valencian people to season and cook rice to perfection. The first written account of paella (still referred to as arroz valenciano) is from an XVIII document that outlines the necessary steps to accomplish a this dish in which each grain is cooked to perfection.

The original paella recipe has little in common with the current notion of paella. The main ingredients were items easily found in the Albufera lake area, where the bulk of rice cultivation happened: eel, snails and green beans, and according to Vicente Blasco Ibañez, even marsh rats. Yes, eel, snails and green beans. And rats. Delightful, no? Some of the most widely used ingredient list of this era also included chicken, rabbit, duck, butter beans, great northern beans, artichokes, tomato, rosemary, paprika, saffron and garlic. It's these ingredients, and only these, that paella purists insist should go into making Valencian paella. On the Mediterranean coast, however, seafood is used instead of meat and beans to make paella, as it is more readily available. Later, Spaniards mixed seafood into the original Valencian recipe and mixed paella was born.

Paella became really popular during the 20th century, making it into the international food scene. Consequently, paella recipes went from being relatively simple to including a wide variety of seafood, meat, sausages, (the most popular being Spanish chorizo) vegetables and many different seasonings. Many restaurants in Spain and in the United States serve the mixed version, and refer to it as Valencian paella; however, Valencians insist only the original Valencian recipe can bear the name paella valenciana.

Paella essentials

So, what do you need to make paella? Here are some basic elements that are essential for different reasons, and if you use something else the result just won't be the same:

Paella pan: Valencians use the word paella for all pans, including the specialized shallow pan used for cooking paellas. However, in most of Spain and throughout Latin America, the term paellera is more commonly used for this pan, though both terms are correct, as stated by the Real Academia Española, the body responsible for regulating the Spanish language. Paellas or paelleras are traditionally round and not too shallow, made of polished steel with two handles. Its wide surface and diameter allows adequate vaporization of the cooking liquid.
If you want to get a paella pan your best bet is online. In town, Williams Sonoma carries wonderful copper paella pans for a mere $300-$400. So if you can afford that, go for it. Your best buy, though, will be a standard carbon steel paella pan, the most common type, which you can find at La Tienda, La Paella or Amazon. Just remember that steel pans, similar to cast iron, can rust if you don't take care of them. Do not throw your paellera in the dishwasher. And after you clean it, rub or spray it with oil to prevent rusting. The pan will get seasoned over time. You could go for a more expensive non-stick, but that's not the real deal. Or you could get an enameled paella pan, if you don't want to deal with the rusting, but I like my old steel one.
Now, for the size. A 14" pan will serve approximately 3-4 people; 18" will feed 6-8, and 22" feeds 9-12. See the handy chart at the La Paella website for additional sizes/servings.

Arroz (rice): NEVER use long grain rice. Just don't. It doesn't work. Long grain rice doesn't have the same absorption capacity as the shoter grain rice used in paella, and you wouldn't get the same flavor quality. Also, traditional paella rice is resistant to cracking and opening during the cooking process, which prevents the paella from turning into a big mushy mess.

Fortunately for us, the Coop carries a couple of varieties of paella rice (it's not in the bulk section with all the other rices, it's behind the olive bar - for now, they rearrange all the time - if you can't find it ask someone).

Azafran (saffron): Saffron  is a spice derived from the flower of the saffron crocus (Crocus sativus), a species of crocus in the Iridaceae. A C. sativus flower bears three stigmas, each the distal end of a carpel. Together with their styles—stalks connecting stigmas to their host plant—stigmas are dried and used in cooking as a seasoning and coloring agent. Saffron's bitter taste and an iodoform- or hay-like fragrance result from the chemicals picrocrocin and safranal. A carotenoid dye, crocin, allows saffron to impart a rich golden-yellow hue to dishes and textiles (thanks Wikipedia!)

Now that we got that out of the way, let's talk about saffron and paella. You will only need a few strands of saffron, a little goes a long way here. It has a very peculiar taste, so you are likely to notice if you overdo it. It's best if you toast it for a minute, grind it with a mortar/pestle or something similar and then add it to the paella. Saffron is what gives paella rice its traditional yellow color, although artificial coloring is also used for this purpose.  

And of course, that magical essence called pimenton. This one needs no explanation. It just makes it taste better.

Paella basics

Here are a few tips:

You need an even heat source so the rice cooks evenly, which means no stovetop cooking unless you have a decent amount of BTUs or an electric stove that covers the entire bottom of the pan (although my condolences to you if you have an electric stove). In Spain, some people use heat difusing burners, but they are expensive (ranging from $150-$500). I use the oven or the outdoor gas grill. If you make it in the oven, 400F temperature should do, for about 20 minutes. I turn the pan 10 minutes into the cooking process because my oven tends to have a higer temperature in the back.

Careful with the rice to liquid ratio. Make sure that when you fill the pan the liquid does not go above the screws of the pan handles (visible inside the pan) because that means you're using too much and the rice won't cook properly. For a 14" pan, I use one cup of rice to two and 1/4 cups of liquid. Also, I know there is some controversy on what liquid to use, water, stock? I do prefer to use stock, I feel it that it enhances the flavor, especially because it reduces the time you need to cook the other ingredients in the liquid to make it flavorful enough. It's a good shortcut.

There are different methods to cook paella. In Valencia they saute all the meats or seafood first, then the stock is added and the rice doesn't go in until the liquid is boiling. In Alicante and Murcia they sautee the rice with the meats/seafood until it becomes shiny, which coats it with a film that prevents it from overcooking. This is how I make it as well.

Don't cover the paella pan. It's a no-no.

Paella recipes

La Paella has a couple of basic, pretty traditional paella recipes (click for link) albeit pretty labor intensive and maybe not the best version for beginners. Williams Sonoma's recipe here is a better option if you're intimidated by the prospect of making paella.

The reason why I'm pointing you to these links is because I've never tested the ingredient amounts in my own version, and I don't want to be responsible for any faulty paellas. I promise I'll test it one of these days (when I'm back on 2 feet). For the record I like shortcuts, I'll admit it, like using stock, boneless, skinless chicken thighs (thigh meat doesn't dry up as much as breast meat), and you can use frozen or canned beans with good results, instead of soaking dry beans. If you want to use bone-in chicken, remember that in traditional paella recipes the pieces of chicken are usually quite small (think of chicken wing or drumstick size pieces).

Hecha la paella, buena o mala hay que comella (Old Proverb) - Once the paella is cooked you have to eat it, whether it's good or bad. Same meaning as you make the bed you lie in.

Laister arte!

The first time I ate pizza

So, as previously mentioned, I grew up in a household where we ate very traditional Basque/Spanish food prepared by my mother. My breakfast usually consisted of mom trying to force a glass of milk down my throat and stuff a piece of croissant or a cookie in my mouth as she sent me off to take the bus to school. (Years later I found out that I'm lactose intolerant. That explains a lot.)

I ate lunch at school. I went to a Catholic school where we wore school uniforms and all that, see picture. I'm the one to the right with the blue cardigan, looking down at the brown envelope. It's someone's birthday party.

Lunch at school back home was nothing like the American school lunches that I experienced. All the food was cooked right there, and there was nothing frozen or processed. That doesn't mean it was good, though. Healthier, maybe. But some of the stuff tasted horrible. To this day, I can't stand the taste of lentils because of the muddy mess that was served at school.

If memory serves me right, this is a close example of our weekly meals at the Mary Ward School: Monday: red bean soup and ham omelette, apple or orange for dessert. Tuesday: chicken soup and roast chicken, apple or orange for dessert. Wednesday: vegetable puree and roast beef, apple or orange for dessert. Thursday: white rice with tomato sauce, baked ham with french fries (always a hit, that doesn't change), apple or orange for dessert. Friday: the always dreaded lentejas (lentil soup), cod fish, apple or orange for dessert. Mr. Dastardly should feel free to comment on this, as he endured this food for almost as long as I did.

I don't eat a lot of apples or oranges anymore, either.

Dinner was generally pretty light because we ate rather late. We didn't get back from school until around 6pm and then we had English, or German, or Basque tutoring. We did have merienda, an after school snack that filled the gap between our 1pm lunch and the late dinner. Merienda was usually a demi-baguette (sandwich sized french bread) filled with ham, chorizo - of course - salami, or something like that. Dinner happened late, around 9pm, and consisted of salad or soup, eggs or sausages, or a piece of fish.

My dad liked to take us out to eat. He thought it would teach us how to behave in public and to develop good manners. No eating with our hands or kids' menus for us (actually, there was no such thing as kids' menus when I was growing up). But restaurants were also mostly traditional Spanish, with the occasional regional difference (Galician food seemed kind of exotic back then). We did drive to France often - San Sebastian is very close to the French border. I remember my dad taking us to the restaurant of the Hotel De L'Ocean in Biarritz, in the French Basque Country. We always got the steak au poivre avec pommes frites and cresson (watercress salad.) So simple, but soooo delicious. And what a beautiful town!

So, that was the extent of my culinary knowledge for a while: Basque, Spanish regional variations, and the occasional , yet limited French. Then my parents thought it would be a good idea for me to learn English where English came from. So they shipped me to a summer boarding school in Birmingham, England, at the tender age of 12.

And that's where my first encounter with this strange, doughy food first happened ... PIZZA.

I lived with a bunch of girls from all over Spain at this beautiful place called The Manor House. We studied English, took road trips to places like Canterbury, London, and Stratford-Upon-Avon (a whimsical little town. Also, they told us a man called Shakespeare was born there) We went swimming and ice skating, and ate bizarre foods like "pizza." I can't remember much about the other food they fed us at The Manor House, which means it was probably pretty bad (I have very good food memory, meaning I remember the times and locations where I ate things that I really liked.) I do remember the pizza, for some reason, even though it was terrible. I'm pretty sure it was frozen, it was really spongy and had a strong taste of stale, dried oregano. I do remember the lunch packs they gave us for the road trips, but that's because we were always hoping we would NOT get the prawn flavored crisps (A.K.A. shrimp flavored potato chips) Chicken flavor was a little better, and everyone would fight for the bacon. If you had the bacon chips, you had the power. Apparently, Walkers - notorious crisp maker - has come a long way since the 80s, and now offers delights like Spanish paella, Scottish haggis, South African sweet chutney or French garlic baguette flavored crisps, to name a few. I'm serious. If you don't believe me, check them out.

So, that was the first time I ate pizza. Shortly after they started opening more international restaurants in San Sebastian, including Italian, Mexican and German. Soon enough, pizzerias followed, some really good ones, like La Torre de Pizza (incredible thin crust, wood fired pizza), Spanish franchises like Telepizza and of course, American pizza, like Pizza Hut and Domino's. In the late 90s they even opened McDonald's at the beautiful Mercado de La Brecha to the dismay of many, including myself. Its only saving grace: they serve beer.

"Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh; but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine." 
(William Shakespeare, King Henry IV, Part II, Act IV)

Laister arte!

Break a leg!

I did. I broke the tibial plateau, left knee, thanks to my high heels, a sliding door and (maybe?) the delicious Riesling being sampled at the event I was attending. So now I'm stuck wearing this handsome brace and hopping on one leg with crutches until the end of May. I hop to the tune of dōmo arigatō misutā Robotto. Machine or mannequin and all that.

The biggest downfall? Can't cook on one leg. It's very hard. I've tried it and I can manage to support my own body weight in front of the stove for about 8 minutes before I start wobbling. We did set up a little sawing table in the kitchen where I can feel relatively useful and help with general "mise-en-place-ing" duties.

The bottom line? The incredible guy is doing all the cooking. The incredible guy has always been talented in the kitchen, but over the years I took over. I have to admit that I'm an absolute control freak in the kitchen, and I don't like to talk or do more than bark the occasional command... "find the dark soy sauce... NO!! The OTHER dark soy sauce!! What do you mean 'is there more than one dark soy sauce'???" You get the idea.

This broken leg is teaching me to be much more patient, as I have had to completely relinquish control of my stove. I try not to bark commands. I try to explain steps and give directions. This is forcing me to think about cooking in a very different way, and it's also proving to be extremely helpful. When I cook, I don't necessarily think about what I'm doing, I just do it. I orchestrate the cooking process in my head before I start, but I don't need to explain to anyone why I'm doing things this or that way. And then I broke my leg, and had to learn how to explain to someone the entire process of the making of a dish.

Since the incredible guy has always been apt at stir frying, I sent him to the Asian Market on Central Avenue (we're big fans of the ample selection) to get some char siu, A.K.A. roast pork from the Chinese take-out menu, except a whole chunk of it. Delicious, and very versatile. It makes dinner a breeze. There is a dish in most take-out menus called Singapore Style Mei Fun, a stir fry of thin rice noodles with shrimp, pork, chicken and vegetables seasoned with curry powder and soy sauce, which we love. I've been making my own (and hopefully healthier) version at home for a while. I use either the thin rice noodles that are traditionally part of the dish or lo mein noodles, depending of what I have handy. I've also been using dark greens such as Chinese broccoli or snow pea shoots (both available at Asian markets), and whatever other veggies I can find. Chinese broccoli and pea shoots cook like spinach, meaning that they take up a lot of room but wilt quickly into nothing. They are also very nutritious. So, slice the veggies, making sure they are all the same size so that they can cook evenly, stir fry for a few minutes until they start getting translucent, add the sliced pork, softened noodles, about 1tb good curry powder (go to the Coop!) and about 2tb of soy sauce. I use low sodium soy, but any other will do, except maybe the very dark kind with the molasses, which could overpower the other flavors. Since I love spicy food, I often add about 1tb sambal (I love this stuff so much I could drink it. OK, not really because I would end up with a terrible ulcer, but I do love it that much). Stir fry everything together for a few minutes and voila, dinner! With my newly gained patience and the incredible guy's renewed skills, we're kicking some serious behind in the kitchen.

DISCLAIMER: this recipe account is based on my approximations and is not to be regarded as exact science. If it doesn't turn out good, don't come crying. Or come over next time we make it.
Laister arte!

My Desire to Eat

jangura: iz. appetite, ~ izan  to be hungry, to feel like eating.

The Basque (Euskera) language suffix "-gura" is used to signify the desire for something. Usually, the word jangura is translated as "appetite." But literally, jan-gura means the desire to eat.
In my head, when I think about the word jangura, it's more than a desire, it makes me think of the need to eat.

The making of my Jangura

Part 1 - Chorizo:

I was born in Bilbao, Basque Country, in the northern part of Spain, but moved to Donostia, San Sebastian, at the age of 3. Over the years San Sebastian in particular, but also Bilbao and the Basque Country - Euskal Herria - in general, have become culinary destinations for people who love food. Even the New York Times and Food and Wine think so.

I grew up in a pretty traditional Basque/Spanish household where my mother took care of all the cooking. She was influenced by my maternal grandmother, who was also an amazing cook and who had a passion for simple food cooked with basic ingredients. Ama Luisa (grandma) would ladle "sopa de cocido" for me (the quintessential Spanish soup made with pasta or rice added to the stock of slowly cooked beef, chicken and marrow bones, among other things - check out We Are Never Full's post on cocido, which includes a healthy serving of Rachel Ray bashing, always a favorite dish) and would refer to the red, fatty goodness rendered by the chorizo as Love. The love she poured into her cooking and the lovely flavor chorizo gives to any dish are two things I've always kept close to my heart. Chorizo is something I can't live without. It's my go-to snack, my basic ingredient. It has a bit of umami quality when added to a meal, that type of flavor that makes you wonder what is it that makes something taste so good.

My mom still tells me the story of the day she and I (approx. age 2) came back home from the butcher. She had a grocery bag with a nice chorizo sticking out of it. Then the phone rang and she went to pick it up, leaving me in the kitchen for a moment. I managed to grab the chorizo out of the bag from my stroller and when she came back she found me with my face covered in red grease, happily gnawing at the chorizo, which by now was covered in baby drool and pretty much useless. That is when my love affair with chorizo began.

Mom is an amazing cook herself. I will never, NEVER be able to cook pescado en salsa verde that tastes like hers (and don't be fooled by this link, if you try this recipe you may come up with a decent version, but it still won't be as good as mom's). Although... maybe the fact that the fish she gets has been brought fresh that very morning from the port could have something to do with it. After all, I have to deal with Albany bought fish, which is often of less than desirable freshness. But I'd rather keep thinking that there is some sort of supernatural quality that my mother has that makes her fish so good.

Part 2 - Coming to America:

I was sent to America at the young age of 17 to find a suitable husband... wait, what? OK, just kidding, to learn English. I somehow ended up living in Southern Kansas for 9 months. I was Fez before Fez even existed. I was one of three foreign exchange students in a remote, tiny high school where some people thought that Spain was somewhere in South America. This was a long time ago, way before Food Network, Travel Channel, the term foodie (term which I don't necessarily like, for the record) so my experiences with food were pure Americana (BBQ, burritos, pizza, food court Chinese, etc.) By the end of the 9 months my cooking skills were still very underdeveloped, even though I was supposed to help with dinner once a week. I spent most of my time discovering the delights of vending machines: M&Ms, Funyuns and the like. The school lunch included something called Frito Pie. I still remember the taste of it. It was fascinating, yet substantially gross. I gained a lot of weight, mastered the language and went back to Spain.

Back home I rapidly lost all the weight (gotta love being 18!) and started college. That's when I started experimenting with food at my grandma Mari's house, driven by my newly discovered love of Chinese and Mexican food, both of which were just becoming popular in the Basque Country. I would throw all kinds of random ingredients in a skillet and would wait to see what happened. Most of the time I ended up with a very strange concoction that would not taste horrible but wasn't very good either. That said, I was playing with limited tools.

The only spice to be found in grandma's kitchen was smoked paprika, pimenton. This became love affair numero dos. Smoked paprika has become readily available in the United States. It has nothing to do with standard paprika, that odorless, tasteless red powder most people are familiar with. It has a very intense, smoky essence. I've been accused of being too generous with it, but I can't help myself. I just love it. I use it very liberally in sopa de ajo, garlic soup. Garlic soup is my version of American chicken soup. I love it when I'm not feeling well. That said, you can't get very creative with just smoked paprika, as amazing as it is.

After I finished school I wasn't sure of what I wanted to do with my life. The job situation in Spain was pretty bad. Then someone talked to me about coming back to the U.S. for graduate school, an option I hadn't considered. So I applied to a couple of schools and ended up at the University of Iowa.

There were quite a few people from Spain in grad school as well as many amazing people from Central and South America (you know who you are, and I miss you all dearly!) We all loved food and would get together often to cook, drink wine and of course, to party (which became pretty legendary; they called us "The Spanish Armada") Inspired by these wonderful people, I began to cook more and more, and I started feeling pretty comfortable and confident around the kitchen. Also, Iowa City had a great Coop and Farmers' Market, which made it all much easier. And an amazing selection of restaurants from different countries. AND I didn't have my mother to cook for me and I missed the food back home a lot. That's when my more serious attempts at cooking started.

Part 3 - The greatest inspiration of all:

So, I was attending grad school in Iowa City, and go figure! I met this incredible guy that I totally fell for. Now, all I had to do was convince him that he should fall for me, too. And what better way than to cook him a meal. I cooked meatballs in red sauce for him. Not very original, but easy, cheap, and hard to screw up, as well as delicious. Apparently it did the trick because we've been together ever since. I'm embarrassed to admit that I wasn't very adventurous with other types of food back then. It was thanks to him and also my wonderful roommate of a couple of years that I tried Thai, Vietnamese, Japanese and Korean food  for the first time. Then I became obsessed with Asian cuisine.

We eventually moved from Iowa City to Kansas City. We were pretty broke, but I was still extremely obsessed with those amazing, bright, new flavors that I had just begun to discover: cilantro, lime, fish sauce, sesame oil, chili pastes of all textures and heat, Thai basil... you name it. So, I had to start figuring out how to make these dishes myself. Fortunately, Kansas City also had great farmers' markets, Asian food markets and restaurants. I started experimenting again, this time with the appropriate range of spices and sauces, and slowly became relatively proficient at it. It also helped that the incredible guy was there every step of the way, appreciating my efforts, being patient when my Basque temper kicked in when something didn't turn out the way I wanted it (struggles with sushi rice, anyone??) and eating my food, and loving it (or so he says!)

Finally, we moved to Albany, and here we are to this day. We have met so many incredible people, who love and appreciate food and love to eat as much as we do, and who have joined the incredible guy as relentless sources of inspiration, appreciating my efforts in the kitchen, sharing new ideas, recommending food and restaurants... you also know who you are.
I'm happy that the food scene in Smallbany has been improving substantially over the last few years, with great additions like Ric Orlando's New World Bistro (just make sure you don't order the burger, but do order the blackened string beans and anything from the "forbidden pleasures" section of the menu - that is, if you are really into food) and Dale Miller's, although I wasn't as blown away the first time I had it as I thought I was going to be. Which gives me the perfect excuse to give it another try, no? Also, I discovered the wonders of 677. I don't eat a lot of red meat, but they have great appetizers, which makes it a more budget friendly option as well. And it's always a blast to sneak over there for lunch. Also, I can't wait until Master Saso is back in the local food scene, because I've barely recovered from the trauma of his restaurant closing. Another great thing that Albany has: the Coop, which sells both my loves: chorizo and pimenton, along with paella rice and Basque cheeses like Idiazabal.


I couldn't forget to mention my other source of inspiration, my little sous chef, who is always there to keep me company and to volunteer to test ingredients so I can be sure that the ahi tuna and shrimp are always nice and fresh...
Laister arte!