020: EMing our Munchies
Plus, recipes for JNESS and Keith Raniere's Grub Street-style food diary!
(JS) Sweet readers, I hope this message finds you well rested, and to those who celebrated, that you had an easy fast. This week has been a bit of a whirlwind; even before the garbage d*b*te last night, I felt like someone dumped two contractor bags of eels into my brain. After a grueling but gorgeous hike Saturday, our New Hampshire crew tucked into a hearty lamb dinner from the Zahav cookbook and crawled into bed around 8:30 PM, our bellies full and our legs beat. Sunday morning was a rude awakening, our calves and thighs cursing us as we scurried up and down the stairs to finish laundry and get on the road back to New York in time for Kol Nidre with my parents. How strange (and probably unkosher) it was to stream services live on Youtube during the evening meal. I was reminded of my unholy eating habits once again Monday morning when I arrived home to the lingering stench of shrimp shells, as I had forgotten to take out my trash before departing last weekend. I attempted to freshen my kitchen with an autumnal combination of heavy duty Fantastik and incense and, high on the fumes and low on blood sugar, seized the opportunity to deep clean my fridge.
Behold, my caul fat wrapped sons
After quickly tossing a bunch of moldy basil and some long neglected apples (the ghosts of Misfits Madness boxes past), I took everything out for inspection. Sorting through the glut of repurposed jars and plastic pint containers, my hoarding impulse became alarmingly clear. While some ingredients (a tablespoon of lard; the last few spicy olives) were earmarked for immediate use, others (pre-pandemic radish kimchi; pickled turnips from 2017) simply had to go. It’s clear that we love stuff in this house (hello wish list), but as we make our way into pandemic Q3 (SB: Give the man a job and a vesting schedule already!) I’m trying to cut down on clutter in the kitchen and in my life, and recommitting to cooking/living with intention. No more gratuitous pepper pastes; no more doom scrolling through LinkedIn. We’re adjusting our strategies for eating and employment going forward. And if anyone has ideas for how to eradicate this shrimp smell, I beg of you to get in touch.
Here’s what I’ve been enjoying:
Maria Elia’s sheftalia, a grilled Cypriot lamb and pork sausage, bound in caul fat purchased at Esposito Meat Market; show me a more Pinterest-worthy innard, I dare you (should I start an Etsy store dedicated to caul fat crafting?)
Couscous and other good food from Morocco a la Paula Wolfert
Mayukh Sen’s take on Nik Sharma’s sweet potato bebinca, an indulgent breakfast served with thee 10% yogurt and blueberries
(SB) Hi beautiful readers, I hope this is finding its way into your inboxes as auspiciously as is possible in our active trash can fire of reality. This week, I’m up in the Catskills with some good friends and comrades for our annual Asian American Feminist Collective retreat. Ever aware that there is indeed an ongoing pandemic, we were all able to secure clean bills of COVID health before traveling (A big shout out to the H+HC Washington Heights rapid testing site, which got me in and out in less than 20 minutes, delivered my results in a few hours, and charged me zero dollars; the experience made me genuinely proud to be a New Yorker). I digress, but we’ve been having a really nice time processing, imagining, planning, and (most joyfully) spending lots of time eating, drinking, and being together.
A moment of joy in the madness
Instead of confronting the depths of darkness and despair that surely would have followed from watching Tuesday’s debate (don’t worry: I did the NPR recap this morning and am now in the despair pit with you all), we really committed to catching up on HBO’s new mini series about NXIVM, The Vow. The series is bizarre and compelling, and prompted me to do a little follow up research on “high demand groups.” What I found has led me to the troubling conclusion that graduate school is indeed such a group. I know… some of you are probably shocked and upset. But think about it: charismatic leaders? Draconian rituals and challenges? Elitist and highly hierarchical structures?? Members increasingly isolated from former friends and family? Abundant and encouraged self-doubt? (JS: I, freshly minted PhD, concluded at the end of the pilot I would have absolutely signed up) Magical thinking??? It’s time to open our eyes, my fellow sheeple!
Anyway, this week I ate:
Kitchen queen and friend of the newsletter Senti made us all Martha’s honey mustard chicken thighs, with a lot of extra garlic.
Samin Nosrat’s buttermilk roast chicken, with pancetta stuffing, honey-roasted butternut squash, lots of chicken fat potatoes, and some garlic kale.
I slow roasted a salmon with, begrudgingly inspired by Al*son R*man’s Dining In. Senti also made a delicious vegan apple crumble.
We also ate at a few delicious meals from Hudson Valley farmers & restaurant owners. Highlights included the best apple cider donuts I’ve ever tasted and a delicious meatloaf, fried chicken, and pulled pork spread from Greig Farm; a transcendent Thai tea and cookies flavored ice cream from Alleyway Ice Cream; and a delicious dinner (including POT PIE) from Miss Lucy’s Kitchen.
TMYK: Emmy Winner Zendaya is Mechouia
(JS) I was looking for a simple side to accompany our couscous dinner when I realized we had a bunch of leftover green peppers from a Korean BBQ dinner, as well as a couple tomatoes and onions from the previous night’s Greek spread. Slata mechouia, literally “grilled salad,” is a staple of Tunisian cuisine, frequently served room temperature or cold as an appetizer, garnished with oil-packed tuna, hard boiled eggs, and olives (like a roasted, pan-optional bagnat; speaking of, have you heard of Tunisian fricassee?), or spread on toasted baguette slices like a condiment. The ingredients may vary by region or season, but you’ll almost always find an abundance of peppers, both spicy and mild, alongside tomatoes, garlic, and onion. The method is simple, and can be easily modified without a proper grill.
I’m aware the couscous is the star of this pic
Traditionally, the vegetables are blackened on a charcoal grill, but you could certainly use a gas grill, or even directly roast them on the gas burner of your stove. Those with sensitive NYC rental smoke alarms might try broiling their vegetables instead, or roasting them at high heat (say 475-500°F). Once the skins have charred and the flesh begins to soften, remove the vegetables from the heat, place them in a bowl and cover with plastic wrap to let them sweat (you can also do this in a plastic bag). The vegetables will continue cooking and their charred skins will begin to wrinkle, making them easier to remove. Once they’re cool enough to handle, use your fingers or the back of a knife to slip off the charred skins, as well as cut off any stems and inedible parts — you might also remove some of the pepper seeds, depending on your heat tolerance. Add your vegetables to a food processor and pulse to form a coarse mixture, or roughly chop them all by hand. Salt to taste, finish with a glug of olive oil, and serve. Mechouia keeps for a few days in the refrigerator and the flavors will deepen with time (I quite enjoyed a dollop on toast with scrambled eggs the next morning).
POT CHEF: Shroom Teas
(SB) Word on the street is that psychedelics have gone fully mainstream in the wake of a couple of years of the NPR crowd breathlessly contemplating Michael Pollan and Gweneth Paltrow’s endorsement of psilocybin as a way of managing major depression, expanding the mind, and exploring consciousness. Despite (because?) of this change, we enjoy the occasional gentle shroom journey. Sometimes, chewing dried mushroom caps and stems can often cause a rocky stomach (and just plain taste bad). If, for some reason, you’re feeling the need to inhabit an altered or enhanced reality for a few hours, I humbly suggest brewing up some tea. The internet is rife with theories about if a ~*tisane*~ may come on faster or last longer; I’m an increasingly firm believer that every body works a little differently (JS: the 200 hour teacher in training jumped out).
😊🔗❤️ (s/o my DOS girls)
To make this tea, dice your (pre-measured, for us) dried mushrooms and combine them with an inch long knob of ginger, coarsely chopped, a halved whole lemon, a generous tablespoon of honey and some fruit tea. My preferred flavor was peach herbal tea. Then, cover this mixture with about ½ cup of water per person and bring it all to a near-boil. Once the mixture is on the verge of bubbling, cut the heat and steep for about 30 minutes. Strain, divide, serve. Take a walk, look at some trees, think about the change of seasons.
TRASH TALK: Pepperonicini-tini
(JS & SB) This newsletter stans a dirty martini. Strong, succinct, salty... what’s not to love? Traditionally, a splash of olive brine “dirties” a martini, but on more than one occasion we’ve found ourselves with an abundance of spirit and nary an olive to spare. The less driven among us might throw in the towel and resign themselves to a twist, but not us! In this functionally alcoholic wood, we take the road less traveled by.
It’s on these occasions that the other pickled delights deep within our refrigerators begin to sing their siren songs. Although most often enjoyed alongside a shot of whiskey, pickles and their juices have sometimes found themselves interloping in the world of clear spirits (the pickle martini at 169 Bar comes to mind). Previously we’ve praised the likes of Tomolives and pickled ramps, but these pickles are admittedly not your average showgirls. In times of olive crisis, we look to other longtime residents of the refrigerator door. The pepperoncini’s call was particularly compelling: crunchy with just a hint of heat, the perfect bite to enjoy alongside a burger or folded into a hearty (read: meaty and cheesy) chopped salad.
Hailing from Greece and/or Italy (depending on who you ask; Google), pepperoncini is technically just a generic term for a pickled pepper. You can pick up a jar at most grocery stores and they keep for… a while? Honestly the combination of vinegar and gin should be enough to ward off anything unsavory, but don’t quote us on that (btw Digestivo is seeking a legal intern!). The radioactive neon brine of the small, golden pepperoncini we’re familiar with (e.g. Mezzetta; Cento) evokes something closer to “Subway on the Merritt Parkway” rather than “Lake Como” in our imaginations, but that’s a little bit of the appeal here: a little bit of high, a little bit of low (SB: I can hear screaming, inside my brain, that one of the greatest tricks the upper crust has played on us is coding a glass of chilled gin as refined). *In our Carrie* As we sipped our pepperoncini-tinis, we couldn’t help but wonder; were we repurposing normally trashed ingredients, or were we the trash all along?
PERMANENT ROTATION: Sweet potatoes, roasted low and slow. I (SB) like to bake these at 250 for a few hours before rustically ripping them open to serve with some sort of topping (yogurt; sambal; hot honey; tahini; miso butter; the sweet potato is your oyster!) I (JS), for no particular reason, enjoy a Japanese varietal.
You could turn your roasted sweet potatoes into a bebinca
WISH LIST
(JS) Given the city’s rapidly and somewhat recklessly evolving policies, I remain reluctant to indulge in indoor dining, but Saturday’s Tastes of Prospect and Crown Heights event seems like a low risk way to treat yourself and support local business. Fellow Brooklyners can keep an eye out for future similar events throughout the borough in the coming weeks.
(SB) Every day for the last several months, I have watched the Diaspora Co. website like a hawk to see if this hot masala dabba collaboration with Bangalore metal studio Tiipoi is up for pre-sale yet. The wait is rumored to end tomorrow, October 1. I share this insider intel with you all because I love you, and because I trust that my hot little spendy hands will be poised to pre-order as soon as I awake.
(JS & SB) Frankly we’ve never met a croqueta we didn’t like, but we’ve also never made them ourselves. We’re hoping to change that with a crash course in croquette-ry from Colada Shop’s Daniella Senior over at Pineapple Collaborative, hosted by friend of the newsletter Dani Dillon.
Apologies for the gigantic images; the Substack editor has failed us once again.