It's been a few months since I last put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, and recorded anything here. I have a few things I want to write about, but tonight life jumped in the way, so here is a new post, on a topic that has little to do with the Navy or with food. Or maybe everything to do with it.
I've just returned from a benefit for a non-profit called Our Time, which helps kids who stutter. They use the arts to help kids improve their confidence and communications skills. Tonight's honoree was Carly Simon, who wrestled with stuttering as a child. As we sat in the theater before the show began, they piped in her music. Many familiar tunes filled the space, and filled my memories. I remembered being a kid listening to my sisters' James Taylor albums on which Carly Simon sang background vocals; I remembered being in high school and listening to "That's the Way I Always I Heard it Should Be" oh maybe 30 times a night. And then they played "It's the Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of," which came out in 1987, the year I began my career in the Navy, and I remembered everything.
Today I took the train uptown and worked in a cafeteria kitchen on the Upper West Side, preparing a healthy cole slaw for the salad bar and doing some other things for the lunch. Then I went downtown and picked up ingredients and headed back uptown, this time to the way Upper East Side, in the area where the million dollar apartments give way to the projects. I taught a class in the after school program that I've been part of since last fall. As I walked up Madison Avenue to the school, there was a special thrill in passing some of the students from one of the classes and having a moment of recognition on the street. After the clas was over, it was back downtown and on to the concert.
In these posts I'm trying to chart the transition from sailor to culinarian, what I wanted to do when I left active duty. As I sat in the theater tonight I realized that the big things that I've always wanted - to be involved in a philanthropy, to be a teacher, to have a cozy home and to be happy - are what I have right now. This post is a simple thank you to the universe for giving just what Carly describes in her song, the stuff that dreams are made of.
PS, I write this with deep apologies to Mrs Wiser, teacher of 11th grade English, who had us keep a journal and who would mark "DD" on entries that smacked too much of Dear Diary. All I can say is, What's a girl to do?!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Say cheese!
When I decided to retire from the Navy, I also decided to do some exploration before launching full throttle into a new career. Among other things, I’ve been very fortunate to do a lot of travel during this “gap year.” An unexpected discovery from these trips has been cheese.
During a short stay at Blackberry Farm in eastern Tennessee this summer, I took a class on cheesemaking. I spent a good couple of hours with Adam the cheesemaker, walking through the process. We started with how they milk their beautiful flock of East Friesian sheep and then how that milk is transformed into curds, whey and eventually into lovely cheeses, which we enjoyed in a special tasting with complementary wines. It was fascinating. A culinary tour in Santa Fe this fall culminated in a visit to South Mountain dairy, with a good lesson about their goats and how the ladies there lovingly create an incredible chevre and wonderful marinated feta.
Continuing my cheese education, I recently paid a visit to Saxelby Cheesemongers in the Essex Market in the Lower East Side here in New York City. The gal behind the counter and I talked about sheeps milk cheeses, and I picked up a new one to try, Brebis Blanche, a fresh (soft) cheese from Three Corner Field Farm of Shushan, NY. (I also added to my French vocabulary, learning that “brebis” means “sheep.”) The February Eating Well magazine has a recipe for a goat cheese and honey-filled fig muffin. I decided to try the recipe, but using the Brebis Blanche instead of the goat cheese. The recipe also calls for buttermilk, but I decided to try a liquid yogurt from Milk Thistle dairy at the Union Square Greenmarket instead.
I tested the recipe with a culinary school classmate. It had been ages since we’d been in the kitchen together, and it was great fun to chop, stir and fold with Andrea again. We were thrilled with the results and also found that they are even better the day after baking.
During a short stay at Blackberry Farm in eastern Tennessee this summer, I took a class on cheesemaking. I spent a good couple of hours with Adam the cheesemaker, walking through the process. We started with how they milk their beautiful flock of East Friesian sheep and then how that milk is transformed into curds, whey and eventually into lovely cheeses, which we enjoyed in a special tasting with complementary wines. It was fascinating. A culinary tour in Santa Fe this fall culminated in a visit to South Mountain dairy, with a good lesson about their goats and how the ladies there lovingly create an incredible chevre and wonderful marinated feta.
Continuing my cheese education, I recently paid a visit to Saxelby Cheesemongers in the Essex Market in the Lower East Side here in New York City. The gal behind the counter and I talked about sheeps milk cheeses, and I picked up a new one to try, Brebis Blanche, a fresh (soft) cheese from Three Corner Field Farm of Shushan, NY. (I also added to my French vocabulary, learning that “brebis” means “sheep.”) The February Eating Well magazine has a recipe for a goat cheese and honey-filled fig muffin. I decided to try the recipe, but using the Brebis Blanche instead of the goat cheese. The recipe also calls for buttermilk, but I decided to try a liquid yogurt from Milk Thistle dairy at the Union Square Greenmarket instead.
I tested the recipe with a culinary school classmate. It had been ages since we’d been in the kitchen together, and it was great fun to chop, stir and fold with Andrea again. We were thrilled with the results and also found that they are even better the day after baking.
Here’s the recipe, with hopes that you will enjoy your own discoveries in cheese:
Cheese and Honey-Filled Fig Muffins
Adapted from Eating Well magazine
Yield: one dozen muffins
¾ cup crumbled soft cheese (goats cheese, Brebis Blanche, cream or farmers cheese)
2 tablespoons honey
Freshly grated zest of one lemon
¼ teaspoon vanilla
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1 large egg white
1 teaspoon vanilla
¾ cup packed dark brown sugar
1 cup liquid yogurt, or low-fat buttermilk
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 ¼ cups chopped dried figs (preferably black mission figs)
3 tablespoons turbinado or granulated sugar
1. Preheat oven to 425 F and prepare muffin pan with paper liners or by lightly coating with oil.
2. In a small bowl, combine soft cheese, honey, lemon zest and ¼ teaspoon vanilla.
Set aside.
3. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. In a medium bowl, beat eggs and egg white; add brown sugar, remaining vanilla and whisk until the sugar is dissolved, about one minute. Gradually whisk in the yogurt and oil until smooth. Add the wet ingredients to the dry, mixing until just combined. Use care not to overmix. Fold in the figs.
4. Fill each muffin cup about a third of the way. Add 1 very generous teaspoon of the cheese mixture to the center of each muffin, and cover with the remaining batter. The filling shouldn’t be visible. Sprinkle the muffins with the turbinado sugar.
5. Bake the muffins until the edges start to brown and the tops spring back when gently pressed, 13 to 15 minutes. Let cool in the pan before turning out on a wire rack to cool.
Cheese and Honey-Filled Fig Muffins
Adapted from Eating Well magazine
Yield: one dozen muffins
¾ cup crumbled soft cheese (goats cheese, Brebis Blanche, cream or farmers cheese)
2 tablespoons honey
Freshly grated zest of one lemon
¼ teaspoon vanilla
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1 large egg white
1 teaspoon vanilla
¾ cup packed dark brown sugar
1 cup liquid yogurt, or low-fat buttermilk
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 ¼ cups chopped dried figs (preferably black mission figs)
3 tablespoons turbinado or granulated sugar
1. Preheat oven to 425 F and prepare muffin pan with paper liners or by lightly coating with oil.
2. In a small bowl, combine soft cheese, honey, lemon zest and ¼ teaspoon vanilla.
Set aside.
3. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. In a medium bowl, beat eggs and egg white; add brown sugar, remaining vanilla and whisk until the sugar is dissolved, about one minute. Gradually whisk in the yogurt and oil until smooth. Add the wet ingredients to the dry, mixing until just combined. Use care not to overmix. Fold in the figs.
4. Fill each muffin cup about a third of the way. Add 1 very generous teaspoon of the cheese mixture to the center of each muffin, and cover with the remaining batter. The filling shouldn’t be visible. Sprinkle the muffins with the turbinado sugar.
5. Bake the muffins until the edges start to brown and the tops spring back when gently pressed, 13 to 15 minutes. Let cool in the pan before turning out on a wire rack to cool.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Souvenirs from Travels Abroad
During the mid-90s I served on the staff of the Admiral in command of the US South Atlantic Force. There have been several changes to areas of responsibility since, but in those days my boss' area included the west coast of Africa. During my time in that job we made two trips, by plane, to West Africa, travels that stretched from Cape Verde (which is neither truly a cape, nor very verde), along the Gulf of Guinea and down to Namibia and South Africa. We visited twelve countries over the course of the two two-week trips.
It was an incredible learning experience. Although our stays in each country weren't extended, we did get to see a great deal. It was fascinating to go from French-speaking Senegal to the former Portuguese colony of Guinea Bissau and on to anglophone Ghana, and then to see the Dutch and German influences in the southern part of the continent.
The other night here in New York, I got in a taxi driven by a Ghanaian gentleman. As we drove downtown we had a long talk about his country and the cuisine. He recommended Ghana's peanut soup as a nice warming tonic against the bitter cold we're having right now. When I got home, I pulled out a couple of cookbooks that I picked up back in the days of the West African travel. "Ghanaian Favourite Dishes" by Alice Dede was a special find during a visit to the national museum in Accra.
Her soup chapter begins with beautiful "rules for making soup": use everything perfectly fresh and as little fat as possible; use sufficient seasoning but not in excess; cook ingredients well."
That said, her recipe for "Nkatenkawan" (groundnut -or peanut - soup) is pretty spare by US standards, simply listing water, tomatoes, pepper, onions, fish or chicken, groundnuts, and salt as ingredients, and the cooking instructions are just slightly more specific. This is a vegetarian version that is inspired by Alice Dede and her recipe. You can try it at home one day when you feel like doing a little armchair traveling:
West African Peanut Soup
Serves 6-8
1 medium onion, chopped fine
1 tablespoon minced fresh gingerroot
1 clove garlic, minced
Canola or extra virgin olive oil
pinch cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1 quart vegetable stock
1 cup tomato puree
2 cups sweet potato (peeled and cut in large (1 inch) chunks)
1/2 cup natural peanut butter (chunky or plain)
2 cups spinach leaves
Salt and pepper to taste
1. In the bottom of a 5 quart saucepan, saute onion on medium/medium-high heat, 5-7 minutes, in oil. When translucent, add the gingerroot and garlic, lowering heat to medium, and cook for 2-3 minutes. Be sure not to let the garlic burn. Add the cayenne pepper and chili powder, stir to incorporate in the vegetable mixture and cook for a minute or so more.
2. Add the stock, tomato puree and sweet potatoes to the pan, and raise the heat to bring the liquid to a boil. Once it boils, reduce to a simmer and let it cook for 15 minutes or until the sweet potatoes are soft. Add the peanut butter. Turn the heat off and using an immersion blender, puree the soup. (See notes.)
3. Once the soup is pureed, return it to medium heat and add spinach leaves. Cook for an additional five minutes. Check the seasoning and add salt and pepper as desired. Serve, garnishing with finely chopped chives or scallions.
Notes:
- Immersion blenders make easy work of pureeing hot soups. If you don't have one, you can puree in a regular blender, but use extra care in handling the hot liquid (among other things, place a dishtowel over the lid and hold it down tight while pureeing). Alternatively, you can skip the pureeing and enjoy the flavors with a chunky texture.
- Recommend checking the seasoning throughout the building of the flavors in this soup.
- The sweet potatoes should yield a nice sweetness that complements the ginger and tomato and plays off against the peanut taste, but if you like you can add some sugar to to the soup as desired.
It was an incredible learning experience. Although our stays in each country weren't extended, we did get to see a great deal. It was fascinating to go from French-speaking Senegal to the former Portuguese colony of Guinea Bissau and on to anglophone Ghana, and then to see the Dutch and German influences in the southern part of the continent.
The other night here in New York, I got in a taxi driven by a Ghanaian gentleman. As we drove downtown we had a long talk about his country and the cuisine. He recommended Ghana's peanut soup as a nice warming tonic against the bitter cold we're having right now. When I got home, I pulled out a couple of cookbooks that I picked up back in the days of the West African travel. "Ghanaian Favourite Dishes" by Alice Dede was a special find during a visit to the national museum in Accra.
Her soup chapter begins with beautiful "rules for making soup": use everything perfectly fresh and as little fat as possible; use sufficient seasoning but not in excess; cook ingredients well."
That said, her recipe for "Nkatenkawan" (groundnut -or peanut - soup) is pretty spare by US standards, simply listing water, tomatoes, pepper, onions, fish or chicken, groundnuts, and salt as ingredients, and the cooking instructions are just slightly more specific. This is a vegetarian version that is inspired by Alice Dede and her recipe. You can try it at home one day when you feel like doing a little armchair traveling:
West African Peanut Soup
Serves 6-8
1 medium onion, chopped fine
1 tablespoon minced fresh gingerroot
1 clove garlic, minced
Canola or extra virgin olive oil
pinch cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1 quart vegetable stock
1 cup tomato puree
2 cups sweet potato (peeled and cut in large (1 inch) chunks)
1/2 cup natural peanut butter (chunky or plain)
2 cups spinach leaves
Salt and pepper to taste
1. In the bottom of a 5 quart saucepan, saute onion on medium/medium-high heat, 5-7 minutes, in oil. When translucent, add the gingerroot and garlic, lowering heat to medium, and cook for 2-3 minutes. Be sure not to let the garlic burn. Add the cayenne pepper and chili powder, stir to incorporate in the vegetable mixture and cook for a minute or so more.
2. Add the stock, tomato puree and sweet potatoes to the pan, and raise the heat to bring the liquid to a boil. Once it boils, reduce to a simmer and let it cook for 15 minutes or until the sweet potatoes are soft. Add the peanut butter. Turn the heat off and using an immersion blender, puree the soup. (See notes.)
3. Once the soup is pureed, return it to medium heat and add spinach leaves. Cook for an additional five minutes. Check the seasoning and add salt and pepper as desired. Serve, garnishing with finely chopped chives or scallions.
Notes:
- Immersion blenders make easy work of pureeing hot soups. If you don't have one, you can puree in a regular blender, but use extra care in handling the hot liquid (among other things, place a dishtowel over the lid and hold it down tight while pureeing). Alternatively, you can skip the pureeing and enjoy the flavors with a chunky texture.
- Recommend checking the seasoning throughout the building of the flavors in this soup.
- The sweet potatoes should yield a nice sweetness that complements the ginger and tomato and plays off against the peanut taste, but if you like you can add some sugar to to the soup as desired.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Sea Legs
It was gorgeous here in New York on Wednesday night. After delivering a package to a friend on 26th Street I looked up 7th Avenue and saw the bright neon of Times Square shimmering in the distance. My feet took off and up the avenue I ambled, stopping at Macy's on 34th Street to look at their Christmas windows one last time for the year. As I headed east to check out the ice skating at Bryant Park I remembered my first time alone in the city.
It was December 2005. My mom had passed away in October and, having taken a lot of time off for the final weeks of her illness, I didn't feel comfortable asking for a big chunk of leave for the holidays. I decided to take the train up to New York for the Christmas weekend, and I got a room at the Algonquin Hotel. I spent the first day in the city walking up to Kitchen Arts and Letters, a wonderful store on the Upper East Side. It was Christmas Eve and I made my way back to the hotel walking down Fifth Avenue. I passed a few churches having services and saw many people walking to and fro, making last minute preps for Santa's visit. Down the street from the Algonquin is an Indian restaurant, the Jewel of India, and it was there that I had my dinner on Christmas Eve.
Six months later I moved here, on what was to be my final assignment in the Navy. I was a bit overwhelmed at first but worked hard to get out and learn what I could about the Big Apple. Now I'm truly making it home, and continuing to learn my way around. At sea we call this getting your sea legs. As I stood at Bryant Park I thought about the past four years, and my legs took off again, this time leading me back to the Jewel of India for a supper of Chicken Korma. Then it was on to the Algonquin, for an Old-Fashioned in the hotel lobby, and a toast to getting those sea legs and a wish for continuing joy here in my new hometown.
You can toast to your sea legs with an old-fashioned, too. Here's how to make one:
- Muddle two thick slices of navel orange in the bottom of a glass with about 1 teaspoon of sugar.
- Add ice.
- Add a splash or two of water and a good splash of Makers Mark, or the bourbon of your choice.
- Garnish with a maraschino cherry.
- Toast to the good life!
With best wishes for a happy, happy new year ---
It was December 2005. My mom had passed away in October and, having taken a lot of time off for the final weeks of her illness, I didn't feel comfortable asking for a big chunk of leave for the holidays. I decided to take the train up to New York for the Christmas weekend, and I got a room at the Algonquin Hotel. I spent the first day in the city walking up to Kitchen Arts and Letters, a wonderful store on the Upper East Side. It was Christmas Eve and I made my way back to the hotel walking down Fifth Avenue. I passed a few churches having services and saw many people walking to and fro, making last minute preps for Santa's visit. Down the street from the Algonquin is an Indian restaurant, the Jewel of India, and it was there that I had my dinner on Christmas Eve.
Six months later I moved here, on what was to be my final assignment in the Navy. I was a bit overwhelmed at first but worked hard to get out and learn what I could about the Big Apple. Now I'm truly making it home, and continuing to learn my way around. At sea we call this getting your sea legs. As I stood at Bryant Park I thought about the past four years, and my legs took off again, this time leading me back to the Jewel of India for a supper of Chicken Korma. Then it was on to the Algonquin, for an Old-Fashioned in the hotel lobby, and a toast to getting those sea legs and a wish for continuing joy here in my new hometown.
You can toast to your sea legs with an old-fashioned, too. Here's how to make one:
- Muddle two thick slices of navel orange in the bottom of a glass with about 1 teaspoon of sugar.
- Add ice.
- Add a splash or two of water and a good splash of Makers Mark, or the bourbon of your choice.
- Garnish with a maraschino cherry.
- Toast to the good life!
With best wishes for a happy, happy new year ---
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Green Flash
During my time at sea in 1994 and 1995 I learned a great deal about the seafaring traditions that give the maritime life its great character and flavor. I am proud to say that I am a trusty shellback, having crossed the Equator not once but four times aboard ship. One becomes a shellback after going through a unique initiation ceremony that involves a great deal of custom, tradition, and, well, ingenuity on the part of the initiating crew. Sailing in Brazilian waters shortly after my initiation in 1994, I quickly learned of the international flavor of the maritime traditions; in short these provide a common ground (if you will) that make it very easy for sailors from varied nations to share their sea stories and tales.
That said, there are several traditions within the US Navy that give a particular appeal and camaraderie to our service. For example, young Marines embarked on amphibious ships transiting the Straits of Gibraltar will often be called to the deck of the ship, handed baseball bats and instructed to ensure that none of the Gibraltar apes are allowed to board the ship. The fact that the ships pass several hundred yards from shore is not introduced for consideration in this. In the days of steam-powered engine plants, newly reported personnel would frequently be handed a bucket and sent to the engineering section of the ship to collect a "bucket of steam," with very explicit instructions to not return to their duty station until the task was complete. Nowadays they are more likely to be sent off to collect twenty feet of waterline, or to stand the "mail buoy watch" on the bow of the ship.
During our first underway during my deployment in 1994, the more seasoned officers on our staff spoke eloquently of the "green flash," supposedly a bright shot of green that would appear on the horizon just as the sun set below the edge where sky and water meet. I spent a number of evenings on the main deck of our ship, gazing at the setting sun and hoping to see this elusive maritime phenomenon. In 1999 I moved to Monterey, CA and my mom and I spent a memorable evening sitting on the edge of our continent, eyes out across the Pacific, hoping to see the famed Green Flash.
I never have seen one and to be honest I'm not sure that it is an actual phenomenon. It may just be one of those shared myths, a story made up to give lonely Sailors something to think about as they scan the horizon looking for and thinking of home.
The other night here in Manhattan I discovered a different green flash. The Blind Tiger Ale House in the West Village serves a Green Flash IPA, brewed by a small company on the west coast. Drop in some time and find your own green flash!
That said, there are several traditions within the US Navy that give a particular appeal and camaraderie to our service. For example, young Marines embarked on amphibious ships transiting the Straits of Gibraltar will often be called to the deck of the ship, handed baseball bats and instructed to ensure that none of the Gibraltar apes are allowed to board the ship. The fact that the ships pass several hundred yards from shore is not introduced for consideration in this. In the days of steam-powered engine plants, newly reported personnel would frequently be handed a bucket and sent to the engineering section of the ship to collect a "bucket of steam," with very explicit instructions to not return to their duty station until the task was complete. Nowadays they are more likely to be sent off to collect twenty feet of waterline, or to stand the "mail buoy watch" on the bow of the ship.
During our first underway during my deployment in 1994, the more seasoned officers on our staff spoke eloquently of the "green flash," supposedly a bright shot of green that would appear on the horizon just as the sun set below the edge where sky and water meet. I spent a number of evenings on the main deck of our ship, gazing at the setting sun and hoping to see this elusive maritime phenomenon. In 1999 I moved to Monterey, CA and my mom and I spent a memorable evening sitting on the edge of our continent, eyes out across the Pacific, hoping to see the famed Green Flash.
I never have seen one and to be honest I'm not sure that it is an actual phenomenon. It may just be one of those shared myths, a story made up to give lonely Sailors something to think about as they scan the horizon looking for and thinking of home.
The other night here in Manhattan I discovered a different green flash. The Blind Tiger Ale House in the West Village serves a Green Flash IPA, brewed by a small company on the west coast. Drop in some time and find your own green flash!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Plimsoll Marks and Pisco Sours
If you've ever spent time looking at the hull of a ship, you may have noticed a strange mark at the waterline, something that looks like a circle with a series of arms extending out from it. It's called a Plimsoll Mark, and it is used to measure how a ship is sitting in the water. Very simply put it gives a picture of whether the ship is loaded such that it can maintain its proper buoyancy.
I first learned about Plimsoll Marks while paying a call for cocktails onboard a South American Navy destroyer (a ship) during a deployment in 1994. The cocktail glasses were adorned with a Plimsoll Mark. My boss, a very salty US Navy admiral, was quite taken with them. In fact his admiration of the glasses was so pronounced that one of the South American lieutenants offered to get my boss a souvenir or two to take home. As my boss made his goodbyes, the lieutenant ferried me off to a separate part of the ship. He passed me glass after glass that I tucked into my handbag and then, running out of space, into my pockets. I finally made my way topside and joined the Admiral on the pier. He didn't have the most patience in the world and started to bellow about why I had keeped him waiting. I quickly quieted him, whispering that it would be worth the wait. As I emptied my pockets his bemused look quickly turned into a smile. For the rest of our five month deployment in South America, he took great pride and pleasure in showing off the prized treats from the cocktail party.
During another part of our voyage in South America, my boss again learned about speaking too favorably of things in our host nation. In our efforts to be gracious guests we often paid many compliments to our hosts, in the name of forging friendships and strengthening relationships, which was the overarching mission of the deployment. During a visit in Peru, the Admiral spoke highly of Pisco, a local brandy made from grapes. As a reward for his enthusiasm for the spirit, he was presented with a case of Pisco bottled especially for one of the Peruvian ships. It had a very entertaining label that said it was "bilgewater" from the ship and had several custom features identifying it as such. It was a very special treat, and one that the boss was very careful to share with those of us on the staff. (Although in keeping with our strict regulations, I must point out it was never enjoyed while onboard our Navy vessels!)
It is probably fair to say that, taken straight, Pisco is indeed bilgewater. But when prepared in the national traditions of Peru and Chile, a Pisco Sour is a delight. The "sour" preparation provides enough sweetness and smoothness to mask its true strength. It becomes quite easy to take and to drink without really keeping count, one pisco sour, two, three.... At that point it can be dangerous. You don't feel a thing and then you stand up and .... well it's a different matter altogether. How do I know this? That is another story, for a different time....
In recent years it has become quite easy to find Pisco - Peruvian or Chilean - at liquor stores in the US. Here's a recipe for you to enjoy:
PISCO SOUR -
Ingredients
2 oz. pisco
1 tablespoon superfine sugar (regular will work, in a pinch)
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1 teaspoon pasteurized egg whites
Preparation
In a cocktail shaker, shake 3 ice cubes, pisco, sugar, fresh lime juice, and egg whites. Strain and serve straight up in a martini glass with a dash of aromatic bitters atop the froth.
I first learned about Plimsoll Marks while paying a call for cocktails onboard a South American Navy destroyer (a ship) during a deployment in 1994. The cocktail glasses were adorned with a Plimsoll Mark. My boss, a very salty US Navy admiral, was quite taken with them. In fact his admiration of the glasses was so pronounced that one of the South American lieutenants offered to get my boss a souvenir or two to take home. As my boss made his goodbyes, the lieutenant ferried me off to a separate part of the ship. He passed me glass after glass that I tucked into my handbag and then, running out of space, into my pockets. I finally made my way topside and joined the Admiral on the pier. He didn't have the most patience in the world and started to bellow about why I had keeped him waiting. I quickly quieted him, whispering that it would be worth the wait. As I emptied my pockets his bemused look quickly turned into a smile. For the rest of our five month deployment in South America, he took great pride and pleasure in showing off the prized treats from the cocktail party.
During another part of our voyage in South America, my boss again learned about speaking too favorably of things in our host nation. In our efforts to be gracious guests we often paid many compliments to our hosts, in the name of forging friendships and strengthening relationships, which was the overarching mission of the deployment. During a visit in Peru, the Admiral spoke highly of Pisco, a local brandy made from grapes. As a reward for his enthusiasm for the spirit, he was presented with a case of Pisco bottled especially for one of the Peruvian ships. It had a very entertaining label that said it was "bilgewater" from the ship and had several custom features identifying it as such. It was a very special treat, and one that the boss was very careful to share with those of us on the staff. (Although in keeping with our strict regulations, I must point out it was never enjoyed while onboard our Navy vessels!)
It is probably fair to say that, taken straight, Pisco is indeed bilgewater. But when prepared in the national traditions of Peru and Chile, a Pisco Sour is a delight. The "sour" preparation provides enough sweetness and smoothness to mask its true strength. It becomes quite easy to take and to drink without really keeping count, one pisco sour, two, three.... At that point it can be dangerous. You don't feel a thing and then you stand up and .... well it's a different matter altogether. How do I know this? That is another story, for a different time....
In recent years it has become quite easy to find Pisco - Peruvian or Chilean - at liquor stores in the US. Here's a recipe for you to enjoy:
PISCO SOUR -
Ingredients
2 oz. pisco
1 tablespoon superfine sugar (regular will work, in a pinch)
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1 teaspoon pasteurized egg whites
Preparation
In a cocktail shaker, shake 3 ice cubes, pisco, sugar, fresh lime juice, and egg whites. Strain and serve straight up in a martini glass with a dash of aromatic bitters atop the froth.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
safe harbor
My two worlds came together today. I was logging in to send an email to my former First Sergeant, who is now stationed at Fort Hood. When I went online, I saw the news about the shooting that happened there today. Fort Hood is our nation's largest Army base, and so from a reasoned perspective the likelihood of her being one of the victims was pretty low. But from another perspective the other possibility hit me hard.
We were both in DC on 9/11. We discovered when we started working together in 2006 that we share a pretty incredible bond from that day. The possibility that that story was ending in a new, unexpected chapter today was very painful to consider.
I am like many military people, balancing that tough act of preparing for the worst and embracing the best. Over the past few years I've watched as people I know have had to carry out the incredible duty of accompanying the remains of their friends on the final journey home. And I've prayed to have strength should the time come that I am called into that service. I've held my breath for months on end as friends and family have deployed overseas. I've said countless prayers. And tonight the unthinkable was happening on our own turf.
Tonight I held my breath, said many prayers, and I cooked. Two of my culinary school classmates are guest chefs for a dinner at our school tomorrow night. I was there for their first recipe test, and there at the second, when they nailed a wonderful three course vegan menu highlighting flavors of the American Southwest. Tonight I was supposed to go to a class I've been taking but my heart needed nourishing more than more my head. I joined my friends at the Natural Gourmet and worked side by side with them and their students, preparing the ingredients for tomorrow night's dinner.
My heart goes out to the families who tonight are being visited by strangers bearing unbearable news. I pray that they find the solace and strength to get through these dark days. I pray for my dear friend, now a Sergeant Major, that she too has strength for her new challenges, looking for answers to what happened and helping our Soldiers and their families.
And I say a prayer of thanksgiving for the safe harbor of the kitchen and the nourishing friendship therein.
We were both in DC on 9/11. We discovered when we started working together in 2006 that we share a pretty incredible bond from that day. The possibility that that story was ending in a new, unexpected chapter today was very painful to consider.
I am like many military people, balancing that tough act of preparing for the worst and embracing the best. Over the past few years I've watched as people I know have had to carry out the incredible duty of accompanying the remains of their friends on the final journey home. And I've prayed to have strength should the time come that I am called into that service. I've held my breath for months on end as friends and family have deployed overseas. I've said countless prayers. And tonight the unthinkable was happening on our own turf.
Tonight I held my breath, said many prayers, and I cooked. Two of my culinary school classmates are guest chefs for a dinner at our school tomorrow night. I was there for their first recipe test, and there at the second, when they nailed a wonderful three course vegan menu highlighting flavors of the American Southwest. Tonight I was supposed to go to a class I've been taking but my heart needed nourishing more than more my head. I joined my friends at the Natural Gourmet and worked side by side with them and their students, preparing the ingredients for tomorrow night's dinner.
My heart goes out to the families who tonight are being visited by strangers bearing unbearable news. I pray that they find the solace and strength to get through these dark days. I pray for my dear friend, now a Sergeant Major, that she too has strength for her new challenges, looking for answers to what happened and helping our Soldiers and their families.
And I say a prayer of thanksgiving for the safe harbor of the kitchen and the nourishing friendship therein.
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