'Hell' on Meals: A Damn Good Cookbook

Bison Sausage Bread

Poem for Damn Good Food

Too many paths to hunger sated,

All choices on which I stopped to dwell

And be one diner, long I waited

'Til Chef appeared as I debated,

And said, "Buy the book or go to 'Hell'.

by Tangled Noodle

(inspired by "The Road Not Taken", Robert Frost)

Delicate Lemon-Ricotta Hotcakes, adorned with fresh berries . . . Huevos Rancheros, piled high with Spicy Black Beans . . . mammoth Caramel-Pecan Rolls, each one big enough for two but too good to share. . . and, of course, the near-mythic Mahnomin Porridge.

These are all signature dishes at Hell's Kitchen, Chef Mitch Omer's wickedly popular duo of restaurants, where the décor is postmodern Gothic and tattoos accessorize the servers' ensembles (except at Sunday Brunch, when the ink may be covered by comfy pajamas). Until recently, the only way to enjoy the aforementioned dishes was to descend into Hell's Kitchen's new underground digs in Minneapolis or trek north to Duluth, where the dead of winter makes it a special kind of purgatory for those of weak constitution. But now, I can add my own kitchen to the list of infernal locales.

With Damn Good Food: 157 Recipes from Hell's Kitchen, Omer and co-author Ann Bauer, a novelist and former food critic, reveal not only how to make the most tempting 'un-comfort' food - as when you're groaning over your stuffed belly - but also the mad, bad and dangerous mind behind it all. As a fan (or is it minion?) of the restaurant, I was thrilled to receive the book from publisher Minnesota Historical Society Press/Borealis Books. So, fair warning: this is not so much a review as it is a recap of a journey from bad behavior to good food, and all points in between.

"Mitch Omer is insane, and I mean that in the best - but also most literal - way."

Ann Bauer, Damn Good Food

Mitch & Me (photo by Susan Berkson)

It takes only one glance at Mitch Omer's nearly six and a half foot tall, cowboy-booted, shock-white maned figure to realize he's no ordinary being in a chef's jacket. I learned that firsthand when he appeared at the Minneapolis Farmers' Market cooking demonstration where I was making his Mahnomin Porridge recipe a few months back. It was a nerve-wracking pleasure to meet him - after all, it's not every day that a home cook like me prepares a signature dish under the gaze of its creator. Fortunately, he approved of my attempt. Looking back, however, that gentleman-chef in the baseball cap and neatly-tied ponytail belied the manic, wild-haired personality whose antics, ranging from droll (ice-fishing in the buff) to destructive (badly beating a young man while high on drugs), are concisely described by Bauer, who is one of Omer's closest friends, in pages that are equal parts memoir and cookbook.

The first part of DGF tracks Omer from a loving but behaviorally-troubled childhood in Des Moines, Iowa to wild adulthood replete with shorts stints in local detention facilities and an erratic career path as a bouncer, roadie, line cook and finally, an honest-to-goodness chef. Despite the sordid tales of drug abuse, infidelity and general recklessness, this book is not about penitence: Omer makes no excuses and offers no apologies for his past conduct. Interspersing the dark episodes of bipolar disorder, morbid obesity and suicidal thoughts are bright spots of food memories and culinary creativity that remained undimmed by his dissipation. There is his beloved Aunt Fran's Chicken and Noodles, re-printed from her original handwritten recipe card; Lobster Risotto with Roe and Fresh Peas, from his days of apprenticeship at the highly-regarded (now closed) New French Café; and Hell's Kitchen Ham and Pear Crisp, considered by many to be one of the best sandwiches in the Twin Cities.

Gratuitous Food Shot: Mahnomin Porridge

Family Album

Still, for a chronicle that mixes damn good food with sex, drugs and rock'n'roll, there is a conspicuous absence of one particular vice: food porn. Oh sure, there are tempting close-ups of hotcakes and caramel buns, but the photos of Hell's Kitchen's best fare are chastely low-key in black-and-white. I get the feeling that if I were to ask Chef Omer why this is so, he'd tell me that his food is meant to be eaten, not ogled! (Or words to that effect.)

On the other hand, there are abundant pictures of people - Omer, his family, friends, and cooks and servers, who all look like they're having a helluva good time. There's the one of the chef au naturel in his fishing hut, a strategically crossed leg and a convenient travel mug all that's keeping this a family cookbook. The love affair between his parents, Annie and Dana, is obvious in candid snapshots, as is the deep, affectionate friendship between Omer and his 'first lieutenant for life', Steven Myer. And finally, what is 'Hell' without 'Cyn'? Cynthia Gerdes is Omer's wife, business partner and lifeline, about whom Bauer writes, "Without her he'd likely be a hapless, addled genius, the kind of troubled, high-potential guy people sigh about and say, 'What a shame.'"

The only sighs heard at Hell's Kitchen are ones of utter contentment; the only shame found are with those patrons who inconceivably fail to finish their meals. If there is a particular reason that the book has more photographs of people than of food, perhaps it is this: that Omer's successes - in overcoming his addictions and finding love and a measure of stability - are owed not just to his culinary talents, but also to those individuals who surround him and keep his ever-lurking torments at bay. As Bauer sums up nicely in Damn Good Food's final lines:

"It's only food. But in the case of Hell's Kitchen, it's not only food, and that's the point . . . It's family. It's love. It's life."

A Taste of 'Hell'

I couldn't wait to try the recipes in Damn Good Food, but which would be first? The Lemon-Ricotta Hotcakes were an obvious choice - too obvious - so I opted for yet another Hell's Kitchen favorite, Bison Sausage Bread. This is actually a two-part recipe, beginning with a phenomenally easy Maple-Glazed Bison Sausage; the end result is what Chef Omer calls "a kind of breakfast meatloaf" that packs wallops of savory, sweet and spicy flavors in every dense slice.

As with all the dishes in DGF, this Bison Sausage Bread recipe appears exactly as it is prepared in Hell's Kitchen. Stick to the plan and you'll know what all the fuss is about.

[The following recipes are reprinted with permission from the publisher.]

Maple-Glazed Bison Sausage
(Excerpted from Damn Good Food, page 73)

Makes approximately 8 patties

1 pound ground bison chuck
2/3 cup dried onion
6 tablespoons pure maple syrup
3 medium cloves garlic, minced (1 tablespoon)
2 teaspoons fennel seed
2 teaspoons fresh thyme
2 teaspoons dried sage
2 teaspoons crushed red pepper
1 teaspoon ground white pepper
1 teaspoon curing salt (see note)

Place all ingredients into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle, and mix on low speed until just mixed, about 3 minutes. Do not to overmix the ingredients as this will compact the sausage and make for a tougher, dryer product. Moisten your hands and pat sausage mixture into 3-ounce portions, about the size of a golf ball.

Bison meat is so low in fat that it should be cooked no longer than 4 minutes per side. If broiling, cook patties on a rack set 4 inches from the heat. For stovetop cooking, use a lightly oiled skillet, preferably cast iron, and cook over high heat. Never press down with a spatula on sausages while they cook as this pushes the flavorful juices out of the patties.

Note: Curing salt is a combination of salt and sodium nitrite. It assists in the preserving and curing of meats and sausages, and helps preserve the natural color of the meats. If you don't have access to curing salts, just substitute sea salt.

Bison Sausage Bread
(Excerpted from Damn Good Food, page 58)

Makes 1 (3-pound) loaf

10 ounces Maple-Glazed Bison Sausage (see recipe above)
1 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2/3 cup brewed dark coffee
2 cups all-purpose flour
2/3 cup dried currants*
2/3 cup walnut pieces
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

*Confession: I forgot to buy currants so I used dried cranberries instead.

Preheat oven to 350° F.

Place sausage, brown sugar, granulated sugar, eggs, and coffee into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle. Mix on low speed until ingredients are just incorporated, about 1 minute. Turn speed to medium, and mix 1 minute more. Add remaining ingredients, and again on low speed, mix until just incorporated. Turn mixer off. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula. Mix on medium speed another 2 minutes.

Brush an 8 x 4 x 2-inch bread pan with melted butter, and dust with flour. Scrape batter into the bread pan, and place on the center rack of the oven. Bake 1-1/2 hours, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the loaf comes out clean.

Remove bread from the oven and let cool to room temperature in the pan. Remove loaf and wrap securely in plastic wrap. Will keep in the refrigerator up to 2 weeks and in the freezer for up to 6 months.

Damn Good Food: 157 Recipes from Hell's Kitchen, by Mitch Omer and Ann Bauer is available directly from the Hell's Kitchen website, the Minnesota Historical Society, or from your local bookseller!

"The perfect breakfast bread . . . Hell, with eggs, black coffee, 

and sausage, the perfect breakfast!" -- Chef Mitch Omer

Maybe Next Year . . .

Pan-Fried Fideo Crab Bites

I was in a funk - a Foodbuzz Festival Funk, to be precise.

As I write this, the 1st Annual Foodbuzz Blogger Festival in San Francisco is coming to a close, the 'Golden Forks' have been handed out to the inaugural award winners and attendees are dragging swag-laden carry-on luggage through SFO airport security. After jealously reading tweets and posts, and enviously perusing Twitpics and Flickr shots of goodie bags, food tastings and marvelous meals, I wish I could've been there, too.

But regret is bitter on the tongue and I would rather taste the sweetness of its opposite - gratitude. So, I thank the bloggers who posted those tweets and photos so that I could share in their excitement. I appreciate that Foodbuzz put together the festival, giving food bloggers yet another venue to connect with each other and celebrate the shared passion for good food. And I am grateful that although I did not make it this year, it is something to eagerly anticipate in the next.

As determined as I was to attend the festival, financing a weekend trip to San Francisco was going to be difficult. Yet hope was kindled when I learned that Foodbuzz and event sponsor Bertolli Sauces were offering 'scholarships' to cover travel expenses for bloggers whose entree and appetizer ideas using the latter's products were chosen. [Congratulations to the winners: Crystal & Amir of The Duo Dishes, Mardi of Eat, Live, Travel, Write and LK of Healthy.Delicious! Click here to see their entries.]

Because of the immediate deadline for entries (just a few days, if memory serves), the Foodbuzz/Bertolli contest required neither a complete recipe nor even a photograph of a finished dish - what was requested, and would be judged, was a concept. I was immediately intrigued because it represented a challenge to muster memory, knowledge and instinct about flavors and techniques to envision a final, feasible food. In my first year of blogging, I have learned so much about cooking instinctively and this was a perfect opportunity to test that education.

I figured my chances were as good as any and came up with an appetizer that I hoped would be a winner. In the end, however, my entry was never submitted. I can offer a whole host of reasons why I didn't do it but I won't; instead, let me just offer the appetizer itself!

This dish was inspired by a creation from Chef Ilan Hall, winner of Bravo's Top Chef, Season Two and now chef-owner of The Gorbals in Los Angeles. From his Crispy Pan-Fried Shrimp and Chorizo Fideo Cakes, I came up with a more simple version using crab meat and Bertolli's Alfredo Sauce with Aged Parmesan Cheese. Furthermore, I made it two ways - pan-fried and oven-baked - to compare the outcomes in terms of taste and texture. Although I didn't put it out there to be evaluated by my fellow bloggers in the Foodbuzz community, this recipe came out quite well and I hope that you'll enjoy it, too.

See you next year at Foodbuzz Fest II!

Fideo Crab Bites

Depending on the source, the Spanish word fideo may refer to any kind of noodle or, specifically, a very thin, short vermicelli-type pasta used in Mediterranean and Mexican cuisines. In southern Spain, it takes the place of rice in a paella dish called fideuá, whereas in Mexico, it is commonly used in soups (sopa de fideo) [sources: Wikipedia/Fideo, wisegeek.com]. Most recipes call for the noodles to be toasted first, either in the oven or by lightly frying, to deepen its flavor. I skipped this step here but will be sure to follow it for future preparations. Despite its pasta pedigree, fideo can be found in the Spanish or Mexican section of your local grocery. 

Baked Fideo Crab Bites

To cook the recipe, I tried both pan-frying and baking: the former yielded a deep golden color and appealingly crunchy texture, perfect as finger food dipped into a savory sauce, while the latter was softer to the bite with a quiche-like quality more suitable to a plated appetizer. Same mixture, different mouthfeel - in the end, Mr. Noodle declared both to be equal favorites.

Yields approximately 2 dozen

Ingredients:

4 oz fideo (capellini or vermicelli noodles, broken into 1" pieces, may be used)
1/4 cup Bertolli Alfredo Sauce with Aged Parmesan Cheese
2 eggs, beaten
8 oz crab meat
2 Tbsps fresh parsley, finely chopped
Oil for frying

To make:

1. Cook fideo according to package directions; rinse with cold water, drain well and set aside;

2. Combine alfredo sauce and eggs, and mix well;

3. In a separate bowl, mix cooled noodles, crabmeat and parsley, tossing gently to combine;

4. Add egg-alfredo mixture and toss gently until noodles are well-coated;

5. Cover bowl and refrigerate mixture for 30-45 minutes;

To pan-fry:

a) Pour just enough oil to cover the bottom of a sauté pan or skillet and heat;

b) Drop heaping tablespoons of chilled noodle mixture into hot oil, making sure not to crowd each spoonful;

c) Fry until golden on both sides, then remove to a plate lined with paper towels; serve immediately.

To bake:

a) Preheat oven to 375°F;

b) Grease mini-muffin pan with butter, oil or nonstick spray;

c) Spoon noodle mixture, filling each well to the top;

d) Bake for 30 minutes or until tops are golden;

e) Remove from oven and serve immediately.

This recipe is definitely still in progress: aside from toasting the fideo before boiling, other possible changes include using different seafood (salmon?) or adding cheese to the baked version so that the tops aren't quite as dry. Eventually, I'd like to try 'deconstructing' the alfredo sauce portion to make this a truly from-scratch appetizer. All suggestions, tips and advice are welcome!

A Year of Tangled Blogging

First Blogoversary Macaroon

Already?

Times flies when you're having fun and my first year of blogging has definitely been fun - not to mention hectic, exhilarating, frustrating, enlightening, maddening and exciting. I imagined that when the anniversary date arrived, I'd break out the balloons, toss some confetti and strike up the mariachi band. Celebration was in order and I envisioned a special post featuring an incredible edible to mark the occasion, or perhaps even a giveaway . . .

But Tangled is the name and tangled is the brain. In an alternate reality, I'm Incredi-Blogger, writing a post every other day while completing my memoirs (Part I, natch), learning several new languages and mastering cheese-making, beer-brewing and all manner of artisanal cookery. But in real reality, my life story can be told in four tweets, I write in the only other language I know (Ye Olde Terme Paper English) and the closest I've come to artisanal cooking is making pancake batter from scratch. It's no surprise, then, that The Big Day (October 23) passed with nary a single shred of confetti or a solitary note of mariachi music to commemorate the 365 days since my first blogospheric disturbance.

I simply forgot.

So much for the special milestone. But as my overworked patron Saint Expeditus might say, "Get off your lazy tuchus and get to work already!" Although it has come and gone, reaching this point really was a thrill for me, so I eked out a moment to make a sweet treat in celebration and gratitude for an awesome year. However, as many of you know by now, I don't just eat, I ruminate . . . and every dish in this blog is well-chewed until I can taste its Deeper Meaning.

Sometimes I Feel Like a (Coco)Nut

To mark the belated event, I went straight to a recipe from my cousin Ara in the Philippines. We met for the very first time last December when Mr. Noodle and I visited my mother's home province of Marinduque. During our all-too-brief day trip, we enjoyed wonderful Marinduqueno-style Filipino food such as adobong manok sa gata (chicken adobo in coconut milk) and kare-kare* [kah-REH kah-REH], a spicy version of dinuguan, or blood stew. Seeing my rapturous enjoyment of the native desserts on hand, Ara promised to send recipes for some favorite sweets, just as her mother-in-law makes them.

*Kare-kare is also the name of a better-known stew of oxtail and vegetables in a peanut sauce.

The first were macaroons - Filipino macaroons, to be precise. What's the difference? The more familiar confection is made with shredded coconut, egg whites and sugar, whereas à la Pinay incorporates whole eggs, sweetened condensed milk and flour. The result is a dense, chewy baked good similar in consistency to a fudgy brownie and with a super-sweetened coconut flavor.

Although it's been a while since my last taste of Filipino macaroons, I remembered enough to have certain expectations as the first batch went into the oven; what came out, however, were quite unexpected. Rather than the flat-topped treat of memory, these had rounded domes like cupcakes and were definitely more cake-y than fudgy. But they formed a beautiful caramelized crust above a moist and subtly sweet, coconutty interior. I was not disappointed in the least, especially when I realized that they were perfect for this post in another way.

Just like these macaroons, my blog began with certain expectations about what I would write or who might read it. I didn't plan on including photos and recipes, or giving accounts of my own cooking, but they are now important elements. I thought only my family would read it (under duress) but instead, visitors found their way to this site, came back for more and have since become friends. Just like these coconut pastries, Tangled Noodle cooked up in ways and qualities that were certainly different, but no less satisfying, than originally anticipated.

In the past year, I've learned so much from writing my blog and reading others': that cooking without a recipe isn't really scary, flash photography is the best way to ruin a dish and blogging should always be a joy, not a chore. More importantly, I've made many new and dear friends among you and it is your encouragement, support and friendship that inspire me to continue. From the bottom of my heart - thank you!

Now, let's see what another year will bring . . .

[Update 10/31/09: I am extremely embarrassed - I had attributed the following recipe to Tita Fuen, Ara's mom, when it actually came from her mother-in-law. My apologies to that dear lady for not acknowledging her generosity in sharing a family recipe! Please note that double asterisks (**) signify where I've made the appropriate changes to the text.]

Macaroons à la Filipina**
(adapted from a recipe, courtesy of cousin Ara)

Have you ever noticed that when someone shares a recipe, there's always an ingredient or direction missing? It's not deliberate - often, the person is so familiar with cooking the dish that it's difficult to write out what are automatic actions. In the macaroon recipe that Ara sent, some ingredients listed were never mentioned again; I can picture Ara's mother-in-law** missing a few steps because she's not actually making them as she dictates. Furthermore, the original yield was triple what I made here - no matter how delicious, Mr. Noodle and I can eat only so many!

Cupcake-ish Macaroon

In the past, when I dared not deviate from the written record, this recipe might have been set aside. But a year of blogging and blog-reading have nurtured my cooking self-confidence, and I managed to make it work. I adjusted measurements and guessed where those orphan ingredients might be added. While my adaptations are by no means perfect, they represent my continued progress from recipe-slave to (dare I say it?) intuitive cook. I hope you'll enjoy these macaroons as much as we did!

Yield: 1 dozen

Ingredients

1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp salt
heaping 1/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
1 Tbsp water
2 eggs
1/2 can (or approx 4 oz) sweetened condensed milk
3/4 tsp lemon extract
3 1/3 cups shredded coconut

To make:

Preheat oven to 350°F and line a muffin pan with paper cups.

1.  Sift flour, salt and baking powder, then set aside;
2.  Place brown sugar and water in a small sauce pan and heat until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat;
3.  Cream butter, then add dissolved sugar and mix well;
4.  Add eggs, condensed milk and lemon extract and beat until well mixed;
5.  Add flour mixture and mix until just blended;
6.  Add coconut and stir by hand until well mixed;
7.  Spoon into muffin cups, about 3/4 full - the macaroons will rise like cupcakes;
8.  Bake at 350°F for 20 to 30 minutes, or until tops are golden.

Basta masarap! (Simply delicious!)

I have another reason to celebrate this past October 23rd: on that day, Palidor of Crazy Asian Gal decided to share her "I Love Reading Your Blog!" award, one of six(!) she recently received from fellow bloggers. If you're not familiar with her site, please visit Palidor and see for yourself that the only thing crazy about this gal is crazy-good food!

In fact (and by total coincidence - I swear), she posted a recipe a few weeks ago for Coconut Muffins, which uses coconut flour rather than shredded coconut meat. And if that's not enough coco-nuttiness for you, then please check out these delicious recipes as well:

From Mark of No Special Effects: a closer version of Filipino-style Coconut Macaroons.
From Divina of Sense & Serendipity: her Coconut Macaroon Tart is the featured guest post at Just Making Noise, a blog written by Ice Cream Social winner Mare!

Food by Friends: Give Recipe

Börek with Squash Leaves

"What you give away, you keep."

--Turkish proverb

There is no better way to describe the essence of the wonderful Turkish food blog, Give Recipe. Blogger Zerrin uses her keen understanding of the social role of food to give readers profound insights into her country, culture and cuisine while sharing amazing traditions and flavors that are less familiar to some of us but deserve to be celebrated by all.

I can't recall exactly when I began reading Zerrin's posts but I do remember the immediate sense of recognition and camaraderie - as if I were re-connecting with a dear friend from long ago rather than simply meeting a new one. Friendship through sharing is a key theme in Give Recipe, where each post offers not only delicious recipes and lovely photography, but also illuminating lessons on Turkish social customs and the foods that are associated with them. In her blog bio, Zerrin notes that some people hold back from proffering their full experiences in cooking, as if they were in a competition. But as a teacher, she fully embraces the opportunity to share her knowledge, believing that not giving entirely of one's gifts is a loss for everyone:

"I feel happy when I cook something [for] my family and friends. It's a pleasure [for] me to watch people with their smiles on their faces while eating . . . I feel that you can multiply your happiness by sharing."

(from Zerrin's 'About Me' page)

Her recipes for traditional dishes, many from cherished family sources, engage the appetite with their sensory qualities, but it's their symbolic meanings that make them at once unique and universal. Zerrin's posts often incorporate essays on the social customs that underpin Turkish commensality and demonstrate how cooking and eating are acts of support, love and reciprocity. Among my personal favorites are the wonderful wedding dishes, Yüksük Çorbasi (Thimble Soup), delicate meat-filled dumplings in a savory broth topped with yogurt; and Keşkek, slow-cooked mashed wheat served with tender lamb. As delicious as they are, the dishes are made more special by descriptions of the natural cooperation between community and family members in creating these celebratory meals. Though the details may vary among different cultures, I think we can all recognize in Zerrin's accounts how our own social and familial bonds are strengthened across a festive table.

Above all, Give Recipe is about cooking and eating with a light heart. Throughout her blog, Zerrin features whimsical illustrations made by her 'second mom' (her mother-in-law), which she pairs with original stories: there is 'Mom and Child Leeks', about learning acceptance, and 'The Perfect Couple', about inter-vegetable love. These charming drawings and tales are like gems scattered throughout her site - reading through them is like going on a treasure hunt!

Zerrin gives her all with Give Recipe, holding nothing back about her pride for her country and culture, her love of family and friends, and her talents for cooking and teaching. What she gives, she keeps and then shares again, until we are all enriched by her gifts.

Borek with Squash Leaves
(adapted from a recipe by Zerrin)

For Zerrin's original recipe, Vegetable Börek, please click here.

I felt that one particular post in Give Recipe really exemplified how food nurtures not only the individual body but also the community spirit. Zerrin wrote of an impromptu neighborhood gathering to bid farewell to one family's son on his way to military duty. With music, dancing, food and drink, it was a festive mood for what could be considered a private event in other cultures. She explains that the celebration is a long-standing tradition that turns a somber moment into one of good cheer and instills in the young man a sense of self-confidence and assurances of his family's and community's support. For her part in that support, Zerrin prepared a Sebzeli Börek (Vegetable Börek) to serve at the party.

Composed of layers of sautéed vegetables and an egg-and-yogurt sauce between sheets of phyllo, sebzeli börek may bring to mind Greek spanakopita (spinach and feta cheese pie) but börek also refers to several kinds of phyllo-encased pastries in Turkish cuisine that vary in fillings and cooking method. Among Zerrin's many recipes are baked versions filled with chard, potato or stinging nettles, and another fried in the shape of cigarettes (Sigara Boregi).

A few months ago at the Minneapolis Farmers' Market, I impulsively purchased a bunch of squash leaves without knowing how to use them. Thanks to the all-knowing Google search engine, I found that they closely resemble tenerumi, the leaves of the zucchini-like cucuzza (an Italian summer squash), but their fuzzy, hairy stalks also made me think of prickly nettles - like the ones Zerrin used for her Börek with Stinging Nettle Herb. Fortunately, my greens did not require protective gloves to prepare, but as intrigued I was with that recipe, I was even more taken by her vegetable börek in the aforementioned post. In place of leek, potato and carrots in Zerrin's original recipe, I used the squash leaves, which were, after sautéing, similar in texture to spinach and whose stems imparted a subtly sweet flavor much like tender asparagus.

Serves 4-6

Ingredients

4 cups squash leaves, chopped and stems cut into 1" pieces
1 large onion, diced
5 Tbsps olive oil, divided
2-3 Tbsps red wine vinegar
Salt to taste
1 cup parmesan cheese, grated
1 egg
1/2 cup yogurt
1 pkg prepared phyllo dough

To make:

Preheat oven to 400° F. In the meantime, thaw out phyllo dough according to package directions.

1. Rinse chopped squash leaves but do not dry completely. In a large sauté pan, heat 2 Tbsps olive oil and cook onions until soft;
2. Add squash leaves and sauté just until leaves begin to wilt, then add red wine vinegar and salt to taste. Cook until leaves wilt and stem pieces are tender. Remove from heat and set aside;
3. Mix egg, 3 Tbsps olive oil and yogurt, and mix well.
4. In a square baking pan or glass dish, place one layer* (3-5 sheets) of phyllo on the bottom and cover with 1/3 of egg-yogurt mixture.
5. Place a second layer of phyllo over first, then cover with 1/2 of sautéed squash leaves followed by 1/2 cup of parmesan cheese;
6. Place a third layer of phyllo over that and spread 1/3 of the egg-yogurt mixture;
7. Place a fourth layer of phyllo over previous, covering with remaining sautéed squash leaves and 1/2 cup of parmesan cheese;
8. Place a final layer of phyllo over the last and spread the remaining 1/3 of egg-yogurt mixture;
9. With a sharp knife, carefully cut the layers in squares or triangles before placing in the oven, to ensure even cooking throughout the dish;
10. Bake in oven for approximately 30 minutes**, until phyllo is golden. When done, remove from heat and let cool for just a few minutes before cutting and serving.

* I was not sure if the phyllo dough I used is anything like what Zerrin uses in Turkey in terms of texture or thickness. The number of individual phyllo sheets for each layer was approximate and can be adjusted depending on preference.
** The cooking time in the original recipe called for 50 minutes of baking; my börek started to turn a nice golden color well before this point and was done by 30 minutes. Again, this may be due to the layers of phyllo I used, which may have been thinner than what Zerrin uses and therefore cooked faster. Watch your dish as it bakes!

Afiyet olsun! (Enjoy your meal!)

Full Circles: Aunt Else's Æbleskiver

Æbleskiver (Danish Ball Pancakes)

"If I'm going to have a business, I want to use and highlight . . . hi, sweetheart . . . what we have here and I think that's important."

There's little doubt as to what Chad Gillard considers important. I had reached the co-owner of Aunt Else's Æbleskiver, a fledgling Minneapolis specialty-food company, on his way home from work and as we discussed the firm's commitment to using local sources, a child's faint yet unmistakably excited shout came over the line. Without missing a beat, Chad neatly slipped the little endearment in the middle of his sentence - after all, answering a blogger's questions isn't nearly as important as greeting your little girl when she welcomes you home.

Chad Gillard, President of Aunt Else's Æbleskiver
 and Æbleskiver Daddy
This small snippet is one moment in the life of Æbleskiver Daddy, as Chad calls his blog - an apt name for someone who has deftly folded his family life and an entrepreneurial endeavor into a generations-old recipe for a Danish pastry with a singular name and universal appeal.

You Say 'Skiver, I Say 'Skwyr

A-bell-ski . . . ah-bless-kiv . . . eh-bluh . . . Thank goodness æbleskiver are a lot easier to eat than they are to pronounce. "Depending on where you're from in Denmark, [EB-el-ski-ver] is a perfectly fine pronunciation. We say [EB-el-sku-wyr]," explained Chad. "People say them both ways - you can't go wrong."

Indeed, it's hard to go wrong with a food that is (name notwithstanding) simplicity itself: a batter of flour, eggs, buttermilk, and a few other ingredients, is poured into deep, circular wells of a specially-shaped pan to make what are basically pancake balls, which are then topped with powdered sugar, jams or syrup. But simplicity doesn't necessarily mean simple; when Chad first heard about æbleskiver and how they were made, he was a bit perplexed. "The way [it was described to me], I was like, 'I don't get it'," he recalled with a laugh. "I had never heard of it before and I couldn't imagine how it was going to work."

Making 'skivers at the Mill City Farmers' Market

Puzzlement turned into total fascination, however, the moment he saw it done. The introduction came from close friend and co-worker Sarah Engwall, who wanted to make for the Gillard kids a special Danish treat that she had enjoyed as a child. "She came over and the kids loved them, and as much as they loved them, I loved how they were made. I let her make one pan and I shoved her out of the way of the stove and have been making them ever since."

[Watch as Chad demonstrates proper æbleskiver technique!]

As it turned out, Chad had been mulling ideas for a food booth at the Minnesota State Fair and told Sarah that æbleskiver would be perfect. "She just kind of laughed and said, 'Well, my mom and aunt have always thought it would be fun to get into the State Fair'," he said. Soon after, Sarah introduced him to her mother, Linda Engwall, and her aunt, Lisa Timek, and together they created Aunt Else's Æbleskiver in 2008.

Armed with a recipe from Linda and Lisa's aunt Else Andersen Jacobsen and a couple of æbleskiver-pande (pans) handed down through the women's family, Chad and his co-owners started making the pastries at local festivals and fairs. After receiving enthusiastic responses to the scrumptious little spheres, they decided to package the mix and sell the pans as well. Just over a year later, Aunt Else's Æbleskiver has become a fixture at the Mill City Farmer's Market, had its products demonstrated at the Minnesota State Fair, and now offers through their website Aunt Else's recipe mix and a local foundry-cast pan of their own design. That's quite a list of accomplishments since Sarah first turned out those little pancake puffs for the Gillard family, but Chad and his partners are keeping the pace steady and noted, "We've been figuring it out as things unfold, trying to be cautious because of the [economy] and taking things a step at a time."

Carrying on Aunt Else's legacy - Lisa, Amanda and Sarah

Whereas the story of Aunt Else's Æbleskiver roots is as solid as the cast-iron pans handed down through generations of a Danish-Minnesotan family, those regarding the origins of æbleskiver in Denmark are as light and fluffy as the pastries themselves.

Viking Tales or Just a 'Krok'?

One apocryphal tale put forth by Arne Hansen, former owner of Solvang Restaurant ('Home of Arne's Famous Æbleskiver') in Solvang, CA, surmised that weary Vikings looking for sustenance after a hard day of marauding used their battered shields to cook up some, er, batter. Yet another account comes from writer Marlene Parrish, who noted the strong resemblance between æbleskiver and a favorite Thai street snack:

"Across the world in Thailand, the identical pan is used in markets to make a grab-and-go savory breakfast food called kanom krok . . . So how do you suppose both Denmark and Thailand lay claim to the skillet-pan?"

(read the full article, The Pan Where East Meets West) 

(Kanom krok, photo from Enjoy Thai Food)

Parrish theorized that a 17th-century Danish missionary brought home a krok pan and, in an attempt to re-create the morsels without rice flour and coconut milk, came up with a wheat flour and buttermilk recipe resulting in æbleskiver. In fact, doppelgängers can be found throughout the global culinary scene, ranging from the aforementioned Thai kanom krok to Japanese octopus-filled takoyaki, Indian lentil-based ponganalu and paniyaram,  and Dutch poffertjes, which were supposedly used by an abbey as a Communion host and thereafter called 'little friars' (possibly explaining the æbleskiver-pande's other name - 'monk's pan'). [sources: Wikipedia, absoluteastronomy.com]

Whatever their provenance, these particular pan-baked puffs have been a special occasion staple since the 1600s in Denmark, where they are traditionally served during Christmas and Easter holidays. Holding a dear place in the hearts (and appetites) of Danes all over the world, the pancake balls are Danish to the core - as in apple cores. Æbleskiver is the Danish word for 'apple slices', referring to the chunks of said fruit customarily added to their center. But as with many foods that have migrated to different lands and cultures, æbleskiver have found a new home, new flavors and new meaning in America.

All in the Family

"As the Danes brought the tradition over, it really has become a family event - [not just during holidays but] anytime the family is together," explained Chad, adding that he often meets Danish-Americans who are surprised and delighted to find æbleskiver outside of its ethnic setting. "They'll say, 'I have never seen anyone make this outside of my grandma's or aunt's kitchen.' People are always really excited to share how to eat them. Everybody has their own way that they like to eat them."

Just as they are no longer reserved for special occasions, the many ways to eat æbleskiver have ventured beyond traditional apple fillings and powdered sugar toppings. At their Mill City Farmers' Market booth, the crew of Aunt Else's Æbleskiver have spiced up the apple with cinnamon and chai, or swapped it for blueberries, raspberries and strawberries. Savory centers have included bison sausage and bacon'n'cheddar, while many a sweet tooth have surely been satisfied by 'skivers filled with peanut butter cups or topped with ginger syrup. And of course, there are the different variations found throughout the world.

But for all the variety that æbleskiver offer for individual tastes, its true appeal lies in the universal theme of family togetherness that all of us can recognize. Chad is as enthusiastic about the pancake balls as Sarah, Linda and Lisa, even though his Irish heritage doesn't hold the same connections as his Danish-American partners. But making æbleskiver, he said, is also about making new connections and memories. "It's very meaningful to Danes but I love how their tradition of sharing it with those who are important to them translates to us," said Chad. "In our house, we [now have] 'Skiver Saturday and it's turned into a tradition."

"I feel like I'm sparking [in the kids] a lifelong interest of cooking which I grew up with," he continued, recounting how his 5-year-old son has gradually moved up in the æbleskiver process, first helping to break the eggs and mix the batter, then choosing toppings and now, rolling the puffs in powdered sugar. His ultimate goal: to turn the puffs in the pan. "He's too young yet," said Chad. "But he says, 'Dad! I'm going to help you make æbleskiver, then I can buy my own æbleski-van" (referring to his father's company-emblazoned vehicle).

For the partners of Aunt Else's Æbleskiver, the business is an extension of their families but they also want it to be a reflection of their community. From the beginning, they were determined to incorporate local sources - the æbleskiver mix is made with organic Minnesota wheat and Wisconsin buttermilk, while their own uniquely-designed pans are cast at a Minneapolis foundry. "We realized that we have this great hundred-year old recipe and the new thing that we're doing is making it organic and local," said Chad. "As soon as I uttered that for the first time, [I thought] 'Y'know what? That's not new.' That's how things were when they made this recipe."

 "We're really coming full circle." And a delicious one at that.

Simply æbleskiver

Ready, Willing and Æbleskiver

[Disclosure: Per the recent FTC ruling regarding free products and bloggers' reviews, I hereby declare having received an Aunt Else's Æbleskiver pan and mix free of charge - and I'm not giving them back!]

"If an Irishman [like me] can make these, anybody can!" Chad declared. How about a pancake-loving Filipina blogger? You betcha.

I first read about æbleskiver in a post by Heather of Diary of A Fanatic Foodie, then came across another at Scate Bakes' site. To my delighted surprise, Chad e-mailed me after reading my comment on Scate's post and offered to send me Aunt Else's Æbleskiver's newly-designed pan. Needless to say, I accepted with gleeful anticipation. Before receiving the pan, I went to the Mill City Farmers' Market to watch the Aunt Else's Æbleskiver crew in action; their deft and effortless turning of those pancake balls was so much fun to watch. Unfortunately, in thinking it looked so easy, I embarked on my first batch with a wee bit of overconfidence.

When the æbleskiver-pande finally arrived, it was love at first sight: a gorgeous piece of cast-iron cookware that's simple in design and substantive of weight. It's easy to see how, with loving care, it can become a treasured family heirloom. I was so eager to try it that I gave short shrift to the accompanying instructions to season the pan before first use. As a result, my initial attempt at æbleskiver-ing was a total fail, yielding pale, squishy ovoids instead of the golden pancake balls I saw at the market. Thankfully, Chad assured me that it gets easier with each batch and he emphasized the keys to success:

- Season the pan well. Properly prepping the pan before your first batch is critical to achieving the almost-nonstick quality of aged pans;
- Heat up the pan completely before pouring the batter. It takes a while as it's done over low-medium heat (you don't want to burn your ba - I mean, your puffs) but it will ensure a lovely golden color and help prevent sticking;
- Make æbleskiver as often as you can! Is that really a hardship?



I'm happy to report that my æbleskiver are now recognizable as such. I started with plain and apple-filled pancake balls, but now that I'm more confident about the technique, I plan to try out new flavors (red bean! octopus! adobo!)

So stay tuned for more æbleskiver adventures . . . !

My take on toppings: creamy vanilla yogurt and wild huckleberry jam

Wanna 'Skiver?

If you're craving æbleskiver, please visit Aunt Else's Æbleskiver for more details on purchasing their pans and mixes.

Or head over to Zoe Bakes - she's giving away a complete Aunt Else's Æbleskiver kit! Hurry - I'm not sure when the giveaway ends! [UPDATE: Zoe's giveaway winner was Jaime of Sophistimom. Congratulations and happy 'skivering!]

Velbekomme! (Have a good meal!)

Market Talk: A Conversation with Tammy Wong, Part II

Tammy Wong's Curried Summer Vegetables

Several weekends ago, I had the pleasure of touring the Minneapolis Farmers' Market under the guidance of Tammy Wong, chef/owner of the popular and well-regarded Rainbow Chinese Restaurant, located on Minneapolis' culinary corridor, 'Eat Street' (Nicollet Avenue). In addition to cooking for the restaurant, Tammy also caters private dinners, for which she works closely with her clients to create menus that reflect their tastes and her skills.

Tammy and I talked about the farmers' market and the Twin Cities' ethnic (particularly Chinese) food scene, some highlights of which I posted in Part I. Now, I'm pleased to share more of Tammy's insights on her cooking inspirations and about encouraging others to try new flavors with confidence.

On finding, and providing, inspiration at the farmers' market:

Tammy has been doing cooking demonstrations during Market Talk at the Minneapolis Farmers' Market, where she uses ingredients purchased there that morning. While the fresh offerings inspire her to create original recipes, Tammy also inspires the market's vendors by showcasing their food in new, delicious ways. In turn, they often share her cooking tips with their customers.


"I shop from the farmers' market [for her restaurant and catering menus] because it's just a completely different group of people who love food . . . It's really rewarding for me that many of the growers know me now much more. [They would ask], 'Tammy, do you cook this weekend*?' Or this sweet woman [a local grower who supplies her with long beans] would come up to me and ask, 'How are you going to make this? Could you please tell me how you cook it to make it taste soft, not hard?'"

"[I've had vendors] tell me, 'Normally, I don't have time, but whenever I take a break, I just listen to you and I think [the demonstration] was really good. I learned something from you, too!'"

*Tammy will be at MFM this Saturday (9/19) at 10:30am, preparing a dish of my current favorite - wild rice! She'll also share her recipe for candied crabapples, which she created for a client's dinner party after spotting them at the market.

"I was able to find crabapples and I had never seen it before. First of all, it looked beautiful - bigger than a kumquat and it was pale yellow with a little bit of pink. Beautiful. And so [I said], 'I'm going to get this' . . . I did gingered candied crabapples [for the clients] knowing that they would appreciate it. And they did - there were a lot of children at the party and it was a lot of fun for them to eat."

On being a better cook than writer:

In addition to the candied crabapples, Tammy had also picked up rhubarb, which she paired with rock sugar, ginger and tapioca for a delicious-sounding dessert. After my unsubtle hints about sharing the recipes, she admitted to being lax about saving the details of her creations:

"I was telling [my sister] how I'm inspired to make this and this dish, and how you put them together. And she said, 'Tammy, you really have to write them down because you're going to forget!' [She's right] because every [catering] job is very different, and it depends on what I find at the market and who is my client . . . but I don't write. I can tell you stories all day long [but] I don't have the patience and I don't feel confident to write." (I should offer my services as recorder and taste-tester!)

What confidence she lacks in the composition of words is more than compensated by her talent for composition with food. And she's not intimidated by cooking in less than optimal conditions, as is often the case at the farmers' market:

"Cooking comes very natural to me, since I was very young . . . I'm not afraid to cook. In Vietnam, I was cooking with fuel or coal or wood - I've done it all! Cooking outside is definitely challenging. The first [MFM demo], it was really windy and the second time, it was raining. Everybody was holding down the tent and here I was, trying to coordinate the time and I didn't have assistants. [It can be hard] trying to keep the audience interested. People are curious, they want to learn but they also want to taste!"

Something new: amaranth leaves

On encouraging others to find a similar confidence in trying new foods:

Tammy takes into account her clients' preferences when developing a menu but she also tries to encourage diners to venture into new flavors:

"[Clients] will say they are only meat-and-potatoes people and they don't like this or that, but it turns out they love [all kinds of] food. As long as you do food really simple, people are willing to try it . . . so you have to start with very good ingredients."

She understands that many diners are reluctant to go beyond familiar and comforting foods. She's particularly sympathetic to native Chinese diners for whom the authenticity of Chinese cuisine is important in reconnecting them with home; she will even go so far as to recommend other restaurants if customers are looking for regional dishes that she does not offer (many want Szechuan food, whereas Rainbow offers primarily Mandarin- and Cantonese-style preparations). But Tammy would also like diners to judge food on  its own qualities rather than just on a sense of familiarity:

"People will ask me to come up with a menu that would please their guests from China. When I come up with one that I think would be a really nice experience for them to try, they will say, 'Well, this is not Chinese, this is American.' I thought that was really interesting. Now, when I'm going to New York or to Hong Kong, I wouldn't expect to have the same experience that I would find [in Minneapolis or America]. It would be different [because] different chefs make different things, and sometimes people don't understand that."

But she's confident that given enough encouragement and opportunity, most diners are willing to be adventurous. So, she makes it a point to greet her restaurant customers at their tables:

"When they see me and they know me, they say, 'You know what, I'm going to try [a different dish].' They feel more confident to try - people are willing to try when they see you and how you do it. That is the comforting part."

"[When people] really love food, they pay attention to every little thing that I serve and they will tell me what they like or what they don't like about it. People have really loved the food [if I] just give them a different kind of experience."

**********

And a different kind of experience is exactly what Tammy inspired me to attempt with a couple of strange vegetables that piqued my curiosity: amaranth and Thai eggplant. Fortunately, and despite her admission to the contrary, Tammy posted on her restaurant's website the recipes for Curried Summer Vegetables and Stir-Fried Amaranth, which she prepared during Market Talk demos this season.

I recently made both dishes with a few changes, which I hope Tammy doesn't mind. The original recipes can be found at Rainbow Chinese Restaurant's website.

Curried Summer Vegetables with Walleye
(adapted from a recipe by Tammy Wong)

Tammy used young squash in her recipe; I decided to incorporate a fillet of walleye with the intent of having nice chunks of tender fish. But I added it too early and the fish flaked apart during the cooking process. Happily, my mistake resulted in the flavor of the walleye being spread out, even if the texture of the fish was missing. Tammy also used Penzey's Hot Curry Powder spice mix, which I didn't have, so I used a variety of spices found in that product.

Serves 4 to 6

Ingredients

1/2 lb green beans, end sliced off and cut into approximately 2" pieces

1 lb cauliflower florets, cut from stalks (I used Romanesco broccoli**, a.k.a Roman Cauliflower and fractal cauliflower - superb flavor!)

1/2 lb (approximately 5) round Thai eggplants, tops cut off and quartered)

2/3 lb fresh walleye fillet, cut into bite-sized pieces

1 large onion, chopped

1" piece fresh ginger, slivered

1 shallot, sliced thinly

5 cloves garlic, crushed and chopped

1 cup fresh Thai basil leaves

1/4 cup canola oil

Patis (Filipino fish sauce) to taste; salt may be used

1 (14 oz) can coconut cream (coconut milk, which contains at least 25% water, may be used)

1/2 tsp EACH of turmeric and cayenne pepper

1 tsp EACH of ground coriander, ground ginger, cumin, Jamaican allspice (for cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves)

**For another great recipe using Romanesco broccoli, check out this dish from Amy at Green Your Plate!

To make:

1. Boil 1.5 quarts of water in a pot to blanch vegetables (approximately 2-3 minutes), one at a time. For each, remove from boiling water and run under cold water to stop the cooking process, then add next vegetable to the pot;
2. In a large wok, heat oil and sauté ginger, onions, garlic and shallots until soft and fragrant;
3. Add walleye (this tender fish will flake up and all but disintegrate during the remainder of cooking; if you prefer, add at the very end);
4. Add Thai eggplants and beans, stirring until beans turn bright green;
5. Add cauliflower, followed by spices;
6. Add coconut cream and stir until thoroughly mixed. Add patis to taste, followed by Thai basil, stirring until blended and basil leaves are slightly wilted;
7. Remove from heat and serve with steamed rice.

Stir Fried Amaranth
(adapted from a recipe by Tammy Wong)

During the market tour, Tammy commented that amaranth was used in Filipino cooking, proving that she knows a lot more about my native cuisine than I do! Called kulitis in Tagalog, it is used in such favorite Pinoy dishes as sinigang (a sour soup). However, in the Americas where it originated, the grain is more widely used, first as an ancient dietary staple in both Incan and Aztec civilizations, and today, as a popular food in South America and Mexico (such as popcorn-like snacks). In the U.S., it is perhaps best known as a gluten-free alternative to wheat flour (source: Wikipedia/Amaranth). Its similar taste and texture make it an excellent substitute for spinach.


Tammy's original recipe was for a simple stir-fry of the leaves, but I opted to add shrimp and tofu. I also replaced the main flavoring ingredient, miso paste, with balaw-balaw - a fermented rice and shrimp paste similar to more traditional Filipino bagoong, a by-product of fermented fish sauce.

The pinkish tinge comes from balaw-balaw, 

a fermented rice & shrimp paste from the Philippines

Serves 2 to 4

Ingredients:

1/2 lb fresh shrimps - peeled, deveined and chopped into small pieces
1 cup diced firm tofu
1" piece fresh ginger, minced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 Tbs canola oil, divided (2 & 1)
1 bunch amaranth, stems removed
6 cloves garlic, chopped
2 Tbsps balaw-balaw or bagoong

To make:

1. In a large wok, heat 1 Tbs canola oil over medium heat and sauté 3 cloves of garlic and minced ginger, being carefully not to brown. Add shrimp and tofu, cooking until shrimp is done (I neglected to add the tofu at this stage, which is why it looks rather pale in the above photo). Remove shrimp and tofu from the wok;
2. Add 2 Tbs canola oil to wok and heat; add amaranth, remaining garlic and balaw-balaw and cook, stirring constantly, until leaves turn a bright color and become wilted; add cooked shrimp and tofu, and stir to mix;
3. Garnish with green onions and red pepper flakes, and serve with steamed rice.

Mmm, Mmm Mahnomin Porridge!

 Mahnomin Porridge

I am Pancake Woman.

I love all manner of pancakes, both sweet and savory, stacked short or tall. I'll take them as small as silver dollars or as big as dinner plates; made with buckwheat, corn and potatoes; filled with fruits, nuts and chocolates; topped with whipping cream or sour cream; and baked, griddled, steamed or fried. If I had my way (and the metabolism of a hummingbird), I'd eat pancakes every morning. When it comes to breakfast, there's nothing better than a plateful of sweet, golden flapjacks . . .

. . . Except, perhaps, a bowlful of sweet, creamy rice. Did I mention that I am also Rice Woman?

I love all manner of rice, both plain and seasoned, sticky or fluffy. I'll take it as a side dish or as a dessert; from Bhutanese red to Japanese Koshihikari; topped with juicy meats and saucy vegetables; and baked, sautéed, steamed or fried. The way I grew up in a Filipino family, I have rice with nearly every meal - except breakfast. Now, I have found a rice dish that can claim the morning glory from my beloved 'cakes: Mahnomin Porridge.

'Gift from the Creator'

Mahnomin, or manoomin, means 'good berry' and is the word for wild rice in Anishinaabemowin, the language of the Ojibwe people who consider it a sacred gift from the Creator, known as Gitchi Manidoo:

"In the earliest teachings of Anishinaabeg history, there is a reference to wild rice, known as the food that grows upon the water [which] their ancestors were told to find so they would know when to end their migration west."

Winona La Duke, White Earth Land Recovery Project (WELRP) 

As I noted in an earlier post ('An Envious Appetite'), it is not actually a rice but rather a grass seed* which grows in abundance along the banks of Minnesota's northern lakes and rivers. However, increased demand has led to its cultivation in large commercial paddies that yield a hard rice that is darker in color and requires nearly double the cooking time than the naturally-growing variety (source: Wikipedia/Wild rice). Truly 'wild' rice is still hand-harvested in Minnesota using traditional Ojibwe methods and is the main ingredient in one of the tastiest breakfast dishes I've ever eaten.

(*Blogger's note: Seed or not, it's still called 'rice', so I reserve the right to consider it part of my rice addiction.)

Straight from 'Hell'

It's fitting that the sinfully delicious Mahnomin Porridge was created in Hell's Kitchen, the Minneapolis restaurant where author and Roadfood.com editor Michael Stern declared he would spend his last $20 to stave off starvation. Among co-owner and chef Mitch Omer's standout offerings are hearty bison sausage bread, delicate lemon-ricotta pancakes and a homemade peanut butter so scrumptious, I'm willing to aggravate my mild peanut allergy for spoonfuls of the stuff. But the most heavenly dish in this hotspot is the soul-warming bowl of hand-harvested Minnesota wild rice saturated in heavy cream and maple syrup, then topped with toasted hazelnuts and dried berries. After my first taste, all the other breakfast items - including pancakes - simply faded away.

(Image from Amazon.com)

Stern has named Mahnomin Porridge one of 500 Things to Eat Before It's Too Late, from his book of the same title. For those of you who may not be so fortunate as to visit the Land of 10, 000 Lakes any time soon, I'm pleased to share with you the recipe for this hella good food. If you like it as much as I do, watch out for Mitch Omer's first cookbook, Damn Good Food: 157 Recipes from Hell's Kitchen, to be released in October 2009 and containing even more great dishes. By the way, a video recipe of that killer peanut butter can be seen here.

Fair warning: after you've tasted Mahnomin Porridge, you may not want to bother with the remaining 499 foods on Stern's list.

Mahnomin Porridge 
Google this dish and most, if not all, results will lead you back to Hell's Kitchen. On the restaurant's website, Chef Omer says he was inspired to create his recipe after reading 19th century trappers' journals that mentioned this food. Fortunately for all of us, he was generous enough to share it with local TV station KARE 11's Showcase Minnesota which, in turn, thoughtfully posted it on their website. Not wanting to break the spirit of sharing, I now pass it on to you.

Ingredients:

4 cups cooked wild rice* (approximately 1 to 1 1/3 cups uncooked rice)
1 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/4 dried blueberries (I used fresh)
1/4 dried cranberries
1/2 cup toasted hazelnut halves

(*It is well worth the effort and cost to use naturally-growing wild rice; I purchased mine from Scenic Waters Wild Rice Company.)

To make:

1. In a non-stick** sauté pan, mix cooked rice, cream and maple syrup, and cook until warmed through;
2. Add dried berries and hazelnuts and mix well;
3. Serve in a bowl with warm cream and maple syrup.

(**If you prefer not to use a non-stick pan, melt 1 to 2 Tbsps of butter in the pan to prevent rice from sticking to the bottom.)


Update 9/27/09: Above, I suggested using melted butter in the pan if you do not have non-stick cookware. However, this evening I had the pleasure of speaking with Chef Mitch Omer, who very nicely yet firmly noted that the flavor of Mahnomin Porridge would be fundamentally changed by the addition of butter. Instead, Chef Omer says to pour the cream into the pan first before adding the rice to prevent the latter from sticking.

Bi-wiisinin! [Anishinaabemowin for 'Come eat!'] 

A little extra cream . . .