Books Any Foodie Should Read

Do you find searching through the volumes of cookbooks and other books on food that line the shelves in real and virtual bookstores, gourmet shops, and other foodie havens to be an overwhelming task? Well, then take note of the newest resource on NYCookery - the book list - posted on the left-hand side of the blog. As I read, this list will evolve, and - don't worry - I promise that I will never include any crap.

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The News and What's to Come...

It’s been a slow May here at NYCookery. While we all wait for my next food lesson (tomorrow, yea!), I thought I’d share with you some of the latest and most interesting food news that recently has passed over my metaphorical table:

• Brooklyn Flea was written up in the $25 and under section of the NYT. My roommate, Mayme, and I are thinking of stopping by on Sunday to chow down on elotes and bonbons.
  

• Of course, if I buy an elote and bonbons, I will be eating all of it, as I am disgusted by and guilty of adding to the amount of food wasted by Americans (and other citizens of developed nations).

• Speaking of bonbons, is anyone salivating over the forthcoming Mast Brothers Chocolaterie and Laboratory? Last I heard it was coming this summer, but now it looks like we’ll all have to wait until fall to fill our gullets with whatever handcrafted creations await us in that Williamsburg-based chocolate haven…

• The New Yorker had their 2008 Conference. If you are a food nerd like me, then you have to watch the interview with Bill Buford and David Chang, Daniel Humm, and Marc Texiera. The three amazing chefs share their views on food and the culinary world. It’s a little long, but I always love to hear chefs talk about their history and their passion.

• So, I ate my first burger in 12 years the other day at Dumont Burger , and, oh my God, was it delicious. I am now inspired to continue to find and eat the best burgers in the city. While reading Grub Street, I just found out that the Schnäck burger at Harry’s Water Taxi Beach won the Burger Battle of the Boroughs. I’m excited to try it while drinking a PBR tallboy and getting hit on by old men with farmers tans.

Finally, I thought I would leave you with a little preview of some of the Brooklyn characters and recipes that will soon grace these web pages:

• Vanessa Selbst – professional poker player, poker coach, Fulbright grantee, and future Yale law student will be teaching me the tricks of a porcini-encrusted filet mignon.

• Scott Gold – author of The Shameless Carnivore will instruct me on how to make an “unusual” meat. He has sampled everything from testicles to goat to brains to pigeon, so I’m expecting an adventure.

• Jeremy Cesarec – food writer and fellow blogger will reveal the secrets of a perfect pizza crust.

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The History of Challah

I've received quite a few emails from some of you asking me why Jews make challah bread. Apparently, the paragraph that I linked to in my previous post was not enough to satisfy your curiosity, so, I've taken some time to visit Joan Nathan, one of the foremost Jewish cookbook authors, to see what she has to say.

According to Joan in her book "The Jewish Holiday Baker:"

The prayers and customs that accompany the mitzvah of making a special bread for the Sabbath are the same the world over. They link the present to the time of the Book of Leviticus, when God instructed Moses to place two rows of six challot [the plural of challah] each on before the Lord in the tent of meeting. For more than 4,000 years since, Jews have been making or buying some form of challah every Sabbath.

On Friday night, every observant Jewish family the world over recites three blessings before dinner...the third is over two covered loaves of challah. This last prayer gives thanks to God... "the one who brings forth bread from the earth." Then a morsel of bread for each person at the meal is broken off before the words Shabbat shalom are spoken. The blessing over the bread at the beginning of every meal connects the Jews continuously to the food that grows in the earth and to God. On the Sabbath, the bread becomes a symbol of holiness.

This bread and the Sabbath are central to Judaism and to the routine of weekly life. In keeping whit the Fourth Commandment, no work... can be done on the seventh day. With no cooking allowed for 24 ours, all food is prepared ahead of time...

Festive breads and baked goods, separating the Sabbath from the rest of the week, are prepared ahead for these three meals and have become an integral part of Jewish life. Thus, many American Jews, whether religious or not, are accustomed to eating a sweet braided challah and perhaps a babka on the Sabbath. For many, these special dishes are a reminder of the purity of the day of rest, as well as a remembrance of the historic gastronomic deprivation of Eastern European Jews who lived on black bread [like pumpernickel] during the week.

She goes on to say that the braided challah that we see today became en vogue sometime in the 18th century, but that many challah traditions were lost because of the Holocaust and the communist revolution. For her book, Nathan executed extensive research on this Sabbath food, and searched far to find something from global traditions. She includes a lot of history with the various recipes that she found - pretty interesting stuff.

Also, another reader told me that his mother suggests that the challah from James Beard's tome (which of his cook books is not a tome?), Beard on Bread, is also rather delicious. The recipe calls for cardamom, which is something I have never tried before and I'm not sure what sort of tradition that would come from, or if Beard just thought the spice to compliment the chewy complexity of the egg bread, but I imagine its an interesting take on the tradition.

Maybe my next blog will be baking my way through the challah's of the world...

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Holla for Challah, The Recipe

Jerry Raik's Challah Recipe

2 cups lukewarm tap water
2 packets dry yeast
1 generous pinch of sugar
4 teaspoons salt
1/2 cup (scant) sugar
3 extra large eggs
1 1/3 cup canola or vegetable oil
7-9 cups flour (preferably bread flour)
1 more extra large egg

First, put water into a bowl and add yeast and the generous pinch of sugar and then mix together. Once the yeast proofs after about 15 minutes (the mixture should look bubbly and thick), add the salt, sugar, three lightly beaten eggs, and oil.

Add 7 cups of flour, stirring in two cups at a time. Sprinkle a handful of flour on a clean surface and turn the dough mixture onto it.

Knead the dough for 10 minutes, adding small handfuls of flour any time the dough begins to stick to the surface and until it feels slightly tacky to the touch.

Spray a clean, dry bowl with a cooking oil spray and then place the kneaded dough into it. Cover with a clean dish towel and allow to rise until it doubles in size, about 1 - 1.5 hours. (Note, bread rises faster in warm weather or if it is on a warm surface such as a clothes dryer or gas stove).

When the dough has risen, punch it down and turn it back onto the kneading surface, cover the dough with the overturned bowl and allow to stand for 10 minutes.

Remove the bowl and knead the dough two or three times. Then divide it into 2-3 pieces and then divide those smaller pieces into 3 pieces.

Pull each of the small pieces into a strand about 12" long, and braid them together to make the traditional challah shape. Tuck the ends under the loaves of bread.

Spray 2 or 3 cookies sheets (depending on how many loaves you are making) with cooking oil and place the braided loaves on them. Cover the loaves and allow to rise a second time, until they are double in size (about 1 hour).

While the loaves rise, preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Once the loaves have risen, brush the tops of them with a lightly beaten egg. Bake until golden brown 25-35 minutes, depending on the oven.

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Holla for Challah, Part III

This is Part III of Holla for Challah for Part I, click here, and for Part II, click here.

When we arrived back at Becky's, she picked up the towel covering the bread and looked at it. Becky asked me if the bread looked like it had risen to twice its original size; it had transformed from a dense mass into a smooth -looking pillow. I said it looked good to me.

Then Becky, with a twinkle in her eye, excitedly said, "You ready?" And she made a fist and punched the dough. With a "pumph" sound, the dough gave into Becky's beating. As she pulled her hand out of the unfinished bread, a suction was created and Becky had to use some force to remove her fist from the dough and it almost seemed as though the mixture was trying to eat her hand.



"Ew, oily," Becky said once the dough had finally released her from its grips. She punched it two more times. "Now we wait ten more minutes." Yes, TEN MORE MINUTES. At least two hours had passed since I arrived at Becky's, and most of it was spent chatting, not baking. Bread, I realized, is not so much labor-intensive (as I believe is the conception), but rather time-intensive. One really needs about four hours to make one or two loaves. Not an activity for someone with little patience.

"Ok, so we have to knead it a little bit more; then were going to break it into two bits and then we're going to break each of those into three bits - you can make three small loaves from this, but you and I are going to make two big loaves." Becky handed me the entire ball of dough and told me to knead it. I obliged, and, using the technique I had learned before dinner, kneaded the sticky and wet dough for a couple of minutes.

Becky nudged me out of the way, and with a large knife, cut the dough into two pieces.


Then she ripped those two pieces into three chunks.


"Now this is the fun part. You're going to pull these and stretch them so you have a long ropey thing to braid with, not so thin that it's going to break. It doesn't have to be even or pretty," Becky told me while she pulled the three baseball-sized pieces of dough into strips of about 12"-14."

"You're telling that to possibly the most anal person in the world," I responded.

"Why do you think I'm telling that to you?"

Point taken.


Becky sprayed two cookie sheets with oil. She placed her dough strips on the sheet and began to braid them, folding the three pieces in on the end so the challah looked like a little package. I did the same with mine, but Becky's loaf looked much prettier.


"Once it's risen a bit more, then we brush it with egg and then bake it." By bit Becky meant an hour. Yes, one more hour and then the bread would finally be ready for the oven.

At last, when the bread had risen, Becky cracked an egg into a bowl and lightly beat it. While she was spreading the egg wash generously onto the top of the the loaves, I asked her why she braided the challah.

"Well, my grandma used to make it into a ladder shape on Rosh Hoshanah and my dad makes it into a spiral on Rosh Hoshanah becuase it symbolizes your prayers going directly to heaven." Not exactly an answer to why one braids the bread, but interesting nonetheless. Once the challah was fully washed with egg, Becky placed the loaves in the oven and we waited again for the bread to bake.

One half hours later, Becky pulled the beautiful, golden brown bread from the oven.


"We have to wait a couple of minutes, it's too hot to eat right now," Becky told me as I leaned over the bread and breathed in the glorious-smelling steam rising from it. She could tell that I was impatient. We both leaned against the kitchen counter and watched the bread with anticipation.

Less than five minutes had passed when Becky said, "I think it's time. Should we eat it like we always eat challah?"

"Yes!" I said, "How's that?"

Becky removed a loaf from the pan and stated, "Well, you just pick it up and pull it apart like this."

With two hands, she ripped off chunks of bread and handed some to me. It was dense, chewy, hot, buttery, and delicious. I told Becky that it might just be the best bread that had ever been made. As I chewed piece after piece of challah (I couldn't stop), my imagination raced; just think of what you could do with this! Challah French toast, challah bread pudding, egg in a hole with challah. I was ready to go home and experiment with the heavenly bread's endless possibilities.

As I packed up my bag to leave, Becky presented my with a loaf of challah to take home. It was gone by morning.

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Holla for Challah, Part II

This is Part II of Holla for Challah. For Part I, click here.

"It was really fun to make this in college," Becky said as she said as she continued to watch the yeast, "because along with massaging people it was one of the things that made me very popular."

(I realize that I have yet to tell you about the bread baker. Well, Becky - after receiving a masters through the New York Teaching Fellows program, and after working as a teacher for many years - decided to turn that talent for rubbing into a career and has returned to school yet again to learn the ancient art of massage. Though she plans to be a professional masseuse, she continues to be passionate about youth and, several years ago, co-founded the Fertile Grounds Project - a nonprofit organization that provides young people with the space, tools, and support they need to take control over their own educations and build an identity in a world where they can belong. Becky is also, I should say, one of the most hard-working, dedicated, kind-hearted, and busy people I have ever had the pleasure know.)

"Well, that's why you were so protective of the challah," I said.

"Yes! You're a better cook than I am, and if I had given you the challah, you would have probably started making the challah, and then you would have taken away that popularity tool." She had told me the exact same thing seven years ago, and, admittedly, her fears that I would have made the recipe my own were not unfounded.

Becky stopped talking history to check on the yeasty concoction. "Look, now the yeast has really exploded!" she exclaimed. She then poured the bubbling amalgam into a clean mixing bowl and added sugar, oil, eggs, and salt to it.

"Is this is something that your dad made growing up?" I asked Becky.

"No, this is something he didn't start to make until I was in high school. It's really good. He makes it every week just about [for Shabbat]...in fact it feels a little weird to be making this NOT for Shabbat," she replied.

"Basically all we're going to do now is add flour and add flour and add flour and add flour until it turns into dough," Becky continued. Then, cup by cup, she added wheat to the yeast mixture - stirring each addition until it was fully combined, and until it was physically impossible to stir it with a spoon.

Once the combination of ingredients had become dough. Becky floured the counter, and dumped the raw bread onto it.


She threw a little more of flour on top of the dough and began to knead it by grabbing the top of the bread and folding it into itself; every time she did this twice, she turned the bread 90 degrees, and then repeated the motion.


As she went, she added flour (a total of about 2 more cups) to the dough until it was no longer sticking to the counter, until it felt only slightly tacky, and until it looked silken - about 10 minutes.


I tried my hand at the kneading process. While I worked the dough, Becky told me that she hadn't made challah for over five years because she was usually too busy to make laborious homemade dishes.

"I've decided when I graduate [from massage school] the thing I'm going to decide is that I'm not going to work on Friday afternoons.... I'm going to do things like clean the house and make challah and do things that Jews are supposed to do and not even have it be a Jew thing, you know what I mean?"

"So wait," I asked, "you want Fridays off because it's a Jew thing or because you want to be a normal person?"

"Yea, I want to decide to have a time in my life to do things for myself - " Becky stopped mid-sentence and took the dough from me. "You need to take this and pick it up and push it in, pick up, push in," she said, showing me the kneading motion once again. I was clearly inexperienced at making bread.

Becky gave the dough back to me and I began again. "God!" I said as my muscles in my biceps began to ache, "could you imagine making this every day? You'd have such guns!" Becky agreed and we fancied aloud what our Eastern European ancestors arms must have looked like.

Finally the dough was done. Becky made it into a ball that looked something like a mushroom top on one side...


....and a pushed in package on the other.


"This is so much fun!" Becky exclaimed as she dropped the finished dough (pushed-in side down) into a greased bowl and covered it with a clean towel, "I'm glad you're making me do this." The dough would need to rise for an hour before we baked it, so, while we waited, we went around the corner and ate a cheese-filled dinner at Robin du Bois.

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Holla for Challah, Part I

Over seven years ago, I had the pleasure of tasting an incredible challah bread. Not before then and not since has there been a challah that has passed over these lips that has remotely matched that bread in quality. Crusty on the outside, thick, chewy, heavy, and doughy on the inside - it was perfect. And it also was over seven years ago that I asked Becky Raik - the baker of that golden masterpiece - for the recipe. Her response to my request was an immediate no. Trust me, I did everything to get my hands on the instructions - I bribed her with cookies, promised that I would never make it for any one she knew, ensured her that I would never spread the loaf's secrets - yet my pleas fell on dead ears. For almost a decade, Becky had guarded her challah recipe like a chastity belt on a maiden.

Until now.

Luckily for you and me, Becky has grown to be less uptight over time and finally agreed to share her secrets and to have me over to teach me her technique.

I arrived in Becky's neighborhood after work on a perfect spring day. As I walked walked down the street on the way to my cooking lesson, I spotted Becky - small and with a perpetual smile on her face - and we walked together to her place. Her cramped apartment - located on a desolate block just inside the Carroll Gardens neighborhood of Brooklyn - consisted only of a bathroom, some bedrooms and a kitchen. Before we began to cook, Becky prepared us a snack of perfectly ripened mango soaked in lime juice.

While our mouthes were still full of the piquant and juicy fruit, Becky slowly began the bread-making preparations: removing the groceries from the bag, finding ingredients from her cabinet, cleaning the counter top, etc.

As Becky picked at something stuck to the counter top, I grew impatient, clapped my hands together, and, with a full mouth, exclaimed, "Ok, ok, let's do this!" Becky stopped dawdling, swallowed, and immediately went to work - pouring two cups of warm water into a bowl and removing two packets of yeast from her grocery bag.

One of the most fun aspects of this experiment so far has been the diversity of ability of the cooks that have opened their kitchens and cupboards to me. Some - like Jessie Candlin and Sarah Nassauer - are highly experienced home cooks that are not only well-learned on the subject of food, but also expert improvisers. Others, like Tara Broughel, were only interested in perfecting one or a few dishes. This varied experience has added a color to this project that I could not have predicted.

I knew that Becky fell somewhere in between novice and expert, but when when I asked her if two packets of yeast was a lot for one recipe, and when she responded with, "Um, well, uh, I don't think I've ever made anything else that uses yeast, so I don't know," I knew that I was dealing with someone who fell more into the Tara Broughel end of the spectrum.

As Becky ripped open the yeast packets, she told me that she learned to make challah from her dad, Jerry Raik, who "learned it from someone else and then improved on it somehow, cuz that's what [he] likes to do..."

"Does your dad know that you're sharing your family secrets with me?" I inquired. Becky looked at me quizzically "Well it's not really a 'family' secret because the recipe didn't come from our family, but yea, I did tell him because I had some questions about it. Hopefully, he'll be OK with this," Becky added sarcastically. She paused and then said, "I think, in general, I'm more uptight about sharing family secrets than he is." Yea, I'd say making your salivating friend wait for what amounted to ONE QUARTER of her life for a bread recipe is the definition of rigidity.

She dumped the contents of the yeast packet into the bowl (and onto the counter), she added a generous pinch of sugar to the pungent mixture.

"Ok, now we're going to stir this up and...then the sugar will make the yeast..."

"Activate?" I said in an attempt to finish her sentence.

Becky corrected me, "Will make the yeast proof."

"What does that mean?"

"Activate."

"Wow, Becky for someone who doesn't make things with yeast very often you sure know the terminology."

"Well, it's just because that's what my dad said seven or eight years ago when I wrote it down."

Becky waved the recipe - written on a greasy-looking, food-spotted sheet of yellow, lined paper - at me. I took the page from her and looked at it. Some of the words were smudged and there were cross outs and arrows marking it.

We continued to chat as we waited for the yeast to proof. I asked Becky why Jews made challah bread. "Um, well, it doesn't have any dairy in it so you can have a meat meal and challah bread and it's still Kosher." I informed Becky that most breads were not made with any sort of dairy in them. Becky paused and then said, "It doesn't have butter? Oh, well, uh, then I have no idea."http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif

To make the yeast activate more quickly, Becky threw in another generous pinch of sugar. "You know when it's proofed when it looks like there's a little volcano under the water." The yeast had dissolved and the mixture had begun to thicken and bubble. It smalled strongly of beer and looked nasty. I shared with Becky that I had made some very unsuccessful pizza crusts, so I was excited to make a successful yeasted product.

Becky created a mis en place of the bread ingredients. Then she looked in the bowl with the yeast exclaimed "It's about to explode! Look at it! You see how that got all white? It's very exciting for me!" Indeed the mixture had turned an unappealing beige-brown and looked like a frothing witches brew. The 14 minutes that it took for the mixture to fully activate had seemed like an eternity; I was ready to get my hands dirty.

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What could be Mo Rockin than Tagine? The Recipes

Here are the recipes for the series "What Could Be Mo Rockin than Tagine?" For the full story, click here for Part I, and here for Part II.



Orange-Olive Salad

3 oranges, peeled, cut in half width-wise
1 cup cured black olives, rinsed to remove some of the brining liquid
1/2 tsp Hungarian paprika
3/4 tsp crushed red pepper
¼ tsp cumin
1 tsp olive oil
1 clove of garlic, finely minced (optional)

Place olives in bowl. Cut the orange halves 1/2" pieces. Add the oranges to the bowl with the olives and then add the rest of the ingredients. Toss well to coat.


Lamb, Prune, and Almond Tagine

3-4 large onions, sliced
1/4 cup olive oil
2 lbs lamb cut into 1.5" - 2" cubes
2 bay leaves
2.5 T turmeric
1 tsp cumin
4 tsp cinnamon
2 cups water
1 lb prunes
¼ - ½ cup blanched almonds
4 T cilantro, chopped (1 tsp of ground coriander can be substituted, but fresh is always better)

Heat the oil in a pot until hot, but not smoking. Add the onions and sauté over medium heat until soft and translucent, five to seven minutes. Add the lamb and ground spices and mix well. Cook, stirring occasionally for ten minutes.

Lower the heat to medium-low and pour the water into the pot. Then, turn the heat fully to low, and let the stew simmer for one hour. After an hour, add the prunes, almonds, and three tablespoons cilantro. Let simmer for fifteen minutes more.

Serve over a bed of grains/pasta – millet, quinoa, couscous, rice – and with bread. Top with chopped fresh cilantro for garnish.

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