How to Poach an Egg

They say the third time is the charm, and I’d agree: it took three encounters with poached eggs to compel me to take a break from my usual scrambled eggs and try my hand at the somewhat slippery but oh-so-rewarding poached egg.

Instance #1: While watching Julie poach eggs on “Julie & Julia,” I, along with everyone else in the audience, thought,  I can do that! Instance #2: Last week at The Sideboard Cafe in Danville I ordered their lovely poached eggs: the yellow yolk seeping into the holes in the crisp toast, topped with fresh herbs and a bit of Parmesan–splendid! Instance #3: Last night I was reading Sam’s and my new Bride and Groom Cookbook (it’s written by the chefs of Foreign Cinema!) and saw a recipe for poached eggs on frisee, an alluring alternative to the scrambled eggs on romaine I had eaten for lunch that day. Thus when I went to bed last night,  I knew that in the morning it would be poached eggs or nothing.

How to Poach an Egg:

(1) Fill a large, shallow pan with about 2 inches of water. The diameter of the pan you choose will depend on how many eggs you are poaching. Each egg needs room to expand while cooking.

(2) Add a little bit of vinegar to the cooking water, as this makes the whites set faster. I added Sherry Vinegar, but next time I’ll dig deeper into the cupboard to find the white vinegar.

(3) Bring the water barely to a simmer.

(4) Crack each egg into a ramekin or small bowl. Then gently slide the eggs one-by-one into the water. Do not worry when the egg sinks to the bottom! It will be fine. As Ruth Reichel writes in The Gourmet Cookbook, “a poaching egg is pretty good at taking care of itself.” Just keep an eye on it.

(5) When the white looks firm but the yolk is still runny (it’s a guessing game at first!), use a slotted spoon to lift the egg out of the water. Blot the underside of the egg with a paper towel to remove any excess water.

(6) Slide the egg onto your toast, sprinkle with fresh thyme and a few shavings of Dubliner cheddar and voila! You have a delicious, warm and satisfying poached egg.

An Unlikely Milkshake

Chocolate. Strawberry. Vanilla. Those are the usual flavors. Maybe you could get a mint Oreo milkshake or chocolate peanut butter milkshake at one of the more sophisticated ice cream parlors.

Today I am going to tell you about an unlikely milkshake.

A month ago I went to L.A. to visit my good friends Laura and Ben. The stars had aligned for the blending of the milkshake we were about to make: one of Laura’s roommates had brought home a blender and Ben had scooped up several very ripe avocados from a sale at the grocery store. Yes, dear readers, we were about to experience the creamy, velvety, elusive avocado milkshake. Now, I’ve made a few milkshakes before and somehow they always involved lots of chocolate or vanilla ice cream and some flavoring. Not so the avocado milkshake. I had failed to realize that the essence of the milkshake lies in milk, not ice cream. If its essence was founded in ice cream, it would be called an ice cream shake. We were not about to mix ice cream and avocados, but milk and avocados. And ice and sugar. A bit unorthodox, huh?

Not to worry, though, because Ben is actually an avocado milkshake sommelier, if you will. He has honed the avocado milkshake recipe to the essence of avocado milkshake perfection, ice cube by ice cube, glop of milk by glop of milk. Not only is Ben a stellar avocado milkshake maker, he is also a very gracious person and is kindly sharing his coveted recipe with us. In the words of Ben, it’s:

“simple:
1 avocado
2-3 tbsp sugar
1 cup milk
5 ice cubes
blend til creamy
savor”

Smooth, retro-green and utterly refreshing, an avocado milkshake may be an unlikely milkshake, but it certainly is likable.

P.S. Apt pairings for the avocado milkshake include salted hard pretzels and dark chocolate (or chocolate covered pretzels, I suppose).

Pom-wonderfulness

This afternoon I walked into the kitchen and lo and behold! there on the counter, in all its late-afternoon-autumn-light splendor,  lounged one of the biggest pomegranates I had ever seen.

“Okay, you pompous  pomegranate you,” I said, giving it the once-over. “Let’s see what you have to show for your 1 pound 3 1/4 ounces (I weighed it) of pom-wonderfulness.”

First, I took that paramount pomegranate outside for a photo session — every pom has its day. The pom’s fame flashed by in an instant, though, as reality hit: it was time to mine the sweet treasures from beneath the leathery pink skin. With a couple wiggles  of the knife, the lifeblood of the pomegranate began leaking onto the bread board.  Success! Breaking apart the pomegranate, the jewel-like arils fought back by staining my hands purple. Tucked tightly together in rows, the arils were stubborn to release from their  home. A deft flick of my finger showed them I was not to be stopped; Pom-wonderfulness would be had.

I tossed a few of the precious gems into my mouth and savored the pop of the tender flesh and the tart liquid dribbling through my mouth. Then I suddenly began to realize how extraordinarily noisy eating a pomegranate can actually be. Eating an apple is unquestionably noisy–they’re crunchy–but pomegranates? Yes, those sly seeds encased within the arils were the guilty culprits. Normally, noisy eating habits top my pet peeves list (yes! even the inevitable apple-crunching…), but today the pomegranate seed crunch struck me as a wonderful  sound dimension enhancing the pomegranate eating experience.

And by experience, it really is quite an ordeal, as anyone who has ever eaten a pomegranate from scratch can attest. Would I trade the arduous task for store-bought pomegranate juice, devoid of the satisfying experience of breaking apart the scarlet gems and pulling them from their case one-by-one? No. Would I trade it for the prepackaged arils available at Costco at Christmastime? Well, maybe if I was really short on time. But here lies the moral: obtain a pomegranate (beheamoth or not), slice open, appreciate the intricacy of design and relish all that pom-wonderfulness.

CHOW How: 10 Ways to Spice Up Pumpkin Seeds

I couldn’t very well write a post about Epicurious.com and leave the über-hip CHOW.com in the dust. First, a confession: I’ve never actually used any of the recipes on CHOW, but I think their website is really cool. If you ever wanted to know How to Pair Wine and Halloween Candy or how to make Glow-in-the-dark Gin and Tonic Jelly, CHOW is the place to go.

Enough with the goofy links. Here’s the real link love: CHOW’s most recent photo gallery addition,  “10 Ways to Spice Up Pumpkin Seeds.” From wasabi and coriander pumpkin seeds to pumpkin-pie spiced pumpkin seeds, CHOW takes pumpkin seeds to a whole new level. Here’s some good news for you: you don’t have to wait until you carve your pumpkin on October 31 to try all 10 variations nor do you have to  deal with the muck and guck of cleaning pumpkin seeds , you can use raw pumpkin seeds (pepitas) to make your spicy seeds (don’t worry, I won’t tell). When you view the photo gallery, just click on the photo for the recipe.

Which variation are you going try first?

2 Reasons I Like Epicurious.com

I like Epicurious.com. And here are two reasons it is my go-to site for all things cooking:

(1) Recipes & Reviews.

While I turn a blind eye toward the clunky and crowded pages, I find the recipes (mostly from Gourmet and Bon Appetit magazines) more credible than other websites like AllRecipes.com. If by chance an Epicurious recipe has gone too far to left field, you can be sure to read about it in the reviews section where recipe-testers recommend their own variations or emendations. My advice: read the recipe, read the reviews, cook accordingly.

(2) Epi-log.

Yesterday I was delighted to see an Epicurious blog called “Granola: The Easiest Thing Since Sliced Toast” by Regina Schambling. This reminded of my own discovery (and blog post) that homemade granola is deceptively easy to make an considerably cheaper than ready-made granola. Read my post here, Ms. Schambling’s here.

But the topper on the cake for Epicurious blog would have to be filling me in on the lastest buzz: Twitter is releasing it’s own wine label. What?!! Yes. Don’t worry quite yet, the Twitter Empire isn’t looking to only expand their own territory but is partnering with the non-profit Room to Read to promote literacy. Twitter will donate $5 from every $20-bottle of wine to support the organization. SF’s Crushpad completes the Triumvirate behind Twitter’s wine push: the diy wine press is where Twitter will be crushing and fermenting its grapes for its first wines, a Chardonnay and a Pinot Noir. How’s that for news?

Thank you, pumpkin.

Pumpkins are everywhere.

There is a pumpkin on my doorstep. There is a pumpkin on my neighbor’s doorstep. There is pumpkin in my latte, pumpkin in my pancakes and pumpkin in the pumpkin butter I put on my pancakes. Pureed pumpkin even sneaked into my vanilla pudding  two days ago (ok, I folded it in with complete knowledge).

With pumpkin everywhere, you’d expect one to tire of pumpkins. But instead I say, “Thank you, pumpkin” because you’ve made me want to put pumpkin in more things: curried pumpkin soup, apple pumpkin bread, pumpkin-seed crusted trout. Your golden, glowing sweet flesh has helped me carve time from work, classes, wedding planning and the general busyness of life to blog again.

Thank you, pumpkin.

Cape Cod: Ice Cream on the Rail Trail

This is the rail trail that leads from Chatham to Dennis Port. I think I have a special place in my heart for rail trails because Sam and I met on the rail trail in our town.

While we were biking on said rail trail, we saw this sign alleging that the ecentric house to its left held summer's sweet treasures: "ice cream, yogurt, H2O."

We wandered closer and discovered that this Christmas light-covered abode did indeed harbor such indispensable indulgences.

Lo and behold, there were many flavors from which to choose.

We chose Coffee Kahlua Brownie. A very good choice.

Ice cream brings a smile to many a tired traveler's face. (Notice painted tires stuck half way in the ground and bordering the yard.)

Not only were there tires sticking out of the ground, there were carousel horses. I still wondering whether they were springing out of the ground or getting sucked under...

We, however, did not have to worry about getting stuck in the enchanted ice cream land. This helpful sign tree not only told us what direction we needed to go but precisely how far the trek was. If you find yourself on the rail trail, I highly recommend stepping off for a moment to check out the wonders of this singular ice cream stand for yourself.

Cape Cod: Kayaking on the Swan Pond River

Our kayaking adventure began at the Cape Cod Waterways on the Swan Pond River in Dennis Port (and no...those aren't real Canada geese).

Popsicle-bright kayaks ready for a float down the river.

American flags waved proudly all over Cape Cod. I think it is the most patriotic place I have ever been.

The river was more of a long, narrow marsh than raging rapids, which suited me just fine for my first kayaking excursion.

About half way through our kayak trip, the blue sky became enshrouded by eerie fog. Notice the Salt Box-style house and windmill in the photo, both of which are characteristic of Cape Cod architecture.

As we neared the delta leading to the Nantucket Strait, we paddled the kayak to a private beach.

Here I am wielding the kayak paddle, ready to ward off any danger.

Sam doesn't think we're in much danger on the peaceful but somewhat eerie Swan River and flashes a grand smile.

Walking along the beach, we noticed part of the sand was roped off so these little birds could nest in peace and not have to worry about human interference.

View of the Nantucket Strait.

I was glad we had decided to beach our kayak earlier and explore the beach on foot. I wasn't ready to let this fogginess pull me out to sea, never to return.

Once we were satisfied with seeing as much as we could in the fog, we headed back to our kayak.

It wasn't long before we paddled beneath bluer skies.

And when we docked at Cape Cod Waterways, we got to enjoy these Canada geese, all of which were real.

Cape Cod: Kream ‘n Kone

Lobster Bisque

A few days after Sam and I had tried the “Best Seafood on the Cape” at Arnold’s, we stumbled across Arnold’s competitor, Kream ‘n Kone. We had just completed an 11-mile bike ride from Chatham to Dennis Port and needed sustenance before our kayak excursion on the peaceful Swan Pond River. We were in luck because right across the street from the kayak rental place was Kream ‘n Kone.

Crab Roll

Clam Chowder

I ordered lobster bisque and a crab roll. I was disappointed in the lobster bisque because it was very salty and rich. In the future, I think I’d rather have my lobster whole rather than pureed in a soup. Unfortunately my crab roll didn’t taste much like crab because there was so much mayonnaise. I also prefer larger chunks of crab than on my Kream ‘n Kone sandwich (I guess the enormous chunks of meat on Arnold’s sandwiches had me spoiled!).Though I was disappointed with the crab aspect of the sandwich, I did notice how nicely toasted the roll was and how fresh and green the lettuce was.

Lobster Roll

Sam did a much better job ordering than I did: his good ole’ clam chowder and lobster roll were very good. The chowder had a distinct clam flavor and an ideal thickness–not too thin and not too thick. The lobster roll was much better than my crab sandwich because the lobster had a meaty texture and penetrating lobster flavor.

So, which is better: Arnold’s or Kreme ‘n Kone? I would say Arnold’s wins because overall there were more dishes we enjoyed at Arnold’s and because their lobster rolls had such massive chunks of meat and so little mayonnaise.

Next: photos from the kayak trip down the Swan Pond River.

Cape Cod: Arnold’s Lobster & Clam Bar

When we arrived in Cape Cod, my cousin Paula told us about a crab shack she had seen on TV and was arguably the best on The Cape. The next day we stopped for lunch at Arnold’s Lobster & Clam Bar to verify this claim for ourselves. With a full parking lot and a line out the door, we wondered if the wait would be worth it. The line was moving quickly, though, so we decided to try this popular crab shack.

Arnold’s has an extensive menu with seafood rolls and fried seafood baskets comprising the majority of choices. Sam and I decided to go for the best of both worlds and split a lobster roll and fried clam basket.

We didn’t order the “Ginormous” lobster roll, but nonetheless the lobster roll we did order had huge pieces of lobster meat. The lobster meat was couched in a piece of lettuce and a white roll and had very little mayonnaise, which I was glad about. A side of tangy coleslaw was a great complement — I think the New Englanders have their menus down.

When we were choosing our fried basket, my cousin Leslie alerted us to the two different kinds of clam baskets we could order: clam strips and whole clams with bellies. Apparently the juicy clam belly is removed on the clam strips because some people don’t care for the texture of clam bellies even though the bellies impart a greater clam flavor. We wanted whole-clam-goodness, so we  ordered the clam belly basket. Crisp on the outside and just chewy enough on the inside, the clams were a great treat.

My aunt also ordered a basket of onion rings for us to share. The onion flavor was so intense and the thin, crispy texture  of the onions so perfect that my standard of onion rings has been raised by these onion rings.

For her main dish, my aunt ordered fried scallops, which were very tasty but very rich.

Arnold’s also had a Raw Bar inside, where Sam tried an oyster. How’d it taste? Good, but not much different than California oysters.

When we arrived at Arnold’s we planned to get ice cream at the ice cream bar attached to the back, but after such a heavy meal I couldn’t bear to look in that direction. That was ok, though, because  ice cream shacks abound on the Cape.

And our meal had made us happy as clams.